I’ve been a bit quiet on here for the last few weeks, and for good reason. On May 17th, I stood at the start line of the Chester Half Marathon. No chip-timed targets on my wrist. No pacing alerts. Just 13.1 miles of open road and a brain that had spent the previous month battling that "confidence gap" I mentioned in my last post. If I'm honest, the week leading up to the race was full on. I had been away on a walk in Yorkshire so had travelled a fair few miles and on the lonely car ride to the race I was surprised to be sharing my space with my old mental ghosts. Without a digital training log to look back on for reassurance, my brain kept whispering, "Are you sure you’ve done enough long runs? Are you sure you're ready to step up from the 10k?" But by the time I hit the Britannia Bridge, I gave my head a shake and decided to just trust the tank. The atmosphere in Chester was brilliant. The queues for the toilets were huge and I found myself wondering if I...