My legs finally ground to a near-halt on the final mile of the Adderbury half marathon on Saturday, when we found ourselves wading knee-deep through floodwaters from the Sor Brook, which bisects the village. This came shortly after a mudslide across a corn field and would have been great fun had it not been for the fact that the aches in my muscles, the shivers in my body and the soreness in my throat were all suggesting that I was experiencing something more than simple fatigue at the 12-mile stage.
I think – I hope – that I’m unwell. I say ‘hope’ because sometimes, when you fill your life with ultra running at the wrong side of 55, it’s hard to tell the difference between being unwell and being worn out. And I’d rather be unwell than feeling like this as a result of too much running because there’s more of a chance that I’ll feel better in time for the Lakeland 100 in, gulp, 12 days time.
I was supposed to be doing the Fairlands Valley Spartans Challenge today, a multi-distance, all-abilities event I’ve entered regularly in recent years, but even their 12-mile walk feels like a few thousand steps too far. So my preparation for the Lakes now boils down to ‘rest and hope’. I’m going to try hard not to consume too much by way of comfort food, but that tin of Marks & Spensive (as my grandson calls them) biscuits on top of the fridge isn’t going to last long.