Two parts to this one. Last week was different to normal. It is the time of year I usually head down to Devon to go sailing with my dad and my uncle. This year was not an option. Uncle Steve’s partner, Bea, is undergoing treatment for cancer and his boat is out of the water with some dry rot. With Steve at home caring for the two women in his life, I decided to head away with my dad instead.

Back in the lab with Fletch this week for a lactate and VO2 max check-in. Same protocol as always: 3 minutes on, quick ear lobe prick, then straight into the next 3 minutes, starting at 10 km/h and stepping up by 1 km/h each stage.

Sorry for the silence. Summer happened - Wales, Norfolk, Greece - and fitting training around work and three kids at home was a juggling act.

Rest day, and I’m twitchy. Last Monday kicked off with a nasty 3 × 5 km session..

Thought I’d try something new and drop a quick ramble instead of one of my epic race reports. Call it a Monday-morning postcard from the pain cave.

I have been plagued by issues since I stopped rowing years ago, in fact it’s the reason I stopped. Twenty something year later and I might me emerging from what has been a quite challenging episode at times. With Badwater135 now (hopefully) looming on my calendar, getting this back issue truly solved is no longer optional – it is the difference between starting Death Valley with confidence or not starting at all.

On a Wednesday, I typically have two runs - two interval sessions. I like it. It’s a big day, and I enjoy the somewhat contrary take on “hump day.” Why not make the middle of the week a bit more brutal?

It’s the 10th December and for the second year running I’m doing the “advent accumulator” - the premise is simple, run the number of kilometres of the day of the month up until Christmas Eve. It’s a bit of fun as a concept, but it’s harder than you think.

Strava was once celebrated as the epitome of a community-centered app. It wasn’t just about tracking runs or rides; it was about connection - a digital space where athletes of all levels came together to celebrate, compete and share. But as Strava matures into a corporate behemoth, the very community it fostered now finds itself questioning whether the platform is shifting away from its roots.

I met Fletch in Farnham, where the OneTrack Running HQ is, a small studio office and gym. The gym is kitted out with a a state-of-the-art running machine (obvs) and a rather serious looking squat rack, alongside a splattering of extras. It’s not a gym for workouts, one for assessments. Next to the running machine a sharps bit for all those lactate testing ear prick lances and a few gadgets lying about.

It’s Thursday, I ran this morning only about 6km, I had managed a similar distance yesterday. I’m recovering and not in as much pain today as yesterday, and certainly not as bad at before.