My first "long run"

It's Sunday. And my new found foray into the world of runner's blogs suggests quite strongly that I've had it wrong about Sundays all my life. I've always believed that Sunday is the day of garden centres. Or B&Q. Or church (or so I hear). Or standing on the touch line in the driving rain, cheering on Best Beloved.

Turns out I've had it all wrong. Runningblogs are clear. Sunday is the day for your "long run". After a little research, I discovered that the "long run" is the name given to a run that is a) long but b) doens't knacker you out too much. This is different from the "hard run" which is a) hard and b) really knackers you out a lot and c) but is shorter.

With that priceless knowledge safely stored in the part of my brain that deals with "pretending to know what I'm doing when it comes to running" - I set off. After consultation with The Starting Mate (otherwise known as the git who talked me into registering us for Cardiff) I decide to head off along the canal tow path for a 5 miler. And for someone who has been running in kilometres - that's farther than I thought.

For some reason, it's made of awful for the first stretch - but on the return leg, I manage to dig deep and find my inner mongrel. I lift my knees a bit higher, keep my back up and try not to feel like I'm about to collapse. Because the oddest thing is, my mind reacts to running as if I'm permanently on the verge of collapse.

It's as if my psyche still deeply relates running to being chased. In a bad way. And can't gets it's head aroud the fact that my body is now quite fit. Each time I run, I have to have the same conversation with my psyche who is screaming in a  rubbish girly way "I'm going to run out of air and die!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!". I have good ammo for this conversation. I check my heart rate, and rationally and lucidly point out that I am not going to die - in fact, when I perform a system check, I find that physically, I am feeling fine. So ha! Take that, rubbish psyche of mine.

This ALWAYS works.

For about 15 minutes.

Anyhoo - pleased to report that I finished my run, then did an extra 30 mins in the gym doing my strength exercises.

Next steps - break the news to Muscles (otherwise known as my trainer) tomorrow and then feel the pain of the new programme he'll set me. Then see physio on Weds who will magically return my lower legs to human form, instead of the mangled mess they are becoming.