I was lucky enough to wangle an invitation to the Hilton Harriers second PB event, an event where everyone gets a chance to set a personal best or to smash a previous one.
They have a club member who organises these events, measures the course and even provides programmes for those that don’t mind bleeding eyeballs and burst valves. I have been doing my speed work but just not quite as vigorously as those athletes up there in the mist belt.
Of course the day dawned windy as hell. I kept my cool - what’s a bit of wind? I gave myself a range of goals to calm my anxiety.
The Comrades Coach, back in the day when we arrived at the race on a wagon pulled by a dinosaur, used to say that if we can do a 65 minute 10km we have a chance of finishing the beast in 12 hours. Now that qualifying no longer involves a sub 5 hour marathon but rather a sub 4:50 I’m sure he would say a 62 minute 10km.
Anyway I digress. I really wanted that 65 minute 10 kay under my belt. That was goal A. 75 minutes was my maximum and anything in-between would be acceptable for an old goat with big dreams.
Talking about Old Goats, one of us had to be on standby for babysitting, but I’m a cunning fox and left my trusty OG holding the baby!
And I ALMOST did it - I came in at 66 minutes which I was absolutely delighted with considering the pumping wind. Give me a flat run on the beachfront on a calm day and I will nail it.
My Comrades project partner, mother of said baby, flew around the course at under 5 minutes a kay, ably paced by her very fast husband. I’m hoping she’ll let me share her experience here as a guest post.
I was so proud of myself but pride always comes with a fall - I caught a cold and have snivelled my way through the past week, no training at all. Colds usually end up in my chest, so many prayers are being offered to the running gods. Maybe they require a sacrifice? A goat? I will ponder it.