“Deceptively fast”

As usual, to prepare properly for today’s parkrun I stayed up too late last night, got only six hours sleep and then headed over to East Coast Park. I did at least eat an apple beforehand, and arrive with enough time to spend five minutes jogging as a warm up before the race started.

Unlike previous weeks, I didn’t go off quite like a rocket from the start line; the field was smaller today though, so I was third in the race for a bit, until two guys went past me around the 1km point.

I could see things going to bits then: they’d vanish into the distance and I’d fall apart, but instead I upped ny pace just slightly and went past both of them again. Back to third.

About the time I got to 2k, I realised that I was third, but second man in the race, which made my silver disco ball vest rather more appropriate. I huffed and puffed, desperate to finish in the silver medal position.

There was nothing I could do to catch the front guy or Anna, both vanishing away from me, but as I slogged on I was scared that somebody would appear from behind, robbing me of my place in the final minutes. I hit three k, told myself I had just eight minutes to go, and pressed on.

Miraculously, nobody overtook me in the closing minutes and I beat my personal best, coming in at 20:01.3. Less than one and a half seconds away from my target for the year. I came to a halt and wheezed until my heart stopped pounding. My silver shirt was still faintly justifiable, even if I was in third.

Afterwards, somebody said I was "deceptively fast". I’m not sure whether that’s complimentary or not. I hope he meant my shiny vest conveys a lack of seriousness belied by my time, rather than suggesting I’m quick for somebody so chubby and bearded. But we can never be quite sure.

After the race, we had breakfast, then a swimming lesson (La Serpiente Aquatica Negra excelled herself), then a second breakfast, and then I finally got a couple of hours sleep, before the evening came. Tonight I went out drinking for the first time since New York, which was fun, but means that, combined with this morning, I won’t be doing MacRitchie Reservoir tomorrow morning. But I needed all that gin to celebrate my personal best.