Fifteen minutes to the start of the Parelrun in Eersel, the Netherlands. I still don’t know what I’m going to do; push or take it easy? I signed up for this race to pace Sara to a new Personal Best. She’s sick, so it’s just me running. But how are my legs? Tired, that I know. But do they have some speed in them? Enough for a Personal Best?
It’s been a long time since I pinned a bib number to my shirt. Four months to be precise. Ever since, I’ve been injured. The way back is a long one. I still can’t run two days in a row. I still can’t run long distances. The Antwerp Marathon should have been my next race. Now, it will be the half marathon.
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That race is also the reason I’m starting here today. Today was a test for Sara. She’s chasing a Personal Best in Antwerp. At the 10 kilometres race. Today was supposed to be her speed test. She’s been training hard. The cold she has now, won’t hold her back in Antwerp. That race is on October 19. She has enough time to recover, and put some more hard miles in.
I like to finish my season strong. Well, as strong as my body allows. Strong is a new Personal Best. I ran 1:49 during a trail run. I should be able to beat that. I ran 1:45 in training, preparing for the Rotterdam Marathon. That’s going to be a challenge.
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Speed wasn’t a problem in April. Endurance neither. I was in shape. Funny, what a couple of months of hardly any serious running can do to your body. My stamina has gone, my speed is gone.
No, that’s not true. My running stamina is gone. I have endurance on the bike. My running speed is gone. I have speed on the bike. All relative, of course. I’m talking about my speed. Which is nothing compared to people that are seriously fast. I just don’t have the right muscle fibres to be fast. Last week I ran 5x hundred metres. My top speed? 20 kilometres per hour; full sprint. That’s the same speed as Eliud Kipchoge runs during the marathon. Different body, different possibilities.
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Luckily, I’m not racing against Kipchoge. I’m just racing against me. Well, that and the aging process. Plus, I find it fun to push myself. To discover which training sessions lead to the best result for me. So pushing, it is.
I think the Parelrun is the perfect race to push. It’s a nice, little local run. Starting and finishing on the Markt, in the centre of Eersel. Enough people to make it feel like a serious race. To create a nice atmosphere. At the same time, small enough to be able to run fast. Big events are just traffic jams. I prefer to have some space to run.
That’s also the reason that I’m starting a bit more up front. No first row for me. That’s for the athletes that are really fast. But within the first 20 rows. During the warm-up, my legs felt okay. Sore from this week’s strength training, but I think I can surprise myself.
Which means I have to start running. A little unexpected. The speaker was talking a lot and suddenly the gun fired. So, we’re off. A few metres, some little space, a corner to the left and the road opens up. A few fast people pass me. Others, who started up front, are already drifting back.
Five kilometres. Weird distance. Beautiful distance, but I can’t remember the last time I raced it. Okay, the Parkrun in Cambridge, but I just tried to run at a nice tempo there. Nothing crazy. Today it’s time to push.
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Belgian guy ahead of me. At least, his shirt is saying he’s part of a Belgian running club. Big steps. Runs a little faster than I was planning in my first kilometre, but let’s try to hold on. We’re already out of the village, on countryside roads, between open fields. It’s nice to hide behind his back. I was supposed to be a pacer; now I’m paced. Unknown to my pacer.
My heart rate is high: 170 beats per minute. When my ankle is fine again, I will start working on bringing it down. Today, it doesn’t count. Pushing for me is running 4:30 min./km. That’s 22:30 on the five. That’s not bad for a first race after injury, is it?
I’m not sure what this Belgian guy has in mind, but we’re doing 4:20. A bit too fast, but I’ll stick with it. It will give me a bit of margin towards the end.
First split coming up. The ten and 15 kilometres are going straight ahead. The five is taking a left turn. My pacer isn’t. Why? Doesn’t he know I need him? The wind is coming from the left. He’s taller than I. That’s perfect. Well, was perfect. Now, I’m on my own.
Little kid ahead of me. How old will he be? Fourteen? Could I run so fast when I was fourteen? I’m gaining. Little by little. His head is bobbing from the left to the right. We’re almost halfway. He’s struggling, but going strong. I feel fine. Close the gap. Still fighting against the wind. Running 4:30 now. The little kid is no shield, so I leave him behind.
Another left turn. We’re out of the wind. Girl running in front of me. Sabine Bruurs. The first woman? I’m slowly gaining. The kilometres on a five go by quickly, if you’re used to running 50k. But I’m not sure this isn’t harder. My legs are protesting. I pass Sabine. She fights back. Or is my tempo dropping? 4:22. No, it looks like I’m stable. No crazy things now. I still have 2 kilometres to run. Keep something left for the last kilometre.
I pass Sabina again. Another little kid in front of her. Strong runner. I pass him. Sabine passes me. Are we racing? No, I’m racing me. I’m racing 22:30. I’m holding back for the last kilometre. I don’t know the five as a race distance. No experience. I don’t want to crash and burn now.
Another left. This looks like the Markt. I hear the speaker. Am I already at the finish? Looks like it. Let’s push. I’m taking over Sabine one more time. What has she left? Cobblestones. Not nice. What would Wout van Aert do? Go to the side. Find the flat edge. Better. Feels like I still have something left. Let’s give it all. Stay under 22. One final surge, one final sprint.
Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-one? Twenty-one, twenty-seven. Four kilometres, 890 metres. 110 metres too short. No official five kilometres Personal Best. That’s okay. It has been a long time since I felt some speed in my legs. So, this is good. This is fine. This means I’m on the way back. Antwerp, here I come.
