This was pretty shit.

Parkrun 2: Maitland

Location: Maitland, NSW

Position: 139

Time: 32:46

The old adage goes that you never regret a run, just those you don’t do. Well, this one came pretty close to regretful.

But in truth, it wasn’t going for the run that I regret. It wasn’t the nautious feeling at the end, the thought that I was going to throw up on the drive home, or even how tired I felt immediatley afterwards, so much that I needed a nap and a rest just to start feeling human again.

No, it was the beer, wine and scotch & dry from the night before that I really regret.

I wasn’t even a late night, and from historical comparisions, I didn’t drink that much… or I don’t think I did…. hrmmm…

Nearly eight hours sleep, and allowing for generic dehydrated-ness and general hang-over ailments, I should have felt a lot better than I did, and kinda still do, which is making me wonder if there’s something else going on. Not that any of that forgives the regrets of the night before, much less forgets.

To cut a long, boring, story short – the run sufferred, unsurprisingly.

I like this course, but it’s not the easiest course and there are more people here than at most Parkruns in and around th Hunter Valley. About one kilometer in there’s a sweeping right hand bend in the path that opens right up which I have named ‘False Dawn Bend’ – you can see the half way point, which gives you a false sense of security of what’s ahead of you when realistically you are still one-and-a-half kilometres from half way, and barely 20% into the run as it is.

Today was almost loathesome.

It started off with the normal shuffle of bodies that each week seems to take longer to settle down and shake itself out. Following the main path for the first 500 metres before a sharp left takes you on to gravel paths that at points, like False Dawn Bend, almost become single track. By the time that first kilometre come around, I was kinda done with it and strangely developing what felt like stitch.

Seemed I wasn’t the only one with the number of people already walking at this point feeling unusually high – too much revelry over the NY period, perhaps, or sticking to a regimented run/walk program, who can tell. Add in all those who have made their new year’s resolutions around fitness (first timers where a particularly big component today) and starts to make a bit more sense.

False Dawn Bend soon becomes more forrested, wider paths which always seem to play havoc with my watch and maintaining GPS connectivity. The terrain is a bit hilly with lots of short, small climbs and dips and speed changes accordingly. But it’s a gorgeous course, one of the more picturesque Parkrun courses I’ve done to date.

Eventually you come out to a man-made earth dam that forms the boundary of the lake we’ve been running beside, signalling the 2 kilomtre point. Running along the wall to almost the grounds of the former waterworks and the turnaround point, whilst being passed on the right by those fortnuate enough to be already on their way back. The tunraround point itself is close to the car park, so for a brief second the thought of not turning around and continuing on to the car and disappearing enters my mind. No one would be any the wiser.

I don’t do this, of course, I turn around with every other runner and head back the way I came, in my mind thinking all those dips I just ran down have now become hills… is it easier on the way out, or back? I can’t recall, so I just get on with things.

I’m starting to overtake more walkers now and a quick glance to the watch shows 3 kilometres down as I run back on to the path from the dam wall, and back to those hills and dips.

For some reason, I don’t call False Dawn Bend, False Dawn Bend on the way back. To be honest, each time I’ve run here, I’ve barely given it any attention at all on the way back. More walkers get overtaken on the bend, before I’m back in the cover of the bush, a few more dips and climbs before the right hander that takes us back on to the main path and the final 500 metres.

I’ve always thought there were two concrete footbridges on this section, but today I count three, which given my heart rate is now absolutely racing (thanks, Friday night Phil…) I find increadibly frustrating before seeing the cones that signifiy the turning point to the finish line.

I cross the line, stop the watch withouth giving it much of a glance and work out where to get my barcode and token scanned. People are everywhere, likely congratulating themselves and grand morning out, and I wish to be anywhere but here.

The nausea doesn’t hit me straight away, it takes a couple of minutes, but as I walk towards the car park it starts coming in waves. Am I going to throw up? Don’t be stupid, Phil, that was hardly ‘pushing’ it. It’s just a moment that needs to pass.

I get to the car, grab my water, and have a good glug from it, convinced that will cure my ills. It doesn’t. I change my shirt, wiping myself down with my gym towel, and I sit in the back seat feeling sorry for myself. I know why I’m in this situation, which just pisses me off more.

Eventually I start the car, still feeling like I could be physically sick at any moment, and begin the short, 20 minute trip home. The entre journey, the feeling of my stomach churning never goes away, and I start considering my options if I do have to make an emergency stop. Options, it seems, are in low supply. Just get home.

When I do get home, I change my shorts, and get straight into bed, napping for a solid thirty minutes or so. I’ll think about Parkrun later, but as far as today goes, ‘sucked but done’ is where it gets filed away.