…on the treadmill at the RCJ. Should have been 10. 12, probably. Focus wandered, knackered from the morning, arrived late, changed the plan, forgot to stretch. Got off and dripped for a bit. Durrr. Why am I still making these silly mistakes? It’s purely psychological now, not physical. The takeover of my life by distance running. It now demands full attention at all times. You can’t skip anything. Your attention wanders and you blow a training session. In the absence of paying someone to shout at me, I have to shout at myself, which depresses me. Resolve to watch negative self-talk closely for these last 17 days. I’ve done or will do all I can for the body; wish I could have done a bit more, but there we are. Now it’s down to the mind. Just when I could really do with a short break from the whole bloody thing.

Went for second visit to the second, slightly strange osteopath man yesterday. It’s amazing what he can fix; that weird tight, achy muscle next to your shin, knots of tension everywhere. He knows about cortisol levels and blister strategies. Since the Saturday runout I have been suffering from a cricked neck and aching upper back. He solves this by something involving grabbing my head in his heavy arms with a pillow on my chest, cradling, finding, and then a sudden, brief, violent jerk upwards. Urgaha! Then he does it again. You can feel something move at the base of your neck, along with a sound like ripping heavy cotton. Christ, that was no fun at all. Did the job though. I’m feeling all too human again.

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