A couple of months ago, fresh from a bizarre but promising appointment with a physician, I wrote this post, in which I declared:
I’ve set myself a goal: I’m going to run 5km in 30 minutes with my son on his birthday next year
With hindsight, I probably should have asked him first, but if it becomes necessary, I’ll just pull parental rank on him.
Anyway, that run seemed like a great idea until the next two months happened and I was – once again – rather unwell. Regular readers will recall that I even chucked myself at a local pulmonologist in an effort to get better.
It didn’t work.
But the last few weeks have been better, and so I thought I’d push myself with my first run since Covid: my first run since June 27th last year.
This was never going to be a pleasant or pretty experience. BTV, I was at a level of fitness which meant I could knock out 5km in 30 minutes with not too much nastiness involved. Those days are gone (for the moment, at least).
Today’s effort was a reasonably paced 1.5km around the neighbourhood in the summer sun, including some hill. Quite a lot of hill, it seemed, although the stats seem to suggest differently.
Could I have managed 2km? No. The lights were beginning to go out at the top of the third incline, and so I thought it better to come home.
It’s quite depressing when you compare it with last June, but it’s nice to still be able to do anything, and it’s a big improvement on that first doctor’s appointment above, in which:
I got up to 6kph on a slight upward slope, for a whole 150 seconds
For the record, this was 8.8kph – including some slope – for 615 seconds. Better.
I’m really not used to starting over like this (although…). It’s clearly going to take some effort.
But I am up for the challenge.
