Ok that title is a bit melodramatic but I was certainly a bit disturbed on the day of my first Nike training run. It ocurred to me that I had somehow managed to voluntarily sign myself up for an event that could only prove to be as horrendous as school sports days. Horrible childhood memories came flooding back to me - I was the fat kid, somehow bullied into representing the form in the 1500m event. I always found myself lapped while my chest was caving in like a furnace.
The anxiety levels built up during the day, not helped by the tea-break crew who thoroughly enjoyed winding me and Occassional Gym Buddy (OGB) up. With two hours to go I was sat at my desk with a chronic stitch and I hadn’t even started to exert myself.
In rather an apprehensive mood OGB and myself wandered along to Regents Park to meet up with the Nike training team. We went disguised as regular park strollers so that we could walk straight on by if it all looked too terrifying for words. Turned out to be not so bad, just a tent and a handful of guys wearing what appeared to be their mother’s cami-knickers.
After signing up we were dragged into a warmup run. This is not part of my regular training schedule, I do not believe in warm ups. If the forerunner isn’t switched on and recording the distance and pace, then I’m not interested. Hopping and striding sideways just exhausts me before I’ve even started and it feels way too much like PE.
We got to start soon enough. OGB did his best to stick with me but in the end found it too painful and had to spurt on ahead. Thankfully that meant I could drop back down to a more comfortable pace without feeling like I was holding him back. I never understand how people manage to run with others, its so difficult to run at someone elses pace.
Regents Park is actually really pretty, I’ve never been there before. It’s a good place to run. The route turned out to be 4.97k and completely flat. I ran most of it alone. There were two girls ahead that seemed to be using me as their pacer. They would set off at a fair old pace and continue running for about 200 yards and then drop down to a walk. When I approached and they got within earshot of my puffing, plodding running machine, they’d glance at each other and shoot off again. This was repeated about 5 times, each time I was about to pass them they’d just shift up a gear and escape my wheezing form. Half way through the run the skies opened and the rain started bucketing down. My tormentors dived into the loos for cover and I took my opportunity and ran for the lead, (This isn’t a race remember - just a training run - I can’t help being so damn competitive). Deege on The Getting Buff blog has a funny entry on the nature of the competitive spirit.
Don’t you just love running in the rain, it makes everything so much more bearable. Pretty grotty at the end though, I was so wet that I chilled down really quickly.
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Good fun event in the end. I’ll go again. Maybe next time I will try and avoid the lure of the pub at the end and the chips on the way home.
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