Running through treacle

Well, the lady that wrote the training program that I'm following said 100 mile training should feel hard but it will get easier. She got the first bit right anyway. I've dropped back to four days per week; the Tuesday two or three miler hardly seems worth the effort putting my shorts on and I feel better for the extra day's rest. The trouble is, the first run of the week is now 12 miles long, followed by six, then 25, then 14. That's 57 miles spread over four days. Each run now feels like I'm running through treacle, lots of effort but not much progress. Come the 31st of July, I will probably be grateful if I feel as good!

I've been experimenting with food, trying to find an alternative to the gels. Malt loaf is good because of the fruit and sugar. It really sticks to your teeth though and is a bit too much to chew when you're running. Gary gave me one of his honey brioches last weekend on the Long Mynd. It sounds a bit pretentious but surprisingly good. There's 100 calories per roll plus whatever the butter and honey runs to. They're soft enough to squish down for packing in the small pockets of my rucksack and easy to chew and swallow. You have to time your breathing quite well though otherwise you end up sucking in brioche shrapnel then coughing your guts up.

You get quite a lot of time to think while you're running. It's strange what comes to mind. I went past two rather large Black Country gentlemen the other day while powering my way up the Wrekin for the fourth or fifth time that morning. They were talking about crisps. "Heard about those Tyrells?" one asked the other.
"The ones with the new flavour? Balsamic vinegar isn't it?"
"Yeah, that's right. They used to have 60 grammes written on the packet in really big writing. Well, I bought some the other day and now they've got 40 grammes written on them but it's in really small writing."
"That's not on, that."
"No, it's not."
Luckily, I was quite a bit quicker than them so I didn't get to hear the rest of their conversation. Two things struck me about this. Firstly, these lads really knew their crisps and had clearly made a study of it. The second thing that sprang to mind, as I tried unsuccessfuly to keep my breathing to a two-two rythmn, was how the human body responds to the demands that we put on it. Marathon runners look like they're supposed to: strong legs, lean, small upper bodies. They just look like they run a lot, which of course, they do. Body builders look like people that lift heavy weights. You get the idea. Anyway, following this train of thought I tried to imagine what these Black Country boys looked like. Then it came to me - crisp eaters.

A big thank you must go out to all of you that have made donations at www.justgiving.com/runbazrun.

Baz.