A slow run up a hill


I wore my compression tights while I slept last night, and I got a decent seven hours of uninterrupted sleep, but I still woke up exhausted. It turns out you can’t always defy the strains of an increased training load. And so it was that when I went out running this evening, a simple journey to the top of Mount Faber and back turned into a grinding trudge.

It wasn’t helped by the battery in my Stryd dying half way up the hill. I only replaced it this weekend, and either the battery was a dud or there’s an issue with my Stryd, because the previous battery lasted from the end of June until last week.

Not that looking at power would have provided any solace. I went up the hill and came down what felt like a mountain. Even trotting downhill felt like an uphill battle, and I was sorely tempted to walk the final 3k home instead of running. Well, instead of jogging. Well, instead of not moving very fast.

I had planned to go out wearing my Camelbak with a litre or two of water in it, as some impromptu strength training; I’m glad I didn’t, as that would probably have killed me. Instead, a conceptually easy run that took too much out of me, but that hopefully adds some stamina to my performance on Saturday. If I don’t break 21 minutes this week for the 5k, I’ll feel I’ve not being doing it right.


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