After my third fastest parkrun ever last weekend, I went into today’s Regent’s Park 10km wanting a shiny new 10km PB, or at least a time that was better than last month.
Alas it was not to be. By the second kilometre it was clear that the PB was off the table, by the fourth it was touch and go whether I’d manage to beat last month’s time, and by halfway I realised I was so far off the required pace that I’d be lucky to match even November’s time.
Fortunately, it was at that point that I was overtaken (again) by my in-race nemesis. We’d been playing leapfrog for a while (she was stronger on the slight rises, I was better on the slight downs) and her apparent obliviousness to all the runners around her combined with a slightly elbow-jabbing running style had started to grate. I chased her down, overtook her and then knuckled down to try to salvage some sort of dignity from the race.
I managed to stay clear of her for the best part of a lap, but then, somewhere between the 8km and 9km markers, she was back. Aaargh. I tried to reel her in, but as we turned the final corner, she remained stubbornly in the lead. One last push! It’s downhill! There’s the finish! COME ON! After 9750m of not-quite-thereness, I finally found a dribble of energy and picked up my pace, overhauling her about 2m from the line.
It was almost certainly a notional victory – it’s a chip-timed race and I have a sneaking suspicion that she started behind me – but it was the only scrap of “Yay!” on offer and I’m taking it.
Here’s to a better run next month.