May

[Sweder]

I felt like death warmed up this morning. Dodgy guts (‘nuff said) stiff legs, weary bones. But it's all to easy to give it a miss isn't it? So many excuses to dodge the bullet, a honey-do list as long as your arm, papers to read, garden to tend, dogs to walk . . . no, as Sam Snead once said 'quitting between tee and green can be as addictive as Hi-balls before breakfast.'

A record turn-out at Hove Park, runners assembling from all over. A lot of newbies too, all slightly deformed in that they appeared to lack any form of padding around their middle. Pod-people, obviously. Where's Donald Sutherland when you need him . . .

I met up with Marion and Cam before the off. Marion was suffering similar symptoms and planned to jog round at the back. I felt strangely torn; I could amble round easily enough, the impending Three Forts half giving the perfect excuse for taking it easy. But like playing for a draw in football it's not always easy to set off with those intentions, much less so to keep that going in the heat of battle. After a rusty opening mini-loop I relaxed into a steady cadence, passing the checkpoint in 41st place. Into the first big loop I started to pass people. I wondered at this. Was I pushing, on a charge? It didn't feel like it. My legs moved easily, breathing came fast but steady yet still I caught and passed people like they were standing still.

As I reached the brow of the northward climb the light seemed to change. The backdrop of blossoming trees and ambling dog-walkers faded into an impressionist haze. The path ahead cut through the park like a landing strip, clearly defined against the lush grass. I seemed to have all the time in the world to look around, to drink in my surroundings. I smiled at a couple, arm in arm, strolling gently as a yippy yappy hairball danced at their feet. It was one of those moments you get now and again, a peep into another dimension. Thinking back to a recent post about potential I wondered if I was being given a glimpse of mine; this is how it could be if you got your finger out. That sounds a bit glib, a self-fulfilling prophecy perhaps, but that’s what it felt like.

Gravity took over on the long descending curve at the far end of the park, dragging me down the slope and past a few more strugglers. Along the back stretch I relaxed again; this simply couldn't last. But it did, just for a moment. On past the checkpoint and into the long hill of the last circuit. I felt a heavy pounding moving up behind me, waited for the sweep of a runner flying by, the tell-tale short gasps in my ear - but nothing came. It wasn't a runner; it was reality finally running me down.

The background blur came into sharp relief once more, my chest tightened, stride shortened, legs grew heavy in an instant. An invisible elastic cord tugged at my back as I fought up that hill, a man in quicksand, arms pumping, head down, sucking wind like there was no tomorrow. The merry-go-round was slowing, the tear in the space/ time continuum repaired. Now the real slap-slap of fast-approaching runners inexorably reeling me in. I gritted my teeth and hung on for dear life, falling down the slope for the last time. As I moved into the home stretch a young lad cruised past. My onboard movie director called for the zoom/ dolly shot - the camera rolls back whilst zooming in on the horizon, creating an eerie elongation of the path ahead. Infinity and beyond in an instant.

I stumbled over the line, lungs somewhere up around my neck, eyeballs fit to pop. I grabbed my disk - 28 - and lurched to an ungainly, heaving stop, hands on knees, sweat and drool mingling on the path. Where did that come from? What about tomorrow? Have you finally lost what few marbles you had left? A slap on the back. Julie, grinning, red-faced.
‘You were flying - you whizzed past me!’
I don’t remember. I was too busy ogling my potential, seduced by that glimpse of what could be.

Sitting in the café I felt . . . fine. Coffee and good banter slipped down easily, our gleaming bodies soaking up the sun, the excited chatter of endorphin-high runners and children at play floating on the warm breeze.
And so to the Three Forts. I may well curse today's madness at some stage tomorrow.

Timed at 22:46 - almost a minute off my previous best.