Today was my first off-road run of 2013 and my first since a traumatic body-building workout with Robser Le Monster.
I decided to try a 10km route my dad showed me before I ran the Wycombe Half Marathon in 2011. So, to the sounds of Apocalyptic Love by Slash, I headed out into the chilly February evening.
After 2km, I was ready to go home; my knees hurt from sliding in the mud, my already painful spine was jarring with every step that landed in a hole, and the brambles were tearing at my arms.
It was about then I discovered the water. Yes, the water.
Unbeknownst to me, the River Thames is quite high at the moment about about a kilometre of my route had been flooded. When I say flooded, there were ducks and geese swimming across the fields. It was the first time I’ve ever wanted a camera on a run.
Turning back (or acting with any sense), however, is both tedious and lame. Thus, with the disturbingly green liquid lapping at my balls, I trudged on at a variety of paces from ‘adventurous stride’ to ‘pissed off wading’. At no point, luckily, did I have to swim. Things weren’t that bad.
The water cleared by around the 3km mark, but by 4km or 5km I was wondering why I was still running. Everything hurt. Apart from my lungs, which seems to be holding up.
Come 6km, however, I was back on a levle surface and had found my stride. By the time I hit 8km (running through a cemetary, I believe) I was on a high – I practically sprinted home, even finding the energy to sing along to the last few tracks of the album, hurdle occassional patches of flooded and nail a sprint finish up Abbey Road.
Overall, I clocked a bad time for under 11km. Then again, considering it was off-road and I had to wade through flood water for a a tenth of the route, I think I did OK.