Thursday 8th January
Run #8
5k Clapham-Victoria #runcommute
After a fairly enjoyable backpack
run yesterday I realised that I was staying over at T's, with my coat and boots
at the office as neither had fit in my pack. A quick check of the weather
report suggested 'rain' at 6am and, at 7am: 'heavy rain'. I spent a bit of time
considering which would be less sucky: a 30-odd minute walk and tube commute to
Victoria in the rain sans coat, or a 30-odd minute run to Victoria. Knowing
that the overall route back to Victoria would have a couple of decent downhills
and not fancying shivering on the tube, I decided I'd run in. Roughly
estimating 30 minutes for the 5k I set my alarm to give myself 40 but when it
went off, used up the spare faffing. As I invariably always do. It is likely I
will never learn.
After scarfing down a banana as an
afterthought I slugged a half pint of water and hoped that would suffice for
fuelling. A quick check of the Met app again before leaving and it looked like it
was going to be an unseasonably warm morning: 8 degrees or thereabout, so I
left the gloves in my bag and headed out. I wasn't wrong about the temperature
and, despite the slight drizzle, my long sleeve zip up found itself relegated
to my bag within half a k too, and I continued in a sleeveless technical T.
Despite this being the reverse of a
run I'd done barely 12 hours before, and with the downhills I'd signed up for,
it was not what I expected. If a triathlon run off the bike is called a brick
there should be a terminology for a run out of bed. A cement run maybe? Boy,
did I feel heavy! Where was my energy? (Still in bed snoozing it's alarm clock
probably) This coupled with 'backpacker's neck' and a niggle in my calf meant
it wasn't my finest performance! Getting going was tough. Keeping going was
tough. But the weight of the London rush-hour meant that every single road that
needed crossing demanded stopping and usually waiting for the lights. While
this usually drives me crazy, a lot of these were a very welcome opportunity to
hold my pack off the back of my neck for a minute or two.
Around 2k the rain really started
coming down, but it still wasn't cold and, with my visor keeping the rain off
my face I barely noticed the wet. Until around 3k when it finally got all the
way into my shoes and the run got a tad 'squelchy'. Running back over Battersea
Bridge my energy hit a new low and my mental fortitude was flagging. But part
way over I realised that the tarmac over the bridge was super-glossy with the
rain and the sky was just starting to lighten. I mentally picked myself up and
demanded I acknowledge that it was like running on the Thames itself, into the
dawn. With this in mind I renewed my positivity and tortoise waddled my
squelchy-footed self the last k towards the office and some dry clothes.
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