Back, full swing, into training as of Wednesday, assuming I had stopped that nasty sickness bug in its tracks. Took my weekly trip to the gym on Wednesday for a core workout, and even braved the “boy gym” at Scotstoun – it did stink, but yes, I survived. Good run on Thursday with the club and was feeling strong and positive ahead on the Saturday National XC race at Falkirk.
However during the warm up, things just didn't feel right – achey hip and feeling exhausted. So I got my excuses in early to Capitano Maz... I did manage to complete the course (8km of cross country – it was pretty gruelling!) though it certainly wasn't pretty, rolling round it like a bag of tatties or something less energetic. So perhaps the bug hadn't been combated after all – or at least that's my excuse, and I'm sticking to it!
Completed the weekend with 10miles early doors on Sunday with Anna. Following that, still feeling tired and worn out, I booked in for my second sports massage on Monday thinking I would head straight to the track after.... what was I thinking? Jeez, I know I am a bit of a wimp, but the word 'massage' should never been used to describe this – it's far from relaxing and I left feeling I'd aged 70 years!! But can I ask – has anyone else actually screamed out loud during sports massage?? I think Achilles Heel may have lost some customers hearing my yelps as they sat waiting their appointment! Plus it wasn't until I arrived home I reasiled I had mascara running down my face. Very attractive. Granted, I do feel much better for the "massage" now – and being gluten for punishment, I will return.
A six mile hobble last night and now feeling fresh for a stronger 7 mile run tonight....