Sat in my car waiting out the rain, and looking at all the other
runners in their cars doing the same, I have to say that it looked like
it might be an endurance rather than a fun race. But then, with 10
minutes to go before the start gun, the rain lessened to a drizzle, and
by the time we’d reached the top of the first hill the sun was trying to
make a break through. The race is organised by the Stroud and District
Athletic Club and is part of a memorial series for one of their former
runners, Roger Briers, and if you complete the series you can join the
medals together to form a plaque (which is a nice touch). The Standish
Woodlands Chase 10(ish) miler (https://www.stroudac.co.uk/StandishWoodlandChase)
is a runner’s race! From the start line you go straight up! For quite a
long time. Infact, ‘up’ (and steep ‘down’) is a common feature of the
race. However, the woods are stunning to run through and by the time you
are on the second loop then you know where you are going and can start
to enjoy yourself. The views of the Severn valley across to Wales and
into the Stroud valley really take your breath away as you come out of
the woods ready for the fast descent to the finish line. The race was
really well organised, and all the local runners I met were really
friendly. It was a small field with 153 finishers (in which I came 40th)
but I don’t think it should become much larger - sometimes a smaller
challenging race is really satisfying. I think I’ll be looking to do
this again some time!
As I told just about
anyone who would listen on the day, my preparation for this race was unusual to
say the least. I did the Oxford Parkrun in the morning (starting slowly before building
up speed towards the end), then went to London for a drinking session with some
old friends (started reasonably quickly before slowing right down), before arriving
back at Oxford Parkway some time after 5, ready to whisked up to the wilds of the
North Oxfordshire border country.
With all this behind
me, I wasn’t sure how the famously challenging hills around Hornton would feel.
The answer was ‘not too bad’, or no worse than usual, at least. There were a
decent number of ERRs there, but with Witney out in force we didn’t quite clean
up trophy-wise as we had in recent years. Well done to Robert and Jacky for
winning their categories, and to our men’s team of Robert, the Baker boys and,
er, me for finishing a notional 2nd men’s team, which was still handy
for Grand Prix points.
The trophy
presentations were quick and efficient which, whilst lacking the comic value of
last year, did mean we were in the pub in good time for our post-race meal,
organised by Tom. About 15 of us, runners and supporters alike, crowded into
the Dun Cow for some excellent food, and yes, more drinks. So maybe this regime
of race, beer, race, beer has something going for it.
Lakeland 100 is a continuous 105 mile clockwise
circular loop of the Lake District starting and finishing in Coniston. The route
is unmarked and competitors have to navigate using a route description, map and
compass and ‘register’ at checkpoints along the route. There is a 40-hour cut-off
time for completion.
Started
6pm Friday 26 July, finished 08:23am Sunday 28 July
Total
time awake without sleep = 51 hours
Youngest
finisher = 18 years old; oldest finisher = 70 years old
Playlist:
Enlightenment (Van Morrison), Not Dark Yet (Bob Dylan), When
the Night Comes (The Boomtown Rats), One
Way (The Levellers), And Dream of
Sheep (Kate Bush), Night Running
(Cage the Elephant), Morning (Beck), Let the Day Begin (The Call), Heaven is a Place on Earth (Belinda
Carlisle), Fall On Me (R.E.M.), The Mountain (Maddison’s Thread), Keep Moving (Madness), Clocks (Coldplay), Comfortably Numb (Pink Floyd), In
The Still of the Night (The Five Satins) Golden Slumbers/Carry That
Weight/The End (The Beatles)
“We are judged not by
what we start, but by what we finish.”
Leg 1 Coniston to
Seathwaite, 7 miles
Highlights = fresh legs and no blisters; the imposing
eastern precipice of Dow Crag viewed from the Walnar Scar Road; sun starting to
set over the west Cumbrian coast; the views of the Scafell Range and Harter
Fell before the descent to Seathwaite; the company of fellow runners and the
support of spectators.
Coniston
village, 6.04pm Friday 27 July. 0.2 miles covered.
Mandatory kit includes hat, gloves, headtorch,
survival bivi bag, first aid kit, waterproof jacket and trousers, emergency
food, whistle, compass, map of the route, spare batteries, spare base layers,
fully charged mobile phone.
500 competitors started the Lakeland 100 in 2019. The ‘race’ starts at 6pm on the Friday
evening with a 40-hour time limit for completion. There are 15 checkpoints
along the route, each one with a race elimination cut off time. Any competitors
not leaving the checkpoint by that time are eliminated from the race and driven
back to the start in a ‘broom wagon’. The first 5 checkpoint cut offs are not
over-generous, with night navigation and difficult terrain underfoot adding to
the challenge of the first 33 miles.
Mile 5.5. 7:30pm
Friday 27 July.
Top of the Walna Scar Road with Harter Fell and the Scafell
range in the background. At this point in the race I was in about 420th
position. Although early evening it was very humid and as early as mile 5 I was
putting salt replacement tablets in my water bottles. The photo was taken by a
L100 finisher from 2018 out to support the 2019 runners. “It’s really tough,
but you’ll love it” she said.
Descending towards the
Seathwaite checkpoint.
Leg 2 Seathwaite to
Boot (7 miles), 14 miles covered
The steep descent into Eskdale, hugging the fence line in single
file.
Mile 11. 8, 09:20pm
Friday 27 July.
Eskdale is a special place that holds many wonderful memories
for me with annual summer camping trips as a boy. I have returned many times to
this magical valley over the years and I never tire of its soft and rugged
beauty. It is the only valley in the Lake District that does not contain a
lake. The winding River Esk and its mountain-born chill waters runs alongside
the route for half a mile or so and I pass by St. Catherine’s Church and the
stepping stones I played on during those summer camps many years ago. It’s a
magical moment of childhood nostalgia. Arriving soon after in the tiny
settlement of Boot (old English for ‘a curve in the valley’) at checkpoint 2 at
09:48pm, it was time for biscuits and cake and coke from the Christmas-themed checkpoint
(I kid you not, Shakin Stevens’ Merry
Christmas Everyone booming from the speakers and marshals dressed as
Christmas elves)!
Leg 3 Boot to Wasdale
Head (5.4 miles), 19.4 miles covered
From Boot we join the ‘old corpse road’ that runs between
Wasdale and Eskdale, and which was, as its name would suggest, used to carry
bodies for burial. Although early in the race there are already several
competitors who have retired at the first two checkpoints.
Headtorch lights flicker along the valley as we pass the
brooding Burnmoor Tarn in the gloaming and descend into Wasdale where a barn
has been converted by Sunderland Strollers into a ‘Strollerfest’ that feels more
like a Tyrolean beer festival than a checkpoint at an ultra. Four Geordie
lasses are doing The Birdie Song
dance (yes, that one where you flap your arms manically and wiggle your legs) as
I wolf down three cheese and pickle sandwiches and, deciding that the long
ascent of Black Sail Pass is mildly preferable to The Birdie Song on a loop, I peel myself away from the checkpoint.
Leg 4 Wasdale to
Buttermere (6.9 miles), 26.3 miles covered
Much of the next hour is spent toiling up and up and up and
up, on what seems like an endless stairway, if not to heaven, then somewhere
close to it. At one point I look up and confuse the headtorch lights high above
me for stars. Far below lights are twinkling white in a long line. Just
magical. It’s still incredibly humid and at each stream
crossing I dip my head in the cooling water that runs off the fells. I’m also
taking care to hydrate well and put Tailwind and Mountain Fuel sachets into my
water bottles. Descending into the Ennerdale Valley and past the Black Sail Hut
hostel at 01:30am, I see three ‘spectators’ out on the course. Now that’s one
way to spend your Friday night! Finally, at 02:10am
on Saturday morning I arrive at Buttermere Village Hall checkpoint.
The descent from
Scarth Gap Pass to Buttermere, 01:50am and 25 miles covered.
The checkpoint theme at Buttermere is ‘The Day of the Dead’
and I’m greeted by a runner bent double and throwing up in the road and then by
a human skeleton as I dib my timing chip, or, at least, a guy in a skeleton
outfit. Inside the village hall itself the scene is one of subdued desolation.
There are about 20 people crammed into the small room and quite a few runners
who have retired here, they are sitting on chairs, head in hands, looking
disconsolate or talking about the injuries they have picked up which mean that
they can’t continue. It’s not a place to linger. I grab a couple of hot dog
sausages lathered in rich brown sauce, a couple of slices of bread and a hot
steaming mug of coffee and then I’m on my way again.
Leg 5 Buttermere to
Braithwaite (6.5 miles), 32.8 miles covered
“In the still of the night
as I gaze out of my window at the moon in its flight, my thoughts all stray to
you” (The Five Satins) What a beauty this leg was. In the still of the night. New trails
for me contouring the north-western fells above Sail Beck. A real highlight of
the race this section, lost in my own thoughts with an elongated stream of
headtorch lights indicating the twisting snaking climb of the paths ahead. It’s
very quiet and still, and in this isolated place there is no other light or
noise pollution. Whiteless Pike, Wandope, Scar Crag and Sail loom darkly to our
left as we cross Third Gill and then Addacombe Beck. I get my mug out of my pack
and bend down to the fast-flowing stream to fill my mug and pour water over my
head. I stop dead mid-stoop. Am I hallucinating, or is that a head in the
stream staring back at me? Yes, on closer inspection it is a dark
semi-submerged sheep’s head, its dead black eye fixed in its watery grave. Note
to self – don’t drink directly from the streams! Five minutes later I’m
scrambling up the loose scree of Sail Pass, and after a cut through heather on
a narrow path I’m at Barrow Door, ready for the long grassy runnable descent to
Braithwaite (pronounced ‘Brethet’ by the locals). I sit for 10 minutes or so in
St. Herbert’s Church Hall and wolf down three (yes, three!) bowls of rice
pudding and then a pasta dish with the tangiest spicy tomato sauce. I’m so
pleased that so far I don’t have any stomach issues and I’m eating and
hydrating well.
Leg 6 Braithwaite to
Blencathra Centre (8.5 miles), 41.3 miles covered
Half an orange and then I’m out of the checkpoint, walking
on the A66 out of Braithwaite slurping a hot cup of tea as I go. I’m joined by
Gemma and we chat and run together. It’s 5am and no need for headtorches now.
Being so early on a Staurday morning there is very little traffic on the A66
and soon we are off the road and wending our way towards Keswick. Gemma has
made the journey from Devon with her husband and two young kids. I lose touch
with Gemma on the ascent of Latrigg but soon join Kirsty on the countour around
Lonscale Fell north of Keswick. “How far’s the next checkpoint? I’m desperate
for a wee! It’s easy for you blokes!” Kirsty (late 20s and from somewhere up
north) is great fun, and it strikes me that only in this kind of event would
your first conversation with a complete stranger be about going to the loo!
Chatting away, the rain starts to fall, intermittent at first and then more
persistent but we soon arrive at Blencathra Centre, the next checkpoint with a
hard rock theme and where Freddie Mercury (see pic below) offers me a swig of
whiskey from a bottle placed on the table next to the sausage rolls and peanut
butter sandwiches. I opt for a mug of vegetable soup instead, and soon I’m on
my way again, walking out of the checkpoint with another strong coffee,
mourning the loss of Kirsty to the not inconsiderable queue outside the ladies
loo.
Checkpoint 7 Blencathra Centre, 41.3 miles
“Don’t stop believing,
hold on to that feeling.”
Leg 7 Blencathra
Centre to Dockray (7.7 miles), 49 miles covered
I fall in step with Annette, 60, who has a fast walk that is
quicker than my stumble jog. We spend all of 5 minutes together before she dry
retches for a few moments by the side of the road and then shows me a very
brisk and clean pair of heels. Crossing the A66 checkpoint is mercifully quick
and before long I am on the climb towards Clough Head (memories of my Bob
Graham Round attempt from last year) and then settling into a rhythm for the
6km traipse along the Old Coach Road in the pouring rain. Half way along a
couple of dark brown wild horses join me and we walk together along the path
for a good half a mile. They hold a position to my left on the path and I start
talking to them and the lead horse half turns its head and gazes at me with a
deep meaningful look, which could mean a) What are you doing here on this long
and winding road in the pouring rain? b) Why don’t you just jump on my back and
I’ll give you a ride along this track to Dockray? c) You are not even half way
through this race and you’re already 5 hours behind the leader.
Leg 8 Dockray to
Dalemain (10.1 miles), 59.1 miles covered
Dockray is a desolate makeshift mini-marquee checkpoint that
is being absolutely battered by the strong wind and rain. I’m not overly
reassured by the dibber marshal saying “Are you feeling ok?” as I arrive. I
wonder if I’m starting to look like a White Walker from Game of Thrones with an
otherworldly look in my eye. To restore some colour to my face I wolf down a
mug of hot soup and grab a handful of cheese and pickle sandwiches. “Stock up,
love, it’s ten miles to the next checkpoint” says one of the ever cheerful
helpers, who obviously also feels I look less than sprightly. The next three
hours feel like seven. I have to keep reminding myself to enjoy the experience
and take in the scenery and the views, which admittedly are stunning as we
contour Gowbarrow Fell and follow a gorgeous sinewy mountain path above the
north-east shore of Ullswater. I use the excuse to pause and take a photo
(below), and then hook up again with Gemma who is going strong on this section.
Reaching the Dalemain estate after an interminable road section I am buoyed by
the 50 mile runners who have started their race at 11.30am from this location and
are on their 4 mile loop of the estate. I have a mile running alongside them as
they pass me in waves, and I’m so encouraged I break into what can only be
described as a slow-motion sprint as they shout their encouragement. “Go on
Nick”, “Great job, Nick” “Respect Nick” “Keep it going Nick!” And then, at just
after noon, I reach the large checkpoint marquee where delicious vegetable stew
and sponge and custard await. Yes! Sponge and custard, and oh my goodness, it
tastes like the best thing ever consumed by a human. My drop bag is also
waiting for me here, which means I will now have poles for the second half of
the course, very welcome for tired legs. I also put on fresh socks but I’m
really concerned by the state of my feet, big angry blisters have formed and
the skin is albino white and shrivelled. I towel them as dry as I can and
sprinkle talc on them, but it all feels a bit late and futile as I leave the
checkpoint in an absolute deluge of rain.
Leg 9 Dalemain to
Howtown (7.1 miles), 66.2 miles covered
Very little stands out about this leg other than I was on my
own and it was raining heavily throughout. Ullswater to my right, bracken to my
left, and the path puddletastic. Every step was sharp pain in both feet. My
shoes and socks were sodden. It was impossible to keep them dry.
The long and winding
road…to Howtown. Mile 64, 20 hours in.
Leg 10 Howtown to
Mardale Head (9.4 miles), 75.6 miles covered
This is a beast of a leg, with a long 4.5km leg-sapping
climb up Fusedale to the highest point of the route at 650 metres just south of
Wether Hill summit. The clag was down, the grassy pathless top a muddy morass.
A licorice stick and a bar of Kendal Mint Cake saw me to the top and the
descent towards Haweswater was a treacherous slalom along a thin snaking path
through bracken with treacherous rocks hidden amid the mud. I passed a runner
who had broken his leg on the descent. There but for the grace of God. An isolated
and inaccessible single-file rocky cambered path runs along the side of Haweswater
in the Mardale valley. Haweswater was the site of a controversial dam project
in 1929 which saw the flooding of the villages of Measand and Mardale Green.
The path that skirts the reservoir is 6km long and is narrow, strewn with rocks
and boulders and undulates the whole way. It was also really treacherous in the
wet. There were signs that more than a few runners had fallen into the
chest-high bracken. I made tortuously slow progress and by the time I arrived
at the checkpoint at Mardale Head almost 4 hours had passed since the last
checkpoint and it was now late afternoon, with a strong wind and lashing rain beating
down on the makeshift marquee, with runners and volunteers huddling for shelter
from the elements. Shivering in the cold and wet, I wolfed down a cup of
lukewarm vegetable soup and one of the volunteers helped me to put on my waterproof
trousers, my legs struggling to respond. Kirsty arrived and was considering
retiring, or getting some sleep before continuing. A lot were retiring here,
and it was quickly time to move on.
Leg 11 Mardale Head
to Kentmere (6.5 miles), 82.1 miles covered
The climb of Gatescarth Pass started as soon as I left the
checkpoint and continued for close to an hour. The wind was raging and the rain
relentless. I stumbled down the descent into Longsleddale shadowing two of the
50 mile runners and into the appropriately named Sadgill. Kentmere is a
gorgeous valley and the route here wends its undulating way over several walls
with steps built into them, through farmland and fields. Enjoying these last
few miles of daylight it was dusk as I arrived at Kentmere Village Hall, where
Disney was the theme and The Circle of
Life got stuck in my head for the next few hours.
Leg 12 Kentmere to
Ambleside (7.3 miles), 89.4 miles covered
Many of the checkpoints are immediately followed by a climb,
and the Garburn Pass on fresh legs would not be overly taxing, but on tired
legs it seemed to go on a while. I had done a recce of this leg in March, but
with a tired head and legs and in the dark every turn seemed like a potential
navigational trap for the unwary. Eventually, however, I was winding my way
through the mystical Skelghyll Wood and hooking up with a couple of other
middle-aged men in the woods(!) for the run into Ambleside at just before 1am as
some late night revellers cheered us through the town. At the checkpoint I was
adopted by an incredibly helpful marshal who sorted me out with food and drink,
pepsi and more hot soup. After a brief stop I was determined that Saturday
night would be alright for fighting my way to the finish, despite the now
horrendous searing pain/agony that every step produced in my feet and lower
legs, particularly my right shin which was clearly unhappy with the strain it
was under.
Leg 13 Ambleside to
Chapel Stile (5.6 miles), 95 miles covered
It took me two and a half hours to travel the relatively
flat (only 234 m of ascent) and innocuous five and a half mile section to the Langdale
checkpoint, which probably tells you everything you need to know about the
physical state I was in at this point. Dark. Cold. Wet. Uncomfortably not so
numb. My headtorch batteries faded and I fumbled a battery change. I started
getting careless at loo stops too – enough said about what that meant! Finally
the ‘runway lights’ of the ‘come fly with me’ themed Chapel Stile checkpoint
came into view, the final checkpoint with a cut-off time, and I knew now that
barring complete physical shutdown I was going to finish.
Leg 14 Chapel Stile to
Tilberthwaite (6.5 miles), 101.5 miles covered
This was the leg where Annette powered past me again (I
hadn’t realised I’d gone past her again on the route) as I was having a
‘comfort break’ by the side of the path. This was the leg where a shadowy figure
just in front of me fell headfirst into an almighty deep bog, saving me the
same ignominy by seconds. This was the leg where the dawn emerged and started
to paint the colours of the new day, beautiful greys and greens and blues and
soft warm orange. This was the leg where I relaxed about any kind of finish
time, the goal was just to finish. This was the leg where I powered into the
checkpoint at Tilberthwaite and saw the ‘just over a parkrun to go’ sign. This
was the leg where I missed out on the cheese toasties they were serving at the
checkpoint, so keen was I to get up ‘Jacob’s ladder’ (the infamous
Tilberthwaite steps) and on to the finish.
Leg 15 Tilberthwaite
to Coniston (3.5 miles), 105 miles covered
"We're supposed to be athletes. This is more like the walking
wounded in Napoleon's retreat from Russia!" said one fellow competitor as
he hobbled past me at mile 104. I lost a good few places on this final section,
but I enjoyed it, absorbing the experience and reflecting on the journey I’d
been on during the event.
What did I learn?
Well, on a practical note, I learnt that if it is going to be wet for a
long event make sure that feet are well lubricated throughout and change socks
regularly. My legs and body felt generally fine. My biggest physical problem
was my swollen and badly blistered feet. I learnt that age and gender and body
shape are not necessarily indicators to stamina or performance in an ultra of
this kind. It appears to be as much about your head and your heart and about
one’s personal pain and ‘staying power’ threshold. I learnt that ‘running’ 105
miles in this way is a visceral and life-affirming experience. Not a unique
experience, but a highly unusual one which supercharges your senses throughout.
I learnt that ultra-runners are kind and generous souls with a strong sense of
community and shared experience. I learnt (and I kind of knew this already), that
I am well and truly in love with the Lake District. As Arthur Wainwright said:
“Surely there is no other place in this
whole wonderful world quite like Lakeland…no other so exquisitely lovely, no
other so charming, no other that calls so insistently across a gulf of
distance.”
Relief. Exhaustion.
Pride.
The Lakeland 100 was a compelling and utterly memorable life
experience, which like Lakeland slate and granite is now chiselled into every
nerve and fibre. The inner glow is still burning brightly.
People have asked me why I would want to run 105 miles. To
me it is about discovering who I am, and understanding a little more about the
human condition; how we are made of fragile temporal flesh and blood, how
vulnerable we are, how strong we are, and how our mind and body can work in
beautiful harmony as well as fierce antipathy and antagonism.
And finally,
(photo on the next page not for the squeamish) a foot note…
Drive for a couple of hours on ‘A’ roads and motorways and
you’ll average about 52 mph, needing roughly 2 hours to travel 105 miles. It’s
a long way in a motorised vehicle on straight flat tarmac roads, never mind
undulating uneven Lakeland trails. I
occasionally get asked ‘Why would you want to run 100 miles?’ and labelled
(affectionately, I hope!) as ‘mad’ or ‘a nutter’. It's a question I always
struggle to reply to, because to me it is the most natural and wonderfully
life-enhancing thing to do. Running long distances in beautiful locations has
provided me with so many memorable and wonderful life experiences. To me, my
character and personality is sharpened in the forge of these experiences, and I
see more clearly and deeply a mirror of who I really am. Without wanting to
sound pretentious, in part it’s about enlightenment, and an almost spiritual
communion with the natural world. This is said without any sense of judgement
on others. It’s merely an attempt to shine a light on who I am and what
enervates and excites me about life. And how lucky we are to live in this world
with so many natural wonders and life experiences to enjoy! And if you’ve got
this far, thank you for reading this.
On a warm, pleasant Sunday morning on the last day of June, a select
group of 8 Roadrunners made our way to the Thame 10k. It was my first
time at this race, and by far the biggest field I'd run with before,
with well over 800 runners taking part. Apart from a rather over
enthusiastic MC, I thought it was well organised, with the start having
different sections marked out in five minute intervals (faster runners
at the front). The course itself was, as promised by those who'd run it
before, mainly flat, with the first few kilometres taking us through the
town centre. The conditions were, I thought, very good, not too hot
with a gentle breeze providing a bit of relief from all the exertion.
Paul and Stan played their jokers, a good move considering the small
numbers from Eynsham. I'd been told that Thame was a good course to
improve a PB, and so it proved for myself, Stan and Caroline. Mine was
an improvement of over a minute, which I was very pleased about. Kate A
was the 3rd lady to finish, which was a great effort. Ian K popped up at
two points along the course, including at a crucial section half a
kilometre from the end, which definitely helped push me to the finish -
thanks, Ian! There was a bit of crowding in the finish funnel, but there
was a T shirt and refreshments at the end of it. I enjoyed my race, and
would definitely run it again in future!
A
cool May Day Bank Holiday saw 16 Eynsham Roadrunners turn out for the
tenth anniversary of this popular and scenic, single-lap 10k race.
Starting and finishing (literally) in the middle of a busy village
festival, congratulations must go to the organisers for their superb
arrangements. A few minutes after the last runner had finished, all the
fencing and other stuff had been tidied away so it seemed like it had
never happened and everyone was free to enjoy the funfair, stalls, food
and entertainment.
ERR members scooped two category wins:
Robert Storey 1st MV50 (36.45)
Jacky Pinnock 1st LV55 (48.49)
Other notable runs were:
Kate Allred 2nd LV45 (40.19)
Laura Leach 2nd LV35 and PB (41.51)
Kate Williamson 2nd LV55 (49.11).
One
of our runners took a worrying turn for the worse during the race and
so spent some time in an ambulance and at the John Radcliffe Hospital.
Happily, all seems to be OK and they live to compete another day…
Thanks
to all who helped with lifts and more. This race is a nice,
early-summer outing along quiet lanes, with drinks, jelly babies and
super-soaker cooling at halfway, plus free tea and cake at the end –
highly recommended! Next year’s race is on 4 May 2020 – see http://www.chalgrovefestival10k.com
As I sit here in 23C blazing sunshine, it seem hard to fathom that less
than a week ago I was lining up to start the Chedworth Roman Train race
with blue fingers and chattering teeth. The wind was biting, and the
hills looked formidable, but the race delivered everything it promised -
and to be honest I wouldn’t want to race 10 miles over terrain like
that in weather like we are experiencing this Easter weekend. The most
important thing to mention about the Chedworth race was the star quality
of the marshalls. Despite the cold wind, I’m pretty sure that every
single one of them cheered on the runners, offering hearty support all
the way round the course. And the clarity of instruction was also great
to hear - no one was going to go the wrong way on this trail run!
Earlier than I expected, at around the 8km mark, we had a river crossing
to make - bringing back ‘happy’ memories of Ascott cross country! This
meant kilometers 9 and 10 were a bit of a challenge with heavy feet, but
we were then rewarded with a further two kilometers of flat terrain
(bliss!). I had a strong finish (for me), picking off those runners that
I could see ahead of me in the final straight kilometer of road running
and I put that squarely down to Ian’s Tuesday night sprint sessions (it
might have taken four years of attending those sessions but it’s
finally paid off and I knew I could have a fast finish this time!). If
you fancy a spring challenge next year then this is a good one to run.
Once more into the breach dear friends and we are off on the
annual trip to Grove for the White Horse half. A favourite event for local
clubs especially so as it’s a club championship and grand prix fixture. The
weather, though a few weeks before had been glorious was due to be dull, grey,
but dry at least, it did not disappoint. After the long walk from the official
carpark to the race HQ, bags checked in and some light pre-race chit chat we headed
off for the same long walk back to the start line. We were set off promptly (ie
no whistle, claxon or shout of go) Leaving Grove we could see how extensive the
new house building was coming along and hope the new residents won’t mind us
running past their homes this time next year.
After suffering in previous years for over enthusiastic starts I
was very much grateful for the small ERR group I was in and the perfect pacing
it provided. Upon leaving the metropolis behind we ran parallel to the railway,
crossed over it and headed out for the main loop of the race via the area’s multitude
of country lanes.
As I’ve experienced before the first 6 miles seem to fly past as
the field shakes itself out and the initial roadrunners group slip into their
own pacing. Keeping the motivation going from the start I must thank Simon on
two wheels who seemed to appear constantly to encourage the runners on and Ben with
his posse who at 10 miles in were a very much a welcome sight.
With the railway bridge coming into sight (the route map alt meter
had this as the highest point on the course, which made me chuckle) there’s
only the last mile to go, which can feel pretty drawn out after the last 12, but
bosh! next minute the green is coming up fast and with it the finish line. A
brand new shiny mug with a well appreciated bottle of water included.
Well done to all the sub 1:25 finishers who must have had the
lunch on as they had all but gone by the time I came in. Marvellous work to
Marina and Toby for blasting their PB’s by at least 10 minutes each plus Robert
S, Kate A and Kate W for collecting medals in their age categories, a very well
done to you.
The fleeting joy that emerged at Wednesday’s
club run - further to Roger’s exclamation that I had won a bottle of wine - was
immediately stifled by the realisation that I had to write a blog on a race
that took part back in February; needless to say, my memory is not what it used
to be.
Anyway, I digress before I’ve even
started. So let’s talk Wokingham….!
Being the first race since
injury, my expectations were as low as my perceived fitness and consequently I
was actually quite looking forward to it; treating it as a tester for the later
White Horse Half. Having never run it
before I was enticed by the tales from the Eynsham Roadrunner stalwarts about
the race being fast and flat. Nobody mentioned the two overpasses and the
uphill finish but, as we have already discovered, I am not one to judge on
recollection of races or routes.
It was “a glorious day for
running” according to the Chairman’s results bulletin. I take his word for this;
of course, I can’t remember. On arrival
in said Chairman’s environmentally-sound new car (that’s not relevant but good
to know that we minimised our ecological footprint on a longer than usual
journey to a club champs racing fixture), I had expected the turnout of Eynsham
Roadrunners to be below average due to the lack of pre-race conversation I had
encountered in the build up to the race. I even toyed with the idea of playing
my joker. That decision was immediately revoked on sight of at least 6 or 7 of
Eynsham’s elite limbering up in the field by the race start. Even the men’s
captain, having declared himself unfit to run just 24 hours before, bounded in
with more enthusiasm than Zebedee from The Magic Roundabout (perhaps one for
the older readers). Joker firmly locked up for another day.
Despite having heard very little about the
Wokingham Half Marathon, it soon became clear that this was a popular race with
participants numbering into the thousands rather than the hundreds. Having
received a Wokingham Half T-Shirt pre-race and a lower race number than all the
other ERRs, I momentarily feared I had been mistaken for one of the elite
runners in some kind of name mix-up and that I would be ushered to the front
row at the start line. Memories of having Mo Farah in my sights in ‘starting
pen 1’ of the London Marathon heat fest last year came flooding back. I digress…
My “name mix-up” theory was
quashed by the realisation that this was no Hornton 6 - the megaphone
announcements, refreshment tents, baggage drop area and chip timing technology
indicated that this was a slightly more well-attended and – dare I say it -
professional affair. No V40 and V50 Bob Stoney’s here.
After all the usual pre-race nervous
banter we were under starters orders and we were off. I started quite relaxed
and wasn’t put off by the fact there was quite a lot of barging and colliding
at the beginning of the race. After all, this was just a tester for the White
Horse Half. I think it was this uncharacteristic lack of pressure that I put on
myself that resulted in me feeling much better than expected mid-race. And
never wishing to capitalise on the sufferings of fellow runners, I must confess
to being spurred on by a few of the aforementioned ERR elites within my sights.
A very rare occurrence after 7 or 8 miles. I pushed on….
By mile 10 my lack of training
started to punish me, but I was desperate to hold on as I was on PB pace. Then
it was just a case of mind over matter and for once the mind won out. I crossed
the line with a very unexpected PB, which made it all the more rewarding.
However, I soon realised that it’s all relative; as I was punching the air with
delight, one of the Eynsham A listers was throwing his number away in disgust
at his performance, having done virtually the same time as me.
I wasn’t the only one to have a
good day. Even better results for Kate Allred and Katherine Bates who both won
age category club records and PBs for Tom Baker and Colin Hancox. A great race, a great group of people and a
great turnout. I should have played the joker after all……
Thank
you for the Chardonnay, which I very much enjoyed. I also enjoyed
running the Banbury 15. It was my first time at this event and I’d
definitely run it again and encourage others to do so. Here are my
reasons why:
·
Joker – even if you are not the best runner in
the club you can score well in the league with this race, especially if
everyone else is at the Jolly Boys and Giggly Girls.
·
Value for money – it only costs £1 a mile to
enter.
·
Quick and easy to get to with parking right next
to the start/finish line and race HQ which is the Spiceball Park leisure centre.
·
The leisure centre has plenty of lockers for
your bags and loads of toilets, so no need to queue before the race.
·
It’s a fairly fast out and back course so even
if you have never run it before you know what to expect, at least on the way
back. It’s described as having some “sizeable
hills”, but when you have done Wytham woods and Botley hills it’s practically
flat.
·
There is a small field of runners so you are
never boxed in. It’s ideal if you are
training for a Spring half marathon or marathon or just want to try a different
distance.
·
After party – as you finish the race they call out
your name, there’s music playing, the sun was shining, and there are vintage
vans offering drinks and food for you to enjoy.
I
hope to see the race in the league again next year and see you there!
