FLAT OUT FLAT 5K FALLS A BIT FLAT!
So inside my head I had bigged myself up for this solo 5K time trial on the Witton Park track. Firstly let's deal with the actual physicality of my head. It's a fair sized cranium, only an inch short in circumference of the largest 'normal' head in the world and thus room aplenty for false confidence and misconception. I rocked up yesterday afternoon with the genuine belief I could knock out a standard 17:40 at worst and if I was running well on the day then edge much nearer the 16 minute zone. This was based on both an excellent eleven days of training performances since resuming normal service after 'Nigel' and also the marked improvements I had made before 'Nigel' came along to upset my apple cart of fitness. I've never run a 5K on the track before, least of all on my own, and in fact whilst nearing eleven years of running, 5K races could be counted on three hands and only one which I recall being particularly flat. My PB stands at a seemingly untouchable 16:35 at a far from flat road course in Littleborough back in 2007. I think the nearest I have come to that was 17:21 at the said flat one in Lancaster three years ago.
Seed firmly planted in my head, the scene was set at an eerily desolate Witton Park arena. It was just me and my ageing £10 Casio for company (I'm not one for that Strava palaver and obviously didn't need my GPS for this one) Conditions were perfect with little or no wind whatsoever. I shuffled out a mile warm up and didn't feel fantastic, but that's not unusual so I thought I might as well just get down to the main event of twelve and a half laps. I've been running various interval sessions at giddy paces so I thought I should at least hold down three successive 5:45ish miles without too much pain and have a surge in reserve for the remaining one tenth. We know what 'thought' did; 'followed a muck cart and thought it was a wedding', so Sara constantly reminds me.
I seemed to be blowing a quite bit leading up to my first mile split and the legs still felt heavy. Even so, I was expecting to be running faster than forecasted, so the sight of 5:53 on my watch at that point sent alarm bells ringing. It was pretty grim from there. The upper body contorted more and more, arms flapping around to compensate for the dragging legs. Counting down the last few laps was torturous. There was nothing else to give, even in the final 200 metres I couldn't find an extra stride and I clocked in at a very disappointing 18:44.
Negative thoughts as I tottered around the track for a cool down evolved around depressing comparisions with much better times in the not so distant past - over slower courses, during periods of lesser fitness levels - and even both. The way I felt during this run certainly belied and undermined some strong outings in training recently. I finished this time trial some 300 metres or more behind my projected virtual self out there. I couldn't understand it. If that had been an actual race, then without doubt my worst performance at that distance.
Inside that big cranium of mine during the fifteen minute drive home, the big inquest took place. As  a runner you can't be on the top of your game all the time, but the extent of that very lack of a performance there came as a bit of a shock. Lame excuses came to the fore; I just didn't feel light and springy that afternoon, perhaps the effects of some decent quality efforts in to training lately had left me feeling flat, maybe the track session from Tuesday night was still lingering in the legs, the previous evening I ran a fairly spritely seven and a half miler with the Horrocks... I'm 43...I used to be a pothead... the excuses went on and on. But a more considered conclusion was that it was just another training session. No need to beat myself up too hard.