February 2016

[Sweder]

ParkRun Heaven - Bevendean #1

A new ParkRun to enjoy this morning. It's the closest one to Lewes, it's really hilly and it's all offroad. Hurrah!
My day started with the eye-stinging waft of loose dog's bottom in my nostrils. Such a contrast with last night. Mrs S and I nipped up to the Smoke to watch my youngest perform at the LSCD. And what a stunning piece it was. 

'Anya' features the eponimous Swede, now in her 90's, telling us how all she has left are her memories. These are gathered about her in the form of dancers, each representing an aspect of her life. Here is her father, a renowned Nuclear physicist; here is Anya as a young woman, here as a mother, here again as a student, protesting, ironically, at Greenham Common. The story was crafted with care, laced with humour and pathos. Anya narrated as she danced, her 'memories' coming to the fore to argue a detail or enhance the tale. It was moving and beautiful.

Whilst we were enjoying this heart-warming spectacle, my cantankerous old bat of a mother-in-law was back in Sussex, feeding my dogs all manner of gut-wrenching tidbits. As a result I was greeted this morning by an ocean of effluent. Not quite the pre-run stretch routine I'd planned.

I rocked up at Parkrun ten minutes before the off, greeted on arrival by Tom Roper, Camilla (Moylebird), God-botherer Rog and Me Julie (Ladyrunner). What a fine body we made. Less than 200 souls set off, a strong breeze racing up the hill to push us up the first long climb. The ground was tacky and soft, just how I like it. Around two hundred metres in, I was greeted by something else tacky and soft, something most unwelcome and, given my rather unpleasant start, in keeping with my day. Nature wasn't so much calling as raiding my body with a S.W.A.T. team. My stomach contracted to the size of a golf ball and I was forced to shorten my stride and deploy emergency muscles. 

Christ! It's only a 5k, you can hold this - no, no, you can't. Bloody hell.
I spied a sharp turn at the top of the hill where an affable marshal gently waived the runners around the bend.
- Excuse me, marshal, I'm going to have to leave the course for a moment.
As luck would have it a lone but substantial tree lurked a few metres away. I minced over and positioned myself strategically out of site from the runners piling up the hill.

Minutes later, a relived man, I rejoined the throng, by now firmly at the back. There was no point in pushing too hard so I set a steady pace and started reeling in back-markers. Just after passing a lady with 'ON ON' plastered on her bottom, I joined Tom.
- Hello! I thought you were ahead of me.
- Nature called, she wasn't taking 'no' for an answer

We loped on, completing two full laps of this hilltop course. I clocked 34.33 on Runkeeper, a time I will improve next week simply by showing up. I've just received my official Parkrun time of 31:21, so my time-keeping must be on the fritz. The post-run is hosted by the Bevy, 'Brighton's only community-owned estate pub', a down-hill stone's throw from the finish. I sat with Tom and Millie, chewing over Moyleman minutiae, sucking down a coffee as Millie got stuck into a 'Runner's Red', a fine concoction of carrot, beetroot and ginger blended into a tasty (honest) beverage.

I can see this being a regular Parkrun for me (I've signed up to marshal later this month). 
Hopefully the next outing will be sans pit-stop.