Life is filled with disappointment. These range from large to small. My failure to secure a ticket for the One Direction concert in Edinburgh is a small disappointment. The failure of my football team to win the Scottish Premier League by losing at Dundee on the last day of the season in 1986 was a large one. Almost 30 years later the pain is still there. My 5k run last Saturday was a disappointment but one I can live with.
I turned up for parkrun feeling reasonably optimistic. I had trained; I felt reasonably fit and it wasn’t a bad day for running. Quite early on I realised it wasn’t going to be my day. After you run for a while you recognise the signs. You try to move up a gear but you can’t. Your confidence ebbs; your head goes down. Just keeping going is a struggle. I staggered over the finishing line 48 seconds outside my personal best. That’s a huge failure and only now five days later can I bear to consider what went wrong.
I’m hoping it was because I wasn’t feeling 100% on the day. On Friday I fuelled for the run by consuming a cheese scone, garlic bread, a huge pizza topped off with apple crumble and ice cream. (It was a chicken pizza and the crumble was separate. But apple crumble and ice cream pizza does sound rather appealing) Plenty carbs but probably not quite the rocket fuel I needed. After the meal I felt ropey and didn’t sleep terribly well. So hopefully that was the problem and the solution is to eat rather more sparingly and sensibly this week.