I Can't Get No Sleep.

I was reminded of two important things recently.

1) Running in shoes that have passed their best is painful;*
2) Running with little to no sleep is also painful and does no good.

I took two days enforced rest to get over some seasonal germs. Thankfully, it was over quicker than an X-Factor winner's career so I felt safe enough to get straight back on my marathon training plan with a steady hour on Saturday morning.

I'm sorry, Steve who?

Something unusual and lovely happened. My cold had aggravated my asthma a bit (not so lovely) and my blokey says he'll come on the run with me, just in case. It's the first time we've run together in a loooong time; not just because he hates running but also because the last time we ran together he left me in a cloud of dust after about 2 minutes and I spent 20 minutes looking for him, unaware that he was already home and in the shower. Hmmm.

True to his word, he ran every step of the way with me and I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I noticed some discomfort in my feet and lower legs but put it down to tying my shoes too tight as it eased up when I stopped to loosen my laces. He also seemed to really enjoy the run and was pleased to discover that I was telling the truth when I promised that the canal route I had planned was chock full of dogs.

Pooches everywhere = happy camper.So happy that he agreed to join me the following day on the long run of the week. 1 hr 45 mins. I hadn't run for that long since training for the Ealing Half last year. The longest he'd ever run was, well, that hour we'd just done.

That night he didn't sleep very well. In turn, neither did I. He suffers with some monumental insomnia which we both hoped that marathon training would put paid to. We laced up Sunday morning feeling pretty groggy but geared up to bosh this run. Again, early on I got a feeling like the muscles in my lower leg were trying to explode out of my skin. Worse than yesterday but it seemed to go after half an hour and we ran along the Thames feeling pretty good. Time just flew by and before we knew it we had 11 miles in the bag and it's fair to say that blokey had a massive chufty on (translation - seemed very pleased with himself). We congratulated each other with a tasty, if a little tired, lunch and a trip to the cinema. We were both completely knackered and expected to be out like a light as soon as our heads hit the pillow. This was not quite the case. Between us I reckon we managed about 3 hours sleep and this carried on for the next three nights. Gah.

I still pulled a double on the Monday; we still managed a speed session together on the Tuesday and I ran with a friend on the Wednesday but my pace was pants, my legs hurt more than ever and my mood was pretty bleak. By Thursday I barely had the energy to speak to anyone, let alone run. We both decided to forgo the scheduled tempo session to get some rest as, due to commitments we had at the weekend, we needed to get our next long run in on Friday. I made a few adjustments to our bedroom and left a calm radio station on all night to take his mind off of his negative associations with bedtime, which seemed to help, and we both woke up feeling more human.

Our second long run was not quite as successful as the first but not a complete bust. We had to really drop our pace, almost down to 10 minute miles, as my legs hurt so much and he was experiencing some pretty harsh groin pain. But for the entire (almost) 13 miles he did not complain, he did not whinge and he did not stop. My admiration for how much effort he's putting went through the roof. Afterwards, I asked him if he's starting to change his opinions about running and whether he's getting any enjoyment out of the training. His answer: Well, I'm still doing it.

Ah. Oh dear.

Last night we had dinner with his folks. His dad has been running for years. He lives for running. He loves to talk about running. He has no idea what we are up to. Conversation turned to how my running was going and I just felt awful that, when his dad commented on how well I was doing, I couldn't boast about how proud I was of how blokey was doing and everything he's achieved since the start of the year. I felt really shallow, like I shouldn't be having the conversation and that it wasn't fair to not give the real credit where it was due. When we got home I brought this up. His answer: It's ok, I know how much I've done and I'm really pleased with it all so far.

Which is nice.

Our race numbers for the Reading Half arrived yesterday morning. His first ever race. I'm excited enough for us both.

This is how the plan has panned out recently:

Day 9 - 6.58 miles at 9:31min pace
Day10 - 11.1 mile at 9:17min
Day 11 - Run1 -  3.91 miles at 8:27 / Run 2 5.58miles at 8:47
Day 12 - Speed session (15 mins warm up, 6x 3 mins fast,1 min easy, 2 mins faster, 1 min easy, 10 min cool down) 7.2 miles at 9:10
Day 13 - 7.41 miles at 8:58
Day 14 - rest
Day 15 - 12.8 miles at 9:54
Day 16 - rest
Day 17 - 4.61miles at 8:50 (*Less than a mile into this run I was ready to have a small cry and walk back home. The pain was so bad but it gave me an epiphany: I need new running shoes, stat. My Nike app confirmed that my trusty steeds have borne me over 400 miles and it's time to commit them to the void. WOOOOOHOOOOOO!! NEW SHOOOOOOES!!!!)

Woah! Next level graphics!

                                                     
Do you have a 'go to shoe' that you always wear or are you a running shoe maverick?

How's your training going?