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GRC / GAC Club 10k Handicap Race–Thursday 4th September 2014

A fun event hosted by Grantham Running Club, who invite members of Grantham Athletics Club to take part in a 10k Handicap Race. The idea is simple – all the runners are set off at different intervals with the intention of them, based on recent race performances, all coming home at exactly the same time. The winner is the runner who finishes furthest ahead of their predicted time.

With my 35:36 set at the Sumer Solstice used as my handicap time, I was due off last, around 50 seconds after the penultimate runner to set off, the incorrectly assigned #1 road runner in the Grantham postcode Josh Lord. No offence intended to young Josh, who is more sprightly than I’ll ever be over 800 meters and more impressively the 3000m steeplechase (where my hips wince in the mere anticipation of clearing a hurdle), but ‘We Are Road Running’ RunBritain have declared him #1 in Grantham when he has a 17:30 parkrun and a slow 10k run a couple of years ago as a 15 year old to fill his road running palmares. Although I had little intention of running this as a full blown race, a little bit of me at least wanted to run a little bit quicker than young Josh.

There was always a bit of uncertainty as to whether I’d actually make it to the start in time, coming on the Thursday of the Italian GP weekend. Thankfully paddock activities ended sufficiently early for me to hot foot it to Long Bennington in time for at least half of my intended warm up. Not for the first time in recent times I had issues with my intended footwear for the race – the new Lunar Racers again feeling as though they would inflict some blistering on the Achilles. Deciding it was not worth risking days of pain for a club race, I reverted again to the trusted Nike Frees, which with over 800 miles of road running in them, are beginning to feel distinctly second hand. The last time they were used in anger though they helped deliver a 5k PB so I thought they’d be good for one last race.

Essentially using the same course as the Summer Solstice, with only the start and run into the finish slightly different, much of the course would be fairly familiar having raced here a couple of months earlier and also having taken part in the same handicap race a year earlier. On that day I had a surprisingly good run to clock 35:53; I was hoping for something similar this year, but was going into the race with the intention of running it at half marathon HR and more or less perceived effort for the half marathon.

Setting off alone on what was essentially a time trial, the immediate difference between this event and a normal road race was apparent. Pacing is hard when alone, keeping motivation up when you cannot see anyone is tough. It took around a mile before I began to get Josh into my sights. I went through the first mile in 5:41, which is roughly what I want to be doing in the half marathon. I then began to struggle a touch, tiredness in the legs from plenty of miles of training and a tough strength and conditioning session in the morning. The second mile was 5:48, the next mile a second quicker. By now I had caught Josh. We ran together for a bit, but turning left into the Col de la Staunton In the Vale, as it is known on the Strava segment, I was able to ease ahead, thanks in part to setting a Strava CR on that slight rise.

All Alone at 5 Miles

Thereafter it was a case of keeping the effort in check as I began to pass more and more runners. The final 400 meters or so saw a more concerted effort as I reckoned it may be worth practicing a race finish. No quicker had the race finished and I was off on a mile warm down. The final time was 36:09 a little down on time and, based on respective HR, a little down on performance from last year. A little downbeat initially, I had to remind myself that training has been heavy recently and that one slightly slower than planned race does not end a career. Plus I put over 90 seconds on second quickest finisher Josh. Whether RunBritain will use this as evidence to change their stance on who is the #1 runner in Grantham, time will tell, but it was nice nonetheless to set fastest time on the night.

Slower though than my handicap time, which was always going to be the case, I wasn’t the winner of the Handicap. That though was never going to happen, I would have had to run 30 minutes on the night, which had I done so, would see me elevated to top 100 in the country. Instead I’d contend myself with a moderately pleasing performance which will hopefully help me on the pursuit of the half marathon PB in a few weeks time.

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Lincoln Wellington 5k – Tuesday 29th July 2014

Fairly fresh from the five mile race in Nottingham six days earlier, I lined up next to an athletics track near the Yarborough Leisure Centre in Lincoln about to take part in the third, of four, races of the Lincoln Wellington 5k Series. Before the five miler I’d not planned on racing here, but the day after I thought it would be good if I could squeeze another race in before my summer holidays and a search on Fetcheveryone produced this golden opportunity to have a stab at firstly beating my 5k PB and, more pertinently, going sub 17 for 5000 meters for the first time.

With that in mind my training was fairly easy post five mile race. The hamstrings took a couple of days for the pain to subside completely but they did. A long run with GRC on Thursday was followed by four consecutive easy paced and moderate mileage runs – the only real effort was put in on an attack on the Minnett’s Hill Strava segment which I was able to reclaim. The only real issues became a pair of blisters on each Achilles, a legacy of the new Lunar Racers worn on Wednesday (And a known issue apparently) and troublesome in certain pairs of my trainers.

I arrived in Lincoln a little later than planned and seemed to faff around for far too long getting ready to go for a warm up – the result of which it was only two miles instead of the planned three. The planned wearing of new Lunar Racers was also swiftly abandoned after just a few meters of running, the Achilles’ blisters far too sore. Thankfully at the last minute I’d packed my old Nike Frees which would be more than adequate for the race. The warm up at least did allow me to recce the course, which would be a small lap of playing fields next to an Athletics track followed by three large laps of two playing fields. The course was near pancake fat, the corners not too tight. All nearly ideal save for a strengthening wind after a warm, cloudy day, which would be direct into our faces for half of each lap.

A small but fairly competitive field lined up at 7:30pm for the start of the race. I placed myself on the front row, but as the whistle blew at the off, I made a steady start to sit somewhere just outside the top 15 after the opening short lap. I planned to race in a similar manner to last week, speeding up through the race and picking off the field all the way through to the finish. I’m no expert at 5k pacing – some like to go off really fast and hang on as best as possible. I tried that at Peterborough at a parkrun last year and found it one of the least enjoyable runs ever as I died a thousand deaths in the final mile. I’ll far rather sacrifice a second or two in the opening stages to ensure a stronger finish.

Steady pace was also a relative term for the Garmin indicated that the first half mile had been run at sub five minute mile pace. I thought, although running well, this was a bit bogus and queried the reliability, once again, of my 910XT.  As we began the start of the first large lap I had other issues to contend with, namely the headwind. Feeling quite strong I worked my way to the front of a small group and pushed on, knowing that this would mean others behind me would be sheltering from the wind behind me. I felt I had no choice; if I wanted a quick time I’d have to do it the hard way.

Also with no km or mile markers I only had my Garmin to use to judge how well I was going. If I could trust it I was flying – the first mile covered in 5:05. Like last week, although working hard, it was feeling quite easy. The second mile was covered halfway through the second lap – Garmin said it took 5:11. As we began the final lap I knew that if I could hold it together a PB was assured. Again into the headwind, as I passed a couple of runners, I could feel them joining the queue behind be sheltering – doing less work than I. This spurred me on to push harder, trying to break the tow, which, save for one runners proved successful. Mile three flashed on the Garmin 5:12. Fantastic! I was on for a sub 16 minute run! A Kenilworth Runners’ club record beckoned!

It would have done were the finish just around the corner, which it wasn’t. It was around half a lap away. A quick look at the watch showed I had around 85 seconds to finish the race in sub 17 minutes. The post mortem of how the Garmin had added nearly 400m to the 5k course would come later, now I just had to run as fast as possible.

Thankfully I had two factors to help. After 20 seconds or so of headwind, the final stages were aided with a tailwind. Secondly a runner, who had been sheltering behind me, passed me and began an early kick for home. Sensing it was now or never I kicked on too and stuck with him, before passing him when I saw a painted mark on the path saying 200m which I assumed meant 200 meters to the finish.

I gave it everything sprinting too and past the finish line (the Garmin had me running the final 0.32 miles at 4:37 pace). I knew the PB was a formality, the sub 17 was close. I looked at the watch. 16:55! I did it! Sub 17 done and at a proper 5k, not a free-to-enter timed run that is the 5k that is parkrun. 49 seconds better than my previous 5k best (The 2012 BRAT 5k at Rowheath), 25 seconds quicker than my parkrun PB also set in 2012).

I finished eighth, 35 seconds behind the winner, and the first, as far as I could tell, to not collapse into an exhausted heap at the finish. I couldn’t decide whether this is because I am in pretty good condition at the moment or I just didn’t try as hard as the others (I imagine it is a bit of both). I jogged back down the course to cheer home club runner Ben, who also knocked a great chunk off his 5km best.

So a fair journey for a short race, but a successful trip. As someone from GRC pointed out, from October last year to now, I have broken PBs at every distance raced with the exception of the half marathon. That will hopefully come in late September at Nottingham. It’s Project Sub 1:16:47!

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Notts AC 5 Mile Road Race–Wednesday 23rd July 2014

After the calm prediction of a personal best the night before, I woke on race morning alarmed to find I could barely walk. Not struck down with flu or any viral malaise, instead the tops of both hamstrings were unfathomably tight.

I thought long about what could have caused this bizarre turn of events and concluded it was almost certainly the dynamic forward lunges I’d done as part of the Strength and Conditioning program in the morning the day before. Although at the time they felt fine, I imagine they’d just strained some muscle fibres enough to give this overnight reaction. I should have known better, similar afflictions have struck me twice before when doing these lunges – I just shouldn’t do them, especially the day before a race.

For the best part of the day I really didn’t think I’d be able to race. I went out at midday for a one mile new trainer foot pod calibration / fitness test. The trainers (A new pair of Nike Lunar Racer) felt great; the legs less so. It wasn’t a showstopper couldn’t run at all affair, more a I can really feel this and it doesn’t help with the running issue.

I spent the rest of the afternoon fretting over whether to run. I began to prepare at 5pm to leave at 5:30pm. At 5:35pm I decided I wasn’t going, when my wife texted me to wish me good luck. It was then I decided the very least I could do was go along, warm up, and see what happened. If it didn’t feel good I wouldn’t race, I’d sit back and enjoy the others run whilst I enjoyed the sunshine.

And so I left for Nottingham, enjoying the glorious weather in the car that would not make for quite so idyllic racing conditions, with temperatures still in the mid twenties Celsius and a blustery breeze that would slightly cool, but slow us too when exposed.

I arrived in good time, happening to park just ahead of the start line. I changed into my running kit, gently stretched the hamstrings and began to run. Slowly. A slow shuffle with both hamstrings not wanting to work and only wanting to hurt. After a couple of minutes I stopped to use the official race toilets – inside the Riverbank Bar & Kitchen. It was a little surreal to see a stream of runners using the facilities of what is quite a swish establishment, certainly the first time at a race I’ve got to wash my hands using cocoa butter enriched hand wash.

Whether that luxury hand wash permeated its magic to my hamstrings I doubt, but when I began running again, the hamstrings were a little less tight. For the warm up I ran most of the 2.5 mile loop that formed the course. After a mile I began to do some strides and surges and the legs felt as though they would cope. The race was on! I also noted that the return leg along the Victoria Embankment saw the headwind grow and grow in intensity as we curved around towards the finish line. Something to note for the race which would commence in twenty minutes time.

I was very relaxed at the start line, as though all the pre-race angst had been used up many hours earlier when I was fretting over whether to race. A little humour ensued as a credit card was found at the start line, a relieved member of BRAT sheepishly came up to retrieve his plastic from the race starter, declaring that post race drinks would very much be on him. I lined myself up next to what looked like the strongest ladies in the race and a gentleman who looked like he was determined to be up front for the first 200 meters at least before the inevitable severe and prolonged fade for the remaining 4.8 miles.

The starting pistol fired and we were off. As predicted some went off too exuberantly. I was steady but not slow, the hamstrings still a little tight but thankfully loosening off all the time, so that after 2-3 minutes of racing they were hardly a factor. The race, which was relatively small with just under 200 starters, was soon strung out and I found myself quite quickly running alone, albeit with runners not too far in front of me and behind. The first mile took us out on a loop away from the Embankment and then back on it. I went through the first mile on the watch in 5:25 – just a second quicker than at the Summer Solstice the month previous. I felt strong to the turning point half a mile or so later, where we headed down onto the footpath by the River Trent and enjoyed the support of the local fishermen and other hecklers – albeit the heckles were mild in tone and arguably supportive.

I knew this was a crucial point in the race. I was running alone but around 20 meters ahead was a group of five runners. If I could catch them in the next couple of minutes I could sit in the pack and take shelter for the 3/4s mile or so when there was the testing head wind. A short burst of sub five minute mile running and I was in the pack. I felt good, it was tempting to push on as I felt the pace was not quite as I could have managed, but I figured the shelter from the wind and the energy saved could probably result in bigger gains later on in the race.

And so I sat at the back of the pack whilst a pair of well built athletes provided an excellent wind break. The pace inevitably dropped, for a short period we were running at around six minute miles, but I kept calm and stuck with the plan. Mile two I went through in 5:29, the average pace for the third mile slipped to 5:45 as we completed the first lap and turned 180 degrees to begin the second.

Without hesitation I picked up the effort and the group disintegrated around me. I left them and pushed on closing down rapidly on my old friend from Coventry Godiva Harriers, Namir Batavia. I first raced with Namir back in the 2008 Coventry Half Marathon when he was clearly a talented, but very inexperienced, young runner. He stuck in my mind because he would furiously sprint up all the hills during the race, then slow to a jog at the top, where I would catch him up and we would recommence racing together. I thought he’d have no chance of making it to the finish, but earned my eternal respect when he did, and beat me comfortably too. Since then we’ve both improved – he has posted some quicker times than me, especially at the start of the year, with a low 27 minute five mile race performance, so it was a big mental boost when I surged past him just before three miles.

Although the Garmin was a bit up on the official mile markers, I knew that with the 5:34 third mile and 5k on or around 17:00 minutes I was on for a good race. The wise words of a 15 year old I’d read about in Athletics Weekly at lunchtime rung in my head: the best races are always the ones that feel the easiest. This is so so true, and tonight was one of those races. It felt pretty easy. I knew by my heart rate that it was no picnic in the park, I was pushing pretty close to my maximum, but it felt comfortable.

Two more miles – ten more minutes or so – I thought, to a good time, so I pushed on again. I went through the fourth mile in 5:28 and as we turned at the top of the course for the second and last time to run back to the finish, I had the lead lady, Juliet Potter, around 10-15 seconds ahead of me. I’d have no chance of sheltering from the head wind on this second lap, it was just a case of giving it everything and minimising any losses. I focused on Juliet ahead and steadily reeled her in, catching her with around half a mile to go. I thought for a second about tucking in and recovering but felt it would be best to surge on ahead, going for a long sprint for home.

Juliet doubled her efforts and stuck close to me as the wind made the going tough in the closing stages. The five mile split came up on the watch (5:23) and we were some way from the finish. I wanted to know what elapsed time was but I kept missing it on my Garmin as it scrolled through its four pages of data (My choice, it wasn’t ideal today). Then I could make out the finishing clock as it read 27:20. The PB was assured, clocking a sub-28 performance wasn’t. I pushed on again as the seconds clicked by, the finish line taking forever to appear. Finally it did, I stopped the watch. 27:53 it read – a PB by 26 seconds! I shook the hand of Juliet, who came in just four seconds later, then waited for Namir to come home and a Grantham runner I’d seen from afar during the warm up.

I was obviously delighted with the PB but there was no real euphoric outpouring. More a contented punch of the fists, then on with business. I find that’s often the case with midweek summer evening races, the atmosphere is usually far more relaxed than at a weekend race. Races are run, runners disperse and head home.

I was surprised to find I finished eleventh, far higher than I expected to be. Then came the two mile warm down, where the hamstrings showed how tight they were – not enjoying in the slightest this final hurrah in the fading sunlight. Still I didn’t care too much – the gamble to race had paid off, another PB achieved, this one an unexpected surprise.

A good evening.

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Summer Solstice 10k–Friday 20th June 2014

It was never going to be the easiest race to make in the first place – a 7:15pm start on Friday Practice Day for the Austrian GP – a day when normally I’ll often not be done and dusted until gone 8pm. Throw into the mix an early afternoon hospital appointment with my wife in Nottingham, a short affair in duration that threw up more questions than answers; more uncertainty and doubt when what we really want and need is clarity and assurance.

I would not have considered racing were it not my second claim club Grantham RC’s flagship race – the Summer Solstice 10k. From what I’d seen in the preparations for the event, the committee had pulled out all the stops to host a race punching well above its weight when you consider how youthful and relatively small Grantham RC is compared to more established clubs. If I could not help in the operations of the race, the least I could do was to turn up, race, and hopefully secure a relatively good race position.

With just a couple of hours to finish work that would normally take four, I somehow reached a state where I could leave to head to the race HQ at 6:30pm. Thankfully I’d thought to have all my kit laid out ready to change, which I managed in less than three minutes. I was soon in the car and heading to Long Bennington, approximately 12 minutes drive from Grantham. I was out of the car at 6:55pm and, after the merest attempt at a pre-race stretch, I embarked on an equally half-baked attempt at a warm up run. Normally I like to arrive around 90 minutes before the start of the race; today I had to condense all those preparations into 20.

Alone at the Start

I wormed my way to the start line with around three or four minutes to spare. My mind was buzzing with thoughts of anything but the race I was about to take part in. I felt distinctly detached from those around me, as though I really didn’t belong here. I didn’t bother to look around to see what the competition was – I heard the quickest entrant a few weeks back had estimated a 34 minute finishing time, so it was possible I could, on a good day, be somewhere near the front.

Starting Next to Mr Livesey - The Closest Anyone Got To Him All Evening.

As we lined up on the start line, the minute warning given, I stood still – eyes staring into the still bright evening sun. My mind may have been foggy but the weather conditions around me could hardly have been better – blue skies and not a breath of wind. It may have been a touch on the warm side but I’ve for a long while, ever since I began running on the F1 Grand Prix circuit essentially, considered a hot race something of an advantage for me, once I’d established, perhaps wrongly, that coping with the heat whilst running is mostly a case of mind over matter. The shades would justifiably stay on for the entire race.

The start of the race.

From a countdown of five the race was off exactly on time. It took around 20 meters of running to establish exactly who was going to win, and win at a canter – Ben ‘2:17 London Marathon’  Livesey, who ran 29:28 at the Leeds Abbey Dash 10k last November, was entered, racing, and going to win. He inexorably and effortlessly glided away from the rest of the field, from the look of the pictures of him racing barely breaking sweat as he coasted to a course record 31:58.

Seconds After the Start and Ben's Gone.

 

All Too Easy For Ben...

Meanwhile I found myself in a group of around ten runners which quite quickly whittled itself down to around six. I was sitting fifth overall when we remembered Ben was racing, I made a brief surge at around a mile to take second position, but at that moment my mind switched irrevocably from thinking about the race to mulling over matters deeper. The first mile was pretty swift – 5:26, it felt comfortable but not a pace I could sustain with my mind in another place. Fairly soon I found myself fifth and gradually losing ground on the third and fourth place runners, conversely easing away from the sixth placed runner. I was, metaphorically, physically, and mentally in No Man’s Land.

The Summer Solstice course is a rural square shaped countryside course, with hints of the fens that lie not far to the east. This makes it a somewhat lonely race, low on spectators, with mostly straight to gently meandering lanes to run along. The second mile came at the first turn – I clocked 5:44. The next road to run along was around a mile and a half long and I had little but the occasional passing car to break the loneliness. My mind at this point was in something of a turmoil, questioning the point or purpose of racing. This is in stark contrast to the runs of recent times, which have provided a lifeline in attempting to bring clarity the subject of such gravity.

Keeping A Gap On The Sixth Placed Runner

Through the third mile in 5:45, I passed the 5k marker in approximately 17:40, not bad for a June 10k when hayfever can wreak havoc with my running. Not long after passing the halfway point there was another left hander and the only humour of the race when an enthusiastic, but possibly naive volunteer at the race’s only drink station, elected to hold the cup of water high above his head for me to grab. I declined his cup and went instead for a child’s, who held it at a far more comfortable waist height. One sip to wet the back of the throat and a little over the back of the head and that was it for race refreshment and straight into the only significant climb of the race, which in reality amounted to little more than a drag.

Racing Alone

It was enough though for the third placed runner to slow significantly, both I and the fourth placed runner closed on him rapidly so that by the fourth mile (5:46) the two ahead were running together and I was around 20 seconds behind. The fifth mile I cannot recall running any slower but it was logged as 5:54 (Adjusted to 5:44 on Strava GAP, so presumably it was a slight incline over most of the mile). I’d had a few cheers of support from marshal’s who recognised the Grantham RC vest but not necessarily the runner. Into the final full mile of the race and I passed Scott, who was a marshal with his son. He willed me to push on to try and catch the two in front of me. I tried, and I did manage to close the gap somewhat, but they were seasoned, experienced runners who knew too how to extract that little extra something in the final throws of a race.

Pushing On To The Finish

As we entered the final four hundred meters of the race I pushed fairly hard but not as hard as I could have in better circumstances – I was satisfied with what I’d done. I finished fifth, with my fourth fastest 10k time – 35:36. All things considered a good result, and maybe the last result of any significance for a while as efforts focus elsewhere to things that really matter.

Swiftly recovered, I picked up my memento pale ale and half pint glass (The glass will see use – the ale is up for grabs to anyone who likes beer….) I chatted for a while with fellow club mates who finished, but soon had to leave – there was work at home still to be done. It was a shame I couldn’t enjoy the race more, it pulled off the rare trick of being a slickly run, fully chip timed race with the atmosphere of a small summer village fete.

I hope very much to be able to race here again next year, with the mind all clear. With everybody who I hold dear – here.

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Baswell BootBash

This was entered back at the start of the year, a farewell bash to say Bon Voyage! to fellow Grantham Runnning Club club mate Paul. He likes his long off road events; better still if you can throw in some stunning scenery. The Baswell BootBash satisfied all those criteria: principally a 26 mile walk that allowed runners to run rather than walk, the event began on the grounds of Chatsworth House in the Peak District and took in an advertised 26 miles of mostly off-road fun.  There was twelve of us in total, some opting to take part in the easier, but still demanding, 14 mile option.

With eight checkpoints to navigate, the onus was on competitors using their map skills to complete the course. I opted instead to use a bit of 21st century cheating: using a gpx file that someone had uploaded after the event last year to follow a black line on my Garmin Forerunner. As we lined up at the start it was evident I wasn’t the only one to use this tactic, but plenty were opting for good old fashioned paper map. Indeed my running rucksack, which was purchased especially for the event and turned out to be a very comfortable acquisition, was probably far sparser than the organisers had intended – carrying a bare minimum of spare kit and first aid essentials.

We started at 9am prompt and I found myself jogging along in second position. This event was never intended as a priority event, so I’d aimed to compete at all times at a steady/slow pace and try to enjoy the run and the scenery. Being in second place made it tempting to pick up the pace but I resisted the temptation, even when I took the lead on the first of numerous uphill drags.

I had around a 30 second lead a I took on the first lengthy descent at 3.5 miles. Halfway down the hill and my lead had evaporated and I was in third. My non existent off-road descending skills were shown to their fullest by my nearest competitors who, it transpired, were experienced local fell runners. They were also wearing the correct footwear; I’d made a late change from mine to my Nike Pegasus road shoes when told the majority of the course would not benefit overly from trail shoes. This turned out to be more or less correct but I did struggle on some of the muddier sections.

I stuck with the two fell runners through the first two checkpoints to around 11 miles. It was actually more a case of taking it in turns to take the lead – I would pull away on the uphill sections, they’d catch and pass me on the downhill, and we’d run together when there was flat terrain.

Following the second checkpoint where I tried to eat biscuits when my mouth was parched (It was a mostly cloudy day, but very muggy), the fourth placed runner appeared just as we were leaving. I was a little concerned as the two I was running with appeared to be heading in a direction my watch did not agree with, but I bowed to their local knowledge and stuck with them. A couple of miles later we began to head back towards the route I think we should have taken and on a technical descent I lost contact with them. They were just about in sight on a flat section when I tripped on one of the numerous protruding limestone rocks. A high side type of fall, my head was perilously close to taking the full brunt of a fall on rocks before the body’s survival instinct kicked in and ensured that I twisted to land on my collar bone and then elbow instead. Initially more embarrassed than hurt I picked myself up and dusted myself down, no damage done other than some cuts, and road rash on the collar bone.

I’d lost a stack of time and was not enjoying the terrain so opted to take it easy for a spell, stopping to tighten my shoe laces. Worse though was to come a couple of miles later when I came to a National Trust Car Park and took a slight wrong turn which saw me basically at a dead end with the option of running through some trees surrounded by plants. Whether I’d hit my head when falling I’m not sure, but the folly of deciding to run through this 50 meter or so long stretch was fairly instantly apparent when my legs began tingling insanely with multiple stings from what were chest high stinging nettles. Fortunately (and partly for this very reason) I was wearing my compression socks so the shins and calves were fine, but the knees and thighs were on fire. With no time to stop and lick the wounds I had a five foot high wall to scale and jump off…. Thankfully this unnecessary commando style action saw me back on the right route and with no lasting damage done (although the thighs are still stinging and scarred three days later…)

Fourteen to twenty one miles saw some of the most pleasant running – especially a section on a converted railway line which I loved as I took on some simply stunning views. It was though mostly uphill, and this meant that I was able to make gains on those ahead of me – passing the initial leader of the race on one particularly long hill. I was expecting to be repassed on the subsequent descent but he must have been tired as there was no further sight of him until I reached the finish. Unknowingly as well I’d passed the second placed runner (He was fourth but took a better route after the second checkpoint to take the lead briefly). He had slowed to a walk and wished me well as I passed.

I, conversely, was feeling good and strong. There had been a stack of climbing and descending but it was all done well within my comfort zone. There was one final sting in the tale at around 25 miles – an off road climb far too steep to consider climbing. At the final checkpoint I’d caught plenty of the 14 mile walkers, some of whom I followed on to the road, where I was taken slightly the wrong way back into Baslow – sticking to the road rather than taking a footpath. My main concerns were dehydration – causing a headache and a little disorientation – and the Garmin saying I’d covered nearly 28 miles, rather more than the advertised 26!

Into Baslow and with the finish somewhere in the village, I mentally lost it – unable to work out what the triangle and the black line on the Garmin meant in relation to making it to the finish.  Finally, several minutes wasted, I worked out which road to take and I was soon at the end – 29 miles covered in 4  hours 22 minutes – a new personal distance and time spent running record. I also finished second, five minutes behind the winner, although there was no official results.

An enjoyable run in a stunning part of the world. Not enough to convert me permanently to the joys of fell running, but enough for me to want to try a similar event at some point in the future.