Hauled myself out of slumber for an early morning swim yesterday and, although the head was switched on the body was refusing to start. I think I managed 10 lengths, which in no way makes up for Friday’s dismal performance or justifies hauling myself out of bed before 7. Out of the three early morning starts I’ve trialled, only one has been successful. It sounded like a good plan on paper, but in practice it’s not looking like my best time to train.
As with most things in life, the true measure of success is not how you cope when things are tickety-boo, but how you rise from a setback. This time last year I had started training for Nettle Warrior, the summer version of the Tough Guy Challenge, which involves a 6-mile fell run followed by 2 laps of an obstacle course. To prepare I ran cross-country so I could cover the distance. This included hill-running to improve my general fitness and because I knew there would be a hill-running section at some point during the event. Slowly, but surely my stamina improved and a few months before the event I felt confident in my running prowess. But then, at about T- 6 weeks, I couldn’t run up hills anymore. Well I could manage one and then kaput. I was knackered. No matter how I tried to remedy this decline I only managed a feeble recovery. On the morning of the run I was crossing my fingers and put my faith in my adrenaline.
If anything this experience taught me one important lesson: just because you’re training don’t take it for granted that you’re getting incrementally better at whatever it is you’re training for. We all have our off days and the most important thing is to take whatever lessons we can from them, eject them from our minds and carry on. As the day progressed I couldn’t shake the feeling that I knew I was fitter than this. I remembered that Friday’s failing was down to underlying tension in my shoulder that had since resolved itself and reasoned that 6am starts were probably not a good idea. My following thought was not so rational: I decided to return to the pool in the evening and try again. As the spirit of Rocky embraced me and clasped me ever tighter, so my hunger to progress increased. I got to the pool after work eager and raring to go. I propelled myself forward.
Half way down the lane my nose clip fell off.
Now this shouldn’t have bothered a trained and focused mind, but I don’t respond well to distractions. This was a major distraction. Pool water affects my sinuses and leaves me feeling like I have a head cold for a few days after swimming. Having bought the nose clip a number of months ago, I had convinced myself for a very long time that it would slip off my nose as soon as I got in the pool as it didn’t fit very tightly. When I discovered this wasn’t the case and that it worked really well I made sure I always wore it. Now I faced the prospect of tackling two miles and suffering the consequences. Despite a futile search of the immediate area I had to make a decision. Rocky yelled. If he would get in the ring despite being too old or out of shape / in danger of suffering permanent brain damage / or because his wife didn’t want him to then I could swim without the nose clip.
In I went and out I came a champ: 2 miles in just over 1.5 hours. Victory tastes sweet, or at least it would if I had my sense of smell.
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