I was last (man) and I loved it...

I'm overweight and over slow - work has been hell, and my buttocks are moulded into the shape required to sit in the cheap seats of a virgin pendalino...

However, that doesn't matter cos this weekend I was racing the personification of Death himself (a him this time, not anything interesting from the fertile mind of Neil Gaiman).

The Beat the Reaper is a run like few others, two laps of a mixed terrain course... muddy enough to demand some grip, tarmacy enough to demand some cushioning and with an array of death's little helpers popping out to scare the willies out of the unsuspecting runners...

Mrs Jiminy and I dress for the occasion...




The other feature is that the Reaper is real, a ringer in plain sight - he starts at the back and races the pack, chases down those who dare think they're fast enough - I don't I was happy only to be lapped by the front 15 or so.

So, on to my race strategy - sounds odd, I was the last man how the hell could I have a race strategy... to get me around.  The dicky ticker is the limiter, especially when I'm chunkier than ideal and not getting the miles in... So, it was a modified walk run - run 300m, walk 150, run 300 and walk out the km... 10 times...

This, like the GNR, is a run to smile through - the dappled sunlight through the woodland, the friendly marshals and running friends at start and finish.  It's very easy to be negative when you're not running well, when health things are being a pain, work is busy and so on and so forth...


My only advice, for this run and the next is to smile, walk when you need to walk and enjoy the experience - no two races are the same, talk to people, you can have a lot of fun chatting with people at the back - maximising their value from the entry fee as you are...

So I was last man, does it matter - no. I loved it, does that matter - yes!

TTFN

Paul

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