I had an interesting text from Jason last week, about his "Bullock's Smithy" run. He had set up a team to run it together, a small matter of getting a few people to commit to a 50 mile run across the moors on a cold, wet November day. There had clearly been a few issues to resolve, but he and his team had achieved it, finishing in 16th place, out of 150, in just over 12 hours. The text arrived while I was feeling pretty low, but was all the more impressive for that. He's a proper inspiration, Jason, but there is no way I'm going to run 50 miles! This is especially after reading his "rallying call" to his team which essentially said: "right you miserable bunch of bastards; I've got you this far so get out there and get it done!" Doesn't pull any punches, Jason.
I was feeling beaten up by my training. I'm on a strength phase, which involves doing everything to failure, pushing weights I can't manage and then doing more, until I lie, beaten, on the floor, unable to even get up. I felt rough on Friday, probably on the verge of overtraining but determined to push through this phase. I didn't have a good session, and was cursing at myself with my coach laughing at my self-criticism. "You crack me up. You're your own harshest critic. Give yourself a break, you can't be on top form every day." I know, but there is a difference between not being able to do something (which is perfectly acceptable) and how I felt on Friday, which was not wanting to do it. I didn't want to put in the effort, I didn't want to try for that last rep; I wanted to lie down and rest.
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