‘You should enter the Richard Burton 10K,’ suggests another runner after Porthcawl Parkrun one morning in July. But, in what’s been one of the most difficult years of my life, I’ve barely stayed in touch with running. As for entering a race? That’s unthinkable given that I’m functioning on a day by day basis.
Yet somehow, with a lot of encouragement and training help from Tom, here I am on the first Sunday in November, lining up for my first race of the year and the last race before my next birthday. I’m wearing a brooch with a photo of Mum who was famously sparing in her praise of me and my sister when it came to our academic achievements (Us: ‘Mum, I got 99%! ‘ Mum (heavy sigh) ‘Next time try to do better.’), yet touchingly proud of my running.
The Richard Burton 10K, as it states on its home page, “epitomises the spirit and beauty of our famous Welsh valleys, with the heritage of the legend that is Richard Burton”. If you look at the course, you can see that some of the climbs are brutal and then there is the Bont Fawr Aqueduct to cross, the thought of which is giving me jelly legs before I’ve started. Happily, I see a friend from Llanerchaeron parkrun which gives me a huge boost and puts a smile on my face as I set off and then… and then, I’m back in the running groove and really enjoying myself. At the 4K mark, there’s a beer station (yes, really!) where I stop to have a SIP FOR KEV in memory of Kevin Webber who, like my own dad, died of pancreatic cancer, and armed with Dutch courage, I cross the aqueduct and enjoy the downhill stretch towards the finish. Although it would be great to complete the course in a hour, it’s a new one for me and I hate steep climbs. Realistically, given how out of practise I am, I’d be happy to come in at 1:05 so I’m elated when my official time comes up at 1:01:30. Mind you, it doesn’t silence Mum’s voice in my head telling me that I might have made that hour mark if I hadn’t stopped for a beer!
 |
| That's me, in the distance! (Photo by Russell Symmons) |
 |
| Nothing beats a cwtch with a friend at the finish. |
Back home, Tom and I walk through the door to rooms full of dust and splats of plaster as work on the the Time Capsule House progresses. Progress being a relative term as, like any renovation project, it’s one step forward, two steps back and there’s always an unexpected new cost. We’re already fed up of ‘camping’ in the house and not knowing where anything is, but we’ll get there.
Having talked Tom through my race several times over - poor man - I experience one of those waves of intense grief because I can’t phone Mum, but I can ring my little sister. My sister’s very private and doesn’t do social media so doesn’t often get a mention here, but we’ve counted on each other through some very dark times this year. T, thanks for stepping in for Ma and being proud of my race. Love you lots (even though you wouldn't let me drive your car).
Comments