I made it over to the track after a two week hiatus. Things did not go as planned. We were running sets of one 400m followed by a 600m. I was slow. Sean ran 500m/700m instead and chased us down - like a pack of hungry lurchers baying for the blood of a colony of fluffy bunnies.
It was freezing cold tonight. My face practically froze off - and everyone laughed at my over sized mittens - but do I care? Do I f#*£? My little pinkies was toastie inside them mits.
As to the training, my left calf muscle could not take the strain and during the third set I pulled to the inside of the track. It's nothing disastrous but bad enough that cutting things short was the only sensible option. It's the Dursley Dozen on Sunday and although the hilly, muddy twelve miles will be too much for me to finish strongly - I want to bloody well finish within Sunday! And knackering my legs on a track session definitely isn't the ideal way to prepare for a race such as that.
Cometh the hour, I'll be ready (of a sort)...