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Parkrun mirage

This morning it was snowing at 8am, half an hour after we’d downloaded all our luggage from the taxi fdom the airport, and an hour before the start of the Crystal Palace Parkrun. I began to have misgivings about running in just a vest and a pair of shorts.

The event was cancelled because it coincided with a junior cross-country event organised today. However, having flown for thirteen hours and braved wind and snow to get there, I wasn’t going to let a little thing like there being no race stand in the way of me participating in the event.

As I expected, on the first lap I felt super strong. My heart didn’t need to work overtime on pumping blood to my skin to help shed heat, and so I could gallop along, sucking in thick, oxygen rich air.

On the other hand, Singapore runs aren’t beset by freezing rain, or hills. The latter proved my nemesis: on the flat I had good pace, but every climb punished me. I also wasn’t sure where I was going, and on the first lap had to keep looking back for directions from the others.

Still, finishing second in a parkrun, even a cancelled one with less than ten runners, felt good after a 14 hour flight with precious little sleep. I went home and showered, and as my shoulders tensed up, I remembered another downside to running in England: it’s so cold that my body physically rebels, squeezing itself tight to either hold in the warmth or discourage me from taking part in such foolish behaviour in the future.

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