The new race starts in the Sconce Park, on the outskirts of
Newark, and the site of many civil war battles which are now being exchanged
for battles of another variety. From there the race heads further outwards and
despite it being advertised as the dreaded flat and fast, meaning its probably going
to be dull, I decide to give it a go this year as part of my Marathon Project.
There is no car parking, so we park in the street and then
walk to the start which is buried deep in the park.
The course is almost totally on closed county lanes, if you
don’t count farm vehicles. One of which tries a massive reversing manoeuvre mid-race
at about the ten mile point. It was sort of all on road as well, if you discount
a few minor thoroughfares that hadn’t see a layer of tarmac in twenty plus years
and had grass growing through them. Oh, and the entire last mile was a lap of
Sconce Park itself, on the grass. Other than that... no complaints about the course.
I set out determined to take this (relatively) easily and quickly
put aside the fact that one of my former Thunder Run team mates is currently ahead
of me. I know he can’t maintain that pace and true enough I soon ease past him
without doing anything.
What is more worrying is that another (occasional) rival of
mine, shoots past me about six miles in as if his shoes are on fire. That has
NEVER happened before. I hope he can’t maintain that pace but just in case he
can, I up mine a little. This is probably my undoing.
I am correct in that he can’t maintain that pace and soon I
get back in front of him, leaving him far behind until... disaster strikes. At
ten miles my calf locks up and I start to walk, race over. Both of my ‘rivals’
come past me. Oh, the shame but I suppose I was in good company today.
Later, Usain Bolt pulled up injured in his last ever race
while Mo Farah also messed up his finale. Mo is now apparently giving up the track
to focus on racing against me full time on the road. Not sure I’ll give him
much trouble.
I have my phone with me, specifically for an injury meltdown
just like this, so I text L that I’ll be a while and to put her feet up/have a
beer/get her knitting out etc etc.
She is somewhat appalled that I’m not. I sort of
run/walk/jog/shuffle the last three miles and finish in 1:58. Not bad I suppose
and at least I finished unlike Usain but it’s not a good omen for my future
plans.
The goodie bag proved to be interesting, red t-shirt aside, with
a few decent snacks, a medal and some weird plastic thing that I mistook for a
dog toy but someone else said was perhaps a massage tool but could just as well
have been a sex aid. There were no takers in our household to research this further,
even the dogs weren’t interested.
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