I average between 50 and 60 km per week. I've tried to increase that over the years but my body has stubbornly refused to let me and gotten itself injured instead. So, after one of the hardest training weeks of my life, with three successful quality sessions (I count yesterday's 5 km-tempo segment in the middle of my long run with AIK as a quality session), I saw that my kilometre total for this week looked like this:
Well, we can't have that, can we. It looked so ugly, what with being so close to 70 km but not quite. My legs felt surprisingly fresh, the weather was beautiful, my stomach was full of pancake-and-maple-syrup fuel. What choice did I have but to go for a run? J and I took the car up to what used to be the ski track, before this freak winter crushed the dreams of a thousand skiers. Nothing remained but a powder covered ice rink. As luck would have it, we had spikes on our shoes.
Not that spikes helped much. It was so icy at some places that, even with the spikes on, I felt my feet sliding backwards a couple of centimetres with every step. We left the track and followed a trail into the woods. If heaven and hell had a baby, this is what it would look like:
Amazing, beautiful surroundings, warm winter light, cool, clean air. Ice, uneven ground, holes, and did I mention ice? But wow. What a feeling to be running trails again. Well worth the trouble.
The sun warmed us up nicely after the run, as we sat on a bench by the car to cool down.
Oh, and this:
An easy week now awaits.