Motivation

Hazel

This week should have been horrific if our previous post-20 week was anything to go by. However, the gods of running are finally smiling on us. We reduced the Tuesday 7 to somewhere between 4 and 5, and ran without a watch. My aim was just to turn our legs over and prove that we felt better. I know what happens to heroes in Greek tragedy who show signs of hubris. It’s not worth the running equivalent of murdering your father and putting your own eyes out just to say that we managed 7 miles the day after a tough 20. So it was a nice no pressure run. We both ran in relative silence (aside from commands of course) and eventually I cracked and said ‘you know, I don’t want to jinx us, but I feel a lot better than I did after the last 20’. Gillian burst out laughing and said ‘I had literally just opened my mouth to say the very same thing!’ Buoyed by this positive revelation we cautiously cruised through the rest of the week, clocking up a respectable 33 miles for the week.

Sunday’s run was a 13, immediately following a 7 on Saturday. Gillian suffered somewhat, but soldiered on despite some knee niggles. Now that I look back, however, I’m not sure that the encouragement she received at mile 11 was quite what she needed. It ran along the lines of ‘look, if your pain is increasing we need to stop the run immediately, but if this is just will-power failing, the last thing I want to see on my final long run is your grimace. Look positive or I’ll assume you’re injured and we’ll have to stop’. Yes, probably not the sympathetic motivation she needed. Well, she looked brilliant by mile 13, so she’s either a very good faker, or the discomfort in her knee settled.

Next week definitely looks like a taper. 5, 4, 5, 8. This is the time to cut our miles, stay injury free and start banking sleep and confidence. The week after that we start eating for England. ‘Taper’ holds a lot of connotations. Personally I find it really exciting, especially since I love an excuse to eat everything in sight. I think Gillian is dreading it though, since it means she has only two weeks to go till the terrifying big day. She’s probably rocking somewhere or mainlining tea to try to calm down right now, but I am looking at a blank sheet of paper with the words ‘meal plan’ scrawled across the top. Good times.