The Athlete

I'm not a parkrun tourist. I've done a handful of different ones over the years, but I've never gone chasing a tally the way some people do. Still, Sandy and I had talked for ages about doing an "iconic" parkrun abroad, the kind of plan that comes up over a pint and then goes nowhere for two years. When we finally sat down and decided, I think I got the better of him. I pushed hard for Mura di Lucca, five kilometres around the old city walls of Lucca in Tuscany, and he didn't put up much of a fight.

Friday afternoon was a waiting game. Car packed, bike on the roof bars, and nothing left to do but wait for Cheryl to arrive with the rest of Sandy's weekend gear, the stuff he wasn't carrying on the bike. He's really taken to this bikepacking malarky.

A few weeks back at Troon I'd restarted parkrun after a short time off and came home with my best result in a while. Troon's one of the flattest courses you'll find, which makes it a good test. Not bad for getting back into it, and it showed the pace was still there. The following week at Dean Castle was rougher, a reminder that one good run means nothing without consistency. This morning I came back to Troon with a specific target: break 31 minutes for the first time this year.

Scotland play their first World Cup match since 1998 next Sunday. In Boston, at nine in the evening local time, which is two in the morning for anyone watching from Scotland. Kilmarnock Harriers had clearly done the maths. Roon the Toon was moved from its original date of 14th June to today, a week earlier, so that three thousand runners could do their ten kilometres around Kilmarnock town centre and out through the countryside near Caprington Castle, and then spend the following week in a state of anxious anticipation without a race to worry about as well.

Four weeks off. A vomiting bug took the first, a cold that may or may not have been covid took the other three. I didn't test, sometimes it's just easier not to know.

I use TrainerRoad, a lot. Winter and summer. It's just easier than the alternative, which in Scotland mostly means trying to work out if three layers is enough or if you need four, and whether it's actually going to rain or just look like it is going to rain. The turbo removes all of that. I turn up, I ride, I don't need to check anything. The weather outside can do whatever it likes.

Storm Dave was supposed to arrive this morning. I had checked the forecast twice, and was quietly delighted about it. Not because I wanted the storm, exactly, but because a named storm feels like a legitimate reason not to go to parkrun.

I spent most of Friday night quietly hoping Dean Castle parkrun would be cancelled.

I arrived at Eglinton Parkrun at 9:05am this morning. I know. I barely recognised myself.

Another Saturday, another late departure. It was my first visit to Cuningar Loop, and I made it with fifteen minutes to spare. I arrived at 9:15, just enough time to find a parking spot and do absolutely no warm-up whatsoever.

My mate and I both run parkrun. He's faster than me, comfortably and consistently faster. So when we started talking about making it competitive between us, the conversation lasted about three seconds. "What's the point? I'll win every week." He was right. And that bugged me.

Every so often I pull the data and take an honest look at what the last block of training actually produced. Not what it felt like, but what the numbers say. Six months of structured dual-sport training, from mid-September 2025 through mid-March 2026, gives me enough to see the patterns, the progress, and the setbacks.