The tortoise and the hare.

I am a tortoise. A fairly nippy tortoise with somewhere to be, perhaps, but I am a tortoise nonetheless.

I did my tempo run today. I try to do one of these a week and, gradually, this is having an impact on my pace. But I hate them.

I would much rather slog out a two hour half marathon at 08.40 pace than a 3 mile tempo run at 8.00 mile pace, without a doubt. I know so many people who would disagree, and I understand the logic but I suffer from guilt if I run less than 5 miles at a time!

My knee injury did something to combat that. As I recovered, I could only run two miles at a time and then four. For a while, this was my limit as the muscles and ligaments strengthened; I was proud of my restraint here, of how I listened to my body and only did what it told me it was comfortable doing. A happy side effect of limiting my mileage was increased pace. Since then, I've introduced these more rigidly in to my routine and have smashed my PB for 5km no less than five times, my PB for 10km twice, and I'm heading for a sub 2 hour half marathon when I next race.

Today, we powered in to a headwind and managed a negative split run with each mile slightly faster than the one before. The problem with these runs, I think, is that we often run straight from work and do a simple out and back through a less-than-interesting industrial estate. Going straight from work means you still feel weighed down by whatever email you were last writing, or essay you were lat marking, but at least it allows some distance to be placed between you and work. Valuable head space.

It's the route I struggle with. I've always run better outdoors, and I've found that an interesting and engaging route can make any run far less onerous. The winter is particularly tough, as the surroundings are almost always shrouded in impenetrable darkness and screened by rain or the sting brought to your eyes from the cold and the wind. As the lighter evenings have started to return, I've found that I get home to tell Ed about what I saw while running; places I didn't know existed or that had changed from last time I did. This replaces the winter debrief that ends up being about how long it took for me to be able to feel my feet and how long it was before I subsequently lost the feeling in my fingers.

Thus, a tempo through an industrial estate is a slog:

A) I'm running too fast (!) and breathing too hard to really notice anything and,
B) it's all just grey buildings and car parks anyway.

And yet, I still put myself through it. Maybe it's that buzz I get from, just for a moment, feeling like a 'proper' runner. I get to use words like 'tempo' and my average pace starts with a 7 (just...)

It's a very different way of running and, whilst I feel good at having powered through at lightening speed...ish, and all in less than half an hour, I think I'm much happier in tortoise mode.