Trevor Pask writes:
Feeling sorry for oneself and getting agitated about not being able to exercise was thrown into perspective with the news on 3rd February of Rob Willin’s death.
I had a conversation with Rob about mortality in October 2019. He gave Din and me a lift to Silverstone to run a half marathon around the racetrack and perimeter roads. I have been to the Grand Prix every year since the 1980’s. I mentioned to Rob that Silverstone has changed enormously over the years, but in the summer I had walked around taking photographs on Friday practice day. I stopped on Hangar Straight, which is the one bit of the track which is unchanged and realised that I was standing where I had watched the race on my first visit in 1987.
I mentioned to Rob that I had been overwhelmed for a few seconds with a sense of my mortality. 1987 was 32 years in the past. 32 years into the future would be 2051. If there was Grand Prix racing in 2051, the cars would not be burning fossil fuels and the odds were that I wouldn’t be there to see them anyway. Rob laughed aloud and said that was exactly why we had to do the things we liked while we could.
Gunnersbury Parkrun on 4th February celebrated Rob by clapping rather than holding a minute’s silence. I was there to try my first post-Covid run. I had tested negative (just) on Wednesday. I had no idea of the pace I could do, or indeed whether I would get round. Apart from a coughing fit at 4k I surprised myself with a 31-minute time. That convinced me to take up my place in the 10k Winter Run in central London on Sunday.
The plan was to do a low stress run. 45 minutes after leaving home in Northfields I was still at South Ealing due to signalling problems. Four runners from the North Midlands who had set off at 3am to drive down and park up in Hounslow started to stress at the delay. ‘Don’t worry. You can just join another wave. No one will be in the right wave anyway’ I said, to reassure them. It didn’t. I suspected they thought I was just telling them what I thought they wanted to hear. Two left the train to vape nervously on the platform. They obviously wanted to pace up and down but didn’t want to move too far from the doors in case, by some miracle, the train suddenly left. Eventually though the train started to move, but as it picked up speed, the stress levels of all the runners increased as it seemed we might have a chance of meeting our start times after all.
Jogged from Piccadilly Circus to the bag drop. Got irritated with non-running tourists in the toilet que. Weaved through the crowds to the start. Got waved through as no one was looking at bib colours. Crushed in the start funnel then off. Not Jenny’s warm-up preparation, but good to be in an event! I was even in the correct (pink) wave.
The Winter Run is 10k around closed roads in Central London. It is flat and technically fast; but has an inspirational mix of runners of all abilities starting in most waves. I spent the entire 10k overtaking and being overtaken. Garmins tend not to work accurately amongst tall buildings, so I ran on perceived effort and dead reckoning on the distance markers. Brilliant encouragement from other Eagles on the course. Near the end I realised that a couple were using me as a target to wind it which was uplifting. Net result: 1:02 and no coughing fits or knee twinges. I even took a few pictures of other Eagles in the baggage reclaim with one of my old film cameras. If all goes well, the images might be ready for blog 7!
Major problems getting home, but that was not the point. The point isn’t either that it was good to be back in training which it is. The point is, as Rob said at Silverstone three years ago, ‘we must do these things while we can’.
Until next time, and continued thanks for all your support.
