Monday - I was supposed to get up early for the usual 4 miles before work and 9 miles and Body Pump afterwards. I failed. I just did 10 miles in the evening and no Pump class.
Tuesday - I took my shiny new track spikes off to the track, excited to try them out, only to find that actually we weren't training there, but in Wollaton park. Poop. And it was my most hated session, the 3-2-1-3-2-1-3-2-1. I hate running for time rather than distance. With distance I can see the end and run faster to get there. With time if I run faster it will just hurt more, so I go too slow. And we got locked in so had to go the very long way round for my cool down. I was feeling decidedly light headed by the time I got back to the car.
Wednesday - I had a scare early in the MLR when I realised I wasn't really in control of my limbs and my vision wasn't quite right. It was a bit other-worldly. But after 5 minutes or so it went away and I was fine again. Very strange, but I got the full 16 miles in.
I was hungry on Thursday and ate more than usual, which makes it all the stranger that I had an even bigger scare. About two miles into what was supposed to be a 9 miler I got the same feelings as on Wednesday, but worse. It was as if I was in slow motion and the rest of the world had been slightly speeded up. I figured it would wear off again, but it didn't. At one stage I barely knew where I was. I knew enough to cut the run short and staggered into Tesco after 6.5 miles to buy dark chocolate. I didn't mean to, but I ate the whole 100g. Oops. It wasn't hunger. I think maybe it was iron as I'm not allowed to take iron tablets for the week before the colonoscopy.
On Friday I had beef for lunch! I had hoped to have a rest day but was short of a few miles from Monday and Thursday, so went to the gym to plod them out on the treadmill before heading to Tesco to buy boring, bland, white food.
Saturday was the mile and 5000m races at Harvey Hadden. I knew I wasn't in 5k pb shape, but thought the mile could be doable. There were 2 faster girls entered in the 5000 so I just jogged around to ensure 3rd place and a cheque for £30, saving my legs for the mile. It didn't work. I asked my legs to go faster and they told me to f*** off. I crossed the line frustrated but not especially out of breath. Grrrr.
Sunday - 23 miles with heavy legs, entertained by one powerboat race, two wedding parties and three dead vermin (rat, floating in canal, pigeon floating in canal, pigeon on canal path - delightful). I have spent the rest of the day eating very colourful food to offset the whiteness that is to come over the next two days of prescribed diet.
So 80 miles for the week. My insides haven't been too bad. I've had the usual alternating D and C and a little bleeding, and of course the terrible light headed episodes, but otherwise I've not felt so ill.
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