My Hat Felt Too Tight

Yesterday the weather was perfect. There was hardly a breeze which is rare for Jersey and so I decided to run 13 miles. I was toying with running 15 miles as there's a half marathon on Sunday and it would be better to to run further. Then I decided 15 miles was too far and I agreed with myself to run 13 although deep down I knew I only intended to run 10. You see I have a ten mile run from my house to the marina in town and back, this is ten miles. If I went further that way it would mean running through town, something I'm not prepared to do. If I want to go further I would need to get back back to my house and then run the last three miles the other way. I often think about doing this but have managed it perhaps once or twice as I normally think, ah, ten miles is enough, and stop when I get back near my house. It's a better man than me that could run ten miles, get back near his house and then run further. It's as if my house has a tractor beam.

13 miles I told myself but realistically I was going to run ten. In the end I ran 2 and a half miles.

It was one of those runs where my hat felt too tight and I couldn't feel my arms. I really only enjoy running as fast as I can which means a distance of 3-6 miles. Anything further I don't enjoy it. I don't know what to do. To not go as fast as I can? What's the point? I ask myself after a mile or so and this is what happened. The first mile I was thinking, this is not stressing me at all, but it wasn't stressing me in a bad way, not a good way, you should feel something when you run or else it's weird and out of bodyish. The next mile my hat felt too tight and I couldn't feel my arms but I thought I might get into it.

That's another thing I tell myself, like how I might run 13 miles, I tell myself if I don't feel good on a run I might get into it, I might start to feel better. This has never once happened. If I feel bad at the start then I will feel worse with each step. Worse and further away from home. Yesterday I just stopped at 2 and a half miles and then I started to sweat. I thought I might be dying. I walked home and decided I'd drunk too much coffee. I drink too much coffee.

I got home and went shopping. At the shop an old person was pawing the apples, turning each over in her hands. I told her she should buy the less that perfect fruit, otherwise the African farmers starve. I'd seen that on the news. She just left the apples and then I took all the perfect ones because I'm not eating maggoty apples. I usually dig down to the layer of apples as yet un-pawed  by old people.

During the day I considered not doing the half marathon. I want to run a 34 min ten kilometres. I have no interest in distances further than 6.2 miles. There isn't a ten kilometre race for a couple of months.

In the evening I decided to have another go at running. I decided to run my favourite 3 mile run wearing my favourite shoes, my Asics Pirahnas. I still felt a bit ill but the weather was too good to miss. I ate two teaspoons of peanut butter and drove to the Hamburger stand where I start. The traffic was bad and on the way I ate three Star Bursts. The Star Bursts had been in the car for a while and were difficult to unwrap and sticky. I prefer Haribo. I was wearing a yellow Superdry T-shirt with the sleeves cut off to make it a vest, my blue running shorts (short) and my Adidas cap that that morning had felt too tight. I looked good but still felt bad.

My fucking computer just restarted itself! Peice of shit.

I got out the car and walked to the bit where the tarmac changes colour which is where I time myself from. I didn't feel great but I started running and then I did feel great. I felt great. I never check my pace while running but I knew I was running fast. I caught and passed a cyclist. I adore the noise Asics Piranhas make when they strike the pavement, there are a lot of voids in the sole which cause a drumming sound. They feel like ballet slippers. I got to the turn still feeling great, it's only a mile and a half but sometimes it seems to take ages to get there. Usually the second mile and a half is a struggle but not yesterday. I pushed even harder on the way back and could feel I wasn't slowing. When I could see the finish I ran harder still. I asked myself if I'd slow down if running the last few hundred metres so hard would kill me. It will kill me one day. I smoke, drink too much wine and coffee and eat nothing but turkey and pork and Haribo. I ran that last bit as hard as I could.

I did the three miles in 16:27 which is as fast as I can run when not in a race. The last mile was the fastest and I felt like a God.

I decided I would do the half marathon on Sunday, even if only for training and then I played some Sports Club Tennis on the Nintendo WiiU while the children cheered me. During the game my ankle felt broken and I couldn't put any weight on it. Then it sort of went away. I think it was a trapped nerve.