Week Three comes and goes.
Monday was a warm 10k recovery run. Bad idea. Left it ’til the hottest part of the day. Took just over the hour and I lost three gallons of sweat. Okay, maybe not three. Later that evening we had to do a BA exercise in Newbridge, which is a core part of being a fireman: put on a breathing apparatus set and go into a burning building. Note to self. Don’t prepare for this with a hot 10k run a few hours before attempting this training exercise.
Tuesday is Speed Work. Lovely. Used the lap function on the Garmin to give me a better idea of pace for each kilometre lap of the grassy pitches and it works well. All in all, another 10k, but this time half of it done at pace.
Wednesday is yet another recovery run. I am beginning to wonder what the recovery is in reference to, as I feel I would recover better in the bath, in front of the telly, and in bed. I tried some food therapy instead…
Thursday is the tempo run; almost as much fun as the speed work. This run should see me do set distances at 5.35 pace which is not particularly fast, but is designed to be just faster than race pace. The Garmin watch is still getting a little confused about the start point. These are luxury problems, but it throws your pace out. It got a little lost again in the woods, but I could tell quite clearly that I was going at a decent lick and nothing like the the watch was suggesting. Of course, once you pop out into the open again it corrects itself, but that too can be off-putting. Overall, a reasonable run of 10k in under 55 minutes.
Friday and, yes, you guessed it… a recovery run. Short enough, mercifully and I got it out of the way early in the day, knowing I would be up early the next day for the long run.
Saturday, and Mark and I set off for a long run. We stayed in the park, so numerous loops are required to get the distance, and to stop you losing the will to live. We clocked up nearly 23k and the pace was just over the required 6.05 but overall, happy enough.
To celebrate the finish of Week Three, I decided later that day to uproot the patio out the back and power-hose the paving, and re-bed it on new weed blanket. Yes, this is the crazy life of the hamsters-on-wheels that are the middle-aged marathon-running men of the middle class.