Day 25: Tempo Run Through Dickens' Rochester

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The Art of the Tempo Run

Today’s training called for a tempo run—a session I hadn’t done in a while. After a 10-minute warm-up, I embarked on four five-minute efforts aiming to keep my heart rate around 160 bpm. On paper, this isn’t meant to be gruelling, but reality, as always, had other ideas. Downhill sections felt like a chaotic waltz with gravity, while uphill sections tested my resolve (and my lungs).

Between each effort, I had a two-minute recovery, where I did something that seems at odds with the notion of a “run”: I walked. Yes, walking—though not the dignified, hat-tipping variety, but the quick “please-heart-rate-drop” kind. After the walk, I transitioned to a slow jog, allowing my recovery periods to work their magic. Proper recovery isn’t just a luxury; it’s the alchemy that turns effort into improvement.

The Science of Pushing Limits

Tempo runs are one of the unsung heroes of marathon training. They’re not glamorous, but they quietly help increase your lactate threshold, which means you can sustain higher intensity levels for longer. Imagine two runners competing in a 10K: both have the same VO2 max, but one has a higher lactate threshold. That runner will cross the finish line first—or at least get the bigger slice of post-race cake.

Today’s session was about those peaks and troughs—deliberate, structured intensity paired with recovery. It’s like preparing for life’s unexpected moments; when the hills arrive (both literal and metaphorical), you’re ready to climb them.

Foggy Rochester and a Dickensian Mood

The route I chose today meandered through Rochester, past the historic Vines and alongside the imposing Cathedral. With the fog still lingering, the scene felt like a moody Dickensian set piece. You half expected a cloaked figure to emerge, muttering about debts or lost loves. Thankfully, the only spectre haunting me was my own shadow, flickering in the dim light.

As I ran past the ancient architecture, the juxtaposition struck me: here I was, hurtling through history while chasing a very modern goal. It’s moments like these that remind me why I’m doing this. There’s something wonderful about blending the timeless and the fleeting—a bit like life itself.

So, another session is ticked off. My legs feel worked but strong, my heart is ready for the next challenge, and my mind is pondering whether those Dickensian figures would have benefited from a good tempo run. After all, no plot twist is as daunting when your lactate threshold is on point.

Location: Sittingbourne, UK

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