The Ouch Potato by Ruth22

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  May07201212:53 p.m.

  After my belligerent high on signing up for the Kent Roadrunner came the inevitable low. Was I being totally idiotic? How much fitness had I haemorrhaged in the last couple of weeks? I still had a slight cough, so was I even going to fully recover in time?

  Only one way to find out. On Saturday I felt it was time for a roadtest – just a 2 mile trot to test the old girl out. And it was OK. Inevitably I was a touch wheezy, but I felt better for it afterwards, like it had cleared the cobwebs and got the blood flowing. Decided to take one more rest day on Sunday, then try for a long one.

  So 13 miles planned today. Figured it’s do or die. I chose a route that allowed me some get-outs if I felt really rough, then set off.  First mile or two I was a mass of worries. Am I wheezing? I’m feeling a bit hot, have I got a fever?  No dimwit, you generally get a bit hot when you run. Settled down by mile 3 and started to enjoy myself. 

  Which didn’t last long. Half a mile later a fellow runner pushing a double width baby buggy came steaming down the towpath towards me, with the out-of-my-way attitude of one driving a Chelsea Tractor. I had no choice but to leap into the undergrowth, going over my ankle and unleashing a torrent of loud and, if I do say so myself, impressively florid and creative swearing, which I can only attribute to my current re-watching of The Thick Of It box set (if you’ve never seen it, buy it IMMEDIATELY, it’s unquestionably the most sublime comedy series ever, just thinking about Peter Capaldi as Malcolm Tucker makes me laugh). Anyway. I turned round to see the Chelsea Runner now stopped & looking back at me, obviously suffering a crisis of conscience.  So naturally I hobbled about a bit and flexed my ankle melodramatically, before starting off deliberately slowly.

  But nothing was damaged, apart from Chelsea Runner’s karma. And I really was feeling good. Hopped over Barnes Bridge and popped up behind two club runner show ponies, out for a weekend trot. Wow.  I was utterly transfixed.  They were like my physio’s anatomy wall chart come to life – I could see every individual muscle, tendon and sinew on their shaved legs (and they were both male). One was wearing knee high compression socks and the other had acid green gloves which, rather than make them look of questionable sartorial taste, simply made them look even more professional.  They were actually running the same speed as me, although this was obviously a recovery run slower than their normal walking pace. For a second I considered hanging on their coat tails in the hope of reflected glory, but in reality my sweaty, wheezing, snot-crusted self was never going to fool anyone. Ho hum.

  But whilst not achieving dizzy, anatomical show pony heights, I chugged steadily through my 13 miles in an average 8.23 pace.  Started to tire by the last mile and a half, but really felt very pleased with how it went. A few more runs and I’ll be fully back in the game.

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  Comments (3)

  • Firefly123 'Well done, Ruth. I do think that if you're running with a double buggy on the tow path, you really should give way. It's not really wide enough - but obviously your runner thought otherwise. ' added 7th May 2012

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  • Alaistair 'There must be only one thing worse than being confronted with a double buggy tooting runner and thats one that actually catches you up and runs past you. Had this chap catch and pass me recently on a park run pushing a buggy, wouldn't mind but he passed with ease on the grass verge!' added 7th May 2012

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  • Mrs_Old_Bird 'Well done, Ruth. You'll breeze through the Kent Roadrunner, no question!' added 9th May 2012

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