The snow is gone and training should be back on track. Last Sunday I managed to do over 28k in 2 hours 50 minutes – despite partial snow and a 11k run just the day before. Today I tried to top it and to get confidence that I do can run for very long if I just start slow enough. My idea of “topping it” was a comfortable run of 3 hours 30 minutes, with no pace in mind apart from being slow and feeling comfortable all way through. So I started slow, ran slow and was ground to a hold at 3 hours 2 minutes. My knees gave in, again. And the distance I covered was just the same that I did in 10 minutes less a week before. I felt like throwing a tantrum and I probably had. But my premature end of the run happened in the middle of Lea Valley, which meant I a solid hour walk home ahead of me. The temperature was around 4 degrees and I got cold. Very cold, so I kept walking and couldn’t really afford to through myself on the floor and shout and scream and use words that would make our swear jar at work proud. Why? Why??? Why can’t my body not just do what I want?! I start loosing hope that I can finish the London Marathon running and not walking. Not happy.