In the end, I didn’t take much persuading and I was very grateful to Charles.
And so I found myself in the thick of a crowd of runners facing Charles on the start line, my heart pumping with nerves and excitement. This was it. The Churchstone parkrun.
‘Welcome everybody!’ yelled Charles, using the script I’d put together, ‘And thanks for joining nearly one hundred and forty thousand runners this morning who take part in over 600 parkruns every Saturday morning in the UK alone. It’s great to see so many of you here.’ He went through the standard announcements about the course, the finishing line, barcodes and scanning process. ‘And finally, I want to say a big thank you to Claire Harrison and Hilda Fitzroy-Townsend, who have been so instrumental in setting up this run. And also, Ash Laghari, who unfortunately can’t be with us today. Can you ladies give us a wave and can everyone give them a bit of a clap and a cheer.’
Feeling very self-conscious, I put up my hand and was almost deafened by the cheer that went up around me. A couple of people standing nearby, complete strangers, clapped me on the arms and the back.
‘Well done.’
‘Good job.’
‘Thanks so much.’
I just grinned at them, not sure what to say. I wasn’t sure I deserved this much credit. Suddenly, I wished Ash were here and I felt in my pocket for my phone.
Don’t break a leg. Thinking of you. Wish I could be there. Go for it xxx
He hadn’t forgotten us after all.
‘On your marks, on three. Three, two, one!’
And we were off. I was swept along with the crowd and a tide of euphoria. Running in a crowd was so different to running on your own and I had to force myself to slow a little when I realised my breath was coming too hard and fast. This pace was much faster than my usual plod and if I kept it up I’d run out of steam. Unlike a lot of people alongside me, I knew about the forthcoming hill. I needed to save some gas for that.
It didn’t take long for the field to even out and I settled into an easy pace, running for a while alongside a couple of the Harriers who all sported broad grins and each gave me a thumbs up as they noticed me. All the training had paid off and it made me smile to myself as I remembered those early days when I puffed and panted my way around the park, gasping for air. It was still tough and my lungs were working overtime but I had a rhythm, and each inward breath didn’t feel like a burst of fire in my chest. My legs stretched and flexed, hard at work, and I certainly knew about it as we started the climb up to Beacon Knoll. The front runners were long gone but I was pleased to see that a couple of people like me had slowed to a walk. I was never going to get up this stretch without stopping but I’d definitely improved since I’d first started running. Then, I wouldn’t have been able to run up any of it. I picked up my feet and forced myself to run up the last third of the steep hill, knowing that once I’d crested the top I only had one downhill kilometre to the finishing line.
Hunched over, carrying tension in my neck and shoulders, I finally reached the top, my thighs burning. I hauled in a desperate breath and plunged downhill, allowing my arms to swing wildly, letting relief and gravity carry my body. My feet thudded on the soft, grassy path as I focused on the red top of the man in front of me. He was wearing a ‘50’ T-shirt, denoting that he’d run fifty parkruns, and I had nearly caught up with him. I forced my legs to go a little faster, I was going to overtake him. I think my head must have been flooded with hallucinogenic endorphins because the Chariots of Fire music was playing in my head and every competitive bone in my body had suddenly sat up and taken notice. I streaked down the hill, passing the other runner, hell bent on reaching the finishing line that I knew was just round the next bend, hidden by the shrubs crowding the entrance to this wooded avenue.
I burst out into the sunlight, the finishing line just a hundred metres in front of me and ran so hard I thought my knees might give way.
‘Go Claire!’ yelled Elaine, who was a mere blur in my vision as I reached the end of the funnel. I heard the click of her stopwatch as I crossed the line.
‘Well done!’ called Marsha.
I staggered up the funnel bent double and trying to catch my breath.
I’m going to die. Or throw up. Or both.
‘Great finish,’ said the man with the ‘50’ T-shirt from behind me.
‘Thanks,’ I gasped. ‘Don’t know what got into me.’
I held out my hand to the young volunteer dishing out the finishing tokens. ‘Thanks.’
‘This is a good course,’ said the man behind me. ‘Really enjoyed that. And so glad you’ve started one here. I’ve been driving over to Harrogate for the last two years. This one’s a bit more of a challenge.’
‘Mmm, I’m not so sure,’ I wheezed. ‘I knew putting that hill in was a mistake.’
He roared with laughter as we joined separate queues to have our barcodes scanned and hand in our tokens.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The mood in The Friendly Bean was triumphant, especially after Sascha announced that the coffee was on the house. ‘For this week, only,’ she added with stern admonishment. ‘Don’t think I’m going soft or anything.’
Her father, who, as promised, had marshalled for us this morning and was now helping behind the counter, rolled his eyes and carried on doing sterling work at the big espresso machine. I’d had a very useful chat with him on the walk back to the café after we’d tidied up after the run.
‘As if,’ muttered Penny under her breath and I gave her a nudge. Sascha had been nothing but generous to me.
‘Can I have that?’ asked Ava, reaching forward to my plate where the last third of the brownie I’d treated myself to sat.
I frowned. ‘I’ll cut it in half and you can share it with Poppy.’ I glanced across the table where Poppy was sitting next to Penny, scrolling through her phone, a sharp-eyed expression on her face as she concentrated on the screen. She was hunched over her mobile a little too secretively to my mind. The school was very good at sending reminders about keeping children safe online which gave me cause for a whole new set of worries. Was I being diligent enough with the Wi-Fi settings? I trusted Poppy to be sensible but smarter girls than she had been caught out online.
‘Everything okay, Poppy?’
Alarm skittered briefly across her small, sharp features and then she straightened and shoved her phone in her pocket. ‘Yes.’
I narrowed my eyes, wondering what she was doing. I didn’t like the idea of snooping on her phone; she was a good kid. For all I knew she was texting or messaging some boy. ‘Want some brownie?’
She shook her head and lifted her chin. I noticed she was a little pale, her mouth set in a stern line. ‘Ava can have it.’
I lifted a brow. It was rare for her to let Ava get away with having more than her fair share.
She shrugged. ‘I’m not hungry. Can I go outside?’
‘Yes, we shouldn’t be too much longer. Don’t go too far away.’
Like a bird released from captivity, she sprang up and dashed outside.
Penny caught my attention and we started chatting. When I next checked, Poppy was leaning with her legs crossed at the ankle against a low wall over by the swings, fully absorbed in her phone.