By Saturday, I haven't exercised for two days and I'm getting anxious about it. This is not a sentence I thought I would be saying. Having said that, by mid afternoon I find myself comfortably on the sofa, and if a man can't enjoy a little doze after a walk in the sunshine and a delicious lunch, then I don't know what civilization is coming to. As my eyelids ease slowly into position, the anxiety kicks in, and I realise that if I don't go and do something now, there's little chance of it happening at all. The eyelids protest; for a moment I slump back, but eventually I convince myself that I really should go.
Top lip smothered with Vicks, I set myself a target of 2 miles at 8:30/mi pace to test things out, but after a minute I'm going under 8:00/mi pace, and find it incredibly difficult to slow down, so I carry on going. As I approach Jumpers Corner I'm starting to feel terribly uncomfortable, a dull ache in my stomach. I push on regardless, determined to complete the 2 miles. At 1.7 miles, I get to the end of my road - I should run straight past, but psychologically it's a massive blow and I stop, sure that I'm going to vomit, or worse. I tell myself that I've been ill and need to take it easy, but really I know I've copped out a little.
Rik picks me up at 8.30am for the race. I register and we find ourselves at a bit of a loose end for 30 minutes until the start. This is unfortunate, because the wind is coming in off the sea and it's bloody cold. We make do with jostling around and stretching like we know what we're doing. We bump into Kerry, a friend of Rik's, who recognises me as "Mark that does the blog". I give a sheepish smile, slightly embarrassed at my newly found fame as the fat bloke doing some exercise.
"Bloody hell! Look at the size of that thing!" says Rik. It's not a compliment, as he points out the Garmin on my wrist to Kerry. I bought the Garmin 6 years ago, and it was second-hand then, so it's true to say it's something of a relic as GPS watches go. I make a note to look for something more up to date, but it's better than running with a phone in my hand at least, since I discovered how easy it is to upload from a Garmin to Strava.
The race takes the field up through the Lower Gardens. It's a tricky start, as a few hundred people at varying paces funnel into narrow paths made uneven by invading tree roots. Eventually the field spreads, and we pop out back at the Pier Approach and on to the promenade, where the wind immediately makes itself known. We plod along at 9:00/mi pace, until the 5K turnaround, which is somewhat anonymous - the sign announcing it is blowing in the wind, and the marshall holding the stick isn't paying attention to the runners, so I'm fairly sure there's a few 5Kers that will have found themselves treated to a 10K after all. It's lucky for Rik that I'm a few steps ahead of him, as he fails to spot the sign and briefly looks surprised to see me heading in the opposite direction.
With the wind now behind, my pace increases. Gradually Rik drops back and he waves me on. I'm feeling pretty good, and I'm definitely going fast, as I creep up on the runner in front. I glance at my Garmin and see that I'm on for a personal best, so I'm disappointed and a little confused when I'm still 200 yards from the line as my PB time goes by. Regardless, I make it on to the shoulder of the runner I've been chasing just as we get onto the Pier Approach, but I have little left in the tank and he sprints for the finish. Curse you #103.
 |
| Not me, followed by me |
Rik posts on my Facebook, inviting me to run a quarter marathon. I haven't replied yet, but mentally I'm documenting excuses.
No comments:
Post a Comment