As if more evidence was needed, I felt fabulous after a solid nights sleep, and woke feeling full of beans. I decided to join Bob down at the Weston Creek Fun Run in the morning, a low key 6km event held by the popular Weston Creek Athletics Club. I would have liked to have cycled down as Bob did, however we had an important social engagement at 11:30 that morning and was far from confident about how I would be cycling home.
I arrived at the same time as Friar who lives locally and would have pre-entered. With no sign of Bob, I entered and paid for both of us and collected our numbers. There was a fairly small turnout, although Emma Murray was conspicuous as the No. 1 seed. Bob tore up on his bike (just) before the start, and I gave him his number and made my way to the start 300m down the bike path. After a briefing, we were underway on time and my planned 5:30 recovery pace seemed very optimistic. Nothing hurt, but the legs were heavy and tired. No problem, there were lots of casual looking joggers around and I was there to stretch out my legs.
The first kilometre split was very slow, but I was far from lonely and kept plodding along. I picked up as I went along, my muscles warming up and felt better and the ‘dead leg’ syndrome disappeared. Near the half way mark, a massive netball tournament was on, and the path was lined with dozens of sport skirted 7-9 year old girls cheering and raising their hands for High-5’s. Even here, one of them yelled ‘Go Carolyne’! Who, I can’t imagine! The suffering young brothers of some girls were also there to will the runners along.
Near an underpass was the [warning: cliché ahead] evergreen Rick H, Weston Creek stalwart and life member. He stated that the rise to the underpass was the last climb now, which I found hard to believe, however coming from Rick it carried some weight. He was wrong, and a steady, if gentle climb to the finish told in a slow split.
To illustrate my run, my splits were:
I arrived at the same time as Friar who lives locally and would have pre-entered. With no sign of Bob, I entered and paid for both of us and collected our numbers. There was a fairly small turnout, although Emma Murray was conspicuous as the No. 1 seed. Bob tore up on his bike (just) before the start, and I gave him his number and made my way to the start 300m down the bike path. After a briefing, we were underway on time and my planned 5:30 recovery pace seemed very optimistic. Nothing hurt, but the legs were heavy and tired. No problem, there were lots of casual looking joggers around and I was there to stretch out my legs.
The first kilometre split was very slow, but I was far from lonely and kept plodding along. I picked up as I went along, my muscles warming up and felt better and the ‘dead leg’ syndrome disappeared. Near the half way mark, a massive netball tournament was on, and the path was lined with dozens of sport skirted 7-9 year old girls cheering and raising their hands for High-5’s. Even here, one of them yelled ‘Go Carolyne’! Who, I can’t imagine! The suffering young brothers of some girls were also there to will the runners along.
Near an underpass was the [warning: cliché ahead] evergreen Rick H, Weston Creek stalwart and life member. He stated that the rise to the underpass was the last climb now, which I found hard to believe, however coming from Rick it carried some weight. He was wrong, and a steady, if gentle climb to the finish told in a slow split.
To illustrate my run, my splits were:
- 5:48 Uphill
- 5:46 11:34 Uphill
- 5:11 16:45 Downhill
- 4:45 21:30 Downhill
- 4:45 26:15 Downhill
- 5:47 32:02 Uphill
What was especially interesting, was that the footpod of the Polar S625x recorded exactly 6.00 kilometres on what would be an anally correct course.
Great birthday bash in the afternoon for Connie which took up the rest of the day. Fitzroy Falls? Great day, but run? What run?
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