December 2012

[Sweder]

2012, this sporting Annus Mirabilis, is almost done.
London 2012, Tour de France, Ryder Cup, Manchester City's late, late title grab (choke), Chelski's hijack in Munich, Murray's US Open, England's dramatic test wins in India ... The highlight for me was crying my eyes out in the Olympic Stadium as I cheered Mo Farrah home to Olympic Gold in the 10k on 'Super Saturday'. I'd dreamed for years of being there just for that race. The elation, the remarkable wall of sound, the improbable perfection of that golden hour, will live within me for the rest of my days.

I wrapped things up today with a 3.5 mile run that included a quartet of lung-busting sprints, each two minutes long. The wind whipped light rain into my face as I pushed tired legs through the mud. In spite of that, perhaps because of it, I relished the feeling of my body running out of oxygen, the loss of shape, of form, as fatigue took hold. The recoveries in between were little more than rag-doll jogs.

December finished up at just over 207 kilometres, a mediocre training week for Mo, pure running gold for me. My year total is 1154.8 kilometres, or 721.75 miles, a nip over 60 miles per month on average. None of that means much to me. What I care about is how I feel at this point looking forward. And I'm feeling good.

If you're in the running doldrums, just not feeling the love, fear not. If the will is within you, you will find a way back. The one thing I've learned this year is you can't hurry form, you have to work up to it along that long, hard road. To those of us still out there plugging away, may the road/ trail/ rock/ grass/ mud rise to meet you.

Here's to a rude and glorious 2013.