Last night’s session at the gym was a bit rubbish really. I went with the intention of not running at all, seeing as I felt a big groggy. But, no sooner had a I laced up my trainers, I thought the treadmill was a good idea.
I decided to run without Woman, and it was lucky I did, as after about 3.5km my body gave in. It was just tired. Bored. Both maybe. I ended up walking for the next 10 minutes whilst I waited for Sarah to finish her session with Girlie (who, I did not realise, is actually a Man…awkward).
I couldn’t really do much else really either. I think I did about 5 minutes on the rowing machine, and did a bit of leg work on the weights kit, but I was in the shower well within the hour.
It was all rather demoralising really. However, thanks to the wonders of science, I may have found some form of consolation.
Sarah’s all-singing, all-dancing heart monitor has been tracking everything we have been up to all week, and according to the very clever looking charts on the website/software, we should really have avoided “high intensity workouts” for 24-48 hours over the weekend. It turns out that our big walk up in the Yorkshire Dales was a heavier workout than I figured.
Anyway, so today I rested. Which was apt, as I ended up watching other people running on TV. The Great North Run. My friend Scott was up there somewhere, and despite completely inadequately training, he actually turned in a semi-decent / non-walking time of 2h10m.
Watching running is far harder work than actually running, I can assure you. And the BBC are especially annoying in their direction. Particularly how it is exactly the same every year. I would have had no clue if I was watching a repeat or something live. And every year, despite the fact that we can receive transmissions from Mars, the camera on the back of that motorbike always breaks and cuts out during the more interesting moments.
“Up North” they don’t seem to bother with implementing any crowd barriers, and all of the crowd kept jumping onto the road behind the elite runners, just to get in camera shot. Which was fine, apart from the fact that they jumped directly into the path of the rear cyclists who nearly fell off their bike more than once. What is it about the general public and their idiotic need to get onto a camera for 3 seconds?
My last observation was the high proportion of normal fun/club runners who are ridiculously skinny vs muscular. Skinny is never a good look on a man, and unless you are an Olympic marathon runner, I can’t see it being very easy getting through a normal life looking like one. Plus they all insist on wearing equally skinny vests and tiny shorts. They look weird and they are enough to put anybody off taking up running. Even me, during my lazier moments.
I couldn’t even watch the whole run, for crying out loud. That’s how lazy I was today. Dear God, will I ever complete this quest?