parkrun

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.

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.

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.