No runner left behind

There was no sign of Malcolm.

Panic started to set in.

I was at my Wednesday night harrier club run – my first one since my post-cancer comeback.

I’d made it through the first two Saturday club runs with the slow pack, but Wednesday night runs are different because there are fewer runners and you never know who will turn up.

This night only three others were there and they were all fast runners. These gazelles don't think they are fast, but it’s all relative. Compared to me they might as well be Haile Gebrselassie.

Initially I wasn’t too worried because Malcolm – who I can keep up with – organised the run so I knew he would be there. Malcolm’s wife Claire arrived, but there was no sign of Malcolm.

I started feeling nervous.

I looked down at my watch to see if it was 5.30pm (the start time) yet. I couldn’t tell – when my sports watch is set up for running I can tell you the time elapsed, my heart rate, my pace, the elevation, how far I’ve run and the GDP of several small African nations but I can’t actually tell you the time of day.

Eventually one of the gazelles, Peter, phoned Malcolm. Malcolm was at home. Malcolm was not coming.

“Righto then,” I said casually, stepping slowly away from the gazelles.... “I’ll just go for a run by myself. I’ll never keep up with you.”

I should have known that would not be allowed. Our club is very ... well, supportive. Our motto should be “no runner left behind”. They formed a human/gazelle wall in front of my escape route.

“We’re just going for an easy run," Claire insisted. “It won’t be fast.”

I knew that while this would be true for Claire, it would not be true for me.

To start with I felt okay. Then after about 100 metres I knew this was going to be tough.

The amazing thing is, however, that I actually managed to run faster than I have since before BC (Before Cancer) for an entire hour. The others were kind and made sure I was never left behind and let me have breaks when I needed them. We ended up running 3km more than my Saturday run. For the gazelles it was a gentle run; for me it was an race-pace effort - but I did it. At one point I was actually running at 5:24min/km pace which I didn’t think was possible anymore.  By myself any pace with 6 in it seems extremely fast and often it’s more like 7 something (and if I’ve having a really bad day, an 8).

So I think Bob (see Central Governor blog) is learning that there is still some speed in these legs yet. I’ll never be a gazelle but maybe I’m not a tortoise after all. Perhaps a small donkey?

I missed last Wednesday’s run because of a cold but plan to go to the next one. Even though I enjoyed running with the gazelles I’d really appreciate it Malcolm if can you please turn up this week...