My mind is running all over the place.

Today is Friday. According to my training schedule, this is a rest day. And you know what? I’m going to take it. Obviously, I’m still at work today, but I’m looking forward to having an evening off, even if it does mean that I have extra to run over the weekend.

It's probably why I'm having trouble concentrating right now, so this update is a little all over the place. It's kind of a train of thought thing, so good luck making much sense of it...

It’s a bank holiday weekend in the UK, so I have the next three days off. Monday is a rest day too, but between now and then, I have a three mile run tomorrow, and a four mile run on Sunday. This shouldn't be too hard; the idea is to get round the course, not to kill myself doing it, so I should take it at a nice gentle pace.

Yeah… This is something I’m having trouble with. I tend to run like the proverbial bat out of hell, as Kasia found out the other night as our plan to run together lasted approximately ten seconds. Luckily, she’s a good sport and didn't dump me on the spot for leaving her to the mercy of the night.

I need to slow it down a little; be the tortoise not the hare. I love running, but I hate jogging. Does anyone else have this issue? Maybe it’s my competitive nature. Nothing by half, right? It’s probably for this reason that a half marathon doesn't appeal to me, similarly a 5K race holds no interest.

All or nothing. Go big or go home.

Back to the back. My poor back is a non-issue now. Yes, I have little flexibility, cannot touch my toes (I never could), and struggle to sit for more than a few minutes at a time without some discomfort, but when I run, you wouldn't know there’s anything wrong. When I announced at work that I was running a marathon, many people asked “...but your back? You can barely walk!” I’m sure they thought I was faking it all along.

Oooh… what else. Aha! I got a blister. Shortly after boasting that my super light running shoes had never given me a blister, a couple of miles later there it was. Right in the middle of my arch. Luckily my rest day should clear most of it up, but it won’t be the last one, and it’s certainly not the first. They don’t tend to bother me in general; I've posted pictures to Facebook of my blood soaked trainers in the past, like some sort of grisly badge of honour.

Oh well. I was planning on getting new running shoes this weekend anyway; I’ve read that you’re supposed to replace them every 400 miles or so. These probably haven’t done that, but everybody feels good in new shoes, right?

Now, if only I could get the boss to pay for them…