It was a glorious Mayday. The kind you always hope for on bank holidays but never get. Except this time it happened, and we loved it. And this sunny day was also the 5th running of the Woodhouse Eaves Mayday challenge. A 13.5 mile event over the hills that started and finished in the heart of our village. In other words, our local race.
This is the first significant race I've missed since deciding to make the transition to barefoot running. And as I stood on the finish line cheering my clubmates in I had a sense of the sacrifice that's necessary to do this properly. I wanted to be out there running and, judging by some excellent results amongst my friends, I could have placed highly. Jonathan - probably the most similar to me in current form at the club - ran out of his skin to finish in the top 10. He's a pretty good gauge of where I might have placed. But he is good on hills and I'm not. So, while I like to think I'd have raced him to the end, I'm fairly sure he'd actually have beaten me by several minutes yesterday even if I was on top form.
Whatever may have been, this is the choice I've made. So while I looked on jealously at the camaraderie of a conquered course and an almighty effort in the hot sun that my clubmates shared, I hardened my resolve to press on in doing this properly.
Hours later, when all had dispersed to the sun-kissed revelry of their bank holiday barbecues, I snuck down. No heel pain, and a few quiet laps of the field. I'll be back, I thought.
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