The Freckleton Half Marathon has been a fixture on the road running calendar for the past 52 years.  It’s easy to see why: a flat course and great organisation is always a good starting point.  Add to that some good course support, a carnival-like atmosphere at the start and the finish, and it becomes a very attractive way to spend a Sunday afternoon.  Oh yes, it’s a 2 o’clock start time too.

So it was with a positive sense of expectation that we made our way over to Freckleton on Sunday.  I had spent time in the week thinking about a target time for the race and had settled on 1:35:00.  I was looking forward to a solid run.

My body had other ideas.  I ran a disappointing 1:36:39 (93/488).  Not disappointing for missing my target time by 90 seconds; disappointing because of the manner in which I missed it.  Once again, like Manchester in April, I felt empty.  From the outset this race was a real struggle: breathing, legs, and stomach all seemed out of sync and I felt like I lumbered along the course.  I really do need to reflect on why this is the case, but even summoning the energy to do this properly seems like a step too far.

Perhaps I need a break.

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