Day 89 – A Week Lost, but Not the Battle
The Reluctant Runner This morning, my back still wasn’t playing nicely and getting out of bed felt like wrestling an octopus made of lead. Every movement was accompanied by an internal monologue of protests, the occasional sigh and a fleeting temptation to just stay under the covers where nothing hurt. But that’s not how marathons get run, and so, eventually, I shuffled myself upright and into my running gear. Getting out onto the pavement wasn’t much easier. My legs felt stiff, my back ached and my form was less ‘graceful long-distance runner’ and more ‘wobbly foal on ice.’ Every footfall carried the weight of frustration. The run was short—more of a token gesture than a proper session—but at least I was moving. The real battle, at this point, isn’t the running itself; it’s the gnawing irritation of feeling like my training is slipping through my fingers. A Week of Woes Between last week’s miserable cold, the foot injury that followed and now this persistent back niggle, I can’t shake...