Running a race is an emotional experience. After finishing Reading and collecting my medal, I tottered into the sports hall and found a line of deep, soft sofas. I sank, almost orgasmically, into one of these things, and glugged a bottle of water. I was in some kind of a trance. I remember, vividly, the sensation of floating through the air, above a rather drab looking town. I was holding onto some great red balloon with the word ACHIEVEMENT written across it in white. Horribly corny I know, but I can only report what happened.
This state lasted for several luxurious minutes before I awoke and got on with my life.
I was quite pleased with things at this point. I got home, showered and changed, and still felt pretty good. I even pottered around in the garden, wondering how I was going to transform this patch of rocky, weedy clay into a cornucopia of succulent fruit and vegetables. It was only later, when I began to read about the problems of the day on the internet, and discovered that the slower runners had been pretty much humiliated by the organisers of the race, that I began to feel anger. They had taken down the mile markers, dismantled the water stations and reopened the roads while there were still hundreds of runners on the course.
I’m feeling equanimous about it now. More than that. I’m going to do something positive. After a correspondence on the Runners World forum, I’ve decided to get involved in the organisation of a race, preferably my local one – the Theale 10K in August. I’ve spoken to the organiser this evening, who is in two minds whether it will take place this year at all. They also had some organisational difficulties last year, which meant that most of the runners ran not ten kilometres, but thirteen. I’m going to see her on Saturday, and will see if we can sort something out.
On Sunday, it’s the Bath Half. Still on this theme of organisational glitches, I’ve been omitted from the official list of entrants, and hence not been sent a race number. This morning I finally managed to make contact with the organiser, who has assured me that my number is in the post.
After the dullness of Silverstone and the Reading debacle, I need Bath to be good. I’ve had two 2:20 half marathons. This Sunday I’m going all out for a PB.
No run today. I got suddenly taken drunk on Sunday night and last night, and just didn’t fancy it today. Tomorrow and Thursday I’ll have a gentle jaunt along a few country lanes, and plan Sunday’s assault on the world record.
