Monday, November 1, 2010

My body makes very little sense.

After having put in a very sluggish 21km run yesterday morning, I felt decidedly perplexed that my body had not recovered after two full days without any excercise.
After the run, I felt like trash throughout the morning, and into the early afternoon, but at just after 3:30pm, having just watched the trailer for the film "Once a Runner", I felt ready to go again, although my quads felt like mush.
For the first time in two weeks, I decided to don my pillowy racing flats; I had not worn them in a while because they seemed to aggravate the tendinitis. The run to the trailhead was pretty average, although I felt better than I had that morning. I ran quickly but with poor form down the initial wide trail, and up to the Flat Taringa route, which has become my portal to the world of Mount Cootha. However, against my better judgement, as soon as I made the right turn on to the single-trail, I started to haul ass. The extra protection of the racing flats allowed me to fly along the rolling hills, and I was able to maintain a long, strong stride when I began the proper climb. I kept running, pushing hard on the 5-10% inclines, and just soaking up the 10-20s. I knew that I had a shot at a PB for the climb, so I kept pushing, even though my hip started to niggle me a bit. I came out of the trail-head in 10:38, blitzing my last PB of 12:50. I then put in a pretty rubbishy descent of an unmarked MTB trail, climbed up the other side via the Slaughter Falls trails, and chopped my way down the Steep Taringa trail home. Needless to say, my foot was pretty rooted by the end, but I was satisfied with the PB.
I'm still trying to understand how that happened.

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