So like I said one blog ago I wanted to run three 10k intervals in a day and I headed out to do that.
I’ll keep the beginning brief and get us to the good stuff, the first interval was 13.5kph, listened to 59′ Sound by Gaslight Anthem and it was okay.
The second interval was incredible. 13kph, listening to Dookie (by Green Day but I shouldn’t have to say that). Beautiful day outside, beautiful pace, just nailing it.
I took ten minutes-ish between all of them, got some water and ate some Smarties. I thought the third sesh was in the bag. planned for 12.5kph (going by the colonoscopy trick, it doesn’t matter how long a difficult thing is, it matters how you feel at the end). Off the bat I felt some bad form and some fatigue but basically cruised through the first 5k, so I’d run 25 in total for the day, longer than ever before, and I fucking crashed. Not completely and not all at once like I hit a wall but by the end I was trying not to cry or throw up.
And I actually did cry on the way home, not because I was sincerely sad about anything – I felt victorious when I finished the run – but just because the body can mistake the pain and depletion and blood-sugar roller coaster for emotional trauma. Last month I read Running Outside The Comfort Zone (Susan Lacke) and she goes through the same thing during a 50k race.
So yeah 30k was a stretch too far. I know because I feel like I never want to exercise again. Which is odd considering all morning I was beating myself up for waffling between I should rest and I should work out, but I’ve rested too much, but I’ve worked out too much.
So now I’ve worked out too much and have no problem resting. Mission accomplished, debate over.
Other milestone runs and training sessions have left me convinced the marathon (in like 42 days or something) was going to be great and I noticed my estimated goal time was inching down and down. Not no more. Now I’m proper scared again. As perhaps it should be…