After running twice last week, I had planned a third run on Sunday but instead of that I ended up in Glenariff Forest on a five-mile trek with my son. It was quite challenging in places so, I figured, that was as good a workout as a run so I was happy enough.
This week was supposed to be a three or four run week, so why did it take me until tonight (Friday) to actually get out?
The rain. FFS, it’s July. It shouldn’t be raining this much.
I did make it out on Wednesday but, guess what, with less than a mile there was a torrential downpour and because I was still very close to home it just washed away my enthusiasm for the run so I just cut it short.
Tonight was the same, almost. I started off ok, no rain in sight and none forecast either. I get to the furthest point in the run and it starts … a little drizzle at first, and then gets progressively heavier. Charming.
But because it was at the halfway point I had no option but to keep going which was no bad thing because it meant I’d at least get the run done.
I hadn’t been out for a week so it was back to the tried and trusted 5k to the industrial estate and back … and because I was rusty again it was another difficult run.
However, there were positives. I wasn’t any slower than last time and I ran longer splits (I started off following a week 3 C25K schedule before abandoning it), even if they were a struggle. I expected this, so it didn’t particularly annoy me.
At least the run – coupled with Wednesday’s aborted attempt – has almost got me back on track. The same again over the weekend will see me catch up a bit more before upping my focus next week.