This week’s training summary is short. Not because I’m being mysterious or minimalist, but because I quite literally only managed one run.
And you know what? That run has opinions.
After last week’s reminder that rest days (and sick days) still count, this week was all about gently re-introducing my legs to the idea that we’re meant to be working together. They weren’t fully convinced.
The numbers say this:
- 6.04 km
- 42:10 moving time
- 6:59/km average pace
- 39 m of elevation gain (because why would it be flat?)
Nothing spectacular at first glance. But look closer and things get interesting.
Somehow, and I genuinely don’t know how, I clocked my second fastest mile. This is confusing, because the rest of the run felt like my legs were still negotiating the terms of our relationship. One minute they were flying, the next they were asking if we could maybe just walk home and think about this.
The pacing graph tells the story perfectly: enthusiastic start, strong middle, brief existential crisis, mild recovery, then a final push powered mostly by stubbornness and the knowledge that stopping would make the stats look worse.
Was it smooth? Absolutely not.
Was it pretty? Also no.
Was it reassuring? Weirdly, yes.
Because this run proved something important: fitness doesn’t disappear just because you’ve had a rough week. It just hides for a bit, waits for you to stop panicking, then pops up when you least expect it, usually when you’re not trying to impress anyone.
Training for the 2026 London Marathon is teaching me that not every week is about big mileage or heroic efforts. Some weeks are about one run, one decent mile, and a quiet reminder of why I’m doing this in the first place.
Every step. Every mile still matters. Even the slightly grumpy ones.
Next week, the plan is to run more than once.
The legs have not yet confirmed availability.