They

You hate them, I hate them, lots of parkrunners hate them.  I say hate but perhaps it’s really plain old jealousy.  Those festering thoughts of mild resentment that blight your very day before you even hit the venue.

You don’t see them every week but they’re still there, quite innocently and unwittingly rubbing your nose in it.  Sometimes guys, sometimes gals and sometimes on bikes.  They’re the worst, I mean bikes!  The only reason I feel the way I do about them is because I wish I had the means to do it too but I know I never will.  I live twelve miles or so from my local event and that’s what makes this whole episode completely impractical for me I tell myself.  I have a hard enough time negotiating one leg in front of the other in a left followed by right pattern to the general direction of the start line from the car park at walking pace for God’s sake.  And during your sojourn to the start you see them again and it really starts to wind you right up.

Who are ‘they’ then?  THEY are the ‘run or cycle to parkrun, complete parkrun and run or cycle home again from parkrun’ brigade.  Worse than that, they have the audacity to finish before me and, if you care to admit it, you too.  Sodding paragons of fitness, shining examples of what we aspire to be (in yer dreams), models of vigour, the epitome of body conditioning, call them what you like.  I’d like to call them ‘me’ but it just ain’t gonna happen Bubba.  Wait for this.  There was one of them a few weeks ago, pitches up late when the race had gone off, rattles round the course and finishes in the top twenty or some like.  What’s that all about eh?

Well you know what, I doff my covetous cap to them for I am really an admirer as it goes and yeah, I do wish I was that fit.  That’s the beauty of parkrun for me.  I’m only ever going to be an also ran but I don’t care.  The fun part for me is participating on a Saturday morning alongside these guys, my guys, your guys, the fit, the not so fit, the athletes and the clearly very unfit but all of whom to a man, or chick, put in a shift.  It’ll never get any easier as you continually push for a better time but the level of satisfaction in the knowledge that you’ve just added another one to your tally is the talk that talks the loudest.  The parkrun family, where everyone is welcome.