Following much hydrating and way later than I planned I went out for my jog. The route I was taking was from my parent's house, a tried and trusted route out and back along the marathon course, a route that I know like the back of my hand. For my usual loops around the Phoenix Park I know the cumulative distance but I wouldn't know at any stage how far I'd gone. Sunday's was different. I knew every mile marker to a few metres. Not a good thing when you're legs are tired, you're bored and all you want to do is go home and go to sleep. "That's two miles done, just another 13 to go..."
The longer the run went on the sooner I wanted to get home. With 5 miles to go there was no short cut home, if there had a been I'd have taken it and gone home, so I did the only thing I could think of... started to run fast. An absolute no, no on a recovery long run. I knew it was stupid but I wanted food, water, a couch and football. 6:30 and only 4 miles to go... bang, another 6:30 including up the hill in Milltown. Obviously the momentum continued after that hill because I dropped a 6:10 for the third mile and I was just home. "I could jog now and be home in 15 minutes". Again a 6:10 came out of the bag. "Alright seriously time to slow down... a warm down mile if you will". I felt like I was jogging the end of end of this and struggling bad but it still came in as a 6:30 mile. Everything else that was planned for the rest of the day got cancelled and I ended up vegging around my parents house and eating their food.
Thankfully today I had a bit more sense on my recovery from the recovery run and cruised around 6 miles and as slowly as my legs would let me. More of this slow stuff is required for the rest of this week or I'll be back to being bunched in no time.