Training

 

Wednesday night’s training schedule was hill training, in a combined A and B pack. We sprint up Seaforth Road, then jog the short, flat stretch to Durham Road; run up Bede Bank as hard as we can, as far as Tudor Grove; walk/jog to the brow of the hill and then run down Tudor Grove at full pelt, to Premier Road; then jog back along Hipsburn Avenue to where we started. And then we repeat it three more times. Four circuits. Twelve efforts.

We do this together. No one gets left behind. The faster runners regroup around the tail at the end of each effort, cheer us on, and on every effort one or two of them drop to the back to support those bringing up the rear. I know, because I am usually at the back of the pack, hanging on for dear life.

The efforts are what it says on the tin. Bede Bank, from the flyover bridge to the corner of Tudor Grove, is the worst of it, deceptively long; our hope kicked-while-it-is-down when we get to the bus stop each time around. But it is true that you feel good after, for having done the session. And truth be told there is plenty to enjoy at the time, even in the toughest moments.

Four times last night I ran past the house of an elderly friend, whose wife’s funeral I had taken the day before. Blinds open, lights on, a warm glow spilling out, I could see the family sitting together around the dining room table. There for one another, as they will be over the coming days.

We do this together.

Life is training for life, for living well.

At times, it is an effort. At times, we just don’t think we can keep going. Until we find that we have done. At times, the recoveries, the take-it-slow-and-gentle, seem too short, before we hit another effort.

Life is training for life, for living well.

We do this together.