The race doesn’t start until 11:30, and I would normally be a fan of such leisurely starts but I’ve got to be elsewhere at 3pm.
The
race goes astonishingly well for me in a
'I didn’t know I could do that any more' sort of way. I start off way
too
fast and then get faster. I start off doing 7:50 miles before
accelerating to
almost 7:30 miles. This is largely the fault of the two girls who
overtake me
early on, chatting away as they pass as if it was no effort at all.
Naturally I undertake to catch and then pass them again. I am egged on
in this venture by my new friend who I shall called ‘Steve’ because that
is what it says on the front of his number. This may not be his name
because Daughter is running with L's number and therefore under her
name.
‘Steve’
is also trying to catch the girls, most probably for different
reasons to me as they are all in their 20s unlike the old codger that is
me. Anyhow we pass them and then hope to drop them, well I do but I
suspect Steve would like
to run with them, but as it turns out dropping them seems impossible
anyway as
they're just too damn fast.
So aided by a flat course, the novelty of no wind at Holme
Pierrepont, lots of nagging from ‘Steve’ and the two ‘passed but not dropped ’ girls constantly breathing
down our necks we sprint over the line in 1:41:42. Extraordinary. I ran 1:47:47 here
last year. It’s my
fastest time since a 1:40:38 at Peterborough in October 2017.
The two girls finish about 30 seconds back and Steve goes off
to chat them up while I collapse in an uncivilised heap.
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