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!