I actually wanted to go to Margate Parkrun (perhaps next week), but plant greed drove me to run in Whitstable.
To explain, one of the most exciting 30 minutes I had last year was the British Cactus & Succulent Soc.’s Cactus Fair in Swalecliffe. Yes I am a plant nerd. But the running nerd in me wondered today what my heart-rate was as I wandered round. It is quite a brutal event; a bunch of people deeply focused on getting what they want, the usual English Rule of Sorrying is suspended for the duration. Body-blocking, swooping and snatching are permitted.
But back to Parkrun. Sigh.
Get to the crunch, I haven’t run it for over a year. My PB is 26 minutes something, I ran 29 minutes something. Oddly not a PW, but still. It hurt to run that badly, in both ways.
But look. Who could say no to such an event? A lovely morning.
However there was a Tiger Dad who made me very uncomfortable. His daughter (8ish?) must have been running 9.5 minutes miles and wanted to stop while I was overtaking them at 4k. She was crying, he was encouraging her. She really wanted to stop. I heard this go on for at least .5k. I didn’t see them finish. Either Social Services rugby-tackled him or the poor lass just laid down and played dead.
Even if she was naturally a princess-type whinger of the worst sort, he should still have let them walk. I think I and all the other people around them felt supremely uncomfortable about the whole thing, about whether to say something or not. Only parents know their children’s limits. But only children know their parents are fuckwits who put them off running for life. Rant over.
Crap photo, sorry.