Weymouth parkrun

After the best part of four months off parkrun, I have a severe case of the fidgets, so when I heard that there was a lift going to Weymouth parkrun, I jumped at the chance.

Armed with some introductions to local parkrunners Sara and David Lloyd, aka the mum and dad of Zoe (@zoecakes75), I bounced out of bed*, met up with my very kind chauffeur, and waited to see what the day would bring.

It turns out, it would bring presents galore.

For starters, the traffic was kind, so we arrived before even I could start to clock-watch and fret.  As I went for a wander to kill some time**, I heard a voice ask the way to the start.  It sounded familiar, and I turned round to find Norm (@n0rm), who was sneaking in a parkrun while Kate (@totkat) was attempting an extremely vicious ultra.

After one of the most enthusiastic run briefings I’ve ever witnessed (thank you, Sara, for explaining some of the local references), we were off.

The course is an out and back, with firm footing and nothing much in the way of ups and downs.  The turn around point, known by the locals as “the pineapple”, is at the top of the only rise, though you only really notice that when you’ve turned the corner and your legs suddenly find a new lease of life.  It was also where Zoe’s dad was marshalling, so came with a personalised cheer for added zip.

I was looking for a pace which was ‘short conversational’, so was very pleased when I found out that Norm was aiming for easy.  I talked his ears off for the first half (in short bursts between breaths) and then subsided a little as I concentrated on maintaining the pace.  With about half a mile to go, I sent Norm on his way, and ended up sneaking my second ever sub-26 finish.

After all of which, I pootled back along the course to find Zoe’s mum and then rejoined my very kind chauffeur for the journey home.

And was back in time for lunch.

 

*This is a lie.  This is always a lie.

**And search for the loos.

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About abradypus

A Bradypus or Sloth am I, I live a life of ease, contented not to do or die but idle as I please; ... [Michael Flanders and Donald Swann]
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