It’s hard to believe that it’s been over two and half months since I last ran a Parkrun.
I know I’ve been busy, but that’s taking the proverbial if I’m honest.
I’m trying to dissect the list of excuses I’ve probably given every single weekend as to why I haven’t done it and I can guarantee that only 50% of that list will be legitimate excuses.
Still, the whole “early to rise” stuff seems to be working kindly in my favour as of late so I figured that, on the back of a successful Work Lap, I’d give it a crack.
Preempting the inexorable injuries becomes part-and-parcel of my routines nowadays and my right ankle is the primary culprit in this murder mystery. Coupled with the classic “flat foot” that I get on longer runs too, the deadly duo needed to be kept in check to avert their dastardly ways.
A strapping on the ankle is about as technical as it gets in my case. Nevertheless, it did the trick on Friday morning so I don’t see why it won’t work again on the Saturday.
A warm morning, a new running t-shirt and my GPS watch at the ready, what could possibly go wrong?
My housemate shot off straight away (as expected) and I duly ignored him, running at a hard but reasonable pace. I read in one of the magazines that going a little harder than normal at the start of your race culminates in a PB on a significant percentage of your runs. Plus, I felt super fresh from the previous day’s Work Lap. Today has PB written all over it.
The 1.00 mile mark comes by in no time at all. Quite literally: 7:49 to be precise.
Yeah, I did my first mile of the 5km (3.1mi) run faster than I did my first mile on my 1.45 run the day before. In case you’re in any doubt here: that’s not a sensible idea.
Naturally, it was around about this time I thought it best I eased off the pace a little bit. As long as I reached the half way cone before the 13 minute mark I reasoned that I could do a 15-16min back-2.5km and still come away with a PB without compromising myself or becoming too ostentatious about the ordeal.
And you know what, I did. I hit the 1.45mi mark in 11:51 (comparable to The Work Lap) and then I reached the half-way point in 12:54 so I was definitely on course. Good.
But, you know… fate, karma, justice, etc. My favourite things in the world.
Now is about the time I like to scream at the top of my lungs:
I H A T E I N J U R I E S
Plagued by them my entire life and the burden is overbearing at times. Truth be told I was struggling as I reached the half-way point (or pretty much anything post 1.00mi) but I felt like I had a point to prove to at least get to that point before I gave up.
I had to stop. I just had to. My feet were stretched, flat and on fire, my ankle like a thousand knives stabbing and grinding at the bone. I just don’t understand. I’ve tried different shoes, I’ve tried insoles, I’ve tried adjusting the way I run… nothing is working and I’m getting incredibly frustrated. One day I’d quite like to run a Half-Marathon and then onto a Marathon and maybe do a Biathlon or Triathlon again but how on Earth can I even contemplate those things when I can’t even run 2.5km without falling apart.
It’s a similar issue I suffered during the Tough Mudder Half earlier this year although thankfully I had so many obstacles in between that I was grateful for the walking. Not that it made it any easier and the pain simply serves to make the event completely unenjoyable and pointless. How can I possibly look to progress when I can’t even complete the events without pain and suffering?
I had to walk large parts of the back-2.5km. I was sweating profusely, my ankle felt broken and I was screaming internally. I broke out into a few more runs after stretching out a little bit but still I couldn’t get back into any sort of rhythm. My PB opportunity slipped away from me but as the girl who stopped to walk and talk with me for a little bit reminded me: the damage you’ll do to your ankle isn’t worth the PB. And she’s right.
It’s not like it was a world record I was going for. The all-or-nothing, do-or-die, this is your last shot at greatness. No, nothing like that. This was just an opportunity to break the 30minute barrier that didn’t come to fruition. There will be more opportunities, that’s for sure, and the more I learn how to use my watch functions, the more competent I’ll get at working out race pace and the such. After all, I never used to run any further than 400m, so this is still all news to me.
I mustered up a reasonable yet uninspiring jog to the finish line and crossed in 31:36 – not my slowest time but obviously not a record. On the face of it, it does actually look like I’m finding my level in-and-around the 30-32 minute mark but I know that I can go at least 28minutes, if not even quicker. It’s just a matter of managing my injuries better and staying fit, something I’ve not been very good at for the last 27 years…
The Tough Mudder Chronicles 