Otmoor Challenge Results
Well done to Denise and Arthur for recording PBs in conditions that weren’t exactly suited to such things.
Congratulations also to Kate and Denise for their category prizes, even if the latter of those has still to materialise.
John won the report, and his epic tale follows the results.
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You’ll never walk alone It was a very hot June morning and I was putting up fence panels whilst putting off the Otmoor Challenge. I had planned to do it weeks before, then realised that I hadn’t done much training and now that it was upon me I simply didn’t fancy it. It was hot, Otmoor is hilly and I was out of shape; things weren’t looking great for a 13 mile cross-country romp. “Treat it as a training run”, said my personal trainer, “just take it easy and enjoy the views”.
So, we went to Otmoor and only just managed to get in a beer from the beer tent before the race started. That’s the trouble with all these summer festival races – too much temptation and too little time to digest a burger from the barbecue. The race was pleasant for the first few miles and all was going quite well; nice flat lanes, well-tended paths and plenty of shade in the wooded sections. We ran from Horton-cum-Studley, around Charlton-on-Otmoor, through Noke and up to Beckley. Have you ever been to Beckley? It’s the village on the hill with the radio-mast that you can see from most of our part of Oxfordshire. That should give you a clue as to how this race ends. Now, I quite like running up hills, they don’t bother me too much. I just take it steady and run slower, but I quite like them. I hate the idea of walking up a hill and scoff at those I pass, even though I know that they’ll sail pass me again when it levels out. I also give my wife a bit of grief when I see her walking up a hill, or when she tells me that she had to walk a hill (sorry Bambina). At about 10 miles in this race, the course comes off a flat farmer’s field, turns right onto a road and gradually climbs into Beckley. At about 10.25 miles the road goes vertical. At about 10.5 miles it goes back on itself, beyond vertical, and at about 11 miles I think you actually do a loop-de-loop. It’s quite steep. Half-way up this hill into Beckley, I had to walk. I’m so sorry and I won’t do it again, but I had to walk. It was at this stage – laboured breathing, roaring in the ears, chest just about ready to unzip itself and throw out my organs – that Jane appeared. And did she rub it in! Laughing at me, mocking me and seemingly a bit embarrassed by her husband’s pathetic near-crawl. There wasn’t even any real encouragement, it was more “come on Bishop, that’s pathetic” and “what on earth are you doing?” followed by “are you ill?” As I turned left, up and out of Beckley, I could hear my own son, Alexander, say “Mummy, I think daddy should give up running if this is what it does to him. He looks rubbish!” It levelled out at about 11.5 miles, and even went downhill again. Nice. A very gentle canter through more cool and shaded woods saw us approach 12.5 miles. At this point we turned left onto the road back up into Horton-cum-Studley. At this point my mind replayed the video footage of my wife and child laughing at me. At this point I put on a bit of a spurt. At this point I started passing people up the long drag to the finish. At this point I was salvaging my race, my pride, my position in my own family. At this point I got massive cramp in all of my legs. I had to stop. I nearly fell over. I nearly screamed. Runners passed me (again) with sympathetic enquiries, with supportive comments and with smug suggestions as to how to alleviate the cramp. All very kind, but not one offered to carry me over the line, not one.
After about 3 minutes, maybe 2 ½ , the cramp passed and I was able to run the last 200 metres to cross the line in at time that Jane has since tattooed onto my shoulder. And just below it she’s tattooed the words “You always walk alone”.
