It was a hot, hot morning. Durex picked me up at 10ish, and we drove down. It was packed out with running club members in matching vests and shorts, quite a serious bunch. "We're the fattest people here," said Durex. "Speak for yourself mate," I replied. But he was right, there were some lean machines on show. We lingered at the back of the pack at the start.
We started with a couple of laps of the track. Once we'd got out of the complex, I looked down at my watch. 00:00:00 What? I looked again. 00:00:00 Shit, I'd forgotten to start my watch at the beginning of the race. Fucksocks! As I passed the 1 mile mark, my watch said the time was 11:12. What? Wasn't the race supposed to start at 11:00? Had I really just run a 12 minute mile? That's pretty much walking pace, isn't it? I'd better get a move on! So I kicked on, targeting people ahead of me to catch up with and then pass. Two miles, 11:20, three miles, 11:28, that's more like it, four miles, 11:36, good stuff, maybe I'll make it in under 44 minutes if I kick on even harder for this last mile. So I pushed even more. My shoulder ached, my stomach was tense, my calves stabbed, my lungs burned. I could see the track complex. One last lap. I was close to dropping as I came down the final straight. With about 30 yards to go I could see the big clock by the finish line... what?
...an age passed before the second changed to..
...I could hear the timekeeper calling out the seconds...
I crossed the line. 38:53 or 38:54. What? My watch said it was 11:44. I guess it's a little fast. Wow. My average pace per mile was 7.46. Great stuff! That equates to a 1hr42 half marathon. God I love running!
Photo via Mick Hall Photography, tyvm!
Guess which famous psychologist I saw in the race? Check out the results, and look who finished in 101st place? Wow!