Last week I ran on three days. In those three days I totalled the distance of 59.26km.
And I did a 2 hour workout at the gym.
No, I am not trying to boast though I realise it sounds like that. I am just a bit.. well, shocked. There have been two or three weeks now that I have done two 21km runs in one week. It is only when I sit down and think about it that it starts sounding a bit crazy – two half marathons in a week (oh, and the 16km hill run). This is nuts. And yet; oh, so addictive! It is KNOWING that I can do that kind of distance even on an off-day that makes me want to do it every time I go out. The sensible part of my brain is telling me to start varying the runs more again and try and make one of the runs longer than the 21km, maybe start really gunning for the full monty of 42km but… Yeah, the “but”. And the “if” and the “when”.. Something is holding me back and I just can’t put my finger on it. Though I have a feeling it has a lot to do with the fear of failing. Deciding on a distance and being able to hit it. I wouldn’t exactly consider myself a coward but I have never been very good at “failing to deliver”.
In other news, it was pretty darn hot on Sunday when I did my second 21km and I ran in nothing but the running bra and shorts. Felt pretty naked but decided that if that bothered people, they should just look the other way. I also made sure to have my headphones on loud enough not to be able to hear any leering or the other inevitably sexist/mean comments you are bound to get as a female runner no matter what you are wearing. Admittedly skimpy clothing is really asking for trouble though. Others may have a bitchy resting face, I have a bitchy running face.