Kill or Cure - a runner’s mentality

I even managed a half decent pic! (c) Barry Cornelius

I had a 10km race this weekend and, as luck would have it, a cold.*

Not a horrific body-shuddering dose of 'flu but a nagging head cold and sore throat that plagued me from Wednesday and was still setting off alarms when I woke up on the morning of the race on Sunday.

I had eased up during the week to compensate on the basis that I had done a great base of six weeks training including a total of 65 miles the week before.

As expected, my mind started to play tricks on me and tell me that I was stuffing up all my training (you can read more about my warped mind here and here). The truth was that I still managed nearly 30 miles including two very good interval sets and two strong 12km runs.

But I still awoke on the day of Bourton 10km with a raw throat and blocked nose. But me and two running buddies headed off in good spirits and my motto for the day was ‘Kill or Cure’ - I was determined to come back with proof that my marathon training was still on track or keel over.

Of course, being an experienced 10k runner I listened to everything I had read and discovered for myself as the race began.

Or at least, that is what I was hoping to write, the reality was that I shot off like a rocket. I smashed out the first kilometre in 3.30 and felt the exhilaration of being in the leading pack before someone appeared to attached weights to my heels and strap on a 30kg pack to my back.

I managed to keep pushing out sub four minute kms but people flowed past me until the halfway point. I even slipped to a couple of 4.01 kms at 6 and 7 but then my marathon training kicked in and I started to claw back some of the people who had overtaken me earlier.

I could feel the cold take hold about 8kms but by then I knew I could hang on and have a good run. l couldn’t push on and really let rip but I managed to find a solid pace. 

I really noticed a difference due to the coaching I have had for three weeks at the Oxford Tri track session. I had a mental checklist of technique checks which made me straighten up and stretch out my stitch.

Someone caught me - another triathlete - with about 400m to go and I hung on for a while but my usual strength had gone I had to let him go. It was a dent to the pride as one of my few highlights is a finishing kick that rarely gets beaten.

I crossed the line in 39.28; a personal best by 13 seconds. Not as good as I had hoped but better than I had feared.

Bourton didn’t kill me but, as I write this and feel like my head is stuffed with cotton wool, it didn’t cure me either.

Now to get fully back on the marathon training and focus on the next race - the 20km Great Northern in Derby. It’s organised by Punishing Events who put on the excellent Ashbourne Duathlon so I am really looking forward to it.

*  Caution - this post contains traces of sarcasm.