It’s been said before, but bears repeating: that we run only because we so quickly forget how horrible it really is.
Today’s parkrun is a case in point. Here I am, peering at my spreadsheet, noting my likely future opportunities to do this weekly 5K, when barely an hour ago, floundering in the mud, panting like a runaway pig, I was resolving never to put myself through this pain and indignity ever again.
I left both start and finish a bit late today. It’s always an error of judgement to ‘quickly check my emails’ in the shadow of a looming deadline. Inevitably, this session in front of the PC screen meanders into a serene browse through the usual news websites and forums, until a glance at the clock creates a wave of panic that sweeps me off my chair and into the greater task ahead.
Now for the frenzy of indecision. It’s a bit like Supermarket Sweep, running round the house, feverishly grabbing arbitrary items of running apparel from radiators and airing cupboard, and swooping into drawers for GPS watch and water bottle and contact lenses and calf strap and anything else that might have some tangential relationship with athletic endeavour. Then the hair-raising drive down the M4 and A329M, bringing me to the Thames Valley Park, home of the Reading parkrun. Relieved, I turn into the small car park, noting the crowd of runners limbering up and chatting in the sunshine.
During my brief warm-up, I hear someone say “You must be Andy”. I suppose I must be, I think, as I finally get to meet AndyP. We’ve exchanged emails a few times over the last year or two, since one of us noticed the other mentioning the Kennet & Avon Canal on the RW forum. But despite sharing the same stretch of canal, we’ve never knowingly passed each other on the towpath.
Preparation for the run wasn’t ideal. Yesterday I wasn’t well, and I took it for granted that I’d be spending the weekend indoors, nursing a bad cold. I had the usual symptoms. Blocked nose, woolly head, aching limbs, nausea. All I ate after breakfast was an overcooked baked potato for lunch, and 3 rice cakes for supper. Not classic pre-race dining. But I woke this morning feeling unexpectedly fit and alert, though unwisely, I decided against breakfast of any kind. Even a half banana was considered too risky – and it’s not often you hear that said. Starvation was a mistake.
Enthusiasm levels were high, and the cool and sunny conditions were ideal, but as soon as we set off, I sensed this would be a struggle. Despite the willing spirit, the flesh was weak. It must have been the lack of fuel. I should have had that banana. Breathing was heavy and laboured, and legs just wouldn’t do what I was politely requesting of them. To make matters worse, the heavy overnight rain had left the grass wet and slippery, and the paths through the woods muddy and puddled. Twice I felt an almost irresistible urge simply to stop. Really, how important was it to run this bloody thing?
But I managed to keep going.
The first and third miles were each 10:11, with the middle one slower at 10:38. Not great splits by most standards, but compared with my recent ones, actually pretty good. I finished in 31:53, a 12 second improvement over last week. Given the conditions and my less-than-ideal preparation, I am happy with that. My interim target has to be to get below 30 minutes, and I seem to be inching closer. A hard surface would make the task easier, but so be it — that won’t happen. Instead, I can best help myself by investing in some decent off-roaders to stop the slipping and sliding, and by carrying on doing what I’m doing. I’ll get there soon enough.
A warning. One other thing to mention was the faintest twinge in my right calf (not the one I had trouble with last winter) during the first mile. It was a sort of memo from my body to me, and one to be heeded. The parkrun is a minefield: an early morning, relatively fast run. Throw in the increasing wintry coldness, and you have all the ingredients of a frightening injury cocktail. It was a timely warning, and if I ignore the loud jangling of these alarm bells, I’m a fool.
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