The Runkeeper woman and I have had a falling out. That’s right; the passive aggressive mouthpiece of said running app (which I love, by the way) who pipes up at pre-determined intervals to tell you how you’re doing. She’s been bitching in my ear about my sluggish pace every 10 minutes for the past few weeks of running, commanding I step it up, as if some horrible, unspeakable fate will befall me if I don’t. Of course, I only have myself to blame; I switched her on, after all.
Well now I’ve switched her off (that’ll teach her!). I have my final long run before the Brighton Marathon on Sunday (see this week’s schedule; pictured) and I don’t want her ruining that. The last few of weeks have been a trial. I’ve been pushing myself too hard and obsessing about pace. Running should be an escape from the deadlines and responsibilities or life, but ever since I’ve had Little Miss Android accompanying me, it’s become a chore. Tonight’s run, the first in weeks without her nagging, was bliss. If only I could get the other nags in my life to pipe down so easily.