15.1 miles is easier than 15.

I had left for my Christmas holidays with the hopeful intention of adding a couple of extra miles onto each of my two long weekend runs, but this was before I remembered what Christmas chez nous entails: warm fireplaces, endless supplies of chocolates and mince pies, suspiciously old but surprisingly delicious liqueur in morning coffees, sparkling wine and oysters for breakfast with the neighbours. However, and despite the gastronomic hedonism, I did manage several runs: one difficult 10 miles (it was a there-and-back run which should be psychologically more manageable than a circular route, so I was surprised at how tough I found it - perhaps it was the liqueur coffee); a relaxed 9 miles (which was actually only 8.3, which could explain why I felt fresh); and four short runs.

I would have liked my weekend mileage to be higher than it is by now, but I'm almost back on track for mid-week sessions with a circuits session, a fast 4 mile and a fast 5 mile completed. I have a 15.1 mile long run tomorrow morning. If I were a normal person following a normal programme it would be a 15 mile run but I vowed a couple of years ago to never run 15 miles in a training session again, after a horrific November storm experience. So 15.1 it is. Should be easier than 15. This is the way my brain works. I win at mind games.