“Que?”

Manuel, Fawlty Towers

Monday 3rd August – It’s day 3 in Minorca and I’d love to report that I’m ‘acclimatising’.

But I’m not. I’m melting.

Faced with a week of 30°c + temperatures, my club coach has sent through a slightly revised plan – with the main message being treat this week almost as a recovery plod.

I know two things for certain having run yesterday. I’m not going to be able to do anything fast or far.

So the fast stuff on the Tuesday and the Thresholds on the Thursday are out.

The weekend long run is also not going to be anywhere near the 18 miles it should be. Instead, I’ve been advised to try to get in a 9-10 miler.

Today is Monday, which usually means strength and conditioning. As sad as I am when it comes to my training, I neglected to pack my weights.

Instead, I’m going to – shock, horror – go for a run.

Today, it’s a 5 miler. My logic is to do 5 today and 5 tomorrow – so I’ll have hit my usual 10 by the end of Tuesday.

I never said this logic had any kind of logic behind it.

I’m going to go back onto the top, flat road I’ve discovered, but then go a little bit further out. Around a mile further out, then turn back round.

It’s another warm morning. This will be the theme for the week.

I get to the end of the flat road, where there is a roundabout, and just keep going. I’ve sort of got an idea of what’s beyond here. By the look of Google Maps, lots of residential villas.

It’s very up and down however, and the ups are hard work. I love a hill usually, but not in this heat.

I decide I’ve gone far enough and turn back, redoing the ups and downs, and feeling even more knackered.

I get back on the flat road, then drop and finish by the beach.

I’m sweating buckets. I literally look like I was dropped into the sea.

This is going to be a tough week.

Tuesday 4th August – I’m back up early, and it’s another hot, humid, glorious Mediterranean morning.

Despite this heat and humidity, I’m not going to complain.

I’ve come to the beautiful island of Menorca (or Minorca if you’re a local) in August because, well, it’s usually hot and sunny in August.

I’m therefore not going to play the “ooo… it’s too hot for me” card. It’s a first-world problem. The island is as fantastic as I remember it, our accommodation is fantastic, and we’re all chilled and fully entrenched in holiday mode.

After the first two days of running, I have now made peace with the fact it’s going to be hot and hard work. I can whinge about it, or I can just crack on.

So, let’s crack on.

This morning’s aim is to get in another five miles. I hop back onto the top, flat road and head off in the same direction as yesterday. The idea today is to go just a little bit further along.

I already know that once I get to the end of the flat stuff, it’s very much up and down. Past that, I’m not too sure. I’m guessing more up and down. I promised not to whinge.

After I reach the roundabout where I turned yesterday, I take a left down onto the seafront. I was hoping for a bit of a coastal breeze down here, but nope. It’s just as humid.

I follow this road along the coast until I hit a roundabout at two-and-a-bit miles, and then I turn. Just like yesterday, the turn takes me back east and into the ever-rising sun, and the temperature seems to notch up that little bit more.

I’m feeling the ups and downs, but my pace is quite good. I’m hitting around 8:40-mile pace. However, my heart rate is high, the kind of rate I’d expect if I was flat out in a 5K. I can only assume this is my body’s protest against the heat.

I’m wearing my grey Adidas running vest, which is snugger than my Puma one, and I think this is part of the problem. I feel much hotter in it than the other one, and it’s drenched in sweat, which makes it feel much heavier to wear.

I said from the start I wouldn’t do anything daft, so I slow down and start to take it easy. It’s at this point that I notice I don’t recognise where I am. I’ve missed my turn back to the top road. Whoops.

However, I notice a left turn that has a bit of a climb to it, so this must take me back. Halfway up it, I recognise it as the road I did my hill repeats on that first morning.

This final hill to get back onto the flat road feels like it drains about 75% of my energy.

I plod to the end of the road, drop down onto the beachfront as I did yesterday, and finish there. Getting lost and taking a bit of a detour adds some extra distance, so I end up clocking 5.64 miles.

That was hard.

I instantly make two decisions off the back of it. Firstly, I’m going to abandon wearing this Adidas top. It’s great to run in back home, but it’s dead weight in this heat. Secondly, I’m going to slow it right down for the rest of the week.

Adapt to the conditions and all that shite.

Wednesday 5th August – It’s an easy six today. Longer than I’ve run so far this week, but only a tiny bit longer than yesterday, so it doesn’t bother me.

But yes, it’s another hot one.

My Garmin app has claimed it’s been around 26 to 27°C when I’ve been setting off this week, and that’s before the sun comes out. I don’t really think it’s the temperature that’s bothering me too much, it’s the humidity. The air feels heavy, and that’s the difference.

Today I’m going to head out to where I went yesterday but kick on a little further. Go 5K and turn, basically. I’m also going out slower. None of this 8:40 pace nonsense. It’s nine-minute miles all the way now.

Getting lost yesterday has helped a little, in that I’ve discovered I can drop down onto the seafront earlier than I have been, so I do.

Slowing it down does feel more comfortable, and my heart rate is nowhere near as high as yesterday. So far, so good.

When I get to yesterday’s roundabout, I head left and this takes me into the next resort.

The paths narrow, so I run on the road, but it’s so quiet traffic-wise here (I think I’ve seen four cars this morning) that it doesn’t worry me. Plus, these are roads where you couldn’t go fast, even if you wanted to.

It’s very up and down, though. So even though it’s far more scenic than just running along that top road, it’s definitely harder.

As soon as I hit three miles, I turn back and, like previous days, run straight into the rising sun.

I really start to feel it more on the way back. Every hill is energy-sapping, and the sun has made it feel much hotter than when I set off.

I manage to battle through and finish beachside again for six miles.

It was much more comfortable slowing the pace down and wearing my baggier top, but I’m finding those ups and downs energy-sapping.

So, another executive decision. From tomorrow, I’m just sticking to that top road. Yes, it might be boring, but it’s not about the scenery at this point. It’s about getting it done.

Thursday 6th August – Hey, guess what?

That’s right, it’s hot.

Today should have been Threshold Day. And they were stinkers: 3 x 2 miles at threshold pace. Absolutely no chance.

Instead, I’ve been advised to do another easy six.

No arguing from me.

As decided yesterday, all of it is going to be on the top road.

So, back and forwards I go six times.

Interestingly, I’ve been surprised by how many other runners I’ve seen this week, especially on this top road. It seems everyone has the same idea: get out early and stick to the flat stuff.

Today I pass a blatantly local Spanish lady a couple of times who looks like she runs marathons for breakfast in this heat. She’s built like a runner and is going far faster than me.

It’s all about what you’re used to, I suppose. I imagine if I plonked her in my hometown she’d be absolutely fucking freezing and would struggle. She’d still be faster than me, but I like to think she’d be feeling the cold the way I’m feeling the heat.

Anyway, six done, again at a slower pace. Job’s a good ‘un.

Friday 7th August – It’s another easy four with hills today.

It’s the usual drill: up early, stick to the top road.

I’m not going to do the hill I did on the first day here, however. I mean, there are plenty to pick from.

Instead, I choose one that heads down to the beach where I usually finish.

I’d love to say that I’m starting to acclimatise to the heat, but I’d be lying.

Saturday 8th August – So, on my original plan for this week, I should be doing a 22-mile long run this weekend.

But I knew there was no way in any universe, parallel or otherwise, that was going to happen out here. So instead, I did that 22-miler the day before I came out here.

What a smart cookie.

The weekend I did 22, I should have done “just” 18. So that’s the plan this weekend.

Except I’m also not bonkers enough to try and run anywhere near 18 miles in this climate.

So instead, I’ve hatched a cunning plan to run it over two days: two sets of nine milers.

This plan relies on a couple of things.

Firstly, it’s obvious that I’m going to need to get up earlier for these two runs. I need to try and get as much of it done as possible before the sun comes out and starts to fry me.

Secondly, I’m going to need to stay even more hydrated. This bit I’m prepared for. That’s right, I packed both electrolyte and isotonic gels to bring out with me, and I’m going to need them.

Unfortunately, I balls up the first part of this. I sleep in.

Not by a ton. I’m actually up at the same time as the previous runs, but I wanted to be up earlier.

This pisses me off.

I know I’ve just made hard work for myself, and I also feel like I’m rushing to get out there, as though every second counts in trying to beat the sunrise.

Therefore, this run is a bit of a disaster from the start. Rather than going out slow and steady, I’m pushing far too hard early on in an attempt to catch up.

All this results in is me punching myself out early doors.

By the five-mile mark, I’m really feeling it. Even taking on the extra fluids via the gels hasn’t helped.

I’m really going to struggle to get to nine here.

Taking my own advice about not doing anything stupid, I decide to call it a day at mile seven.

I’m slightly annoyed with myself, but also not that bothered.

No one died. I’m not injured. I haven’t stupidly run myself into dehydration or done anything else idiotic.

I’ll try again tomorrow.

If I do hit nine tomorrow, it’s still an achievement, and it will mean I’ve sort of managed a 16-mile weekend, so all is not lost.

Sunday 9th August – It’s nine-miler attempt number two.

Unlike yesterday, I’m up earlier and have got my shit together.

It definitely feels darker when I head out. This is the earliest I’ve been out all week.

It’s no cooler, though. Still a rather humid 27°C.

I get going at the slightly slower pace and instantly feel better than yesterday’s effort. My head knows I don’t need to rush this, so my body is following suit.

Up and down the flat mile-long road I go. I manage to get four and a half miles in before the sun comes up.

This is still hard work, but I’m confident that I’m going to get the nine miles I’m aiming for.

I pass fewer runners than usual, what with being out so early (and perhaps because it’s a Sunday), but I do see the machine-like Spanish lady from earlier in the week.

We pass each other a few times this morning, and on about the fourth pass she gives me a big thumbs up.

I take this as a massive compliment. She’s probably used to pasty-arsed British tourists attempting to run in these conditions and giving up, but having passed me a few times, she knows I’m not messing about.

This gives me a huge confidence boost, and I complete the nine miles, finishing once again down on the beachfront.

After yesterday’s mild disaster, I’m delighted with this.

Not the most exciting run or route in the world, but job done.

I’ve done it.

I’ve got through a week of marathon training in some pretty oppressive heat and humidity, while still clocking over 40 miles for the week.

I fly home early on Tuesday, so technically this could be my final run out here if I wanted it to be.

However, I’ve decided that tomorrow, on my last full day, I’m going to get out for a no-pressure, slow 5K.

As much as I’ve enjoyed my holiday, I wouldn’t recommend going on one bang in the middle of marathon training.

Unless you’re a masochist like me.

Mood: Masochistic