Away with the Fairies (9 miles: 1hour 28mins)

Today, we discovered a fundamental flaw in my running…after a few miles I am away with the fairies and forget what I am meant to be doing.

When we got back to my house this morning, on a crisp, beautiful autumn morning, Trevor looked at me worriedly and asked, ‘why so slow today?’
I had to explain to him that although I am a bit tired I am not injured, I am eating ok and that I had found the run beautiful (especially the first mile and a bit in the pitch black…). The problem, from Trevor’s point of view, was that after about five miles I had wandered off to dream land and the pace had dropped significantly. Words like lack of focus and gormless dreamer were not mentioned but they were certainly implied.

Once I have found my legs and my lungs and got them working I find it very hard not to wander into my own private land. I sing songs to myself, I recall whole chunks of books I have read, I make plans for the day and talk through my problems and worries – the running almost seems to come second. However, it seems that I need to keep focused and make sure the pace doesn’t drop (and my argument of Siberia is a bloody long way to go so we best take it slow and enjoy it seems not to hold water..) or I fear that my future holds endless sets of burpees and an annoyed Trevor.

However, just sometimes, when we are out and the sun is just rising and the whole of the world belongs to us I am going to slow the pace down, take in the beauty of the day and store it away for when we are out on the ice and it is cold, tough and miserable.