|
Part 2 – Let There Be Rock
Somewhere in the distance, Steve Cram did the business with the gun, and we were off, in the usual ten minute walk / run shuffle that it takes the back markers to cross the start line. I was already getting a few cheers from the crowd in the park, and got (as expected, frankly) a special mention from the start line announcer. I cleared the start gantry with no problems, but shortly passed my first obstacles, a couple Saucony banners which had to be ducked under. I also noticed that low-hanging trees were going to be a problem in the park area, so moved out into the centre of the road.
The costume was making an alarming loud clanking noise, and I soon discovered the reason. I had an emergency roll of gaffer tape hooked onto the top of one of my bamboo poles via a piece of garden wire. The tape was banging against the pole with every step, and the sound was vibrating down the pole, which passed right by my ear. This was something I was going to have to get used to.
As we completed our circuit of the road around the park, and I began to explore what the running rhythm felt like, there was a commotion in my chest area and a clatter on the road. I looked back to see a pile of jelly babies, my phone, and my pot of vaseline some yards behind me. My snack pocket had split less than a mile into the race. Fortunately there was some space between the runners, and let’s face it I was pretty visible, so I dashed to the side, made my way back, stepped into the flow and picked up the phone and pot – discovering in the process that it was at least possible to bend down in the outfit.
Jelly babies gone, I would have to make use of the Powerade and Shot Bloks provided on the course. But there was no way I was going to carry my phone and Vaseline in my hands for 5 hours. So, enlisting the help of a spectator, I bent down so he could retrieve the gaffer tape from the top of the outfit. I taped up the pocket as securely as I could, got my friend to replace the tape roll, and then rejoined the stream of runners.
That was a stop of around three minutes within the first mile: the pacing plan stuck inside my head hole was already worthless. But I was delighted in the decision to carry the tape, clanking notwithstanding.
As we wound our way through the first few town centre miles I received plenty of support from the locals. It was already obvious that the shoulder pads had been stitched in place by a man (me), and that I should have enlisted the help of the missus. They were sliding all over the place and required constant readjustment. That made it hard to settle into a rhythm and soak up the atmosphere.
But then who should appear at my shoulder but Fran and Andy (aka Mr and Mrs Stillwaddler). They were in great spirits and looked in good form, and had started behind me and gradually chased me down. Hearing of my jelly baby spillage, they generously pooled their own spares and handed over a bag to me, for which I was hugely grateful. We chatted easily for a few minutes, and I was just explaining that my friend Chris and his son Ben had come down for the day to support me. “But I’ve absolutely no idea where they’ll b…” I said, as they appeared on the pavement to my right. I ducked out of the flow to say hello. Ben (9) seemed dumbfounded by my strange appearance, and to be honest his dad wasn’t that much better. But it was great to see them so early on, and we made rough plans for the next rendezvous.
In fact Chris and Ben’s reaction was quite typical of the crowd. While I was getting plenty of great shouts of “Go Brighton Rock” from the supporters (as opposed to the “Go, er, barber’s pole thingy”, that I had feared), and the heartening sight of people quickly reaching for their cameras, a lot of people (runners included) seemed to just stare or laugh in disbelief. But so long as I get a reaction, I don’t really mind.
As we headed down towards the front, around the mile 4 region, I noticed that the clanking had settled down. The aforementioned bamboo poles had been drilled in strategic spots and attached to the wire spiral of the play tunnels with string ties. The roll of tape had now severed the first piece of string and slipped down the pole to a more stable position. Good for my ears, but not so good for the prospect of it slicing through the strings one by one until the pole became completely detached. Once again I pulled over to the side and asked a bystander to remove the tape from the top of the tube. I secured it lower down next to my head, where it was supported by a shoulder pad but also at risk of whacking me in the ear from time to time.
A few miles later I spotted the twin yellow vests of the Stillwaddlers, and we fell back into easy conversation. We briefly got separated, and then I’m not quite sure what happened, and then I pulled away from them without so much as a bye-your-leave. Sorry guys, for leaving you so rudely, especially when you’d helped me in my hour of need earlier.
We reached the first of the many double-backs, disliked by many runners but for we crazies a chance to interact with our fellow athletes. Here I spotted a gorilla, in I think a slightly better costume than mine from last year, but already walking. His mask wore a fairly sad expression; I had no idea if the runner inside was as despondent as his alter ego appeared.
|
