No hangover, fastest time of the year, and still disappointed.
Parkrun 8: Nulkaba Parkrun
Location: Nulkaba, NSW
Time: 31:34
Position: 44
To set this one up, it’s important to note that last Sunday, despite my dismal overall fitness level, I raced the Wentworth Falls 16k trail race in the Blue Mountains, west of Sydney. With its something like 2000 stairs, my calves have been in agony all week (and my quads are not much better).
Today was not supposed to be run at Nulkaba. I originally had the plan to head south and go somewhere new for today’s parkrun, but time got the better of me this morning and I figured I’d go somewhere a bit closer to home. Hopefully I’ll keep the surprise for next week.
As the weeks go on, I become ever more focused on the old benchmark of sub-30. And the desire to hit that mark became almost overwhelming this morning. I even put on the bright orange (Total Orange, officially) Nike Zoom Fly 5s with their carbon fibre-plated goodness to push myself a bit more forward.
When I woke up, I felt very little going on in my calves and quads. My gate was pretty much back to normal, any limping was gone and I felt really good. I’ve made a lot of changes this week – I’ve pretty much stopped drinking entirely for now, and my diet is becoming more focused on a mostly plant-based mindset. Both of which have positively impacted my mental health.
So, I approach today’s parkrun in a very good mental space.
Of course, the effects of last Sunday’s run are still there, even if I might not be aware of them. I become aware of them within the opening kilometre and a half.
I forgot to charge my watch on the drive over, so typically, it died just as we were gathering at the start line. Never mind, I have my phone on me, I’ll just record it in Strava. Or so I thought.
I set out fast, but it felt comfortable or at least it did for the first 750 metres or so. By this point, my calves were reminding me of what I got up to last Sunday. I round the top turn on the first lap, mentioning to myself that this indicated roughly 25% of the run was done. I was maintaining the pace, but it was hurting.
By the time I hit the two-kilometre point, I’d started to slow down. Without my watch, I have no idea what my pace actually is, but I anticipate that if I was running under 6 minutes per kilometre for the first kilometre, by now I’m probably a fraction over it.
Another 500 metres down the path, and I round the bottom corner to complete the first lap and start back up again. By now I’ve noticeably slowed down, the pain in my calves becoming difficult to manage, especially on any kind of small incline. Mentally, my thoughts of sub-30 have left and now I have two goals – first, just finish without walking, and second, continue to push and see if I can get sub-31.
The problem with the first half of the lap is there are a lot of small inclines, so my calves are telling me to stop and take a short break, but I try and block out the pain and any negative thoughts and just focus on putting one foot in front of the other.
On the inside of my left forearm, I have a tattoo of an arrow pointing down the arm with the words ‘Keep moving forward’ written underneath. When I’m running and my arms are at a roughly 90° angle, the arrow always points the way forward. I glance down at my arm, see the arrow, and quietly tell my calves to ‘shut the fuck up and keep moving’.
Rounding the top turn for the final time brings some relief as the route changes from a slight incline to a slight downhill, and my calves get the slight relief they’ve been crying out for. My pace has dropped off further still, so I’m not game to even predict what my time is looking like, but I still would like to think that sub-31 is possible.
As I continue running, the bloke I was trying to keep within striking distance throughout the run is now somewhere in the distance and all I can think about it is the finish line. Eventually, I turn the bottom corner, run down the small shute, and cross the line. My phone is in my pocket, but the zipper has decided to attach itself to some of the fabric, so stopping Strava is proving difficult.
By the time I get the phone out, I work out that Strava has done Strava things and struggled with recording everything. I have the first 1.4 kilometres, which confirms my initial thoughts with a 5:55m/km pace for the opening kilometre, but as for anything meaningful, it’s pretty worthless. I have no idea what time I’ve run.
I hit the car, drive home, relax a bit, make myself a protein smoothie, and then wait for the official email. An hour later, I have it.
31:34.
It’s my fastest Parkrun this year. Indeed, it’s my fastest result since September last year. But that still feels like cold comfort.
I should be faster. I should be routinely running sub-30. I’m not arrogant enough to say I should be pushing my PB every week, but at this rate, I can’t see myself pushing it ever again.
And that is what sticks as I read the results email.
In the end, all this means is that there’s still a long way to go. There are still changes to be made to get to the improvements I should be hitting by now.
It is a step forward, but it reminds me just how many there are to go.