Patience is not easy.
It's been a bit strange. The normal tempo of training has been disrupted. Some good reasons and some bad - the high was a PB at the Stratford Marathon, the lows were injury niggles and the related mental challenge. Let's dive in, I'll try to provide some context and insight. We'll tackle the easier parts first.
Stratford Marathon. This has become a bit of a habit, with it being on my race schedule for the last three years. I like the route - a mixture of town and country, a double loop, well organised and well attended. I set out with the aim of testing a higher carb intake nutrition strategy and putting a marker down on current fitness levels. I'm delighted that Maurten have come on board as an official supporter. I've used their gels before, but I wanted to go all in and test them in a hard effort. I used their nutrition pacing guide and followed it to the letter - the outcome: negative splits and a strong last 5km. All good. I took one gel on board about 1km later than planned, just felt I was on the edge of what I could take. I've been looking at reducing muscle fatigue later in runs and higher carbs is a clear benefit, so I'm pleased with this test. Next up is really dialling the nutrition in and pushing the intake, especially as the mercury rises. It's vital to have a robust and tested nutrition strategy - the more I can test, the more my crew can help in the race.
It's really reassuring to have the expertise of Maurten on my side. Really exciting.
I believe very strongly that consistency in training and the momentum it creates is vital to endurance. So when that foundation is rocked, I start to worry. Worry is not helpful - in fact it's downright destructive - but we all do it. Why?
So what happened? Post skiing (and the driving) I had some back niggles, which led to a week of very limited training. I was then ready to build back, but Stratford was on the radar. So my normal "get back to it" training was more of a staccato effort - it made sense. Taper before a marathon, but I wanted to train. I was trying to remain calm, trying to be measured. I was listening to Fletch, repeatedly reassuring, but it still doesn't fully land. Marathon done and into recovery. I felt great the day after, even better the day after that. Fletch wanted more recovery. I was desperate to train.
With my positive lens, I'd done a strong week of cross training in the Alps culminating with a big hill session. I'd knocked out a PB in the marathon. My back was feeling good. I was ready to train, eager to move forwards.
With my negative lens, I'd run less in the Alps than normal. I'd had a week off. I'd tapered for the marathon and then I'd had what felt like too much rest after. I hadn't trained consistently for 3 weeks.
The negative crowds out the positive when you don't have momentum. That's how it feels.
That negative cycle eats away at you. I question myself - what if I can't run past 30km? What if I can't do my descending split long run? What if the marathon was a fluke?
Nothing makes sense when the very foundation you rely on is shaken. I'm trying to be patient. As I write this I know that tomorrow morning I have the first session back of the new training block. That's not long to wait, but it seems like an eternity. And I know this is all ridiculous as I write it - I just need to snap out of it, but you can't snap out of it. Mood follows action - you have to move out of it and that's part of the challenge.
I tell you this not for sympathy, not for reassurance. I say it because I think it's important to know that it's normal. I have the same reasons "why not", the same inner questions that I think many share.
What I do know is this: in the pause, in the hiatus - be patient and try to quieten your mind.
Then, when the chance comes, do everything you possibly can to build that momentum back up. Reframe consistency over a longer time frame - if I look at the last three weeks, I feel terrible about it. If I look at the last three months then the blip becomes just that. A blip.
So, tomorrow we lace up. We go again. Refreshed and ready. The process of refreshing... well, I'd be lying if I said I find the process refreshing at all.