The difficult second album…

Yesterday evening saw my second proper run on the treadmill (last Friday’s “Holy crap, I’m running! I’m running!!!” session doesn’t really count).

My biggest issue was really knowing when to stop; Monday I had clocked up 20 minutes and stopped only because that’s how long my past workouts had been. Just how long could I run for? Yesterday, I decided to find out, and things started to feel different at around 21 minutes (rhythm slipping, legs aching, aware of my breathing patterns).

Despite feeling tired, it felt great not to give up at 20 minutes and keep soldiering on. The sense of achievement seemed to take an age to arrive, but was absolutely worth it in the end.

Fast-forward to this morning, as my tired legs tried to trundle up the two flights of stairs to work. I started wondering, do these super-human-specimen runners go through the same thing? Do they suffer the day after a particularly long run? Perhaps that’s why you only ever see these people when they’re actually running; the rest of the time they’re hobbling around like Groucho Marx.

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