Tuesday 3 July 2007

The Girl With The Unnecessary Ponytail

Have time for a quickie this morning as I'm in the car again. I'm managing to leave later and later, and still be well early for work. Where is all the traffic in the mornings because it all reappears at night. Also for some odd reason today, it's not raining, how strange.

L's at the gym again but for some reason the man in the trilby isn't. Perhaps he's dealt with all the girlies at John Carroll and has now moved on elsewhere.

Over lunch I nipped (in the gridlocked Derby sort of sense) into town to get a haircut and hopefully in the process gain those few vital extra seconds in tonight's training run (aka race). While I'm in town, I see the most fantastic accident. The traffic was moving fairly quickly for Derby e.g. 5mph but even so there was no need for this chap to try and drive his car straight through some poor unsuspecting person in front of him in the queue. Huge smash. The chap jumped out of the car and the first thing you noticed is his drongos shorts. Aha that explains it, although suppose I shouldn't generalise. He's also clutching his mobile phone in his hand which is suspicious.

Get back to work and sit watching the rain come down, so I suspect it could be a wet race tonight. I'm glad I’m not spectating. It'll do our smelly dog good though; he badly needs the shower.

Drive home and then to Rushcliffe Country Park for the 'race'. As we park the car, Doggo is shaking with excitement and any hope of getting him to not pull on the lead is lost. I try and take him for an off the lead warm-up but he's terribly skittish, continually wondering where L is. I think maybe he suspects that we've thrown him a decoy and L's going to strip off her coat and jeans and run the race rather than me. I put him back on the lead and he almost has me on my back as he pulls me across the muddy field. I thankfully hand him back to L who has the unenviable task of dragging him back across the field to try and find a bench to lash him to.

I do another more successful warm-up without the hindrance of man's best friend while at the same time trying to surreptitiously spot my objective for the evening. This of course being Ponytail Girl. I catch sight of her and then try and keep her in view without looking too obvious. When we line up on the start, I stand just behind her but then she spots someone she knows, a chap in matching yellow kit, and moves across to the other side of the start, or perhaps I just intimidated her.

With her gone I notice that there are now two four-foot tall lasses, who both look about twelve, in front of me. Either they're going to be very quick or they'll get trampled to death because no one will see them.

The starter blows his air horn to gain everyone's attention and about a dozen people start running. False start number one. When they've all reassembled at the start, he tells us we'll have to run fast to beat the black clouds that are gathering overhead. Well get on with it then. Then he explains that he'll say 3-2-1 go and blow his horn. Another group of people start running. False start number two. Eventually we get to the real start and off we go, although I didn't hear the horn this time but no one calls us back.

The pace at the start seems very slow and I'm tempted to leg it to the front to enjoy a brief moment of glory but think better of it. I would pay for such extravagance later. I look across for Ponytail Girl but can't see her; she must be behind me. All I've got to do is make sure that is where she stays there for the duration. Although this isn't how I planned it, she was supposed to pace me round.

The first bit is on grass but then most of the rest of the course is on what were once gravel paths, that is before the recent rains turned them into rivers. When I did my run on the treadmill on Sunday and lost the will to live after 3km, I was longing for a muddy field to run round to liven things up. Now I'm not so sure.

I decide that trying to avoid all the puddles is futile and start to plough through the smallest ones while still trying to avoid the deeper ones, so that hopefully my socks stay dry. I occasionally divert onto the grass verges to avoid a puddle but wonder whether this is really worth it as it disrupts my pace. However when I do finally step in a deep puddle, I regret it. Socks now wet; my feet feel heavy.

I await the first distance marker with 'interest'. So far the 10K has been marked in miles but the 5K in kilometres. Don't know what they'll mark this one in. Then we past the first one, it's the one mile marker, so it's miles today then. Then soon after we pass the three-mile marker, I hate it when they do that. Presumably that's for the second lap then.

I run shoulder to shoulder with a guy in a Redhill vest. That is until a rather heavy breathing bloke, who I think is going to expire at any moment muscles their way between us. It's another runner in a Redhill vest and horror of horrors it’s a girl, albeit a very butch looking one. No tumble drying problem with this one. The chap proceeds to pace Butch round the course.

Then another girl comes up my inside on the grass, it's one of those rather fit looking Formula One types. This is getting more depressing by the minute but at least, looking on the bright side, it's not Ponytail Girl. This one has attempted to have a ponytail too but she hasn't got the hair for it, it's one of those silly unnecessary ones that a lot of chaps used to think it was cool to have in the eighties. Nice lycra though. It's just a shame that I can't tail her because she's moving too quickly. I try and keep her in view, with the hope of perhaps having her later, if I have enough energy left.

I pass L and try a surreptitious wave, so as to not alert Doggo, which isn't easy. She looks frazzled; he must be giving her a good time. The course is two laps but we seem to keep doing loops all over the place. It feels like that party game where they blindfold you and then spin you round several times. I've no longer any idea of where I am or where the finish is.

I pass L again on my second lap and she shouts out my position but I'm not sure what she said. It was something 1st. I don't believe she'd sit and count up to 101st, so it must have been 21st, 31st, or 41st because I'm certainly not 1st.

Finally hit the 'previewed' three-mile point and I tell my legs to up the pace but they ignore me. With about half a mile to go I feel like I'm about to vomit, I desperately try and suppress it. It would be terribly uncool to chuck up now and it would ruin my time. Some chap, or perhaps it's a girl, is breathing heavily down my neck. I wish he/she would go away and leave me to die in peace. Where's the finish? Have they moved it?

Eventually after another confusing loop round some trees, I see the line. The heavy breather drops back or perhaps he/she has stopped for a quick vomit but then something in yellow appears from nowhere and sprints past me just as I'm inches from the sanctuary of the finish line. Thankfully it's not Ponytail Girl but a chap from the same club. He has the cheek to turn around and commiserate with me. If he was that fussed about it, he would have let me beat him. I would love to stay and chat to him but I still feel like I'm going to vomit and I head off into the long grass just in case. A good precaution, I'm a little sick but it's not too bad. A more pressing concern is finding my way back to L. I know she's on a bench with Doggo but I couldn't possibly hazard a guess to which one and in any case my legs are refusing to move me in anything other than an embarrassing shuffle.

I have a brief look round for the girl with the unnecessary ponytail but there's no sign of her, she's probably in her car half way home by now. Perhaps I should formula Thursdays strategy around her, although I'm not sure I would live to tell the tale of that one.

Eventually I find L and she drives me home. I have a hot bath while L cooks up Chicken Slag Jalfrezi, which was at my request. It's very welcome.

L tempts me to bed with an offer of coffee and dark chocolate. I wonder if a warm-down is part of the offer too. In the end we forget about the chocolate. L's not fit enough to go on top and I'm too knackered but we get by.

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