2022 hasn’t really gotten off to the start I had dreamed of. As of the end of April I have run four events and cancelled five; two of those should have been ultras. You can put it down to fitness, confidence or bad planning but the simple fact of it all is that my plan for the year is not unfurling as I had hoped.
m, 62 miles, 100,000 metres, 130,000 steps, 328,000 feet, from Oxford Street in London to the streets of Oxford. Which ever way you measure it 100km is a bloody long way. distances just seem completely insurmountable and incomprehensible in equal measure. They felt like finish lines I doubted I would ever cross.
just flat out lie about them. In running it is hard to do any of those things when it comes to races. Sure you can make excuses or blame others but the numbers on the timesheet or medal not hanging up on your wall are hide to lie, blame or hide from...
Hidden among the trees of the Hurtwood, deep in the Surrey Hills lies one of my biggest running defeats. Back in December 2018, when Corona was still just a beer, I was utterly destroyed by the ultramarathon; Hurtwood 50k. I may have finished but in my eyes I failed. I struggled beyond belief and it scarred my confidence for many months, to put it bluntly the race destroyed me in every way
I made my motto for 2019; “Do what you can’t”. The battle cry I needed whenever the trial of training for Marathon des Sables seemed too much. But now I couldn’t even do that which I used to find easy. Having conquered marathons and ultramarathons I now can’t run 5km without being in hot, gnarling pain..
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