I never have problems getting up early. From childhood on I was out of bed at first light, and, while I have kicked that particular habit (now unfortunately inherited by my two boys), I still have no problems getting out of bed early for a run, be it at 6.20, 6 or even, as I did twice, at 5.20 am.
Unless it’s the weekend. Somehow I always think, there’s still plenty of time left in the day and I can always go running later. As anyone who has been in the same situation knows, the longer you wait for your run, the more likely it is that something else will crop up and scupper your plans. So, for reasons too plentiful to mention here, I did not run on Sunday. Fortunately, Monday is a bank holiday, and I could make up for it today. Normally, Monday is a rest day for me, so I effectively just swapped the two days around and didn’t miss anything.
My timing was almost comically bad though. After a rainy night, the sun was shining in the morning, and I got ready for my run. As soon as I left home, the rain started. Just a drizzle at first, then more and more and all of a sudden a deluge started, and when the hailstones started to come down, I turned around and sprinted back home, as I had only covered half a mile by then. After a break of about 20 minutes the sun was out again, and I started off again, with a new shirt and slightly wet shoes. It all went ok at first, then, after about 2.5 miles, the same deluge came back and I got soaking wet. However, this time I kept going and completed a 10-mile run, my first double figures since the marathon 4 weeks ago. It somehow reminded me of the marathon, because I was soaking wet during that effort, too.
10 miles, 1h20mins, exactly 8:00 minutes per mile. I don’t count the first mile.
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