Yesterday I managed my longest long run ever. I ran 18km. It took me over 3 bridges along the Thames. The sun shone but wasn't too hot, lots of other runners smiled, and things felt good. "Maybe I can run a half marathon after all!" I found myself thinking. And then I hit 16km and my legs felt as though they no longer belonged to me. It felt as though the last 2km took an hour to complete, my sweaty despairing face desperately hoping it would be over soon. And hey, it was. I just had to keep plodding. The end always comes, sooner or later. Just keep plodding. I got home, sat in a cold bath and drank a protein shake and felt like a Propper Runner. I'm really starting to enjoy it all...
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