The Killing Fields of Ley Park

So it was long run day. I felt ready(ish). It was warm as I set off but soon got hot. Some like it hot - me, not so much. Anyway, I set off through Flaxley woods and out onto the road. The pace was steady. Not too slow. Not too fast. It was just about right.

Ten k in and I felt okay but I was starting to feel the sun bearing down. Today's route took me over to Northwood Green and through Ley Park woods. It was there things started to go awry. My mind wandered and I headed down the wrong footpath. Halfway across the rutted field this ragged rascal ran before I realised I'd gone the wrong way. No problem though, I knew I could carry on across and pick up a footpath in the next field to loop back and rejoin the original route. Maybe not the best decision I've ever made, as I forced my way through knee high grass. Anyway, I made it back on route and into Ley Park.

The woods afforded me some respite from the suns relentless onslaught but it was there I made my second mistake. Having not learnt the lesson of the first field, I once again deviated my route to stay in the shade of the woods a little longer but that brought me out onto even more densely grassed fields. As I crashed through the greenery my energy evaporated, and by the time I'd made it out of the fields and back onto the road I was broken. From there I jogged the 5.5k home on impulse engines, my warp engines offline, my reserves of dilithium crystals drained by those accursed fields. Still, it was another new longest long run at 21k and, as my Nepalese Guru would say, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I sense some recovery Zwifting tomorrow as I watch the Giro d'Italia and like them, I too, shall be having a rest day Monday...

Well, That Were 'Ard Work

There comes a time when you just have to head to the mountains for a fell race. The Cwmdu Fell Race. It was cracking weather. Sun shining, birds, um, making bird noises? There was even a cuckoo to be heard echoing in air. It was almost too cracking, too hot but after all the rain we've had, I'll not be grumbling. I'd been sensible enough to lather myself up - ooh matron - with sun cream.

Half a mile into the race...

I set off steady. With almost 16km to cover and 900+ metres of ascent it was not a day to be getting too carried away. The views across the entire Brecon Beacons were fantastic. Not that I was really taking them in, mind.  I was in the racing zone, focused on the task at hand. Namely, breaking two-hours without, well, breaking.

I wasn't entirely sure if I'd pull it off - here we go again - ooh matron - as I haven't been training enough at all in the mountains, and my leg strength isn't there yet when it comes to those steep ascents. But as they say in the astronautical industry, shoot for the stars, and if you're lucky, you might not blow up thirty seconds into the flight, like one of Mr. Musks rockets...

Almost at Mynydd Llangorse (and not walking!)

The first half was okay. I held it together quite well. Running out from the Mynydd Troed trig at 1:05, I thought I was quid's in. Then after the descent, my legs felt smashed, and I was far from sure. The final climb hurt bad, and my pace slowed to a crawl, the tank emptied fast. The run across the ridge and down seemed to go on for an eternity and I'd stopped looking at my watch. By that point I just wanted the pain to end.

So, to the big question - or more accurately, the answer to the big question [drum roll] - yes, I nailed it. In the end I made my lowly target look silly. Two hours? Pffft, 1hr 59mins 13secs. Don't know why I was so worried...

That's me finished - quite literally!

Totally wrecked now. There's a low no chance I'll be fit for even a gentle recovery run tomorrow. To be honest, I'm just hoping I won't be reduced to walking downstairs backwards - come on, you know we've all been reduced to that at some point...