On Monday I flew to Barcelona for four days of sun, sightseeing and sangria with my two awesome best friends.
Naturally, this meant no training whatsoever (despite me taking a couple of bikinis and hoping to use the ‘pool’ – which turned out to be a bath).
I returned on Friday, but this weekend has been muy, muy (see, speaking some Spanish now) unsuccessful – I’ve been at my parent’s house, lazy and a bit preoccupied.
Which has lead to much panicking over on Twitter this evening, as well as much #RunThisTown reassurance and support from Sarah and Sam.
Awesome week. No running. Eight weeks to go. Time to CRANK IT UP.
I’m somewhat stealing this post idea from Sophie’s awesome blog Be Pretty Fit, but couldn’t resist a quick post about my Olympics tickets as I’m pretty excited!
I have tickets for Freestyle Wrestling at ExCeL on Friday 10th August (which also happens to be my birthday!) I have no clue about wrestling (the closest thing I’ve seen is being forced to watch the UFC by my boyfriend) but I don’t really care, I’m just happy to be going to see something – and there’s a medal ceremony included in the session I’m seeing!
I also then saw that you could get tickets just for entry into the Olympic Park, so snapped up some of those for entry in the afternoon of Monday 30th July. As you can’t get into any of the venues with this ticket, this might just turn into an afternoon of queuing, buying over priced food and drink and just generally getting hot, squashed and bothered, but I think swimming is on whilst I’ll be there, so the atmosphere should be awesome.
Olympics fever has definitely hit!
Week three was a much better week by all account, due to the fact I actually did something. Nowhere near as much as the training plan told me I should do, but something nonetheless.
Last week actually started off really well – on Monday I did my usual pump and boxercise classes, and I particularly enjoyed the latter. On Tuesday I did a few miles on the bike at the gym, before trying out a new class, Bokwa, which I wrote about earlier in the week.
I missed two 30 minute/5k runs this week, but on Thursday I had an awesome run which left me feeling on top of the world.
This feeling was quickly forgotten come Sunday, when I got up at 7am for my first proper ‘long Sunday run’ of training (naughty me). I was feeling smug that I actually dragged myself up and out at such an hour (despite being woken at around 2am by my boyfriend returning from a night out), and confident that I could manage the 6 miles the training plan demanded given how good I felt doing 4 miles a few days earlier. Silly me.
I only managed about 2 (rather excruciating) miles before the panic set in, the ‘why did I think I could do this’ (maybe because I’ve done it once before) thoughts started and a couple of tears fell. In a complete tantrum, I decided this was not my day and my breathing was too all-over-the-place to attempt running again. Massive Sunday fail.
This week I’m off to Barcelona for five days with my two best friends, so not much training is going to happen this week. Apparently there’s a pool of the roof of our apartment block (although the internet cannot provide any photographic evidence of its existence) so I’m not sure how much swimming will be happening to balance out the sangria and tapas. Adiós!
…I ran past two glass fronted gyms. Along the front of the windows were people plodding along on treadmills. And I actually felt sorry for them. Yes, it was that weird time between light and dark, between day and night. And yes, it was that weird drizzle that doesn’t fall, it’s just there, hanging in there. But I was actually enjoying my run. I managed to push past the it-hurts-it-hurts-it-hurts phase.
Furthermore, I ran four miles. I can’t remember the last time that happened (…okay I looked it up, it was 26th April – TWO AND A HALF MONTHS AGO). That, my friends, is progress.