Blister free socks my a***

As the title of this post suggests, the 20-miler yesterday wasn't all sweetness and light.

The claim by the 1,000 mile sock company, or whatever they're called, to prevent blisters, is - in my opinion - hollow.

The top half of the little toe on my left foot is entirely blister.

Sore?

You betcha.

Anyway, putting false marketing claims aside, how did it go?

Waking up at 6am isn't something I find too bad - my weekday alarm goes off at 5:50am.

But on a Sunday?

I'm sure Jesus would have something to say about that – was there a parable about the sleep-deprived runner who slowly lost the plot?

So, the sound of my phone chirruping at me at the crack of dawn yesterday was met with some... how can I say... resistance!

I wanted to egt my porridge in me and digesting away before I set off, so after making that, there was an hour of sitting around watching News 24. I don't know if you've ever watched it that early on a Sunday, but they don't give it a lot of razamatazz! Jut lots of repeats of pieces like Click and Oddbox. I guess it gives them time to give the studio a vac.

Digestion over, I slipped on the kit, shoved some gels in my pocket and headed out.

I'd decided to try a four-loops of five miles strategy for this beast of a run, which turns out was a bloody good idea.

I left three bottles of drink behind my garden wall and began plodding along.

To say traffic was light on the first loop is something of an understatement!

I was taking it v easy as I'd planned to pick it up after halfway, so spent the first five miles checking out the scenery and generally sauntering.

Towards the end of the lap, I tucked into a gel, and grabbed a bottle as I went past the house.

I didn't actually need a drink yet, but thought it best to sip a bit to keep ahead of the hydration curve, though sadly I still don't have the ability to run and drink at the same time an managed to dribble copiously at one point.

This isn't normally an issue, but somehow I'd managed to spill on my shorts so there was a nice wet patch around my crotch. Annoyingly it was on a stretch where i was running with the sun behind me so I had a good stint of looking like I'd wet myself.

Wonderful.

The end of the second lap saw another gel taken on, and another drink picked up.

This was where I started to ease up the pace, and I realised I run in a strange way.

When I'm just 'taking it easy' (like running is ever easy!) I seem to run more with my calves. When I up it, its more from the thighs - does that make sense?

So when I picked it up, the dull ache in my calves faded, and I could feel my thighs picking up the strain.

It was like suddenly finding a completely different engine in your car when you're running out of petrol.

Or it could have been the Lucozade and gel combo...

The first two laps had been exactly the same pace, and the third turned out to be nicely faster - am I the only one who thinks this training malarkey is like witchcraft or something?

So, lap four began with the happy thought that it's 'only five miles' to go.

Keeping up a brisk pace, passing where I thought it was about halfway round the loop, my body seemed to suddenly remember that it hates me.

There was a sharp 'twinge' in my right knee - I won't say 'pain' as it wasn't that bad - which caught me unawares.

I eased down a bit and carried on, but then it came back, this time with a bit more bite.

I eased right down now and began to run through various scenarios in my mind:

My leg would fall off - thats not too bad, as the hospital wasn't far from where I was. I'd just need to drag myself to the main road where someone would stop to help. I'd need to remember the leg though, so worked out how I could make a kind of harness for it using my laces and t-shirt, thus freeing up my arms to drag myself more efficiently.

It would go away by itself - nice thought, but I know my body's loathing of me, so this was just it's way of trying to suck me in.

The thoughts were then interrupted by another twinge, at which point I thought, screw it, it's not worth the risk and started to walk.

As I was looping, it wasn't long to get home, and I consoled myself that I at least got about 18 and a bit miles done.

When I got in, I stretched, showered, strapped knee and spent the day chilling.

This included checking my route and I discovered that once again gmap-pedometer disagrees with the route planner on the FLM site. The latter says each loop is 5.66 miles.

So, three laps was 17 miles, plus more than halfway around, say 3 miles (5.66/2 = 2.83).

So, turns out I'd actually probably done my 20 miles!

Whoo hoo!!

Shame my sodding toes killing...