I woke up early on Saturday morning, fighting fit and all set for a return to ParkRun. I was getting my arse in gear and had the last-minute thought of: Hey! Let’s check the Colchester ParkRun Facebook page to make sure everything is tickety-boo.
Arse, Sunny Colch ParkRun is not taking place this morning. There’s the annual nonsense of people firing off big cannons in celebration of some old duffer. Not my King, etc. It’s not even his proper birthday. Cheers, Charlie.
It felt like the perfect early June morning outside. There is no such thing as a perfect early June morning these days. I’ve got it lodged in my memory from some long-distant late 70s past of how a June morning should feel: fresh but bright with blue skies. Betcha it pisses it down by midday.
The mean streets of CO7 were relatively quiet. I did clock Mr B, who was also out pounding the pavements. I think he was on route to the allotment. Good effort fella.
I felt as though I had the legs and the fitness to press on a little further than the usual 5 km recovery route. I really want to get back into the swing of running 10 km all the way around the estuary circuit, but I live in fear of another calf ping! moment. Instead I tagged on an extra couple of km or so. Build it up slowly, Jase.
And so a decent run. I really wish I could have completed a ParkRun once again. In the end I went a little more than the ParkRun 5 km, clocking in 6.9 km at under 5 min/km. Happy with that.
Run to live, live to run.