Can I Taper Now?

Confession time.  I've been struggling with motivation this weekend.  I had intended doing two back-to-back long runs, but it hasn't happened.

On Saturday morning I awoke without the benefit of an alarm clock, which seemed utter bliss.  I actually lay in bed and contemplated having a lazy day.  But I knew the weather forecast for Sunday was awful with ex-hurricane Bertha hitting our shores.  So with this in mind I forced myself out of the door with a 21 mile run in mind.  I packed my Salomon running backpack with two bottles of water and a few slices of malt loaf, along with items that definitely wouldn't be needed just to add some bulk.

Once I was out the door and running all felt fine in the world and I was so glad I hadn't succumb to the lure of a lazy day on the sofa.  Because I'd been so tardy in the morning it was 10am by the time I'd set off and it was starting to get warm.  I was heading off towards the Roman Road bridleway that heads all the way to Linton village, 10.5 miles from home.

As I ran along the Roman Road I rapidly gained ground on two elderly ladies running ahead of me.  I always have a dilemma as to whether I should call out or not when approaching someone from behind on a footpath.  On this occasion I decided to shout out, "I'm just passing on your right."  But in doing so the two ladies jumped and latched onto each other like Shaggy and Scooby.

Just in case you don't know what I mean!

I stopped and apologised, at which point they started laughing and told me they were fine. I asked if they would prefer that I had warned them of my approach or just run by without saying anything. "My dear, I'd rather you'd just carried on past us like the wind," one told me.  So I decided that this is what I'd do next time.

I reached my halfway point at the Linton Water tower, ate two slices of malt loaf and set about running back towards Cambridge. I was slightly concerned that I didn't have enough water with me and I started to question why I hadn't also filled my water bladder.  There was nothing I could do about it now, I'd have to just make do with what I had.

As I was running back along the Roman Road I spotted two female runners ahead of me. Time to try the silent overtaking approach, I thought.  I quickly gained ground on them and as they were running in single file there was plenty of space for me to pass them. I decided to speed up a little so I could pass nice and quickly, and perhaps to also show off, which can't be ruled out. As I drew alongside the tale runner she jumped in the air and shouted, "Oh, gosh!".  Then a fraction of a second later the front runner of the two also jumped and shouted, "Oh, gosh!".  I haven't cleaned up their exclamations for your benefit, that is exactly what they both shouted.  I apologised and continued on my way with my dilemma unresolved.  I guess I will either have to try loud coughs from some distance away or start singing whilst I run.

About 5 miles from home I had almost drained both water bottles. I saved the last two mouthfuls for when I'd really need them. Problem was I could tell I needed them right now. My pace was really dropping and I could tell that I was starting to feel a little dehydrated. I spent a lot of time walking and jogging over the next couple of miles, but once I was only two miles from home I gave myself a little talking to and picked up the pace so I could get home as quick as possible and towards the lure of some cold water. As so as I got home I gulped down two glasses of water, which is not recommended but it tasted and felt so good.

My 21 mile run had taken exactly 2 hours 50 minutes, not bad on an undulating trail run on a warm day and with a lack of fluid. Afterwards my legs felt trashed for the rest of the day. I couldn't believe I'd only run 21 miles, what was going on? Perhaps it was the dehydration, perhaps it is just the cumulative effect of all the long runs I've done recently, but with just 2.5 weeks to go until TDS it wasn't doing my confidence much good. 

I decided to put any ideas of another long run on Sunday on hold and see how I felt in the morning. Ruth and I spent Saturday evening in a pub with some friends. Every time I got up from the table I was reminded of the mileage in my legs. I really did feel like an old man.

We woke this morning expecting there to be chaos all around as ex-hurricane Bertha stormed into town, but it seemed much calmer than expected. My legs were feeling a little better so I started to contemplate maybe just running 16 miles. Then as I was preparing breakfast the rain started to lash down and the wind picked up. With the weather looking threatening my legs started to feel like a rest day was in order. So no running has taken place today. I'll go in the morning instead. Perhaps!