It was twelve years to the week since I ran my first parkrun. I was lined up on the start line in Dulwich, south London hoping to break 18 minutes for the first time. A new PB at the age of 48. Could I do it?
Rewind to that first parkrun on a sunny Saturday in September 2012. Five months previously I had run the London Marathon with no training and severe cramp, announcing that running was not for me. Now I found myself lining up with 150 local runners in a park at 9am preparing to run 5km.
At 36 I was already past my prime and had discovered running late through that charity entry to the marathon. A few months later and the memory of the pain had subsided, leading me to approach a man in a high viz jacket to enquire why all these people were running around my local park. He shared about parkrun and invited me along to the next one. It was free. It was timed. It was weekly. And it was a much shorter distance than a marathon. I reasoned that if I had run/limped/crawled 26.2 miles, then I could probably get around 3.1 miles.
The next week I finished my first parkrun in 24:26 and a respectable 54th place. I wasn’t last and there were no cramps. I was also made to feel very welcome and encouraged to return the next week, which I did. And the week after, and the week after and so it became a habit.
Those same friendly runners soon became my parkrun crew. We began to socialise over coffee after the run. Soon I was attending their club – Parklands Jog and Run – where I found other equally inspiring and encouraging people who ran. Before long I was learning about cadence, splits, pacing, shoes, gels and various other running related terms. I moved up to 10k, then half marathons, obstacle course races and marathons. I’d come full circle, but now I knew what I was doing and had trained thoroughly.
Back to parkrun and my competitive side found an outlet. Officially it is a run not a race but I would compete against other club members, other parkrunners and ultimately against myself in search of faster and faster times or Personal Bests (PBs). My 5k time came down quickly and my goal became to go below 20 minutes. I achieved this 13 months after my first parkrun with a 19:42 time, finishing 12th. It was another 17 months before I would go sub 19 minutes.
Over the next nine years I focussed more on longer distances, ultra marathons and trail running. However, I noticed that I still had some speed and wondered what I could manage if I pushed myself again.
In August 2024 I managed a new PB of 18:19 at my new local parkrun in Sutcliffe, London. The next week that came down to 18:13 at Peckham Rye and the hat trick came with an 18:03 on the Thames Path in Woolwich. It was time to attack the sub 18.
At my age I am in constant danger of having peaked. In fact every year for the last 12 years I thought I had, but have then managed to push myself further and faster. The improvements had to end at some point though. The longer I left it, the harder it would be.
Looking around for favourable conditions I settled on Dulwich parkrun. This is a renowned fast course involving three flat loops with no elevation or turn backs. Runners from across London and further afield seek to get a fast time there. The front rows are often made up of the brightly coloured club vests and pimped trainers of club runners. It was into this intimidating crowd that I inserted myself on a windless, but little bit too warm, Saturday 12 years and 75 miles from where it all began, still feeling like an imposter.
After the briefing I made my way to the front and situated myself among the speedsters. I knew I needed to get off to a fast start, maintain that as long as possible and then cling on until the finish. After a quick countdown we were off.
As we surged forward I found myself struggling to keep up, but I knew this is how it always feels for the first half a mile or so. Avoiding elbows and legs I managed to get on the back of the second group while the frontrunners began to pull away. I was at my limit, but began to settle.
At the end of the first lap of three I found myself comfortably on the shoulder of someone going a good pace. This enabled me to save energy from any drag while having someone to pull me along. We overtook a couple of people, then two different runners came past us. My pacer began to slow so I latched onto one of the passing runners to keep the tempo high.
Lap two was the more settled one as my body began to get used to the stress it was under. I had to force myself to keep pushing though rather than slow as I usually do around half way. We began to lap people and the route became more crowded. I tried to keep to the racing line by taking the corners tight but occasionally I needed to go around someone.
Into lap three and I knew I couldn't let up or all that hard work would be undone. The guy in front of me began to pull away and I strove to keep within close distance as long as I could. The gap was about two metres. I pushed to close it so that I wouldn't lose my shield against the wind.
On the back straight the crowds of runners were growing. I managed to take some good lines and avoid the need to add distance. However, as I pushed for a gap between two women they moved towards one another and I had to leap through losing my rhythm. I was too out of breath to apologise but I raised a hand and kept pushing.
As we turned the last corner I could see the bright pink hi viz jackets lining the finishing funnel. I had fallen behind my pacer but pushed as hard as I could. The two of us began to catch the people ahead as they tired so I knew I was still running well. My breathing was heavy and loud and I couldn't feel my legs. I pumped my arms and drove for the line.
Pausing my watch I began to dry heave. Walking through the funnel towards the token givers I kept bending over to be sick but nothing came out. It was simply the effect of the effort I had expended and I took it as a sign that I had pushed myself to the limit. Thankfully it soon stopped and within minutes I had recovered and was ready for a post run coffee.
I knew I had run well and my watch gave me an approximate idea of how fast I had gone, but it was a few hours later when I received my official text when I could celebrate. A new PB of 17:30. Such a time had been unimaginable to me even just days before, but there it was.
