Why I Hate Running In The Country (And Why Love It At The Same Time)
I’ve grown fond of hill running. The problem is that around here there are no natural trails. It’s all farmland and I’m reluctant to trespass, as the last thing I need in my life is a shotgun blast to the cock from a farmer aiming for my head.
So I make the best of what I have at the minute and stick to road running.
Today I ran around the Knockagh Road once more in a good 11.6 mile run that took in 260m of elevation.
It took 1:55 in total and I could have ran it much faster but I stood in a huge pile of horseshit at mile 8 and was too busy trailing my foot to get rid of it (the shit was still warm, so I didn’t wanna risk offending the horse which was probably still in the area).
I’ve noticed that since my last run around the hill my legs have strengthened considerably. It’s hard to describe but it almost seems like I’m ‘hopping’ up hills with maybe 75% of the effort it took previously. It’s great to see that hill running is paying off.
Running solo in the country
I love the quietness of the back country roads. The area where I run is close to where my dad spent a lot of his time fishing. He was in his element in the hills and it’s fitting that I am the same as him in that regard.
I was pretty awful at fishing though. He’d take me up to the fishery in the hills when I was in my teens and it never ended well. Since I have zero hand-to-eye coordination I messed up majorly on one of my first trips and cast the fishing rod into the reservoir.
From then on I spent more time in the fishery caravan eating Mars Bars (which was to become a sport on it’s own to me in the next few years).
My point is that I think I’m quite like my dad when it comes to seeking solitude in an individual sport. I love being out there on my own.
I’d have loved it even more today if it weren’t for the stone in my shoe that wormed it’s way in at mile 10.
I’m a stubborn bastard and I didn’t want to stop to take it out and I’m sure it stopped me from going on to run another half marathon.
But man, it hurt! Sometimes I’m my own worst enemy.
Reflecting on a good week
I did not have high hopes for this week given that I hadn’t ran a single mile until Friday at 5:30am.
I got it together and managed to record 35 miles over only 3 runs which is a new record for me. Those runs happened on consecutive days and the shortest one was 11 miles. I’ve never ran 10 miles or more on 3 consecutive days until today.
What I’m noticing these days more than anything is that I’m recovering from runs far more quickly than when I was beginning.
It’s exciting to see progress!
This Wednesday I’m running the Lisburn Half Marathon for the first time ever after entering it twice before and not being fit for it. It’s quite a hilly course, but today’s run proved that I’m ready for it. I’m not expecting a PB but I will go out and try to enjoy it.
Here’s to another successful week, next week!