I haven't recovered from Sunday's long run. I thought I had. To be truthful, I didn't even think it had worn me down that much. My legs didn't feel too bad - even on Monday. That cockyness has come back to bite me on the ass - big time.
My legs were dead to me. The session was 400m/200m sets but I ran one 400m followed by the 200, and knew I was finished - for the night, at least. It was great to see Nick return for a second week and - pinches self in disbelief - Rob W put in an appearance. Add in Bruce, Bruce's dad, Sean and Rick and it was like turning back the clock - apart from the fact that I was shit. All of which can't hide the fact that I need a small miracle to be ready for Saturday's Irish adventure.
Something I can learn from tonight's debacle is the fact that I'm not going to be able to run a few long sessions and a summer make - no, that's swallows isn't it? No, I've had a dose of reality tonight.
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