Some races are more unpredictable, memorable and comedic than others. The Piggy Plod, by its name, sets itself up to be a race that shouldn't be taken too seriously. Having run this race twice before in 2018 and 2019, both of them in hot conditions, I knew it would be laid-back and not especially competitive, especially as today was shaping up to be the hottest of the year so far.
But this year I was all set to take this as a gentle run with the lovely Mrs S. I'm on a 12-week rehabilitation programme for my Achilles heel, which involves lots of calf and glute strengthening, a course of shockwave treatment and generally giving my left ankle just the right amount of load.
'Are you all set?', Mrs S called up the stairs as we were gettuing ready to leave. 'Oh yes', I replied. Roll forward an hour, and we'd just parked in a field near Sixpenny Handley. I undid my my normal summertime shorts and let them drop to the ground... to realise that I'd had a wardrobe malfunction and I was only wearing my cacks. Quick calculation - big heavy shorts or Classic pants?
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| We can all agree that this was the right decision given the circumstances |
We spent a happy few minutes chatting to Steve and Paula Edwards from Romsey and also Dave and Tone from OS, with me insisting I was going to be sensible. And then one minute from the start I looked at the assembled field and mentioned that it didn't look terribly competitive. Mrs S, Dave and Tone urged me to run at my own pace and see what happens.
And so I set off in the first wave, a fair way back in the pack, aiming for a tempo-ish pace. I was working hard to keep my expectations firmly in check. The pace up the hill from the start line was very ambitious but I tried to be extremely sensible.
Over the next mile or so most of the runners ahead of me faded as the heat and the hills began to bite. I found myself in third place, which I thought would be a super result; respectable but demonstrably cautious... I'd been first over the line on both the previous occasions. But then the lead runner abruptly blew up and the other guy slowed right down on a hill, and I edged past.
And so that was really it - I spent the next 7 km on my own, focusing on keeping below a race pace. In truth, the heat was my friend because I was able to work hard without running hard, if that makes any sense. There was no shade and the heat was quite intense. The marshals enjoyed laughing at my unconventional shorts, on which thankfully no terrible sweat gussetry was apparent.
I finished in 43:59, nearly 4 minutes slower than in 2019, thirsty, slightly bemused and very happy. Here are my stats.
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| Mrs S keeping cool |
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| The Romsey gang |
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| The OS gang |
