December

[Sweder]

Time for my irregular check-up with the ParkRun doctor.
Happily fate delivered a dry, warm (if rather blustery) Saturday morning. Had it been lashing down I suspect I might have bailed, but with all geological excuses removed I trudged wearily to the car for the 15 minute drive to Hove park.

Another excellent turn-out, well over a hundred lycra-clad Brightonians chatting and shivering before the off. I took it easy at the start, working my way into the run to see how my limbs were bearing up after a week of running. Not too badly as it turned out. By the last lap I'd relaxed enough to run freely, catching up with a very young ParkRunner who seemed to be fleeing a terrible demon. The tousel-haired fellow spent half the time glancing worriedly behind him. Perhaps it was the dreadful rasping sound growing louder in his young ears, or maybe the violent vibrations from my heavy closing tread. But no; even as I pulled alongside he continued to twist his neck, eyes wide, searching for the un-named terror racing up behind him.

My guilt at passing him in the last furlong was somewhat assuaged when I saw him cross the line gleefully several yards in front of another youngster, this one eyes out on stalks, bright red face shining from under a sweaty blonde Boris Johnson mop.

24:20 for me, a good half-minute slower than my last pre-tour effort. Not bad all things considered. I now have a choice tomorrow; up early for the 9 am Marina run or a later start (11:00) for the 2009 Mince Pie 10. I'll let the fates, rather than the alarm, decide.