Mud, sweat and cheers: my first #parkrun

Despite having pounded around the same track as Dina Asher-Smith (OK, same school; very different decade)..... I'm a terrible runner.

But precisely because of inspirational people like Dina, Adam Gemili, Martyn Rooney, Laura Muir et al, I've always adored watching athletics, whether I'm screaming my support at the stadium, or from my sofa.

So why has my own running never been anything to shout about? Maybe because I just wasn't 'born to run'. Or maybe because at school, I was part of the group at the start of  'double athletics'  who, when told to go and warm up with a brisk 400 metres, would veer across the track in a sneaky shortcut, before the teacher even got outside. (I bet Dina never did that....)

That memory came back to me on Saturday, as I faced my first 5k parkrun. It was a chilly, misty morning, and our first task was to leg it around the perimeter of a sizeable school field. Even if I'd had the cheek to attempt my secondary school shortcut in front of 144 other runners and an army of smiling, cheering volunteer marshals, it would have made my attendance there, pointless.

I've run alone, with friends, and at two different running clubs in other counties; never achieving any great distance or speed. The will is there but the style, the staying power, and the puff? Not so much.

So why bother again? Three reasons. I've recently lost 9.5 kg in weight and want to keep that off, with a more active lifestyle. I'd heard about parkruns, and how supportive they can be. But above all,  my youngest daughter, Alice, was staying for the weekend, and as a regular at her own parkrun in Leeds, had offered to run alongside me at our new, local event.

There were cheers at the start for first-timers, for runners from other parkrun events and for the youngest in the crowd .We started with smiles, even though the drizzle soon seeped into our trainers, making the going decidedly squelchy. The rain had made the most gentle slopes shine with soft, slippy mud. A few gasps, and my lungs were filling with icy air. I asked to stop a few times to walk, to catch my breath. But Alice's smiles, encouragement, and even breathing tips, kept coming. So too, applause, warm words, and shouts of 'keep going, ladies' from the brilliant marshals right along the route. Even the fastest runners looping round us on their second lap, yelled 'well done; keep going!'  as they thundered past. At one point Alice shot one of her beaming smiles at me and yelled 'you're doing SO well....!' and I gulped...(and yeh, wiped some *drizzle* from my eye...) remembering shouting the same words at her on school sports days.

But there was no time to get soppy....the home strait was in sight, and somehow, with Alice's encouragement, I managed the closest I could get to a 'sprint' finish.

Verdict? I completely understand why the parkrun movement has grown so fast. This isn't about winning or losing, how you look, who you are, or even how you reach that finishing line. It's about trying to be the best you can be. And while you're being buoyed up by encouragement along the way, it's about remembering to do the same for others--because for those 22, 32, 42 or even, OK, 47 minutes, you're all on the same track; all part of the same community.

So even though Alice will be back at her own parkrun next week, at 9 o' clock sharp, like thousands of others around the country, she'll be there at her starting line, 160 miles away; right beside me.




                                                                         

Sleepless in Leeds

...I don`t need a rock DJ.

Not when I`m sleeping in the hotel opposite his club, and my alarm`s set for 4.30am, I don`t.

It all looked great when I arrived mid afternoon, of course. It was bright and sunny, and close to some fabulous shops. Only a couple had PVC catsuits and whips in the window, so the area wasn`t *that* bad.

The reception staff were really welcoming. They gave me an immediate upgrade to a `Kingsize` room, with a gorgeously large and comfy bed; oh, and free wine, which I necked. I know why they were so generous, now, but at the time I was delighted with it all, and slightly squiffy, so I dumped my bags and headed (slightly sideways...) for the (better known) shops.

A couple of hours later, laden with bags and a sobering Starbucks, I went to relax in my boudoir. I ran a gloriously bubbly bath, watched Sarah Beeny doubling the size of someone`s house, booked a cab for crazy-early, set two alarm clocks, and thought about dozing off.

Sometimes...you get double glazing so that you can shut out the world, don`t you? And air-con, so you don`t then swelter in the summer. But this was a hotel booked in a hurry. For `air-con`: read `ceiling fan`. It whirred rather ominously, so I switched it off and pulled open the sash window. Just an inch or two.

You know those nights when you really, really need to sleep because you have an early start?

Well by 9 pm, Leeds seemed pretty much at full pelt ...and I was in the thick of it.The DJ was hammering those decks; the punters were singing along; apart from the ones who were *chatting outside*. Loudly. There was a whole heap of showing off. Small hatchbacks at full throttle were tearing up and down the main street; keen to impress. Column upon column of click -clack heels marched by, with much hilarious laughter.

The DJ`s set got more eclectic. And louder still. An Abba mix. Really. Then House. Then Horse. Two of them. Mounted police; patrolling the streets. Sheesh. Sometime after 3, someone pulled the plug on the rock DJ, and the heels started clickclacking home.Armies of them, followed by huge, noisy tanks. Roadsweepers, I think, clearing up who knows what. Oh hang on, yep, probably the police horse poo.

Peace again. I got about fifteen minutes. Bliss.

Then the drayman arrived at the bar opposite. Ugly big lorry. Effing great barrels, which, not content with having been rolled out all night, were now being dragged and scraped down the pavement for the next night`s revellers.

He drove off. I shut my eyes again. JUST in time for the 4.30 alarm. You have to laugh, really , don`t you? I mean really, if I`d had heels and a dress instead of a bag load of hiking gear for the next day`s filming, I`d have joined them. Leeds is a brilliant city.

Twelve hours later; that filming was finished, and seven of us were in a Landrover, hurtling back down the steep track through stunning Yorkshire moorland , back to base. Knackered? I should`ve been. But we`d spent an afternoon high on a windy hill with a 360 degree view of some of the most breathtaking countryside you could ever see, shooting a brilliant new drama--one fabulous, professional, caring film crew and a great mix of extras, from all walks of life, swapping life stories over a delivered feast of sandwiches, cakes, fruit and chocolate. Delicious. Look out for me on the telly. I`m the one with the big happy smile....and the dark rings under her eyes :)