It’s Chriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiistmas…! Concord parkrun Christmas Day spectacular 2017. Delivering Christmas cheer since 2012

Digested read: me and my companion animal the unicorn Sophie joined the festive fun at Concord parkrun today. It was the perfect winterval celebration.  What’s not to like.  Note to self.  It was all very jolly and jingling, but unicorns aren’t really the best running companions to be honest (though they have lots of other qualities), so I think she might be happier to stick to supporting and marshaling duties at parkruns in future.  Yuletide felicitations everyone.  Ho, ho ho / bah humbug etc.

What could be more festive than being sat in front of the telly drinking tea, eating my way through a pack of orange club biscuits and watching ‘My 600lb life‘ on Quest Red whilst waiting for the pinger to ping and announce to me that Christmas dinner is done.  You don’t know?  Taking your unicorn to a Christmas Day parkrun, that’s what!

Further more, these activities are not mutually exclusive. You can do both. I am the living proof.  Let me elaborate …

First, a bit of a history lesson for you.  So, it’s hard to imagine ‘t’was ever otherwise, but there was a time when Santa couldn’t bring you what you most wanted on Christmas morning, not because he was off shift by then, or because he doesn’t exist, but because Christmas parkrun wasn’t a thing.  Later, when parkrun was a thing, parkrunning on Christmas day in particular, generally wasn’t.  These were dark and sad times, but we knew no other reality, so made the best of things, or not, depending on the dynamic of the human relationships that surrounded us.  Now however, in the season of goodwill, Christmas Day parkrun is not only a hypothetical option, but an absolute reality for the people of Sheffield.  Dear Reader, I bring you Concord parkrun, spreading the Christmas joy, by opening their proverbial doors to parkrun tourists from near and far.  Mostly near I think, refugees from the other Sheffield parkruns that have yet to run on Christmas Day.   If I have correctly interrogated and understood the Concord parkrun stats page, then it seems they have been hosting this Christmas spectacular for every year since 2012.  It is definitely become an established part of my Christmas ritual in Sheffield.  By which I mean I first went to the Concord Christmas parkrun in 2015 and it made my Christmas.  I resolved that henceforth, in perpetuity, I would always go to parkrun on Christmas Day if I could.   Last year I couldn’t.  But I did today, and as Mr Loaf says, two out of three ain’t bad.  Christmas Day parkrun is a splendid thing.

Incidentally, there is one at Poolsbrook on Christmas Day also this year, but I’m saving that destination of choice for the New Year’s Day Double.  Poolsbrook parkrun put on a good show for today though, so respect to them when they’ve not even made their second birthday yet.  Bodes well for parkrun’s ability to replicate itself.   They plotting a new Junior parkrun for 2018 too, so watch this space.  Oh, you know what, I might as well give them their own star billing,  here they are, looking festive.  Santa’s little helpers in all their glory.  You can see how we compared with our Concordian efforts for yourself by reading on. Or sated, conclude your reading of this post now, the choice is yours dear reader and yours alone.  Go with your gut instinct, usually works, though of course I don’t know what you’ve ingested on Christmas day, might be playing havoc with your normal peristalsis cycles, so you could be getting atypical signals.  Can’t help you there, just do what you think is best, and remember, it’s all at your own risk.  I know, elf and safety is critical whatever the season,  it has to said…

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Anyways, back to Concord.  Are we nearly there yet?  Nope, but let’s get the basics out of the way first shall we? With regards to the course, the website blah de blah states:

The course consists of two counter-clockwise laps, all on asphalt paths suitable for mobility aids including wheelchairs. The course starts with a flat of 500m then a slight downhill of 500m levelling out at the far end of the course. Passing through a gate and returning with a slight uphill of 400m before levelling out to complete the lap. On the second lap the finish is 400m before the start line, ensuring a total of 5km.

and according to Strava, when run, it looks like this:

Fess up time.  I stole/borrowed shared this from my sloth buddy and (newly appointed) marathon run mentor.  I can’t upload my own strava as no internet. I’m using a dongle for rubbishy internet of a sort, but can’t use two devices at once. Then I thought (because occasionally I do) ‘why not use someone else’s strava’ and I chose this particular one because it was just so exciting meeting an Endurer Dash buddy and also, the photo we casually posed for together can’t now be found, so this little thumbnail advisory picture of the running man himself will have to do as the photographic evidence that we were indeed both there, same time, same place, same mission.  Yay! Grand to see you out there.  Storming it.  As indeed we both were (ahem.)

But we had to all get there first.

I was up in the dark, eager with anticipation, and also needing a bit of extra time to get me and Sophie kitted out for our run. She’s only really had the one outing so far, to Graves junior birthday parkrun, but that was only marshaling, and I’d promised I’d take her out for an actual run on Christmas Day.  Seemed like a good idea at the time. I was feeling somewhat dubious about my promise this morning to be honest, but she was up and ready by the door waiting at 6.00 a.m.  No backing out now!  Could hardly rain on that parade, besides, it seemed like a good idea at the time…  I mean, running 5k with a unicorn, what could possibly go wrong?

The first challenge of the morning was heading out the door.  Astonishingly, the streets were pretty deserted – I’d expected a mass migration of people heading over to Concord – honestly, what else was anyone going to do today? I hardly saw anyone, apart from a car taking advantage of the empty roads to speed to its destination… spectacularly scraping its undercarriage on a speed bump as it did so.  Happy Christmas, ho ho ho etc.

I arrived at the logistical operations centre from where communal transport was to depart.  Three of us set off from transport HQ, scooping up another couple en route. For your information, unicorns aren’t entirely practical accessories in a car, although she did function as a personalised air bag, I think having her face squashed against the window wasn’t the best of preparations for a run out.  Next time, I think I need to organise proper transport for her, to ensure she is able to optimise her performance.  I think there are specialist companies that can do this.  … anyway, one of our number had apparently cut it a bit fine with his timings, so had to run in his jimjams, but then again, if you can’t spend all day in your festive themed pyjamas on Christmas Day when can you?  Good call.

On a more serious note, it is a demanding and busy day for many, so all time-saving tips are helpful.  A fair few runners today therefore chose to run in their special yuletide outfits to save having to change again later. Good call.  Classy choices.  I appreciate it when people make an effort on these occasions.  Lucky it’s been quite a mild one though, is it not?

So, on arrival, we found the car park pretty empty, and at first I thought there weren’t all that many people around, which would have been a shame, as Concord parkrun is surely a Sheffield running tradition these days.  In fact, people rapidly started to gather, so I was back into ‘oh my gawd I’m so excited to see you‘ mode, as familiar faces a-plenty came into view.  I was especially pleased to see my sloth endurer dash buddy, who I’ve not seen for ages.  He can’t possibly have been avoiding me, it must be that we move in different orbits these days, what with all his hard-core tough mudding and my… well, my not tough mudding. So much so that we not only did big hugs and much whooping, but even posed for loads of pictures together, because these days, if you aren’t photographed together so you can tag all your other mutual friends and acquaintences then that social interaction never happened.  No idea what happened to those snaps, it’s not like he’d have deleted them on the quiet in the hope that no-one need ever know I’d cornered him, and due to his gammy leg he was unable to get away before the photoshoot that put us both in the frame same time same place  …  we will just have to settle for our memories on this occasion.  Don’t worry, there’ll be other opportunities for a re-shoot in 2018 I’m sure!

There were some more succesful pre-run group shots though, yay!

Collectively we must have tested the logistical operation of the Concord team – the usual average attendance is given as about 53, though actually I think that’s the mean, it’s been creeping upwards to 80 or so in recent months. Even so, the two-hundred plus turn out is a massive surge in attendance.  The record attendance at the event before today was 259 for Christmas Day 2016.  Today though (cue drum roll, but you’ll have to do that yourself as I don’t have it in my gift to activate that sound effect through this blogsite), the number was smashed out of the water.   A nice round 300.  Isn’t that spectacular?  Imagine that though, having to cater for 300 guests for Christmas Day, with just six unknowns (does that correlate to gate crashers or welcoming strangers into your home to spread the yuletide joy) whatever.  Impressive turn out, and impressive event management, so we are all marvelous.  Thanks especially to all the volunteers who turned out to make it so.  I’m sure you must have been on the ‘good’ list for Christmas.  Hurrah!  Thank you too to photographer for the day Ray Hibberd, from whose Facebook album for Christmas Day at Concord I have borrowed freely.  🙂

As we were a bit early, there was time for mutual appreciation of outfits, and much milling and seasonal mingling.

There was also an opportunity for comparison of Christmas morning experiences, past, present and yet to come.  I was taken by tales from parents about how you cope with offspring who are terrified of Father Christmas.  Not unreasonably, children who you have spent the rest of the year warning not to talk to strangers, aren’t to be so speedily hoodwinked into allowing a strange bearded man to enter their room at night just because it’s Christmas eve!  Various strategies have been employed over the years apparently, house lock down, stockings by the fire-place rather than the end of the bed were all options.  My favourite though, was the deal whereby one parent had a personal arrangement with Santa that they’d meet him a bit down the road for the present exchange so he’d never have to enter the house or even work out quite where said child lives.  It just goes to show, with a little planning, it is possible to make reasonable adjustments so events can be inclusive for all, worth remembering I think.

Mind you, some Santas can be quite terrifying, not the real one I daresay but his body doubles.  Our very own Sheffield runderwear ambassador has espied one this very morning whilst out walking her dogs.  A santa suited man doing multiple drive-bys of a particular house – presumably to be a well-timed surprise with a live appearance on Christmas morning, but maybe a ram raider, hard to tell.  Here are some santa-suited runners from today.  If you are still off work, and a bit bored now that your food coma have faded and the needles have fallen from your tree, you could mark them out of ten for your own amusement.  You can use whatever criteria you like, but I suggest approachability; ho ho ho quotient; authenticity of outfit; contemporary interpretation of outfit; vividness of red; quality of trim/ facial hair.  Note, points should be deducted for any real fur, there is no need in this day and age, really not.  Did you know nowadays even faux fur might be real?  The irony that as real fur becomes unacceptable, it is sold as fake, fake news indeed.

Before the running though, the briefing.  And the barking.  There were some very excited hounds at this parkrun.  It helped build the excitement as they were gathered at the back, beside themselves with eager anticipation, just like the rest of us.  It was grand to see lily the wonder dog again, first sighting of her this year by me I think, though of course she is a regular fixture at Graves parkrun.  Our paths just haven’t crossed for some reason. Grand to see her out and about, again, I like that she never disappoints in her choice of outfits, and can be relied upon to dress appropriately for any and every occasion:

At the RD briefing, we also learned that two amongst us had pulled off an impressive double whammy, having perfectly timed their running rendezvous to ensure they both marked their 250 milestones on Christmas Day. Brilliant. Just a shame that all Christmases from hereonin will be somewhat anticlimactic.  Oh well. Still good job, well done Craig and Claire, I did applaud you, but honestly, not quite sure who you were.  Bravo though, and good luck with topping that next year….  Still, you’ve got time to plan I suppose. Maybe Lapland will have launched a new parkrun somewhere by then, so you could take a husky ride to the start of that.  Just a thought.  You’re welcome.  Lapland is the largest and most northern part of Finland by the way, in case you were wondering if it was a real or fictitious place.  Reindeer are real not fictitious as well.  One Christmas, when I was away traveling I was sharing tales of native traditions with both a Finnish and an American fellow nomad.  The Finn explained that reindeer is commonly eaten in Finland, less so than in the past, but definitely widely available.  I thought our poor American friend was going to implode.  She definitely went into existential meltdown.  For her this revelation encapsulated a moment of both complete joy and utter despair.  Joy because she’d previously thought reindeer were mythical creatures only to discover in the same breath that people willingly tucked into them as their primary protein source.  Just another smorgasbord opportunity, not a creature to be treasured at all.  We never discussed the flying ability of reindeers, mind you.  You might think it impossible, but then again, we were once told it’s impossible for bumble bees to fly, despite the evidence to the contrary.  Don’t think they can run though, so that’s a shame for the Bee team taking on Smiletastic in 2018… as part of the Smiley Paces running challenge to kick off the year.  In any event, I think we all know reindeers can definitely fly – better than most turkeys, which is why Santa has come to rely on them as a sustainable form of transport as well as a handy snack to act as a savoury antidote to all those mince pies and glasses of sherry.  Jerk reindeer anyone?

Sven cleaning antlers

Anyway, back to empathy for Americans (stay with me dear reader) – can you imagine that, finding out that reindeer are both real and a legitimate food stuff on the same day!  It would be like finding out they eat dragons alongside the lava bread for breakfast in Wales, or that minced Nessie meat is a key component of haggis on the banks of Loch Ness.  Which I don’t think they do…  More a burger staple.  What is it with having live animals celebrating and endorsing the consumption of their own kind by the way?  Never understood that.  Does Babe appear on sausage packs?  Mostly nope, but bet his relatives do.  Sad but true.

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Fortunately, although we in Sheffield know unicorns are real (ref Round Sheffield Run route – look out for them particularly in the Whitely woods and Ecclesall Woods sections), as fas as I’m aware people haven’t identified them as a legitimate food source just yet.  Just as well, it’s not a thing to be done at all.

So after the appreciation by way of applause, we were off, to the baying of hounds bringing up the rear.  They were raring to go, it helped build the anticipation.  We must have been a festive sight, charging off into the park, following the tarmac road with the instruction ‘if in doubt, keep right’ ringing in our ears.  The dogs tore off with enthusiasm as you can see

between you and me, my own enthusiasm levels diminished quite rapidly. The thing is, *spoiler alert* it turns out Sophie is really rubbish as a running companion.  What may have seemed like a good idea at the time, was all too soon established to be patently not.  Probably my fault for not having briefed her properly, and also for being too short.  The thing is, well, lots of things actually.  For starters, all those limbs and wings take some co-ordination.  It must be a bit like trying to run a 6-legged two wings race.  I should have guessed this, it was hard enough for Paul and Harry when they did their three-legged walk challenge.  I should have made the connection, but I suppose I thought with the wings we’d be flying round, not hindering one another.

We just never seemed to synchronise.   Her hooves kept scraping the top of my trainers and causing them to come undone.   Three times I had to stop to retie my shoes, and that’s harder than you might think  to do with a unicorn strapped round your midriff.  I was in constant fear of a tarmac directed faceplant, the only brake on my fear being the cushioning potential of my companion unicorn. Sort of the yin and yan of a catastrophic incident in the making being potentially both the cause of my falling and the instrument of my protection.  Then her head and neck kept sticking out at a weird angle, making it look broken and giving her a rather sinister appearance.  When her hooves weren’t sabotaging my laces then her legs had an alarming tendency to gravitate between my own legs in a way that not only considerably hampered progress, but gave me the weird sensation of having wet myself, which I don’t think I had. That reminds me though, I wonder whatever happened to the Smiley elder in search of a pee point at the outset?  All the facilities were closed, and she didn’t seem persuaded by my observation that this is why skorts were invented, and also there is a Smiley precedent for just doing what’s necessary without bothering to seek cover or even drop your knickers first.  That story though is for another day…  ‘The post event photos suggest she made it round though, so she must have had some solution presented to her other than the nuclear Paula Radcliffe option.  Personally, as I have a bashful bladder at the best of times, that tactic of last resort would never be available to me.

As if all that kerfuffle wasn’t bad enough, I also felt compelled to hang on to my Santa hat, which frankly was doing its darndest to abandon me.  It wasn’t the most elegant of runs.  Any vision of floating by in a magical mist of unicorn fairy dust (no she isn’t a my little pony) quickly evaporated.  This was a test of endurance, a mental battle, particularly as turns out (I’d forgotten) Concord is a two lap course.

This is the reality of my progress, hanging on to my accessories for grim life, teeth gritted, head bowed into the wind ‘I CAN do this, I WILL do this, parkrun IS FUN’ my mantra of choice as the entire field overtook me and sped ahead.  I gave up any pretence of giving chase to anything.  Watching other runners disappear into the distance.  ‘Oh well, maybe it will be type 2 fun‘, I thought to myself as I staggered onwards.

Mustn’t grumble though, Tough Mudder fancy dress options can be even more challenging, I think it was fancy dress, not an actual T-Rex, but then again, I wasn’t there.  They are also very good at fancy dress in Wigan I understand.  Note to self for next year perhaps.

On the plus side, there were friendly marshals a-plenty to offer encouragement and support on the way round.  These included those with bells to ring.  A Valley Hill Runner – this is my new favourite club by the way, I mean Barnsley Harriers are all lovely of course, but not in evidence today. However, at Hallam parkrun earlier in the week one of the VHR runners sought me out and explained the password that would have got me a free pass into the Valley Hill Runners tent at the XC course when I was lost and lonely and afeared because I couldn’t find my club anywhere.  Apparently, they’d have fed me buns, and offered moral support too, so I need never be alone at a XC event again if I can’t find my own club gazebo for whatever reason.  Isn’t that nice?  Anyways, one of the VHR crew was marshaling, albeit disguised in a santa suit, grand to have new friends.  The VHR had also written motivational slogans in chalk on parts of the route.  I parasitized some of them to help me round, no harm in that surely, I doubt they’d have begrudged me such succour in my hour of need.

As I trudged along towards the back, other marshals cheered me on.  One near to the railings at the start had a dog with her. This dog took extreme exception to Sophie for some reason.  The same thing happened at her inaugural outing at Graves Junior parkrun’s first birthday bash.  She seems to have something of a Marmite effect on those who come across her.  The marshal was a bit apologetic and embarrassed, but I have to concede, same thing happened again as I was walking home through the streets of Nether Edge later.  Another dog went into a frenzy of barking and straining at the leash to get at me the entire time I was within his sight – and that was from the opposite side of the road.  This is another reason why I think running with a unicorn is a lot nicer as a fantasy than as a reality.  The constant fear of being hunted down stalks you.

There were some bright moments, the en route selfie with my Hallam buddies (also never to be seen again, maybe they are saving it to capitalise on at a later date if I ever become famous or infamous. They can sell it to the highest bidder, legitimising their claim that they were with me at the beginning when it all started, before going on to the established go to script about ‘well, she mostly kept herself to herself‘ etc.  I can’t begrudge them that opportunity.

There was also a Christmas Day volunteer photographer, snapping us in all our glory, he managed to make me look magical at least.  A unicorn, for christmas, what more could one want – a think of beauty indeed! (Her not me).

Well actually, what more you could want would be a bike.  Another traditional christmas gift.  This parkrunner was so excited at getting one, he couldn’t wait til after parkrun to try it out.  Which is why it’s so very important to respect the right of everyone to participate in parkrun in their own way.

There were festive costumes and smiles a-plenty.  I got to see some of these as the faster runners looped back whilst I was still running out. There were even a few friendly high-five exchanges to be had, some shared a bit more self-consciously than others, and there may have been at least one swerve away, like when you go in for a hug and realise you shouldn’t and have to pretend you were heading somewhere else entirely.  There was plenty of family fun and buggy runners too.  Cue a little slide show I think, you can check out your own favourite ‘aaaw‘ moments, spot those holding out for type two fun, the ‘oh yes we are having fun yet’ parkrunners as well as the deeley bopper challengers. You may even see some flying feet if you are particularly observant. 🙂

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Because I was distracted by my unicorn, it was only looking at the photos later that I realised I missed spotting this fancy dress offering on the day. Total respect:

And we had a few naysayers too, also seasonally apt.  No Christmas would be complete without the bah humbug contingency after all:

Finally, finally I made it round.  By mutual agreement I think it’s safe to say Sophie and I wont be running together again.  I’m glad we did it once, but hey ho – or ho ho ho as is more traditional at this time of year – there is no need to repeat the indignity and peril of the occasion in future.

The marshals were still in good voice, and there was no queue for the scanners.  The runderwear ambassador ahead of me commiserated with the unicorns flying legs issue. If only I’d conferred with her in advance she could have warned me of such hazards.  A relative of hers who shall remain nameless but is RD at Hallam, did the Trunce in a fancy dress costume with an elaborate tail one time.  Long story short, it ended up reversing and sprouting up between his legs as he ran, the only way to keep it safe was to hang onto it.  This caused both hilarity and consternation to the runner behind, who every time she thought of overtaking, was confronted with the sight of him clutching an enormous erect phallus, and she was unable to pass.  A potential ‘me too’ moment indeed, were it not for the fact his awkwardness far exceeded her own.  That’s what I love about parkrun we can pool running knowledge and experiences and learn from one another.  If I could just remember what the darned creature was called I’d find a picture of it.  Then again, maybe best not.  Might add it in later…

Edit:  It was a pokemon character, pikachu – you’ll see the issue I think

NEWSFLASH – you want more, I give you the photographic proof:

Sometimes there are no words…

So a bit more post run mingling.  A cheer for the final finishers, and that was that.  A great way to start Christmas.  Well that’s what I thought, others pointed out that their Christmases had actually started with excited wake up calls at 2.00 a.m. so they were well underway whether they wished to be or not.

Fond farewells, tinsely embraces were exchanged and all back in the car for the journey back to our own stomping ground, so I could have a dog bark ferociously at me on the way home.  So thanks everyone who shared in the parkrun spirit and made the Christmas Day walk/run/jog/ volunteering parkrun possible.  Best part of Christmas for me is this parkrun outing, you get to see all your friends, have a bit of a trot out, and all done and dusted so you can vegetate in front of the TV later on with a cup of tea (ahem) and an easy conscience.   Hurrah!

In the interests of fair reporting,  I should point out that there are of course other sporting events available on this day, though why they would take precedence over a local parkrun I can’t imagine.   Christmas day sea swim at Porthcrawl anyone?  To be fair, I can only assume this crowd go for the swim option as they didn’t know about the Christmas Compendium to find a parkrun on 25th December, because they look like definite parkrun material.  parkrunners working towards triathlons perhaps – or undertaking a searun in the inexplicable absence of a parkrun option locally.  I wonder what time the swim started, maybe some of them did a parkrun first anyway, duathlon option, now that would be grand…  Loving their work though. Most festive.

So there you go, something for everyone,  here’s hoping this parkrun malarkey is a Christmas tradition that endures… so now it’s a question of who’s going to make it to the New Year’s Day Double?  Oooooh the excitement.  I can hardly wait!

Happy running til then dear reader, hope you are having a good one.  If not, at least by now you’ve made it through to the other side, and as long as you have a barcode, all is well with the world, hope reigns.

Oh, and entertain yourself with Harrogate parkrun’s barcode exploits, most festive, and impressive.  I thank you.

Job done.

For all my parkrun related posts see here – scroll down for older entries.

For my Christmas related running reports see here.

Who says parkrun’s a turkey? Sheffield Hallam parkrun pre-christmas dash, in all it’s glory.

Digested read: twas the parkrun before Christmas, and at Sheffield Hallam parkrun the first finisher was most definitely a turkey of a runner.  I tried to inculcate the joy of parkrun into an Australian visitor, it didnt work.  Oh well, we have to respect the right of everyone to participate (or not) in parkrun in their own way.  Ho ho ho everyone.  My those turkeys can move.

Every turkey has its day.  To be honest, whilst I can’t really speak for all turkeys, I’m going to take a wild punt and put it out there that they probably prefer that their day isn’t Christmas day, because I’m inclined to think they like to take centre stage in a different sense.  Today, dear reader, The Sheffield Hallam parkrun was led out by a complete turkey of a runner, it was quite something to behold. Eyes a bulging, it fair shot round.  Anyone would think it was trying to run away from something.  They can run pretty fast, wild ones can reach speeds of 25 miles per hour apparently, so maybe it was hardly a surprise this turkey was first finisher, having maintained it’s pacing throughout. This is my new favourite parkrun photo of all time by the way Mr Carman, you got that turkey legs of the ground and right in amongst the elite athletes from the start.  Job done. No-one else had a chance with a flying start like this really did they.

They can fly quite fast too, if the internet is to believed.  55 mph.  This might account for why Father Christmas did give them a go in an early prototype of his sleigh, but I guess ungrateful people kept nipping out and stealing them for their Christmas tables whilst he was otherwise engaged down a chimney somewhere dropping off presents on Christmas Eve. Something like that. Anyway, he ended up with just the two, and it just wasn’t sustainable, loads of kids didn’t get their presents, people complained, that kind of thing, so he went with the reindeers instead in the end.  Reindeers know how to handle themselves a bit better too I guess.  Big antlers, that sort of thing.  Point is, you tend to see turkeys trussed up rather than running free at Christmas these days, which is why it was a novelty to witness one in motion at Endcliffe Park.

This all goes to show that just when I think I have exhausted parkrun in general, and Sheffield Hallam parkrun in particular as a possible source of new material to write about, I learn something new.  I suppose it should come as no surprise to find that turkeys are on the run pre-christmas, it is after all the last chance these sensitive intelligent creatures have to make a final bid for freedom – but I didn’t previously appreciate that a ‘turkey run’ is quite such an actual thing. Albeit in America, and we don’t want to rush to embrace everything that comes from over there now do we?  Did you know turkeys appreciate music too by the way.  That’s why turkey whisperer is an actual job, trust me, I’m a qualified careers adviser, I know about these things.  Plus it was in The Guardian, so that clinches it.

Whereas turkeys show their appreciation of music by clustering around and joining in.  parkrunners show their appreciation a bit differently, by running on by. We did all like it a lot though.  Live music at our pre-Christmas Sheffield Hallam parkrun has become something of a tradition in recent years, and even though we ran past rather than gathered around the musical trio, it was rather lovely.  Oooh, spot the santa dashing round the back…  Most festive.  Kudos to these young musicians for turning out on a Saturday morning to perform as well.  I doubt I’d have been community minded enough to volunteer for that back in the day. Not that anyone would have wanted me to do so, as I never really got beyond a most pitiful rendition of  ‘Go and tell Aunt Nancy‘ on the descant recorder, which I concede would be a bit of a limited repertoire for an impromptu al fresco Christmas concert of even the most modest expectations…  This trio on the other hand, had a long play list of seasonal carols.  Impressive!  Thanks guys 🙂

Where was I? Oh yes, turkeys running.  Well, according to the online urban dictionary (USA based) , so it must be true:

A turkey run is a very long run in a team until the whole team pukes. It is done before or after Christmas dinner

How very charming and festive.  Not.  Alternatively, Wikipedia tells us the Turkey Trot is more of a thanksgiving tradition, with less actual purging of the stomach and more with having a run to burn off some calories with the winner traditionally getting the prize of a frozen turkey. Think Percy Pud but with celebration of mass slaughter of turkeys as the focus of the occasion rather than the acquisition of a Christmas pudding. Confusingly though, some turkey trots are runs of actual turkeys, as opposed to people dressed up as them.  I suppose on reflection, that shouldn’t be confusing, since in the former case the descriptor is rather more literal and accurate than in the latter, but as a parkrun regular, I’m more familiar with the concept of people running around wearing random fancy dress for the most flimsy of reasons or none at all, so would lean towards expecting the latter.  Food for thought isn’t it? Working out what a turkey trot is, and actual food for you non-veggies out there too as well perhaps.

 

 

The point is, 23rd December was the last official parkrun before Christmas Day.  Whilst there are some Christmas Day parkruns available, for us Sheffield Hallam parkrun regulars, this was last chance saloon for a festive trot out on our home course.  A case of dusting down the santa suits, digging out the tinsel and generally getting in the Christmas groove according to seasonal requirements.  I suppose it was inevitable turkeys would be playing a most active part too.

Naturally, I was quite excited.  This Saturday promised all sorts of jolliness.  Not only festive fancy dress, but parkrunners celebrating milestones.  Specifically, our very own runderwear ambassador was running her 250th parkrun, either that or getting married.  Possibly both.  They look a lovely couple in the photo don’t they.  Congratulations, either way…

Adding to my excited anticipation, I had brought with me a guest from Australia.  I was looking forward to seeing the smile on her face as I introduced her to the parkrun magic.  After all, fancy dress, musicians, parkrun, post parkrun breakfast,  the beauty of Endcliffe park, all my favourite people in the world gathered in one spot. She would be bowled over by the inherent wowiness of it all, her life would never be the same again. How lucky was she never to have been to parkrun before because she was about to do the parkrun equivalent of stepping through the back of wardrobe and entering Narnia.  How would she ever be able to thank me… and yet I wouldn’t need to be thanked, because welcoming a new participant into the fold is absolutely its own reward.  What could possibly go wrong?

We set off, armed with a box of Christmas Crackers, because you never know when they might come in handy on an outing to parkrun in December.  I was wearing my seasonally appropriate santa skirt (still not sure which way round it should go, bow at the front of bow at the back?) and my santa hat, which turned out to be a bit of a fashion fail to be honest, but more of that later.  With the benefit of hindsight, I was maybe a bit wide-eyed and naive to assume that everyone exposed to parkrun will instantly fall for its many and manifest charms, and to fail to pick up on the signals that my house guest was a case in point.  The early clues were her  disbelief that we’d have to walk to the park in the first place, coupled with apparently, not wanting to be seen walking with me whilst I was wearing a Santa hat.  I mean, I completely get the not wishing to be seen in public with me part of that equation, many would agree, but due to the presence of a mere smattering of festive fancy dress, that’s never a good sign.  Also, on reflection, the request that we buy a newspaper en route so she’d have something to do whilst we were all running now I come to think of it…. well, I didn’t need to be Miss Marple did I? Still,  I always get a Saturday Guardian anyway, so complied, and on arrival, positioned her outside the cafe, with instructions to watch us from the bench, and do the clapping and supporting from up there where she would have a grand view and it would be loads of fun.  You couldn’t not get caught up in the all-consuming joy that is parkrun from that vantage point could you?  Super fun would be guaranteed, more than most people can rightly cope with –  or your money back, as is the parkrun way.

I skipped over to my parkrun family, excitedly demanding they all cheer her with a rousing greeting of ‘Merry Christmas‘, ‘ho ho ho‘, ‘bah humbug‘ or whatever, as they sped past.  Who could not be won over by such a welcome.  I love my parkrun friends, they are up for such community minded initiatives.  How splendid is that!  All that is best about humanity can be found milling about in a park pre parkruns all over the earth.  Joy to the world indeed.  One reindeer came across from Longshaw especially to take part.  Isn’t that splendid!

 

It was great milling about in the park.  Lots of festive cheer was in evidence.  Our reindeerector was co-ordinating it all with her usual aplomb, if a lack of reindeer accessorizing – still, she has a pass because she was being busy and important, plus others had pushed out the boat, and reindeerector is a very good pun, so that has to count for something.  There was an actual reindeer present too, so that was pretty impressive.  No idea where he put his barcode though.  That’s the problem with running in your birthday suit.  It’s hard enough to find official running clothes with a reasonably sized pocket in, bare skin running is another level of challenge altogether when it comes to secreting your tag, and don’t get me started on what do you do with the house keys!

 

 

Many were rocking festive Santa themed looks, some with more obviously visible outward manifestations of yuletide joy and goodwill to all than others.  I couldn’t help harbouring the thought that one or two must have been of the view that donning the costume slash hat was more than enough to show willing, and they couldn’t reasonably be expected to don a broad smile as well.  I almost prefer the grumpy santas sometimes.  The embodiment of the complexity of the Christmas spirit. Plus, the real one must have been feeling quite stressed.  Those of you who just have to get presents for just the secret santa at work and feel traumatized should spare a thought for the guy that has to visit every child in the world and what’s more, is now live tracked doing it.  I like strava I know.  but that’s for my personal use.  For poor Mr Claus, being tracked on his ultra route would I think add to the stress, it would be no wonder if he was looking a bit grumpy.  See if you can spot him in the smorgasboard of delightful shots that follow…  Some went for the whole his and hers combos.  Admittedly, possibly just by being snapped whist inadvertently running alongside a fellow santa during the run, but I choose to believe at least some couples did the long walk down in their matching outfits.

 

 

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It was great to see lots of santas out and about, but it did make it hard to identify which was the real one.  I know he would have been there somewhere, because

a) it makes sense to hide in plain sight some time and

b) Santa seems a generally cool dude, generous in nature and likely to be predisposed to embracing the parkrun spirit

I still like to think he would have been one of the grumpy looking ones though.  Needs to save his cheeriness for his big day.

Hi-viz heroes were out in force, though not as much force as the RD would have liked.   Still plenty of scope to volunteer people, send a message via the Sheffield Hallam parkrun Facebook page, or email  SheffieldHallamhelpers@parkrun.com ‘go on, go on, go on, go on, go on’, as Mrs Doyle would say.

You wouldn’t want to disappoint her.  Plus, it is a lot of fun.  Also, volunteering is completely compatible with fancy dress, which I appreciate might be your main consideration.

 

 

So there was pre-christmas cheer, and exchange of season’s greetings, and expressions of joy at milestones (about to be) achieved and applause for our hi-viz volunteers who make it all possible.

All in all, it was looking to be another fine parkrunday.  Hurrah.  No wonder so many of us choose to bow down and worship at the temple which is the parkrun start line.  Well, one person did anyway.  That’s how lots of movements start, with just one person, making a public gesture, standing up – or kneeling down, to be counted.  Might go viral,  sort of like that iconic shot of the student in front of the tanks at Tiananmen Square, but with marvelous rather than catastrophic consequences for all present.

 

 

This woman was pretty awesome in 2017 too though, was she not? In case you can’t remember because there have been so many horrors since, it was the moment when during an English Defence League protest in Birmingham, activist Saffiyah Khan faced down protestor Ian Crossland.  That’s courage, and inspirational, right there.

The start line was assembled

 

and the cry went up for off.  We all trotted round our mini circuit and then spread out heading towards the cafe…  I thought I’d burst such was my anticipatory excitement as I imagined my Antipodean friend on the receiving end of a multitude of season’s greetings!

Except when I got there, she wasn’t.  Having nipped into the cafe for a cup of tea and a slice of cake when she’d imagined we were safely underway and would be none the wiser she had so absented herself.  Some cheerily cried out to other unsuspecting and slightly bemused coffee drinkers, others, not unreasonably, abandoned their task.  Shame.  Oh well, I suppose it demonstrates that some people are apparently immune to the charms of parkrun.  Whether that is because they have some sort of genetic abnormality, or whether it is because I am now so inculcated into the cult myself I am no longer able to view parkrun with any degree of objectivity I’m not sure.  I do acknowledge that I freely clap on command at all the RD briefings even when I can’t hear a word of what’s being said and yet I unquestioningly follow their directives.  That might be seen as a slippery slope.  Quizzed later about why she couldn’t embrace it she was able to give quite a full explanation which boiled down to the following key points:

1. It’s completely pointless
2. It involves running, and I hate running
3. It’s outside and cold (by Australian standards)
4. You wear stupid outfits which is embarrassing to watch and would be mortifying to actually put on
5. You don’t even have a proper timing mat
6. I could have had a lie in
7. Why would anyone want to watch other people run round, some of them aren’t even very good runners
8. Who wants to hang out with other people in their community
9. You’ve made me come down before breakfast
10. I don’t even understand why we are here

The thing is, these observations are hard to rebuff in that she’s sort of encapsulated quite a few of the key features of the enterprise. Also, if I’m honest, before I tried it, I’d perhaps have come up with a similar list – with the additional one of ‘and I’ll look ridiculous in lycra’ so I can’t be too judgemental I guess it just wasn’t to be.  If we are to follow the parkrun code and respect everyone’s right to participate in it in their own way, then I suppose that has to include the right not to participate at all. Oh well.  Maybe she’ll find out it was type two fun later on.  Look back on it all nostalgically and register for one of the Sydney parkruns on the quiet.

Meantime, here are lots of the pre-christmas runners enjoying parkrun in their own way.   So respect people, show respect!

 

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Mr Carman was on fire today to be honest, because there are even more fabulous photos I can’t bear to omit, here are some favourites:

What happens behind the bush, stays behind the bush:

and the deeley bopper award goes to (though like my santa skirt, I’m not 100% sure they are facing the usual way, but at parkrun we respect everyone’s choices, always, don’t we, even when they are erm, wrong – unless they are four-headed reindeer of course, mutants, and that would be a new level of wrongness altogether. Messes with my head quite frankly.):

And me running, in my own inimitable way.  I am trying to think of myself running (and life) wise as work in progress. After all, you have to learn to do a thing badly, before you can learn to do it well. I’m working towards being part of the running elite.  My bizarre expression is purely to put you off the scent.  Bow at the front here.  I had it at the back for the Percy Pud.  Still not sure which is conventionally ‘correct’.  I also have no idea at all why I am pulling that face, I’m sure I had my own reasons though.   Probably personal.

So we trotted around, and fun was had and milestones were reached.  How exciting is that.  250 runs.  And not even the first one to do so. A huuuuuuuuuuuuuge cheer went up as this parkrun stalwart sprinted across the line.

 

It was all very emotional.

Oh, and back to the turkeys, some great shots of them in action too.

 

The only thing is.  Oh, I don’t know if I should say.  It feels a bit petty and unseasonal, but then again, the truth will out.  … It’s just that, well, oh gawd, should I say it… I thought there was only one turkey allowed at Sheffield Hallam in perpetuity, and this was it.  The trouble is, you see someone sporting a look like that and it catches on, suddenly turkeys are all the rage at Christmas, but we need to remember where it all started.  I don’t want to cause dissent but I’ll not say too much more – other than to note some of us were there at the inaugural appearance of the turkey at parkrun, and let’s just acknowledge what was seen then, can never be unseen.  I’ll say no more.

So finally, run over, and I was reunited with running buddies in general and my Antipodean guest in particular. Naturally, we had to capture the occasion with more photos.  Because that’s what you do isn’t it, and also we are all spectacularly photogenic:

 

Though this is the shot of the day I feel, share in the joy:

So that was that, photos taken, congratulations passed on to milestone runners, next stop Jonty’s for breakfast.  Turns out, that one perk of watching parkrun, is that running in a santa hat has a catastrophic effect on a runner’s hair styling options. This is hilarious, and might even partly balance out the horror of all the bad things about parkrun as a saturday activity for visiting Australians.  For my part, and yes dear reader, it was my own hair that was so spectacularly rearranged, well, fortunately I feel that on removal of my santa hat the comedic value outweighed the personal humiliation of my static-induced bouffant hairdo.  It could have been worse.  The Chitty Chitty Bang Bang hair cutting machine might have led to less reversible hair styling options.

Also, we had crackers, they were fun.  Instant party, and we got a table at Jonty’s which is an incredibly rare occurence these days, so the Christmas countdown was looking good.  How festive were we?  That’s not even a rhetorical question dear reader, you can see for yourself, we were precisely this festive:

 

Ho ho ho!

So there you go.  A turkey ran at Sheffield Hallam and was first finisher. It’s a run not a race so not a winner as such, obviously … What could be more seasonally appropriate. Even better,  there was still Christmas Day parkrun at Concord to come. But you know what parkrun is for life, not just for Christmas, so whether you make/made it here on 25th December or not, it’ll still be there for you when you are next ready.  How lucky we are.  Gawd bless us, parkrunners every one!

For all my parkrun related posts see here – scroll down for older entries.

Sharing parkrun niceyness despite the icyness… Sheffield Hallam parkrun

Digested Read: Running isn’t really happening for me at the moment, plus no internet for months now, I’m not a happy bunny.  Fortunately, we still have parkrun. Share the lurve parkrun people in general and Sheffield Hallam parkrun personages in particular, and all will be well with the world. Ho ho ho etc.  parkrun remains the ultimate mood enhancer.  I went yesterday, and I feel less grumpy now, for which I thank you all.

I can’t lie, I’m definitely Ms Grumpy Knickers today. Mostly first world problems granted, but I’m feeling vaguely traumatized on a number of fronts, specifically running related and internet connectivity.  Running related because I’ve hardly been running lately, partly due to overwhelming business, and partly because I’ve got this annoying ‘niggle’ that I am reluctantly having to concede has been going on long enough that it constitutes an actual injury, and requires some sort of positive intervention over and above ignoring it and hoping it will go away. Running injuries are a bit like Christmas in that respect, sooner or later, you have to bow to the inevitable, there’s no avoiding either altogether, eventually they will punch through your defences of pointless denial and launch into your actual reality… Then on top of this startling realisation, recent icy weather is also massively impeding running play.  Did you know that yesterday saw a record number of cancellations for parkrun due to ice?  We missed out on parkrun last week.  Running is most definitely being restricted because of the cold.   Case in point just today.  Granted, I’d inadvertently double booked myself and so was always going to have to miss out on something, and also strictly speaking shouldn’t be running anyway because it hurts, but today both the Longshaw Tinsel 10k (part of the Trust 10 series)  AND Graves Junior parkrun were cancelled due to ice.  All that effort that went into organising these things and then the elements conspired against us.  Runners everywhere are feeling frustrated and thwarted, myself included. Technically I was even triple booked as I was at one point supposed to be doing XC  too, but I’d already bowed out of that because that environment is a bit more competitive and even I knew my knee wouldn’t hold out for that.  Ironically, the XC went ahead apparently, though to a depleted number of hard-core participants.  Go you though team TNT, awesome effort!  Special congratulations to the brave individual who sported shorts, and to the catering manager for the ameretto and mince pie combo, which is way better than the mince pies and lemsip option which I understand was also under consideration.  Are bikes allowed now at XC?  Must check that if I venture out again next year, that could be a game changer… also, nice head wear everyone.  Bravo!

Anyways, I am digressing, back to case in point…

It certainly looks lovely out there though… (photos shamelessly taken from Longshaw Estate Facebook page)

Totally the right call by organisers, but it is disappointing.  What’s the point of snow if you can’t go out cavorting in it?  Having said that, have you seen this?  Best cancellation notice EVER in the history of running, by Perth junior parkrun ice manager (niche volunteer role granted) click on the link and marvel.  Why the running but not moving on the ice demo has not yet gone viral I simply can’t imagine!

Frustratingly, other more intrepid runners are posting glorious photos of scampering about in the peaks, but the ice on my hilly road leaves me too scared to venture out and about. It’s not so much yaktrax I need as an actual yak.

This is a particular dilemma for the following reasons:

1. I don’t generally approve of keeping animals in captivity
2. Even if I did, I don’t know how to look after yaks properly
3. Even if i did and did, I don’t know where to source them from
4. Even if I did, and I did and I do, you still should never, ever buy an animal at Christmas.  Animals are for life not just for Winterval and internet memes.  Apparently.

As if all these hardships weren’t enough troubles to weigh me down, I’ve been without internet for weeks now due to ‘supplier error’.  This wouldn’t be so bad, if it were not for the fact that there is no prospect of getting connected before new year. There’s only so much connectivity that can occur with a Vodaphone Dongle. If anything, being in possession of said dongle has only increased my frustration as it wafts the tantalising but elusive hope before me that if I can but find the sweet spot in my dwelling for a micro-second I might just get online.  It’s like trying to grab the end of a rainbow, only less compelling as a theme for fairy stories, and significantly less picturesque – well as far as I know, not honestly checked it out, but I can speculate as well as the next woman, and this is where my research has led me to date …. I don’t need  a survey monkey dataset to validate my instincts on this one surely?

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Without internet I have lost the ability to communicate with my running buddies and check out running related anecdotes so even if not actually running, I could live my running life vicariously through the exploits of others.  I can only tell myself a digital detox was long overdue for so long, 6 weeks and counting is too long.  This story does not wash.

What could I do?

Well, for those of you who are interested in emulating my personal Customised Reallyrubbishnotrunning Action Plan I can tell you so far my strategy has comprised the following:  I’ve done a bit of wallowing in self-pity.  Not terribly effective truth to tell, but then again, that packet of digestive biscuits wasn’t ever going to eat itself and lt’s face it, a mug of tea solves most problems.  Particularly Yorkshire tea.  Are there other teas available?  I suppose there must be…  However, nothing can be as fine as the tea from the plantations of Sheffield surely?

Then yesterday, I decided to go to parkrun anyway, because I’ve finally got around to making an appointment to see a physio on Monday (tomorrow), so I figured I might as well see if parkrun does properly break me as if not, that’s fab, and if it does, then at least the physio will have something to treat.  I know, I know, but since when has an injured runner ever listened to any ‘sensible’ advice.  How do I know if I’m hurt or not if I don’t keep checking?

Honestly, given how cold and icy it’s been I wasn’t even that confident Sheffield Hallam parkrun would happen.  Last week lots of Sheffield parkruns were cancelled, and even yesterday Graves was cancelled.  It didn’t look tooooooooo bad when I headed out, but my there was a nip in the air. I wonder if we call it a ‘nip in the air’ because of what it does to your nipples?  I’ve never thought about that before, which is surprising given the ability of my mind to wander in unexpected directions at times.  Mine were, erm,  well let’s just say, signalling that they were most definitely very well aware of the cold, and communicating it quite markedly, pointedly even.  This is not just a ‘me’ thing I hope, or my reader will think this very weird.  Sorry (ish), but then again, the truth will out, just as my.. no enough now.

I wore road shoes, as if my London marathon attempt is to be anything other than hypothetical I need to start getting used to them. This was my first miscalculation of the morning, as it was way more slippery than I’d imagined.  If I’d allowed myself a bit more time, and quite frankly if I could have been arsed, I might have turned back and changed into trail shoes, but that would have meant lugging my weary carcass up a steep hill, and well, you know, might be OK.  If it’s that icy we wont have to run anyway, just go for brunch instead, that wouldn’t be so terrible surely..

I arrived at Sheffield Hallam parkrun  a bit later than usual.  Pink flags were a-flying and runners a-running and no doubt lords a-leaping someplace somewhere too.  One at least was in Endcliffe Park – not sure where his nine buddies were, but then again, maybe he was just practising ahead of time, it’s not the tenth day of Christmas yet…

He looks quite chuffed with his technique there, and so he should, but his minders behind maybe need to work on their ‘I’m honestly really impressed’ faces in my unsolicited opinion.

parkrun was happening.  No sneaky breakfast without running first then.  You can tell I’m conflicted.  On the one hand I’m massively frustrated about not being able to run, on the other, running is painful at the moment, so if parkrun is cancelled I feel that’s a legitimate reason not to run, and breakfast sans run is permitted, so I’m still part of the parkrun gang and not missing out on anything.  But if it’s on, well rude not to run isn’t it, so parkrun then brunch it is, but my it hurts…  I was a bit later than usual, so less time for meeting and greeting than usual. There was a noticeably small (but perfectly formed) field, and a veritable army of volunteers.  There was also some ice. Uh oh. Right at the start in an area we run across three times. How would this work?

Well dear reader, our Run Directors have massively advanced problem solving skills it seems.  I think some of them may have evolved to use parts of the brain that most humans never activate, because some inventive trouble shooting was speedily put into place.  For starters (pun intended), instead of starting on the skiddy tarmac, the start funnel was shifted onto the frosty, crunchy grass, and then – and this was sheer genius quite honestly – our hi-viz heroes formed a guard of honour to cheer us off and steer us away from the section of ice that might otherwise have thwarted play.  To be fair, we use the human tunnel technique quite a lot at junior parkrun in a (misguided) attempt to direct junior runners, but mostly they just run into us or ignore our best efforts in joyful anarchy.    Look at this though.  Impressive!

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Putting themselves in harm’s way for the greater good (and 1/25 of a T-shirt and some D of E credits maybe).  Courage indeed.  They stayed in position to keep us the right side of the ice as we came back towards them.  Great team work, and effective too, not a single runner toppled that I saw.  I did see a youngster nearly veer into the pond at one point, but that seemed to be a steering rather than ice issue, I think they were able to swerve away in time.

I was noisily whingeing worried about my knee/ calf/ shins/ miscellaneous unfitness to run so slotted in even more towards the back than usual.  I broke my usual rule of not talking and running, and ended up in a companionable yomp with my Dig Deep running buddy.  To avoid any suspicion that this talking and running malarkey will ever become a regular occurence, I made sure I looked especially joyless in the parkrun photos that captured the occasion.  I don’t generally like to brag, but it would be false modesty to pretend I’d not completely nailed the ‘oozing air of hostility’ expression whilst running here don’t you agree?  (Good luck with working out which of those negatives cancel one another out grammar police, think of it as my Winterval quiz challenge for you to enjoy on Boxing day, after your long run).

You should not be deterred from parkrun by my outward appearance of grumpiness.  Sheffield Hallam parkrunners are in fact mostly joyful.  Not even just because it’s Christmas, but pretty much all the time. Here are some especially joyful ones by way of illustration:

You see, this is the thing.  You can’t be at parkrun and not share in the collective lurve.  I have been suffering from some serious grumpiness of late, but not only did parkrun lift my mood, when I finally managed to get some internet access to look at the photos from yesterday I was reminded with new vigour how completely brilliant this Saturday ritual is.  The photos really do tell a story about how fabulous the event is, and all who contribute to it as participants, spectators, whatever.  Some runners even added to the festive frolics with appropriate accessorizing. Rocking stylish headgear with considerable aplomb.

I also had stylish headgear, but alas never got the memo about needing to rock it with considerable aplomb, probably because it was sent by email, and my internet is STILL NOT WORKING.  I just stuck with a slightly pained expression instead.

Cynicism and unflattering photo shoots aside, parkrun is a marvel though.  When you look back at all the photos of our Sheffield Hallam regulars storming round in the freezing cold with huge smiles to complement their goose bumps it is pretty impressive. The phenomenon that is parkrun brings joy not just for Christmas, but year round, though clearly many will enjoy consulting the Christmas Compendium for their sneaky extra winterval parkrun fixes.  Those pitiful parkrunners who find themselves the sole parkrun passionista in their households will be hoping for the ultimate Christmas Gift from Santa this year in the form of a parkrun pass – hope they’ve been good:

As always, everyone was free to participate in their own way, some taking on a quick sprint challenge, some companionably yomping, others finding parkrun is a manifestation of a dog’s life, but in a good way.   A few people were still basking in the afterglow of a succesful 2017 Percy Pud, sporting the trophy Tee-shirts, which have no doubt been worn continuously since the event as who would want such a garment wrenched from them in an untimely fashion when it was good to go another week or so at least?  I salute you all, co-conspirators; sprint finishers; leading the throngers; Percy Puddingers; unconvincingly camera-shyers and milestone celebrants.

Even Queen Victoria was amused, though sadly she was cut a bit out of shot in this image, but I promise you she was nigh on doubled up with merry laughter, so caught up was she in the infectious joy of being present at a parkrun event.  That’s why these two are laughing cheerily, just been sharing a merry joke with her I expect, as you do.

Takes all sorts parkrun, and you know what, running at its best can pump out those endorphins to the point we can all feel magnificent and invincible.  Think that’s what’ happening here.  Spreading the joy people, we can all be part of this, walk, run, jog, volunteer, but just be there and marvel and life can feel great for a bit at least.

Point of information, I don’t actually look like this when I run (see evidence above, sadly) if we are honest, most of us don’t, and not only because of gender differences.  But the point is, sometimes you can feel like this, it’s all that positive affirmation from volunteers, the collective coming together, the being out on a glorious day.  It’s always worth it.  Always, even on the not so great days or days where there is less festive accessorizing and more rain.

Yesterday though, we even had bad yuletide punning.  Life surely doesn’t get much better than that!

Mind you, only just realised, no actual Christmas Trees in the shot.  I’m hoping they’ve sold out, and aren’t just going to keep on felling the few trees Amey havent already lopped down and try to palm* those off on their unsuspecting public… (*see what I did there?  I know, genius – wood you credit it).

So, despite everything, despite my lack of running at the minute, and other complications in life, parkrun is still something that can put a smile on my face.  I’m so grateful to have stumbled across it, and feel incredibly lucky to be in Sheffield where we have a veritable plethora of runs to choose from and dedicated teams who do all they can to ‘make it so’ even in unpromising conditions.  Yay to the volunteers – always room for a few more of course, just contact the relevant parkrun team by email and you too could gain the glory of hi-viz and maybe one day graduate to a clipboard or scanner – even stopwatch if you have the nerve to operate one and at least one opposable thumb.

So just one more parkrun to go before Christmas – two if you factor in junior parkruns on Christmas Eve which are guaranteed to be awesome or your money back as I understand it.  Next week’s at Sheffield Hallam is bound to be a Christmas Corker.  Hope to see you all there, doing your own thing, in your own way, because that’s all that’s needed for the awesomeness to continue.

Share the joy people, seeing as how it’s Christmas (nearly).  Let’s take a moment to remember how blooming brilliant parkrun is, lest we come to take it for granted.  Just think, there are already people in the world running at junior parkrun who have never known a world without parkrun to take part in.  Isn’t that amazing, to the next generation a world without parkrun will be as incomprehensible as a world without mobile phones ‘but how did you all manage?’ to which surely the honest to goodness truthful response has to be ‘I have no idea.  It was a dark and dismal time and place, but we knew no better’.

I suppose it must have been an unknown unknown, and we were all the poorer for it.

Ho ho ho everyone.  Yuletide felicitations too.

You’re welcome.

For all my parkrun related posts see here – scroll down for older entries.

It’s beginning to feel a lot like Chriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiistmasss. Percy Pud 2017.

Digested read:  has to be done.  Percy Pud 2017, nearly bottled it, then found out about the commemorative 25th anniversary T-shirt so as I’m shallow that was me back in.  Was quietly dreading the freezing start and drudgery of an icy road, but you know what, it was fab.u.lous.  Of course it was, it always is.   With it, the countdown for a Sheffield Christmas was properly underway, ready or not, it’s started.   You might as well try to hold back the tide, way better to just go with the flow.  Bravo all.  Same time next year?

Whether we choose to embrace them or not, the Winterval weeks are all about traditions.   Whether that is the relatively innocuous tradition of being required to don a festive Christmas jumper at work ‘because it’s for charity and you don’t want to be wearing the Scrooge placard for the rest of the year now do you?’; the more serious one of ending up in A&E on Christmas morning because you dropped a giant musical toblerone on your foot (substitute alternative injury of choice here); the massive family row/meltdown in a crowded, slush-filled supermarket car park because you’ve been clamped/ locked out of the car/ couldn’t buy sprouts because you came too late; the olfactory torture of being stuck in a store whilst a ‘christmas hits’ musak tape is on an 8 minute loop and the queue to the till is looking like a 32 minute one at least,  or the seasonal tyranny of receiving an unexpected Christmas card from someone you’d completely overlooked/ thought you’d agreed not to do cards with this year when you’ve missed the last posting dates to shoot back a retaliatory missive in timely fashion. Curses, the stress of it all.  The very thought of it is enough to make you implode.  Still, has to be done.  As sure as night follows day, some or all of the above will feature in your yuletide goings on.

Mind you, the primary school in Plymouth promoting a charity christmas jumper day in their newsletter did indeed put a smile on my face. Couldn’t make it up could you?  The tensions and complexities of the minefield that is Christmas made manifest.  Enjoy

Into this category of bowing to the inevitable, is the annual Percy Pud.  For those of you who are predominantly moon-based dwellers, or live outside the boundaries of Sheffield, this is an annual 10k road race, organised by a local running club the Steel City Striders, for which participants are rewarded for their efforts not with a medal on completion, but with a vegetarian friendly (gluten-free option also available) christmas pudding. There are festive trimmings a-plenty with santa leading the runners out and lots of fancy dress and general count down to Christmas cheeriness.  For seasoned runners, and once-a-year runners alike, the Percy Pud has become something of a Sheffield institution.

The Steel City Striders website page blah de blah blurb describes the Percy Pud thus:

We organise South Yorkshire’s most popular 10km each year which takes place on the first Sunday in December.

The event has grown in popularity from the first race in 1993 when 600 finished the race to recent years when the entry has had to be limited to around 2,200.

Such is the demand for numbers that in each of the last 10 years the race has sold out ahead of time.

The 2013 race was no exception, as the race limit was reached within two weeks of the entries opening, in 2014 this was 36 hours and in 2015 it took just 2 hours to sell 2,200 entries.

Why is it so popular? Traditionally each finisher in the race receives a Christmas pudding for their efforts. Food and seasonal music are provided after the race. Of course, the route is not bad either.

For many, the Percy Pud signals the start of Christmas.

There is indeed a massive scrum for places when they come available each year and it sells out incredibly quickly – though ironically there are always last-minute places available as injuries and illness take their toll nearer the time.

For my part – and I’m aware this is going to sound almost sacrilegious – I maintain an element of ambivalence about the Percy Pud. It is indeed a fine Sheffield institution, it does mark the start of Christmas, everyone who is anyone is there, it’s one massive reunion of not just running buddies but friends and acquaintances across the city.  It’s tough to fess up to having a few reservations about taking part. The problem is, I’d twice run the Percy Pud previously, and frankly both times have been type 2 fun at it’s most extreme.  Hideous and freezing at the time, but all that frost-bitten hardship and the humiliation of being overtaken by the bottle man quickly forgotten the moment a pudding is pressed into your hand.  I’m sure last time I did it in 2015 I vowed never again….  Then I couldn’t do it last year because I was working away in Cambodia and so you watch it all unfold from afar on Facebook and slip into a sort of treacherous nostalgia for it all.  I wasnt going to give in, too  cold, too wet, too much horizontal hail and too much roadiness, nope, not for me not this year.  Definitely not, I’m out, let others more committed than I take part.  I don’t even particularly like Christmas pudding.  Then came The Announcement and all change…

Sunday 3rd December 2017, 9:30am start.

Also, with it being the 25th running of the race, every finisher will receive a commemorative anniversary T-Shirt as well as a traditional Christmas Pudding.

Hang on a minute.  Let me just allow that news to sink in for a bit.  So you are saying there’ll be a T-shirt as well as a traditional Christmas PUdding? This is a game changer, only once in a quarter of a century will there be this option.  Bring it on.  I’m fickle, I’ll hold my hand up to being shallow, I’m so in now.  I’ll run for a T-shirt, even though it will probably be deeply unflattering, a male cut and not really fit properly anyway. These are but minor consideration compared to the kudos of a trophy like that.  Frankly, I’ve run for a lot less.

So, once entries opened on-line back on the 1st October I was lurking over the keyboard like the most sinister of online trolls. Waiting for my moment to pounce. Because of problems with registering in previous years the organisers brought in a new online booking system.  I thought it worked well.  If you logged in at or after the alloted time the system went live, you were randomly allocated a queue place in line with the number of available places for the event, you were given an estimated waiting time for when you’d be able to enter and then a 15 minute window to do so when it came around.  Worked for me. There was the – also traditional – usual flack from some who seem to think what is basically a local running club should have the IT booking systems of the international olympic committee  moaning about glitches, but to me that seems unfair.  Most people did get through eventually, and there were still places to be taken the following day.  There is no perfect system, and the event might fairly be said to have become a victim of its own success, but it seemed pretty smooth to me. Plus, it’s surely part of the Percy Pud ritual that you have to scrap to get in it.  It would be like doing musical chairs without taking away a chair each time. Yes, it’s stressful, but the exasperating tension about how the challenge will unfold all part of the fun!

After the succesful entry came the waiting, and the buyer’s remorse.  Life events and an annoying niggle meant I hardly did any of the training I was hoping for.  In fact in the month before the Percy Pud I managed a solitary XC run and a parkrun (I think) and that was it.  Fairly pitiful.  To fuel my growing unease was the ever growing survivors guilt.  Other runners truly gutted at having to pull out due to more obvious injury or illness.  The practicalities of it started to weigh me down. What about parking? How will I get there? What if I don’t know anyone?  What was I thinking?  What if I fall in the ice?  What if I can’t fit into my Smiley Paces running vest anymore?  Also, now I come to think of it, where is my number anyway?  I’ve just moved house, can’t find anything, disaster.  Hang on, no found it!  Phew…

Mercifully, I eventually came to my senses, reminding myself I only ever run to complete rather than compete so really it’d be fine. Then (of course) my Smiley Paces running buddies delivered up opportunities to share a lift.  It’s not that I’m actually incapable of driving there, but parking is a nightmare and it’s a lot more fun going with others – apart from that one time when we arrived early to watch the pouring rain pounding the windscreen of the car and my over-enthusiastic smiley buddies announced ‘oh good, we’ve still got a good twenty minutes to warm up‘ and they weren’t even joking!  I know.  This is what comes of hanging out with proper runners.

This year, I headed over to join some running buddies coming from Greystones.  The morning was actually pretty mild, with just a gentle drizzle in the air, pretty good for running.  We were three smilies and a designated driver (thank you), and after a brief delay for finishing off of breakfast, precautionary pees (that was me, and I was really awkward about it too, insisting the bike was moved so I could shut the door of the loo before I did so, me and my bashful bladder eh, sorry guys) and general faffing we boarded our tour bus. It wasn’t an actual tour bus, but it felt like it was, what with it being a shared adventure and everything.

Knowing parking would be a challenge the plan was to park a reasonable distance away from the event and facing homewards to allow for a speedier getaway.  As a consequence fo this we basically parked in Chesterfield I think.  En route, we passed a couple of runners who we joked must be running to the Percy Pud, only to have our collective smiles comprehensively wiped when we later saw that indeed they were, having come across from Fulwood.  I did clock that one of them was wearing a marathon kit bag, so that sort of explained their commitment to distance running. Then I felt a bit sick, as strictly speaking, that ought to be me then, but it never crossed my mind that I’d want to rack up an extra 8 miles with a race in between to get my long run in.  I really need to up my game and get my injuries sorted so I can crack on with a proper training regime… if I’m ever to make it to the start line of London next year, let alone the finish.

Parked up, we clambered up the hill to the start. This is when the fun commenced.  Yes we were having fun already.  There was not the biting chill wind of previous years more reminiscent of ill-fated trips to the antarctic than joyful sporting events.  Rather there was a merry trail of trainer-wearing people, many adorned with festive trimmings and sunny smiles all ready to take the 10k on.

On arrival, there wasn’t much to do, you pre-register, so other than dumping stuff in the tent and admiring the very fine bespoke marshal tops that certain officials were sporting it was just a question of joining the queue for the portaloos and trying to see people you knew.  I suppose some people did earnest warm ups, but I stuck with the spotting friends and going over for group selfies options.  Well, I needed to save my energy for the actual run, plus, if it’s not on Facebook it didn’t happen.  Of course it needs to be on Strava too as the gold standard of proof, but nothing wrong with belt and braces approach at an event as critical to the Sheffield running calendar as this one.

I managed to spot a couple of familiar faces, one an injured Smiley/Strider hybrid, with a knack for a fine selfie, and my new best friends forever bonded as we are through shared TNT XC exploits.  It is brilliant how you see sooooooooooooooooooo many people you know from the broader running and running related constituencies of Sheffield.  Loads of familiar faces from parkrun, Trust 10, The Trunce, RSR everything and anything really.  All incredibly friendly and good spirited.  Most people are nice you know, running people especially.

Various shots were taken to prove our individual and collective attendance, and then as time was short we joined the process to the start.  While we were waiting, there was still time to practise a bit of running form to get in the mood.  Remember people, running is basically a one-legged sport.

I’ve not been able to get to woodrun for a while, and I think it’s just possible it’s taken its toll, I think my form may just possibly have suffered somewhat due to my extended absence.  Ooops, hope I don’t bring shame and dishonour to my accelerate mentors…  I like to think they’ve seen worse, but then again, someone has to be at the bottom of the heap.  I know this to my cost.  I was once at a gym induction and was explaining to the pre-adolescent in charge that I struggled to use some of the weights machines as they didn’t seem to be able to adjust to my proportions ‘on no, you’ll be fine, they can do all sorts of weird shaped people‘ she cheerily retorted, attempting to put me at ease in accordance with requirement 4.7.2 of her NVQ competency recording book no doubt, only to have her face fall as I plonked myself in situ, and to blurt out unbidden ‘OMG – you really do have ridiculously short arms and legs!’ and I’m not even exaggerating for comic effect… you have no idea how hard it is to be me sometimes.   I’m only surprised she didn’t call over her fellow PTs in training so they could have a gawp  at my bizarre physique.  That’s what happened when I had my wrist examined at a physio appointment following a savage ferret attack some weeks earlier.  Suddenly everyone in the department wanted to come and have a gander at my novelty injury.  They must have been disappointed that there were so little to see to be fair.  Those sharp little teeth just delivered a multitude of near invisible puncture wounds, but did a lot of nerve and tissue damage in doing so.  The Grundys were playing with fire when they were keeping those potentially dangerous critters in my book.  Not that I approved of them being bludgeoned to death, even if Jo was down about being evicted, but I wouldn’t go near one again.  A ferret that is, not a Grundy.

Where was I, oh yes, fearful on the start line.  Along with everyone else.

It was a big start, over 2000 people signed up, and because the weather was mild I’d say we were pretty much all there.  It was a miracle I was facing the right way when the call to start went off.  It was a reasonably sedate start, it’s chip timed so no point in anyone shoving.  You start on a bit of a downhill, and I was pleasantly surprised at how good I felt.  I was really worried due to almost total lack of running of late, but although I was slow and steady I did manage to run the whole thing (I fully appreciate for some runners this claim may sound pathetic, but I do resort to run/walking when I have to) the only time I walked was at the water station, which is allowed, definitely, though I still had hiccups for a bit afterwards.

You head down and quickly there are undulations – who put the sneaky uphill bit in? Then you are over the dam bridge with the reservoir. There were cheery supporters lining the route.  For some unknown reason, there was a noticeably thicker density of crowds in proximity to the pubs en route, I wonder why/  There was also some enthusiastic householders our front cheering runners on.  It’s such a good atmosphere.  Who doesn’t love being cheered on by complete strangers, it makes you feel great, even if the generic cheering isn’t particularly aimed at you, you will nevertheless get glory by association as other runners alongside you experience unfiltered adulation.

Sometimes more organised marshals/ supporters gave personalised shout outs ‘Go Smiley’ (other running clubs are available) this guy with a megaphone was working hard at that as I went out and still hard at it when I returned back later.  Impressive.

Then there were the groupings of festively clad children.  They were brilliant, ecstatic if you returned their high-fives and keeping up vocal encouragement all morning if my experience was anything to go by.  I’m glad Santa took time to acknowledge their services, I think that’s what he’s doing.  Hope he’s not stealing from them, the body language is somewhat ambiguous, looks suspiciously like he’s asking for contributions, or looting their festive red bag, rather than passing out presents, but appearances can be deceptive I suppose..   Thank you nice Accelerate people for the use of photos.

I’m not quite sure if he was the real santa, it’s so hard to know these days, and he wasn’t using the traditional form of transport which might mean he must be the real one as he has nothing to prove and can ride in whatever conveyance he so chooses, or could be proof positive he doesn’t know his Rudolph’s from his Blitzen or Buxom or Dunder or whoever it is.  Here are some other contenders, take your pick:

It’s basically an out and back course.  Generally speaking I don’t like those so much as circular routes.  However, for the Percy Pud, one of the great joys of the course is that as a relatively slow runner, whilst heading out you get to see the front runners storming back, led by Santa in his sports car.  There were marshals on hand also warning us ‘keep left, first man coming’.  The first man was extraordinary, so far ahead of the field, he must have run the whole thing on his own.  I gather last year’s winner arrived late so had to catch up which meant there wasn’t an opportunity for a direct sprint battle between the two.  Mind you, can’t remember where I read that now, so maybe I’ve imagined the whole thing.   I’m writing this up a couple of weeks after the event (no internet, long and dull but painful story) so that moment has passed.

A few minutes later,  another shout went up ‘first woman coming’, I was a bit surprised to be honest.  I mean there are some awesome women runners, but that front guy was super fast, and usually the strong men athletes are ahead of the first women, much as I’d love it to be otherwise. But no, it was true.  Storming through was the first woman with a little entourage of the elite men, it was really amazing to see them full on sprinting.  As someone who’s usually at the back I don’t often get to see that kind of action and focus, it was amazing, quite inspirational.  Inspirational rather than aspirational I concede, but stunning all the same. I stole this photo from somewhere, thanks AB for sharing.

Not only did I see the great and the good, the fictional and the real, and fellow smilies aplenty, you also get to appreciate those who have made an effort on the costume front.

I was a bit under dressed this year I felt, but fortunately others compensated for my short comings with their grand designs.  I also think I had a pudding like silhouette by way of tribute to the occassion.  Channeling my inner pudding if you like, method acting at it’s best.

Although costumes and fancy dress in particular are always a welcome feature of the Percy Pud, I feel a special mention needs to go to two of the fancy dress stalwarts without whom the Percy Pud would presumably be unable to take place.  It would be like having no ravens at the tower, catastrophe of unknown but epic proportions would inevitably follow.  It’s just not worth the risk.  I give you, in second place – the Christmas Tree.  I mean, what could possibly go wrong if you run dressed in a tree costume?  How hard can it be?

However, I think we all know the winner in the sense of being a quintessential part of the Percy Pud running experience, is the obligatory bottle of beer.   It’s not just sighting this which is critical for enjoyment on the day, for many it is being over-taken by it en route in all it’s glory. There is no shame in that people, just another Christmas tradition at the Percy Pud.  On this day in Loxley, many will be outrun by a 7 foot beer bottle, you aren’t special.

An honourable mention should also go to the bin man, fast on his way to being a PP institution too I’d say.  It’s good when people make an effort.  Fancy dress is always an option in my running world.  He looks very happy to have got his pudding at the end doesn’t he?

So as these runners were heading homewards,  I was still heading outwards.  It was all friendly and companionable.  I didn’t particularly chat to anyone, but pleasantries were exchanged.   Some expressed sympathy to me for being a member of a club with a name that put so much pressure on its members to maintain a smile whilst running at all times.  In fact it’s true, we do.  All smilies smile all the time.  Not sure what would happen if you didn’t, it’s never arisen.   Worth thinking about though, if you can’t maintain that outer countenance, you’ll need to find or found another club ‘grumpy gallumphers’ or similar I suppose.  Marshals merrily cheered us by, they were an exceptionally jolly lot this year, though I wasn’t going to be so easily fooled by the ‘nearly home‘ shouts as I was in my rookie Percy Pud years.  I’ve still not recovered from the shock of my first year of participation when someone shouted to me ‘100 metres to go‘ and I believed them, taking their call as my cue to launch into a sprint, it was more like 500 metres, I nearly died.  Some of the naive innocence within me died then also.  I do of course appreciate marshals still, but I am more wary and cynical about whether or not to take their protestations of either proximity to the finish (‘keep going, you’re nearly there!’) or course flatness/ terrain (reference Sheffield half marathon ‘all down hill from here‘ remarks).  I don’t wish to sound ungrateful, and of course I know such shouts are well-meaning and intended to be motivational but dear reader, don’t be too shocked to learn they are not always exactly true….  Trust is a precious thing, once it’s shattered, it’s hard to rebuild.

Thank you marshals though, you were all awesome, I did try to splutter thanks as I passed, but I know it can come across as being sarcastic when I’m struggling to breathe.  Glad Santa stopped off to see you all, you were definitely all good this year if your excellent delivery of Percy Pud support services was anything to go by.

After the half way point it’s a u-turn and back to the start.  The route seemed shorter this year, instead of icy wind scraping away my face as I ran, I actually felt a bit too warm.  It was lovely coming back over the bridge to see a friendly face – sorry you were injured running buddy, but thanks for the encouragement in the final stages.  The photo has the advantage of making it look like I must be so far in the lead there is not another runner in sight, it also has the disadvantage of making it look like I only just made it back before darkness fell.  As is often the case with these things, the truth lies somewhere in between!

Over the dam, round the corner, up the hill. There was still a fair old crowd as I approached the finish line.  Just a bit ahead of me there was another runner who seemed to be slowing, for reasons which now entirely escape me, I saw my moment and dug deep for a sprint finish.  It was really fun, I thought I’d snatched ahead, but I think as I ‘overtook’ she heard me and put up a mighty fight.

In our own small way, we were just as competitive as the first woman crossing the line, though she was marginally more photogenic at her moment of triumph. This was the winning picture in the 2017 Percy Pud photo competition by the way.  You can see why, could have been me(ish).  I’m sure our reception was just as celebratory, I can still hear the cries of congratulation ringing in my ears even now!

Last year’s (2016) top three are here.

So that was that.  Spat through the finish and slammed into the back of a very, very long queue of people waiting for T-shirts and puddings, because that was basically what the whole thing was about.  Patient marshals proffered puddings, and your number had a cross put on it to stop you turning round and coming back for more.  Only, there was a flaw in the system, as I went to chat to a marshalling Smiley buddy, and by crossing my tracks in this way found myself to be the recipient of another cross leading to false accusations of pudding hoarding.  I wouldn’t mind so much but I don’t even like christmas pudding particularly, even if I did, there is only so much christmas pudding one can consume!

Even more exciting than the pudding, was the first sighting of the proffered tops.  ‘What size do you want?’ asked a marshal.  Another corrected, loudly ‘irrelevant, what size did you order?’.  I didn’t like to let on I really had no idea, so I just opted for a medium.  Initially I was a bit hesitant about the muddy brown look of it, but you know what, this T-shirt has really grown on me.  It’s not muddy brown, more plum pudding coloured.  To be worn with pride by many and for years to come I’d say.  It could yet be one of my very few (two) running event tops that I’m actually minded to wear from time to time, this is high praise indeed. There follows a sequence of happy smilies with puddings and T-shirts and ‘been there, done that, got the T-shirt‘ smiles of yuletide joy.

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Then, in keeping with another long-held smiley tradition, which extends to Christmas, I found I missed out on the semi-official Smiley group shot.  I’m always back too late for these after race picture.  Oh well.  They are still lovely though, even without me.  To be fair, this can’t have been the full Smiley contingent, there were loads of us out and about causing merriment.

Never mind, there is a photo of me with my car share buddies post run.  I don’t know why it looks like I’ve photoshopped on the T-shirt, I did honestly get given it fair and square, but I concede the photographic evidence may plant a small seed of doubt in your mind dear reader.  I can only say come on dear reader, it’s Chriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiistmas, show a bit of generosity of spirit and give me the benefit of any such shadow of doubt.

And that was pretty much that.  Just the long walk back to Chesterfield to retrieve the car. The sun was out, the scenery was stunning, I doubt my photos will do it justice but hey ho.  Thank you carpool buddies for the solidarity, co-conspiratorial companionship and the free ride.  Yay us!  What larks eh?  What larks.

And that was that, all over for another year.  Another event triumph.  It always delivers the Percy Pud, it has a rightful claim to be known as a Sheffield institution.  Same time next year?  More than likely, I enjoyed it, despite my bursting calf and lack of proper preparation, it’s a feel good event.  I keep forgetting it’s basically a road run, as I don’t really like road running, but this is fun, it seems to have become an almost tribal gathering of Sheffield runners at a given time in a given place, to miss out on it, is to miss out on some of the annual bonding rituals that brings runners together.  If you can just make it through the stress of the entry system, it’ll be worth all that angstyness on the day!

Oh, almost forgot, for those of you who need to know, because I do have to concede it’s a race not a run – the results for the Percy Pud 2017 event are here.  To be fair, even though I’m not generally especially interested in the results, this year they were very exciting.  This is because:

Breaking news is that for the second year in a row both male and female course records were broken today and the club handed over £1000 cheques to each of the winners.

Local runner from Hallamshire Harriers Andrew Heyes took 15 seconds off last years course record winning in a stunning 29:42.

In the ladies race, Rio 2016 Olympic 5000m finalist Eilish McColgan of Dundee Hawkhill Harriers broke her own course record by 10 seconds by finishing in 32:32.  She also finished 2nd overall behind Andrew highlighting her dominance today.  Her time was the second best 10k time in the country this year.

That’s pretty impressive is it not, on all counts.  Wow.  Her performance even made a write up in The Star last year (2016), which is basically the Sheffield equivalent of winning sports personality of the year, pretty impressive, but not enough to merit a golden pillar box a la the lovely Jessica.  Good effort though. Jolly well done.

And maybe, just maybe, despite my protestations to the contrary, sometimes my inner competitive spirit will make an unexpected lunge outwards in a desperate bid for freedom!  It does wear off quite quickly though.

And if you need to know the route, it’s here, prettier than you might think, with winter sunshine lighting the way.  Don’t worry about getting lost though, even if you are in the lead it’s still just a question of keeping santa in your sights and you’ll be reet.  Enjoy.

So there you go. If you want to know any more about the legendary event that is the Percy Pud, you’ll have to sign up next year and do your own primary ethnographic research.  You won’t regret it.

See you there!  🙂

With thanks to all who shared photos including ste Smith, Sheena Woodhead, Carol Speight, Accelerate, and fellow Smilies and the many nameless others who took photos on the day.  It’s always fun looking back through them and reliving the day.  Some professional photos are availabe for a fee from Mike Hall photography.  The Star did a medley of Percy Pud photos as a video, complete with annoying background music.  And a late last minute find, I stumbled across this one from Mark Walton of the passing masses en route posted on the ‘Pictures of Sheffield old and new Facebook page.  Grand is it not?  This is what running always looks like to me at organised events.  A sea of the backs of people speeding away from me into the distance.  Sigh.  Memories eh?

For all my Percy Pud related posts see here.  Scroll down for older entries.

Merry Winterval until next time.

 

PS bit of a cheat this one, am publishing backdated to 3 december 2017 but actually did the write up today, 18th December.  Life in general and lack of internet access in particular getting in the way of my blogging career at times, would you credit it? Some think such extended silence from me is a blessing.  You have to decide for yourself.