Flying High Again

It is amazing what a recovery day and better running conditions can do for you. After Monday’s horror show, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to today’s repeat performance; I really didn’t want to go through the same experience again.

I ran Tuesday’s recovery run at the same pace as all the other recovery runs I’ve been doing lately, but was very pleased with myself when I discovered that I had done it with my lowest heart rate ever. My heart rate on those runs (actually, on all runs) has been dropping steadily over the last few weeks. I guess the higher mileage is boosting my endurance, and I expect this effect to continue for a while. At the very least it’s a sign that I’m not over-training.

Anyway, I woke up this morning at 5:54 am - one minute before the alarm would have gone off. My body clock seems to be working very well at the moment. A look out of the window didn’t reveal the expected sunshine but instead a country covered in a blanket of very dense fog. This of course meant that running on the road would be a bit more dangerous than usual, but it also meant I would be running in lower temperatures that usual, and that definitely suited me. Well, as on Monday, I’m not entirely sure what caused the change in effort. Whether it was the easy day on Tuesday or the more agreeable conditions, or, most likely, both of them together, I felt much better. M-u-c-h better. In fact, I was flying down that road. I would never have thought it possible that I would be able to run completely relaxed and without too much effort, and still run at sub-8:00 pace. I did the outwards leg at pretty much 8:00 pace, and the return leg at about 7:40, and felt very good about it. Of course this means I’ve shelved the idea of an extra rest day. Who needs rest days when you’re on a high?

Lola has pretty much recovered from her chickenpox, and now we’re waiting for the boys to catch it. Niamh had it when she was a child. And I – don’t remember. I asked my mum, and she thinks I never had it. Uh-oh!

Cian has been is usual destructive self. Since the last time I’ve reported about him he has (deep breath):

• spilled Niamh’s foundation cream over the rug
  
• eaten her last lipstick
  
• covered himself with a thick layer of green paint and left his prints all around the sun room (he looked like a leprechaun)
  
• eaten some paint (non-toxic, thankfully)
  
• and delivered his so-far destructive masterpiece: I had to separate the boys at bedtime, and put Cian into our bed. He was totally quiet for 20 minutes, so I naturally assumed he was asleep. When I finally checked, he had taken some bleach, some cream, some make-up and a generous amount of water, mixed them all together and had great fun while covering the floor in a thick layer of his concoction. Oh the mess!!!!!

Sigh. I’m sure he’ll grow out of this. The twins were pretty bad at that age as well. I just hope the house will still be standing by the time he’s matured.

6 Jun: 5 miles, 47:17, 9:27 pace
7 Jun: 11 miles, 1:26, 7:49 pace