Day 21

Distance Run: 12.33 miles
Total Distance Run for January: 42.55 miles
Other Exercise: None

  With the London Marathon date drawing ever closer, I'd begun to have some doubts on whether my training and race-day goals were achievable. Saying I'll run x miles on alternate weekends before breaking 4 hours on the day is one thing - doing it is quite another. My determination has never been in doubt, but my body's limitations have. The latest step on the ambitious road was to get through a 12-12.5m run intact, with speed not important. This would be my longest run since October's half, and a test of how my fitness compares to then. I drafted a 12.33 mile route, with the only inclines being the occasional bridge/subway, and drove the short distance to the Hop Poles pub for a flat ground start. Armed with a bottle of Lucozade, spare radio battery, and £1 (should I wish to purchase an additional drink) - I set off for a typically anticlockwise loop of Enfield.
  One thing I'd forgotten to do was make a mental note of the mile markers for the route. I had a rough idea, but I usually have a precise point or two to judge my pace along the way. Perhaps not knowing timings was for the best, as I really focussed on my running form instead. Short strides, reasonable turnover, do not overstride, land just ahead of midfoot. My right shin ached a touch early on, which didn't bode well, and my legs generally felt less than perfect - but I was going along fine. After running past Edmonton Green, I took a right on to Bounces Road - checking whether to see one my accountancy clients, Dave Sharma, was manning the carwash at the Jet garage he owns. Sure enough, Dave was there in his blue overalls putting in a Saturday shift. Although it cost a few seconds, I felt it was worthwhile demonstrating how he wasn't the only one working hard that afternoon, and that I was still after one of his missing bank statements from mid-September to reconcile his bookkeeping records. He'd have probably donated me a complimentary beverage, but with my Lucozade intact I sprang off to Meridian Way. The weather was very breezy, and I couldn't figure out which way the wind was blowing. The temperature was fine, but I noted the cloudier skies to the north (which I was running towards), along with the slowly setting sun. I sensed rain was likely, but I turned out to be wrong. Meridian Way, which becomes Mollison Avenue, has nothing other than industrial estates and a drive-through McDonalds on it. It's fine for a run, and there's some nice greenery to be seen as the road bends left back to the A10. I estimated I was halfway when my watch hit 55 minutes, and it was within the hour mark that I was feeling the strain. Psychologically I knew I'd covered 10.67 miles less than two weeks ago, and this helped as the glances towards the watch became more frequent, and the breathing became a little harder. I reverted to my mental trick of breaking down the distance into 5 minute spells - thinking too far ahead is a killer, but I knew I'd reach the A10 somewhere around 85-90 mins, and Carterhatch Lane at 100-105 mins, if I just kept going. That I did, although it was made tougher by the breeze blowing right into my face on the open stretch towards the A10 - slowing me to what probably looked like a slow-motion crawl forwards. Across the lights, then up and over the railway bridge, down past Burger King and McDonalds, and the A10 reached in 86 minutes. Down and then up the subway exit, and previous timings meant I knew 1h 50m was doable - which meant I must've been fairly quick thus far. Increasingly tired, but by this point knowing I was in no danger of giving up, I slowly caught up with and overtook a female jogger. I turned back, offered a smile and thumbs-up, and the large lady returned the gesture - which was nice. I hope the sight of me plodding off into the distance wasn't too demoralising for her.
  Increasingly confident I could gently increase my pace as the finish line approached, I turned into Carterhatch Lane, across the small roundabout, and prepared to cross over on the zebra crossing. Now, when I'm driving, people/idiots who loiter near zebra crossings or belatedly turn 90 degrees at the last second to use them, really piss me off. So, despite being over 100 minutes into a painful run, I stuck out my Lucozade a few yards in advance and made it as obvious as possible of my intentions as I jogged to the crossing. A woman driving a silver car was heading a small queue of traffic, about 60 yards away. I'd probably have been fine to just cross over, but her speed exceeded 30 and I erred on caution - she's obliged to stop after all. Once it became apparent that Ms Muppet did not intend to stop, my hand gesture of "thanks for stopping in advance of you doing so" transformed itself into an impromptu round of sarcastic applause, along with a real effort to make eye contact. It's hard to say which occurred first, but she did brake quite aggressively to permit me my legal right of passage - hopefully the applause got the message across for good measure. The driver going the other way did what most nice, considerate drivers tend to do, flashing his lights and/or gesturing whilst slowing down in advance. He knew not to mess with a hirsute running machine! My internal ramblings on poor driving carried me through the remaining mile of the run, and with no other obstacles to navigate I finished up, hands on knees by my car door, clocking home on 1:48:50. Comfortably under 9 mile minutes, and without allowing for stoppages along the way - awesome. The idea of doing over two laps of that course, and at that speed, is laughable. The idea of doing several demanding training runs in a hope to accomplish just that, for no reason other than to test myself, seems ludicrous. The idea of devoting more of my life to this target as it looms ever larger is deflating. But, for now, the latest challenge is complete.
  Happily, despite a lot of soreness and stiffness, I had no severe cramps or major concerns after the run. My reward for the afternoon exertions was to meet up with Helen H for pub dinner and drinks whilst watching the Bolton v Liverpool game. This didn't quite go to plan (which gave Helen plenty of cause for amusement), and my escaping to meet up with friends in Fulham Broadway didn't start much better after I was firstly ID'd (facial hair counts for nowt) and secondly given a mild piss-taking from the bouncer who had noted my Liverpool scarf (the second time in recent months I'd been sporting the attire in West London on a night where Liverpool had been humiliated). Happy to report the evening improved after that, and a trip to Nando's meant I found space for more food (probably 1,500 calories in 3 hours - worrying) and back in the pub for a coffee ("a bit left-field" was the barman's response to my Saturday night 10:20pm beverage choice - wonder how far he'd run that day) before returning home quite happy with how the day had gone (Liverpool FC aside).

Injuries: Muscle soreness - hopeful it will heal ok
Mood: Amiable

  Tomorrow is a very lazy Sunday - I intend to do virtually nothing, and enjoy the rest. With plenty of football to watch and DVDs when the sport stops, I'm spoilt for choice.