Just call me Fiona...

A new experience for me today. Not only do I have a blog to write, but I was asked to write the news report  from this week’s Eastbourne parkrun. So, donning my Fiona Bruce wig, my come hither eyes and my best sassy voice, I delivered the Eastbourne parkrun headlines. You can read all about it here.

As for the conventional blog – read on...

It was very warm this morning despite the cloud and the sun having an early morning pillow-fight. Cloud wanted the duvet on and the sun wanted it off. It seemed cloud had won as we were greeted by grey skies at the start, but, just as cloud fell back asleep and started snoring, sun peeled back the duvet and shone righteously upon us.

I arrived early to meet Event Director, Stuart Pelling, to receive instructions on how to upload a news report. Instructions were clearly inscribed on lined paper, which was neatly folded and handed over to me. I was slightly disappointed that there was no special ceremony, no trumpeting fusiliers, no royal dignitaries, no handshake photo shoot, not even a Boris Johnson! But, I suppose, in matters of parkrun security, one can’t be too careful when it comes to publicity. I was looking for Top Secret stamped over the paperwork, but I can only summise it had been written in special invisible ink. Apparently, if I hold it over a naked flame I might just be able….. oh bugger, ooooh, owwww, WATER!!!!

We were back on the usual course today, the ditch having dried out to just deep, slippy mud, rather than the fast-flowing river of last week – well, it was more like 2 inches of standing water, but you know how we blokes like to exaggerate things, eh?

I lined up with 68 other hopeful runners, not quite knowing what kind of performance I would be putting in today.

Stuart started us off with a puff on the whistle and off we thundered. After about 100 metres, I was conscious of a young boy who flew his little legs past me like Loony Tunes roadrunner. ‘Beep Beep’, I thought to myself, ‘he’s gone off too fast  - he’ll come back’. I stayed with him for about 1/2 kilometre and then he went! Wile E Coyote here never saw him again in the run.

Here is a photo of him, I and third placed lady, Anne, rounding the bushes not long into the race

I am not sure of his finishing position as I don't think he had a barcode, but I was completely dumbstruck and in awe of this young boy, who clearly has a huge talent (and passion) for running. As we handed in our tags at the end, he was stood by the finish table. I told him how brilliant he had run and how he had beat me by miles. He looked surprised. “Did I beat you, then?” he asked. “You slaughtered me” I replied. He smiled back a small grin of satisfaction and surprise at what he had achieved.  Whilst the fact he slaughtered me is true, and he beat me by absolute miles, I’m hardly the quickest person in the field and I didn’t have the heart to tell him that a one-legged monkey running backwards could beat an ageing 39 yr old short-arse! But what an inspiration he was and I was so chuffed at his performance.

As for me, no trips or slips, but plenty of swinging hips, as I settled into a nice rhythm. But, as usual, come halfway, I was feeling pretty exhausted and while my pace didn’t drop at all, it was hard work just putting one foot in front of the other as I ran at lactate threshold.

At 4km, there were five of us in quite close proximity – myself, a lady, two senior men and a veteran. I latched on to the back of them and chose to hang on to their tech-tee tails until 100m to go. That’s if I could hang on! As we emerged from the ditch, we all bunched up and it was clear that there was some cat and mouse as to who was going to go first. 

Bit by bit the pace increased, when, all of a sudden, one of the men went. The lady swiftly followed suit. I slipstreamed them both until we hit the grass and, boom, off I went. I sprinted clear, a habit I seem to have gotten into each week. My arms and legs flailed like an octopus in a whirlpool as I fixed my eyes on the finishing chute and ran my little socks off. I held them all at bay. The lady finished 3 seconds behind, with the three other chaps in hot pursuit. Even mid-pack plodders can enjoy the thrills and spills of a tactical affair and I was gobsmacked that I managed a 4:31 min/mile pace in the sprint to the line. If I can just get some talent and a lot more endurance speed, I could, perhaps, do a bit better at this running lark.


Here is my sprint finish with valiant pursuers in behind.

Utterly exhausted, I accepted my position tag and the congratulations of the marshall for my sprint finish and indulged in my customary collapse to the ground.

Senses soon regathered, I checked my watch which showed a 24:32 – (my slowest parkrun to date) some 23 seconds slower than last week and a minute away from my course and distance personal best. Not one to be motivated by time, this was no bother to me. I had thoroughly enjoyed the run and I knew, whatever time I achieved, I had given it 110%.

I’ll be marshalling next week so please all do a sun dance in anticipation.

Anyway, it’s time now to shuffle my papers and hand over to Ulrika Fish for the weather…

PLAYING AWAY – I JUST CAN’T STOP MYSELF – Richmond parkrun 21 April 2012

I had said I was taking three weeks off parkrun blogging, as I couldn’t go to Eastbourne parkrun again until 12 May.

This week, I had an impromptu away fixture and my blogging brain went into a hyperdrive of excitement.

Up in Twickenham to spectate the Virgin London Marathon, I took the opportunity to show Richmond parkrun what I’m all about.

It also meant the return of the wonderful satsuma. Lynda, our good friend and Twickenham resident, was hosting us for the weekend and, resplendent in her orange Berlin Half Marathon top, we set out to conquer the course.

I have run around Richmond Park once before, for a 10k Fix event at the back end of February, so I knew the course outline; where I could run hard and where I could run harder.

It was a cool morning as we strolled the couple of miles along the river from Twickenham to Richmond, only really warming ourselves up with a struggle up the hill at Turner’s view.

The park itself was buzzing with Saturday morning exercisers, be they cyclists, dog walkers, sole runners or park runners and the sun tried desperately to battle the little showers that were trying to force themselves upon us.

I took the opportunity of an emergency wee. Big mistake. Richmond might be a posh place, but the park must have the stinkiest toilets in the whole of the country. I can’t back this claim up with any additional evidence, other than to say I felt utterly nauseous trying to have a pee through what smelled like the stench of month’s old stale urine. Boy, was I grateful for some fresh air. Is there a prize for best and worst parkrun toilets?

Proper runners do proper stretches. Lynda and I indulge in pretend stretching; the art of looking like you are stretching. On this day, we had the beautiful landscape to assist us. See me below, being a plank, on a log, just behind Lynda performing her stump-stand-side-stretch.

We were called into line at 9:00am prompt. There was a little bit of housekeeping and then some applause. Clapping? What for? I couldn’t hear the chap at the front, but apparently Richmond parkrun claps all the first timers running there that day. How delightfully cosmopolitan! I’d never experienced applause of such gay abandon in the provinces. Thankfully, it fell short of any American-style whooping and hollering! Cosmopolitan or not, we’re still British, you know!

The run itself was really good. The sun was shining but not too warm. I thought the path would be quite crowded, but space opened up pretty quickly as we ran down the hill, with an amazing view of the London skyline in the distance – the London Eye was clearly visible, as was that thing that looks like a bullet – I once thought it was called The Avocado, until I was told I had confused my fruit and vegetable buildings.

At the foot of the hill, a few deer contemplated what on earth 300 human beings were doing pummelling their way through trees, when they clearly thought it was a much better idea to spectate and chew the cud. For a moment I wanted to stop, as it looked like a perfect Instagram moment, before realising I was both running and not in possession of an iPhone.

The incline loomed ahead, so I just decided to put my foot down and hurtle up it. I saw my other half, Rich, poised with camera a few metres ahead, so I thought I’d start sprinting. The resulting shot is an example of how not to run! Bent at the waist and over-striding is not a good look, nor is it an efficient way of getting from A to B. Having said that, I blame the photographer for not ensuring the picture was taken with me looking at my best. No careful positioning of the subject, no ‘say cheese’.

Completed the course in 24:01 (Garmin) 24:05 (barcode time), which is some 30 seconds slower than my Eastbourne parkrun PB and about 10 seconds slower than my Eastbourne average. Finishing position of 116.

Lynda, popped round the corner about 5 minutes later, and whilst she hadn’t run to her best form this time, she still had time for a comedy photo opportunity.

What does one do after a parkrun? Some go for coffee, some go for pain au chocolat, some go and deconstruct how Turner may have interpreted the physiological vagaries of the human body in art form, whilst overlooking the River Thames. We, of course, did all three…

Other blogs:

The Eastbourne parkrun Grand National - 14 April 2012

Eastbourne parkrun 07 April 2012: The satsuma that got squeezed!

A parkrun lesson

How parkruns and bumblebees can lead to half marathon success

Eastbourne parkrun 24 March

Eastbourne parkrun 31 March 2012: How Kathy Bates sabotaged my parkrun