The annual Sudbury fun-run: a gruelling 5 mile jolly around handsome
housing estates, un-remarkable country lanes and shop filled streets;
through brick-filled alleys, moraines of broken glass and over precipitous
curbs throughout.
This is the story of Alex Purser’s balmy journey from armchair to glory…
Plan:
Afflicted as I am, with chronic lethargy and a lack of fitness, simply
entering a running event (however small) came as a shock to me. Perhaps it
was the missus (already entered) who convinced me; perhaps it was a
deep-rooted sense of activity; or maybe I’d been hitting the brasso too
hard the fateful evening I signed up.
Development:
Contemplating my decision a few days later I decided I needed a way to make
things more interesting (well why not…). Ideas came from all sides until
eventually the mountaineering garb was suggested. Being of sound mind and
after not that much beer, I undertook to do the race in mountain gear:
- Waterproof trousers
- Waterproof jacket
- Gaiters
- Boots
- Rope coils around chest
- Harness
- Rucksack
- Helmet
- Gloves
- Ice-axes
Preparation:
No time like the night before.
00:36 – Perfect.
Having semi-forgotten about the event until I was reminded at a party the
night before, I underwent my standard ‘just in time’ preparation process –
It was after returning home from said party that I donned my race gear for
the first time. At first it was purely with the intention of admiring my
adventurous looking self in the bathroom mirror, but popping downstairs for
a drink I noticed the full moon illuminating the garden and was drawn
outside for a quick test. Well I suppose I better test it on the road as
well… so off I trotted. A lap round the field in front of my house seemed
like a plan, but took rather longer than expected when I popped into a
mate’s house. And of course, no training could possibly be complete without
just a little Don Whillans influence.
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| Greene King proudly sponsors the Armchair Mountaineering Association of Great Britain (click on image to view in Flickr) |
I feel prepared.
Race day:
I feel tired. A quick run to said mate’s house to drag other mate
protesting out of bed soon livens me up. I now have a fan club.
I got to the start line ½ hour before the race began, just in
time to see the sponsored walk kick-off. It was here that most of the
fancy-dressed people were strutting their collective stuff, and when I saw
the runners begin to assemble I suddenly worried about looking a bit silly.
The wiry and muscle-bound fit young things limbering up around me seemed to
be taking this a lot more seriously than I was, but at least those
examining me in disbelief enjoyed the spectacle.
The race began at 10:00, and were it not for the threatening-looking
pointed-at-three-ends axes I had in each hand, I suspect many more of the
runners would have barged past my sluggish start. Being no match for most
of the other runners, I continued to be overtaken ‘til only a few remained
behind me, which I suppose was to be expected. As the race went on I
marinated well and gave many a marshal/spectator a laugh, cheerily waving
an ice axe as I passed. There was no real high/low point of the run, just
a pretty solid pace throughout. How boring of me.
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| The Perfect Crime: Ice axe – 8 flat tyres – Quick getaway – Gain 4 places |
It was after 59 sweaty minutes and 4 clammy seconds that I crossed the
finish line – Not a great time, but (just) within the hour I’d reckoned on
taking.
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| The author alongside a more typically attired runner |
I quite enjoyed it actually. ‘Sweaty’ has never been one of my favourite
sensations, but on this occasion it brought with it a certain feeling of
achievement.
So how about it ladies and gents? Next time you’re in a race of some
kind, don the gore-tex and boots, grab an axe or two, and give people a
show.
Alex Purser
P.S.
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