My club is part of a local cross country league called MABAC. The races are just a bit of fun, and anyone can take part. Usually they are held on Sunday mornings, and I am too busy being social on the social runs to take part. As I had no exciting social plans for this evening, I thought I'd have a crack at the Wimbledon race.
It doesn't seem to matter how many training runs I do, or how many races I compete in, they all seem to go the same for the first few miles.
Mile 1: Wow this is easy, I'm totally fit.
Start of mile 2: Crap. I've only done a mile so far. This is hard. I'm screwed.
Today's race had some more interesting additions as well.
Around 2.5 miles in there was a sharp bend, and a huuuuuuuge pile of horse poo. I was so busy speeding round the bend, wondering why on earth I had agreed to spend my Tuesday evening running around Wimbledon Common, when I went foot first, ankle deep, in to this huge pile of horse shit.
Fantastic.
I figured there wasn't much for it other than to just keep going at this point. The damage was done. So I went with my usual strategy when in difficult situations, if I ignore it, it might go away. The worst of it fell off as I continued the other half of the race, and I had a rather smelly car ride home. They are now safely in the washing machine.
It did distract me from my tired legs and lungs for a good mile though.
Luckily as it had been raining and I was expecting mud I didn't wear my nice new blue trainers, but an older, muddier pair.
On a brighter note, I also noticed that I was running with the boys for the best part of the race, there did not seem to be any other women in sight until I reached the finish line. In fact I managed to over take a lot of the boys. There is nothing quite as empowering as a female runner as knowing that you are just as good as the boys, if not better. I will never beat Mo Farah, but I will also never beat Paula Radcliffe. Girl Power!
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