Blisters and Boinking (not bonking).

What I had planned for Sunday and what I actually acheived are very different. I was scheduled to run a 10-miler (my first), in hopefully around 1 hour 40. The weather was cool and dry and the route fairly forgiving. What actually happened was I couldn’t mentally get “in the zone”, I “boinked” after 4.5 painfully slow miles and I am now also host to multiple blisters, the daddy of them all being on my left arch and the size and shape of a Bernard Matthews’ Turkey Drumstick (Bootiful).

I can only guess at why I bottomed out after 45 minutes and the absolute best I could do for the remaining 6 miles was mostly walk, with a wee bit of half-arsed staggering thrown in to amuse the Sunday dog-walkers.

1) I just wasn’t physically ‘up to’ a long run today. ( kinda forgot I was suffering from a bug just 4 days ago).

2) wasn’t hydrated enough (drinking one pint of water beforehand was inadequate, seeing as I was parched when I got up).

3)I wasn’t mentally “up to it” either. ( For mystical reasons which evade my understanding, there are certain days in a month when all I really want to do is be indoors on a comfy sofa. I can’t get into the right frame of mind and really lack in stamina).

4) Half a bowl of bran flakes is not enough fuel to see me cover that distance.

5) I wore new shop-bought orthotics for the first time and although they worked wonders in that my left shin and ankle are pain free, it felt like someone was slowly burning a hole in my left foot. (Hence the behemothic blister).

Mustn’t grumble though; the pain and tenderness in my lower left leg has completely disappeared with the introduction of the orthotic. There has to be some compensation to pay for this I suppose (in addition to the heavy price tag of around £20) and that is that my foot feels like it’s been flayed. Tis only skin deep though – I would much rather I had an external problem than an internal one.

And as far as not completing my first 10 miler, I need only think back to May last year and my first venture out the house to embark on a ‘run’. 3 minutes in I was collapsed against a tree, making breathing noises like a telephone sex pest and convinced that my eyes had come loose in their sockets. I can’t expect every run to be better that the last.

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