A blanket, afternoon tea and the Dave Hawkins pacers

Normally, writing blog posts is my weekend job. I set aside a couple of hours on Saturday and Sunday to throw together a few posts and then schedule them to appear during the week. Last weekend was a touch on the busy side. There was no time to rest, never mind write anything. What was I up to, you may wonder? Well, other than the usual stuff, I finished making a special baby blanket and went to a posh afternoon tea come baby shower for beautiful mother-to-be, Nicole. This, and the walk to Ocean Village and back, took up most of Saturday.

Sunday began far earlier than I’d have liked, with a drive to Southsea for the Great South Run. Obviously, I was not doing any running. My job was to support the pacing team on what would be a difficult morning. The Great South Run is one of the biggest events in the running calendar, and the pacing team has always been hand-picked, coached, and organised by the irreplaceable Big Dave Hawkins. As those of you who follow this blog will know, we lost Big Dave earlier this year. The show must go on, or so they say, but it was going to be a tough day. 

Luckily, for the runners at the GSR who were counting on pacers to keep them on track and help them get PBs, Big Dave had done most of the organising well in advance. Rob, who is taking over the pacer wrangling role going forwards, merely had to deal with the final details, replacing injured runners, jiggling things around and making sure everyone turned up when they were supposed to. This is nowhere near as easy as it sounds, but luckily, he is being assisted by Commando, who is a whiz with lists and fine detail. Having said that, the future training runs may be interesting. Big Dave had an unparalleled sense of direction and could conjure exciting running routes out of thin air. Rob and Commando are both very good at getting lost.

It was a morose band of runners who met up in the dark at the supermarket car park in Hedge End on Sunday morning. This was when we’d usually be greeted by Big Dave’s wonderful grin. We arrived at Southsea Common shortly after sunrise, still feeling as if we’d left something vital behind. From there, we went to the VIP changing area in a large gazebo at Southsea Castle. This year there were no bunny ears and cottontails, or bright red shirts and flags. In fact, the new sponsor, Talk Talk, had provided some suitably sombre-looking shirts, given the occasion. Along with the flags, they’d also given the pacers little beatboxes primed with inspiring music to keep up the spirits of the runners on the ten-mile course.

The usual herding of cats debacle to get photographs of the pacing team followed. Getting one picture with the entire team in place, all eyes open, no gurning, and no flags covering faces, is always a challenge. Big Dave’s two sons joined in the fun, but it still felt like something was missing.

Then the pacers went off for a warm-up. Now, Kim, Nicole and I were free to wander around, looking at the crowds and the stalls set up on the common. We even managed to squeeze in a late breakfast of bacon rolls. By the time we’d finished, the runners were heading for their pens.

With glistening eyes and more than a little pride, we listened to a moving announcement about Big Dave. It was part eulogy, part thank you for all his hard work. The pacers gathered on the start line for a professional photograph. I watched with interest, wondering how many he’d taken and if he’d get one with all their eyes open. At least he didn’t have to herd them because they had already gathered.

Organising the pacers is a logistical nightmare, but planning and supervising the entire race is a feat of Herculean proportions. Approximately twenty thousand runners take part, each with their own hopes, dreams, and agendas. They are organised in waves, based on the estimated running time they put on their entry form. Each wave has its own starting point and time, with the elite runners going first. When the elite athletes lined up at the start, the pacers wandered off to join their various waves.

It would be some time before the first pacers set off, so Kim, Nicole, and I had time to kill. As veterans of many GSRs, we knew precisely where to kill it. We spent a pleasant half hour drinking coffee and browsing in a couple of charity shops and then found a spot to watch the race.

Our primary aim was cheering on the pacers and runners while snapping a few photographs. At first, it went well. We found a place that wasn’t too crowded at mile-five, or thereabouts, staked our claim and began cheering. Then, a runner on the other side of the course collapsed. It was nothing as spectacular as the fallen runner Nicole and I encountered at the Southampton Marathon last year, but it made us wonder if we were some kind of jinx. In the kerfuffle as the ambulance arrived, we almost missed Rob. Luckily, the runner was sitting up and talking as they loaded her into the ambulance, and I spotted Rob at the last second.

We carried on with the cheering and photographing until Commando came past. Then, with sore throats and aching backs, we wound our way through the crowds to the VIP changing rooms. 

We spotted this chap outside the castle. He looked familiar. Perhaps he was a ghost, or maybe Big Dave sent him to cheer us up?

If you like what I write, and you’re interested in my novels are available now on Amazon in paperback, on Kindle and via Kindle Unlimited. Check out my Amazon page here and my Goodreads page here. If you would like to help me keep writing, you can now buy me a virtual coffee by clicking on the little orange coffee cup at the bottom right.