On Wednesday, I ran for 1 hr 25 mins. The distance? 12km. I've done 13km on the treadmill before, but I don't think that quite counts, does it?
Pace was slower than the 10km, but I lasted for longer, and I did not stop. I know. I couldn't believe it either...
We ran along the canal near his house at Old Street, and then around Victoria Park, and then back. Felt surprisingly okay, but I did start to develop a bunion or corn on the side of my right toe. Ouch ouch ouch.
Took a quick shower and was late for dinner with Becky and Yvonne. Ate less than I'd expected/usually do after long runs. Guess my brains were pretty much fried...
I gave myself a silent pat on the back. Question is, how am I gonna do much longer than this, and without my trusty wing man on the day itself? I am still hoping that Martin will change his mind about running the Great North Run and come see history in the making (i.e. me doing the half-mar).
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