Showdown

Showdown time. The half a dozen or so runners at my work have been making use of a 3.6 mile route around Pride Park that someone devised. I held the record for this until it was beaten a few weeks ago. So tonight I will attempt to lower it again and hopefully set a mark that can’t be broken. All the others could participate in this 'race' but instead they all opt to watch, except for the young pretender, who’s the current record holder, and I, who will go head to head.

The debate for me has been, do I run or cycle into work, as I usually would or save my legs. The bottom line is I’m supposed to be training, so L helps me warm up and then I cycle in.

When it comes to 5pm and race time, the legs seem to be in reasonable shape. L wishes me luck and but threatens to withdraw her services it I lose. Fully motivated by that, I set off at a fast pace and then quickly regret it as I’m not shaking him off.

I ease back a little and we’re together for about a third of the way and then he starts to fade. By the last mile, I’m feeling safe and can relax a touch, only to up the pace again towards the end to try and lower the time as much as possible.

I knock nearly two minutes off my previous time and take a minute out of the record, finishing thirty seconds ahead of the young pretender, who comfortably sets a new PB. So he’s pleased. The company MD even hands out certificates to us both, declaring us 1st and 2nd in the winner of the company’s 1st 3.6 mile race. Oh no, does this mean there’s likely to be another one.

I text L to tell her I’ve won, so she’s doesn’t have to deny me anything, not that I’m capable of even standing up at the moment. Ah, and I’ve got to cycle home yet.

After a bit of a rest I manage the bike home. All good training for the Ashbourne Hellathon, although the distances in that event are approximately double what I've just done and then there’s a 4km run to finish... ouch.

Instead I go for a romp around a horse arena with Doggo. Actually, I reckon a 4k run would probably have been easier than running through all that deep sand in the arena.

Doggo tests the old legs by being quite up for training tonight and I struggle to keep up with him. Perhaps that's because I’ve left MD at home. L’s taken him for a run instead, in revenge for nipping her finger while jumping and biting his lead this morning. Either that or it's down to a three week break from Wednesday's, he’s got so many old friends and foes to catch up with and wind him.