Just over a week ago, I took the train into Reading and ran back along the A329 to home, which google maps told me was 8 miles, but turned out to be 6.5. As I left the station, the wide pavement with its gentle downhill slope inspired my legs to move a little too fast, and I bounced like Tigger through the first couple of miles, occasionally thinking to myself how much fun this was. I didn’t even have my headphones in.
I wasn’t looking forward to the uphill section past the shops in Earley, but it was all so interesting that I powered up the slope and only near the top did I start to wonder if I had taken on too much. I still had a long way to go, especially as I still had 8 miles in my head and RunKeeper was only showing that I’d done about 3.
I passed Earley station with only the fleeting thought that I could give up and get the train home; the thought lingered a little longer at Winnersh Triangle, but by the time I reached Winnersh I could see Sainsburys and knew that I was back on familiar territory and less than two miles from home. Unfortunately the rest was both boring and uphill, so any thought of adding on an extra mile and a half jaunt to bring the total up to my target of 8 miles was quickly abandoned and I just headed for home and two showers.
I was so disappointed at the distance that I didn’t go out again for nearly a week. My longest run so far has been 7.5 miles, also on a hot day, and I have completely failed my target to run 8 miles by May. I’m still aiming for a half marathon in February but starting to wonder if that’s remotely possible, as it’s taken months just to add two miles to my distance. Not sure my legs can do it. Or my mind.