Run: 5hr 52mins (44mi) / Gym: 0mins / Crosstrain: 1hr 5mins
This week’s training started off with a familiar rhythm. Monday kicked off with the usual morning run—7.8 miles of focused effort, where form was the priority. Upright posture, head up and eyes on the horizon, chest pushed forward, arms driving correctly, cadence kept punchy, aiming for that sweet spot of 175–185 steps per minute. I was so locked in on the mechanics that I ended up pushing harder than planned, finishing in just over an hour. The evening run followed the same mental checklist: head, chest, arms, cadence—rinse and repeat.
Tuesday was a rest day, but Wednesday had me back on the regular route, though the GPS oddly clocked it at 7.63 miles. I don’t remember cutting corners, but the pace was good, finishing just under the hour mark with the heart rate peaking around 145 bpm. Thursday was more of the same—sub-hour finish, mid-140s on the heart rate, clearly pushing too fast for aerobic base-building. But the form felt solid. The evening ‘football’ run at least brought some calmness, keeping the heart rate below 140 bpm.
And then came Friday. It started at 1:45 a.m. with the kind of knock on the door you dread. The police delivered the tragic news that we had feared for some time, but never really thought would come. They left us to process the unimaginable. Running was no longer part of the equation. All that mattered was making sure my wife felt supported through her loss.
The weekend was a haze. Saturday and Sunday saw me taking the boys to Wembley for the cup final, trying to cling to some semblance of normality amid the chaos. Sunday morning, I managed to squeeze in an 8-mile run before the match, but the miles felt hollow—just moments carved out between grief and trying to keep everything together. Later that morning, I played an hour of touch rugby with an old school friend and his pals, and my two boys. It was chaotic, fun, and just what I needed.
This week was a reminder that life doesn’t follow training plans or personal goals. Sometimes, just showing up is all you can do, even if you really don’t know what to do or say.
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