Cold, wet, rainy, and staying local.

Parkrun 11: Nulkaba Parkrun

Location: Nulkaba, NSW

Position: 51

Time: 32:10

As I write this on Sunday morning, an ex-tropical cyclone slowly makes its way inland across Queensland’s southeast corner, a place I called home a little over a year ago. Given the destruction and flooding that is occurring half a day’s drive to my north, it seems almost trivial to be thinking about parkrun.

To paint a parkun-relevant picture, 104 Parkrun events were cancelled yesterday, stretching from the mid-north coast of NSW to the Sunshine Coast in Queensland. Even where I’m located, some 800 kilometres away from the cyclone’s epicentre, we were treated with higher rainfall and the risks of cancellations, such is the magnitude of this weather event.

None of which, of course, measures up to the destruction and loss of property (and life, in one case so far) experienced up north, with the promise of more rain to come as the storm continues to break up.

So it’s with that backdrop, and a cycle of rain and dry periods, that I make the small car ride to Nulkaba, deciding that this weather was not the type to try a new location.

As I arrive, a small shower starts. A quick check of the radar and it looks like this will be over quickly, and then it just might be clear for the run itself. With the rain decreasing, I leave the car with 10 minutes to spare and make my way to the briefing, by which time any rain has stopped completely.

I start to wonder if my waterproof running jacket was overkill, remembering that I forgot to pack a towel and spare t-shirt so if it did rain, I could be in for an uncomfortable drive home.

My plan today was to take things easy on account of the weather and just enjoy the run. I hadn’t trained all week, so I knew pushing things was not going to happen, for a few reasons. Briefing over, we were off.

A smaller field meant finding a groove was pretty easy, and I quickly slotted in behind a short-haired woman for the first kilometre or so. Overhearing her conversation with another woman wearing a tutu, I got the feeling she hadn’t run the course before, which happens a lot at this parkrun, given its proximity to Hunter Valley wine country and the vineyards.

After about 1.5 kilometres, her pace dropped, and she was falling behind the tutu-woman, so I overtook and found myself pretty much running solo. Tutu was starting to get a ways ahead of me, so I thought to myself that if I can keep her in sight at all times on the course, I’ll be alright. My pace was ok, and I actually felt better than I have on recent runs, almost comfortable.

Approaching the end of lap one, and I become aware of my pace – kilometre 3 and 4 have been my slowest split on recent parkruns so given I’m feeling pretty good, I want that to change today.

The downside to this plan is that the biggest ‘climb’ of this park run is just ahead of me. It’s about a 2-metre rise over 3 or four metres, so it’s steep, but only fleeting. But it still takes a lot of effort to climb it and maintain pace.

After that climb is a short straight and then a similar, if longer, descent over the other side. From this point, it’s flat through the trees before a slow and gentle rise towards the turnaround point just before the conclusion of kilometre four.

As such, picking up the pace is a concerted effort. But today I feel good, so I start to look down the course and people to try and pick off. I have a bloke probably my age in a blue shirt, and then further down the road is Tutu. I have my targets.

Unfortunately, I also now have the rain to contend with as a sharp downpour begins just as I start the second lap. Now, the rain jacket doesn’t seem like such a terrible decision.

The rain also brings new hazards with the gravel mixing with the mud to become slippery in parts and filling any divets in the ground with water, and without clear drainage points, the amount of still water, especially around the start and finish sections, is big.

Still, I try to be cognicent of my pace and pick up where I can. Despite the rain, I’m still feeling good, and I’m catching the bloke in the blue shirt, which is now more black with the rain.

I follow him for a few hundred metres before he gives me a ‘see you at the finish’ cherrio as we begin the slow climb to the turnaround point. I now have Tutu in my sights.

I hit the turnaround point and make a determined effort to pick up the pace. I’m not sure if I can catch Tutu, but I’m going to give it a go.

I feel great, my stride is lengthed, and I’m in the groove. The slight downhill helps, naturally, but it hits me as I push that I haven’t felt this good this deep into a parkrun in a long time. I’m not as quick as I have been in the past, but I’m quicker than I have been of late.

And Tutu has dropped off the pace, or at least that’s what it looks like.

I start to lap the walkers and slower runners, which still feels odd, and as I make my way through the short tree section, I’m within striking distance.

By the time we reach the short incline, Tutu has dropped her pace and encourages me on and as I overtake, I thank her for the push. I traverse the short straight and back down the other side without breaking stride.

As I turn for home, the rain starts to subside, if only a little, and I focus on running strong through the gate. It’s not a PB, but that was always unlikely given the weather, but it still feels like a PB.

Today felt controlled and comfortable, and whilst I still have a way to go before I can even think about the heights of a couple of years ago, I still feel good.

I trudged back to the car in the wet, quietly scolding myself for not packing at the very least a towel to dry off as best I can. I mean, I could drive without a shirt on, couldn’t I?

When I get to the car, I realise I have a hooide that I’ve had in the car for weeks. I remove the rain jacket, take off my sweat-soaked shirt and grab the hoodie. My shorts are still soaked through, but it’s better than it could have been.

Which feels like the perfect way to wrap up today’s parkrun.