Death by run

I was going to have a nice, gentle, controlled session at the gym this morning, but then I was asked to sort out an ailing cellphone and suddenly there wasn’t really time to get there before the parking (always an issue on Friday) would have been totally filled.

Still, lovely morning, so why not take advantage of the spring sunshine and go for a little 5km jog around the block(s)?

Well, having done a little 5km jog around the block(s), I now have a number of reasons. And the spring sunshine is one of them.

When I left home, it was 14°C. When I got back, it was 27°C.

I wasn’t gone that long. It just got very warm, very quickly.

I have no issue with running in the heat, as long as I know that I’m going to be running in the heat. (There are limits.)
I was not expecting this heat. This heat did not help.

Next up, football on Tuesday night. The most energetic game I have played in a long, long while. And while I had a lovely time, and we won a tight, frantic, occasionally bad-tempered game, sweet mother of beagles, I’ve been hurting since then. Upon awakening this morning, I thought I’d moved on and recovered, but within 500m of starting my run, it became clear that I was mistaken. Things were still quite broken. A sensible individual would have sensibly admitted defeat and returned home, sensibly.

I kept going.

And then there was Forest Drive, 650m of road during which you gain (or lose, I suppose, but not in this case) over 100m of altitude. A challenge on any day. It seemed longer, steeper, higher today. That’s probably because I donated blood on Wednesday morning. Usually, I’m back up to speed within 24 hours. That clearly hasn’t happened this time. There was a dramatic shortage of oxygen, not helped by the increasing heat (see above).

A sensible individual would have… ah, never mind.

I finished a hideous five point something with a 6:28 average. Dreadful, and I feel no better for it.

I will take these things into consideration next time, not least delaying repairing cellphones until after I have safely – and gently – gymed.

I’m physically damaged and I need to go to bed.

The recovery continues…

Not the Rand. That’s buggered.
No, I’m taking about my ankle.

image

Here is the result of my first run, “just” 4 months, 11 days and 5 hours after that fateful pothole related incident in January.

Slow and short, sure, but with no fitness and absolutely no confidence whatsoever, and on the wet, slippery, uneven pavements of Wynberg; yeah, I’ll settle for that.

The ankle seems fine, but pretty much everything else is stiff and sore.
Tomorrow is going to bring a world of pain. But I really don’t care. 😉