I left my apartment this morning with the goal of running a little more than I did yesterday morning. A simple goal, to take myself out on a route longer than 9.5km.
It’s fair to say I managed it!
15km later and I was a smiling, sweaty hobbit arriving back at the front door of my building. It was one of those runs where everything just clicks into place. My breathing, my cadence, my posture. I know myself that I need to be mindful when running so I don’t slip into a very short stride and hunched shoulders – it’s both inefficient and leaves me with shoulder ache.
The run was relaxing and fast – if that’s possible. I kept my mind on the pace – while listening to podcasts – and attempted to keep a level pace throughout. It’s not as easy as you’d think! My pace veered between 5:10/km at my fastest through to 6:42/km at my slowest.
I was slowed down – and indeed stopped completely – several times by tourists walking in large groups near Tower Hill. Their insistence on walking five and six abreast, blocking the pavement for oncoming traffic, really gets on my tits. It’s so inconsiderate. Several times I was brought to a complete stop when it was unsafe for me to run on the road and I had to squeeze myself slowly through a gaggle of seemingly oblivious Italians.
It’s just annoying, as it can be difficult to top when you’re going at speed and then feels like so much extra effort to push off again from a standing start. Anyway, I survived and with very little impact on my overall time.
I only stopped once intentionally, to take a snap of some graffiti I spotted in Shoreditch – the cover pic for this post. There’s always something to see when running through London, which more than makes up for the inconsiderate tourists.