Garmin psycology

I've been taking it quite steady since my 30 mile training extravaganza the other week, running little and often. The light nights make it easier and I managed a full seven days of consecutive running which I've never ever done before.

Still last Sunday evening I remembered that I am actually meant to be training for an endurance event so I went for a bit of a longer run, albeit it with no real plan. I had vague notions of going up Traprain Law, a volcanic hill rising out of the East Lothian farmland, but this felt kind of ambitious and I'd settle for just checking out some new paths on the way.

It was all going fine. I got to the foot of the Law, and realised it was getting late and there really wasn't time to go up so headed back. I'd done over eight and a half miles so new I'd have racked up a decent distance by the time I'd got home.

I'd just started the return leg when my Garmin gives a funny kind of a beep. Low battery. Now however much I like to pretend to myself I'm above this kind of stuff, the idea of having some unlogged miles put the fear of God into me. So for no really good reason my run changed from a leisurely saunter along the river Tyne, to a serious struggle to beat the battery.

The next thing I know I'm tearing along the trails in a way that's totally unnecessary for someone who is on a long run and meant to be thinking about tapering. I was going so speedily I clearly put the wind up what I think was a red deer, which rather than tangle with something as menacing with me thought it would make more sense to leap out at me and bound into the river whilst barking like a dog. The resulting adrenaline certainly helped me along, I'm used to watching out for the buzzards but didn't think I had to fear the herbivores.

On getting back to the road some serious running was done, head down and fast, just over seven minute miles. Whilst doing all sorts of hard sums in my head. If the beep meant 20% battery left and I'd run for 84 minutes the if I reached the North Berwick turning in 18 minutes then everything would be OK. Whole mathematical castles were built on the shakiest of foundations to convince myself that it was all going to be OK as long as I kept going, and fast.

I made it back to the outskirts of town, properly knackered and reckoned it was safe to slow so I did. And made to the end of my run without hearing the dreaded beep of a dying Garmin. It ran out 30 seconds after I stopped, and I was left pondering the sheer ridiculousness of it all, unable to work out if the added intensity to the second half of my workout was a good thing or not.

Then I looked at the times somehow in spite of feeling like I spent the whole way home on the edge it was still a very slight positive split, the fast miles had left me drained and the final three were very slow.

All of which goes to show that Garmins can do funny things to you, I'm somewhat stupid for allowing it to, the deer was daft for jumping in the river and no-one really emerges with  much credit.