Thursday, 12 January 2012
Yeah baby, I put it down somewhere and bugger only knows where I left it. Don't ask me when I last had it because I can't remember.
Right now, the whole body aches and the last thing I feel like doing is going out running. This is bewildering and depressing if I'm honest because as the posts on this blog will testify, running - particularly running on the hills- has previously been a true source of joy. I have tried kick starting the process with training plans, intervals, cutting back the mileage - I even got myself a mountain bike and started going bouldering to help mix things up a bit.
But always, the same thing happens. I go out, don't particularly over-exert myself and then feel like I've been hit by a bus for the next week. I mean whacked out. That tenderised quad feeling that you get climbing the stairs for a week or so after a good thumpy fell race seems to be the norm for now.
After a slower than expected performance at the Shrophire gem, the Cardington Cracker, I did a few short blasty runs up and down the local Lecky hill over the Christmas period. But progressively, things got tougher during January and a general feeling of exhaustion crept in and took hold. Eventually, I got about a hundred metres into an evening run and thought: 'f*ck it' and walked back home.
I now realise that I have been trying to make things happen running-wise for way too long.
I've always tried to retain a sense of naivity about the running experience. A simple, albeit brief escape from the humdrum. Sad day then if running just starts to feel like something you've' got to do.'
Virus? Over-training syndrome? I even went to the GP who told me I had a resting heart rate of 42 and ran a load of blood tests (all of which came back clear fortunately).
Whatever it is, if you see my Mojo on your travels please let me know ;-)