Running

A cold and dull morning greeted me on Sunday, as I frantically pondered various wild and wacky excuses NOT to get out of my stinking pit for a trot around the park…

But it was not to be, primarily because Nat from the Kings had graciously volunteered to join Team Heatonian, and it wouldn’t have been right to let her do it on her own. Or would it?

Mrs Funk put paid to my nefarious scheming with a good talking to and a bacon sandwich, complete with a pot of real tea, which she normally refuses to make because of all the tea leaves. So, 9.20am saw me drive down to the park (I know, ‘I only live 5 minutes walk away’, but who knows whether I would be in any fit state to walk back?) and join the rapidly assembling throng around the registration desk, the cold wind whistling round my bare knees. Nat was there already, with a look of panic mixed with simmering fury at the prospect of me bottling the whole thing. After the obligatory patronising speech from the Lord Mayor and the introduction of various local sporting dignitaries, plus the pointless rallying call from our local minor non celebrity (he used to be Bombhead in Hollyoaks or something – I booed him anyway!) it was soon time for the official warm up.

Mrs Baker ran up to me in mid star jump, obviously surprised that I’d turned up at all, and wished us well. And all too soon, we were off…

I must admit, I had been really dreading this. My training schedule fell woefully by the wayside in the past couple of weeks, due to big things being afoot etc., and I felt I would be lucky to finish the course. Nevertheless, when it came down to it, I determined to do as well as I could, even if it meant walking round most of the course.

But, to be honest, I started to enjoy myself. I got a real buzz out of being part of such a large crowd of people who were all in it together. And running, with a destination in sight rather than my chubby, sweating visage in the mirror in front of the treadmill at the gym, seemed oh so much easier. So I ran. Run, run, run, walk a bit on the uphill stretch to get my breath back a bit, then run run run.

I finished. I sprinted the last few yards, even though my heart was threatening to hammer it’s way through my chest wall by this time.

I was handed a goody bag.

A big thank you to all those who have donated to this cause – either to me or to Nat, or both of us. Thanks to Mrs Funk for the bacon sandwich.

And huge thanks to Nat, for joining me on this madcap adventure. I definitely wouldn’t have done it without you!

My final time was around 12 minutes, which I didn’t feel too bad about. Mrs Baker finished the course in 1 hour and 7 minutes…

2 Comments

• By catweasel, March 17, 2008 @ 3:00 pm

  Congratulations on completing the course, Funk! So, now you have a taste for endurance racing, what’s next? The Iron Man Triathalon? Does a mile in “… around 12 minutes…” qualify you for Team GB in Beijing? I think we should be told…
• By Funk, March 17, 2008 @ 3:18 pm

  I think any aspirations for further athletic feats I may have had – inspired by the elation of actually finishing the damn thing in the first place – have since evaporated under the weight of a couple of Stellas on a Sunday afternoon. And my f**king legs are killing me!

Other Links to this Post

RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URI

Leave a comment