Chapter 2: My race will be run at my pace.

With the ‘experience’ of my first attempt at running clearly etched in my memory, and after reading that it gets easier every time you go, I reluctantly agreed to do a Saturday morning run with my sister.

Let me set the scene for you. She’d been running quite successfully for around 8 months, had already completed a 10k in under an hour and was training with a man with the focus of a machine. Needless to say she’s fast and although the thought of spending some time with her was appealing, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy.

Now Saturday mornings for me are lie-in days. I work all week and it’s the only day my brain gets a rest. Not this Saturday morning. I’ll pick you up at 9am, she said. It’ll be fun, she said. Crikey, I thought.

She took me to a new local bypass. Let’s run to the end and back she said. Now this road is long and it’s boring. It was also a route with a high risk of being seen by someone I knew. It was ok though, I had my cap!

All was well when we set off, my previous run had obviously been a good base builder and we soon went beyond the 1.9 miles I’d moved before. Then I started to get slower, and she started to round me up like a sheepdog. Off she’d go leaving me plodding behind her, then she’d turn around and run back to me to make sure I wasn’t stopping. But like Pavlo’s dog I soon learnt that when her back was turned I could slow it down and walk a distance and she wouldn’t notice.

We got to mile 3 and I was done. I’d ‘moved’ all that distance and felt great but the hill at the end was a killer so like a stubborn donkey I walked, mastering a jovial 2 fingered salute when she tried to make me run that last demanding leg.

We never did get to the end of the bypass and I think I moved about 3.5miles that morning, not bad for a reluctant runner. My race, my pace.

To be continued…..

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