Against my better judgement, I made my early Saturday morning pilgrimage over to Pollok Park for the weekly Parkrun. I had mentioned to a few fellow members – at the previous evenings club curry night – that I was planning doing this. Having made this declaration with a second massive plate of lamb bhuna in front of me, and gulping down my 5th or 6th bottle of tiger beer I can now understand why certain individuals offered little encouragement, but only bewildered looks. Even over at The Rams, as I necked another coupla pints of Stella (the ‘sensible’ 4% kind), I was asked again.. “Is that right, you’re doing the Parkrun in the morning?” “Will you be ok?”. Keen not to show any cracks in my club captain tough guy alpha male facade, I brushed off these comments with a foolhardy “Nae bother!”
Nae bother? I won’t go into too much detail, but although I awoke the next day to the most beautiful morning of the year so far, things were far from rosy in the depths of my guts. Committed to the club cause and – more importantly – not wanting to appear like the kind of guy who makes reckless promises when drunk, I dragged myself from bed and had as many glasses of water and painkillers as I did trips to the toilet. Too much information? Thought so.
The run itself was pretty much the usual fare. 350+ runners of all abilities lined up and ready for action. Starting off in the middle of the pack, and letting the herd do its usual and sprint the initial downhill section, I maintained this position for the first mile or so. The battery on my watch had ran out right at the very begining of the event, so, identifying a work colleague of similar ability I stuck to his shoulder for the first lap. When we started on the second lap, and I was certain my stomach never had any further suprises in store for me, I quickened my pace a little and managed to finish in 20:43.
