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Being sensible. For once.

February 24, 2010
A selection of remedies being employed to get through the cold.

In anticipation of the Bath Half Marathon, I'm trying to make sure I recover gracefully from my man flu.

Since starting training for the Paris Marathon, all those weeks ago, I like to think I’ve been pretty dedicated to the cause. I’ve run through rain, ice, snow, record-breaking low temperatures and holidays. I’ve even coughed and spluttered my way through training runs with some kind of a cough before. But all those runs  were back when the big races seemed almost comically far away.

I’ve managed to catch my partner’s cold. I call it a cold. It is, of course, a full-blown dose of man flu. I’ve been wearing a scarf in the office, carting a box of tissues to every meeting, surreptitiously sniffing olbas oil, snaffling cold and flu remedies… All the symptoms that accompany the vertiginous loss of perspective that can only be man flu.

I’m suffering, and everyone knows it.

But I want to run. I want to keep up my tempo sessions, start building up some speed now that I’ve spent so long focusing on distance. I want to feel like I’m almost at my peak, ready for the first big test of my endurance.

On 7 March – just over a week away – I’m running the Bath Half Marathon. As my official build-up race, this is the time to find out how well prepared I am for Paris. After all, with the marathon just over a month away, there’s only really time for tweaking. The course is fast and flat, and it’s a chance for me to get a PB and – all going well – to sneak a finish time under 90 minutes. It’s not the main event, but it’s a big deal.

The weather is bad; snow is still lingering, occasionally turning to some very frosty rain, and the temperature is persistently bothering around the 0 mark. Going running in this would exacerbate my current condition, perhaps flush it into my chest and turn it into a cough.

And so, I’m sitting in. Not running. Just writing. And because I’ve been suckered into Lent (for which my partner has become a pescetarian – the closest she’ll come to joining the wonderful tree-hugging world of the veggie), I’m sitting here with no noise. Aside from my snuffling.

(Did I mention I’m ill?)

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