At least I had a plan.

It was 4 x 3000. I haven't done the long intervals in a long time, so I was nervous anyway. Also training has been very inconsistent, really since the China race at the end of Augusy- it's felt for months like I'm either resting for an upcoming race or recovering from one. And motivation just collapsed after Trailwalker. I've raced twice since then and run fast on Wednights, but done next to nothing in between. Today I put it off all day and all day, tellimg myself I'd go and do short sprints in the park, or maybe something else. In the end I settled for a jog around the park to warm up for whatever suggested itself, and by the time I'd got back to the bridge I'd talked myself through a whole fantasy narrative in which I set a split record at the Lantau race, fastest climb EVER from the start to CP1. Impossible, of course, but it was enough to bring me to the conclusion that I needed the long reps. So I made a plan: 4 x 3000, the first one steady in maybe 13 minutes, the second in nearer to 12, then maybe 11.30 and a final gut busting 11.28 or .29. I had really convinced myself I would do it, too, as I took of from the start line, trying to relax, and as I'm always telling Oscar, let the speed build naturally. Well, I managed 3 x 3000, which is one more than I've ever forced myself to do before. I didn't have a fourth one in me. I think it's mainly psychological, which I find more disappointing than the physical side.

Still, the numbers were OK. Remember I wanted the first one done in 13.00; and without too much strain, I did it in 11.49. Recovery was quick and the return leg came in at 11.38, a bit harder but I wasn't pissing my pants. It took a recap of the whole split record fantasy to bring me back to the start line for number 3: 11.29. These are reasonable splits for a runner like me, I think, 10 seconds faster each iteration with pretty short recoveries, around 3 minutes. My fastest split on that route is 11.24 and I might just have gotten under 11.29 on the last one. Looking back, it would only have taken a little bit of determination. But the mind is always selling the body, as John Landy said, and I couldn't toe the line for another. I gave myself the usual bullshit excuse about protecting my knee, saving myself to run again tomorrow. This is why I don't come close to the top 3 in races and why I won't be setting split records for badass hill climbs any time soon... But it was therapeutic, cathartic, in it's way, sure it was. I've been working hard at fucking up my life recently, and a good run, a little bit of pain, the exercise of a gift, it helps to reset the mind a little. I don't think I've ever really succeeded in explaining where running and my relationship with God intersect, but I got the feeling via the aching of my legs tonight that He could bring me home. A friend once called it "the whispered possibility of grace."

God. Forgive. Me.