Run Reports

I'm not really a parkrun tourist. Most of my parkruns are at the same two locations, and then a few more sprinkled around the local areas I've lived in. I would, however, like to do all the parkruns in the country in which I live. (There's not that many). There is one hiccup, though. We have a deceased parkrun. Kungsängen parkrun ran for 131 weeks between 2017 and 2022, and I fell out of parkrunning during the pandemic and hadn't got back into it before Kungsängen's untimely demise and subsequent reincarnation as the nearby Lilsjön parkrun six months later.

I was not alone in missing out on the Kungsängen experience. It turns out that just one member of our running club (more accurately described as an eating club with running), had made it there, and a few of us decided to give the old course one last hurrah. So, one Thursday afternoon, eight of us headed out with nothing more than a dream, a GPS map, and the European Territory Manager for parkrun, to see what we had missed out on.

We synchronised watches, someone called "Tre, två, ett, kör", and we were off. I fell immediately into third place where I remained for the entire run. This was less to do with any athletic prowess on my part, and more to do with the people behind me not really trying very hard. The two people in front of me weren't really trying either, it's just that even their conversational pace happens to be quite a lot faster than my pedal-to-the-metal, zone five, gasping for air, lactic acid throbbing, headphones pumping motivational speed metal and punk rap, "why did i set out so fast," pace.

The first kilometre was fast and flat, which was, if I may be so bold, quite misleading about what was to come. We were flanked by thick forest on the right, and fields to the left. It went by in 4:40. Around this time I noticed that the second place runner had stopped completely and was taking some photos. I was fighting for my life, and he was a hundred meters ahead of me, with time for some snapshots. As I got closer I noticed that we were running adjacent to a moose. The first moose I had ever seen in the wild. I did my best to admire it while running, but the adrenaline and heavy panting (mine, not the moose's), made it tough to focus. The second place runner finished his photoshoot and sprinted off ahead of me. This would be the last time I saw him until the finish line.

After another 500 meters I came to a crossroads and realised I hadn't really been paying attention to the pre-race briefing, and that my watch wasn't set on map mode. I had to stop briefly to flick through the settings or risk going off course. I'm not sure those few seconds were much of a difference maker, as the second place runner finished some three-and-a-half minutes in front of me, but I guess we will never know for sure. I turned right, up and into the forest. Emphasis on up. For the next 2 kilometres, the course undulated through the woods alternating between wide open mixed-used trails and narrow woodland tracks, before rejoining the opening outward kilometre for the return sprint. The rolling terrain and mixed forest/field surrounds felt like a mix of Huddinge and Lilsjön parkruns. It is, or was, a lovely course.

Knowing what to expect, and undistracted by any large ungulates, I pushed a little harder for the final kilometre, averaging 4:29 for those final 1,000 meters, finishing in 24:07.