Fewer than nine months away I’m scheduled to run my first 100. I’ll say it first here—I’m less than optimistic. After a Fall filled with races from 5k > 50k I should be more optimistic. Perhaps a couple of the races provided the first clues. Sluggish, slow even. After a bit of time off it’s been a grind regaining any sort of rhythm, cadence, pace, what-have-you.
A bit of weight gain I have been unable to shake combined with fairly consistent searing pain in one knee have messed with my psyche. A fruitless (to date) search for some type of coaching guidance has me concerned I’ll need to be my own. A coach I am not.
Going for me? I’ve convinced myself I can train for this thing in six months giving me January to slowly (and slowly) build up miles to see how things shake out. I’m not a fan of putting goals, progress and plans to print—generally leads to my feeling I’m setting myself up for a fail. In this case I think I’ll need to. Put them to print, not fail, that is.
I stayed up too late last night. I ate too much. I drank too much. I got up too early today. I ate and drank (water) too little (so far) today. It starts tomorrow.