Over the Christmas holidays, I realised that my ambitions and my schedule were at odds. I've been happily running marathons on three training runs per week for around 18 months. Last year, as usual, I had more two-run weeks than four-run weeks. This year, though, I've got into my head that I want to do some trail ultras, starting with around 34 miles and working up to 100+. Preparing for that on three runs a week just won't do - the weekday runs would take too long and would rather get in the way of staying awake at work. So, I've bitten the proverbial bullet and will be interrupting my traditional Saturday long sleep and adding in a fourth run. Standard fare for many, but a step I've been trying to avoid in an effort to keep some non-running down-time in my life. We'll see how it goes.
This week, I got to put the theory to the test during a standard working week - no more holidays to provide extra recovery time. Saturday, I did at least get the late wake-up, because the local county cross country championships weren't until the afternoon. So, I woke up around sunrise (way too late in the morning at this time of year!), mooched about the house catching up on a few things, and then headed out for the afternoon of fun. Last year, the race was tough and hilly. The year before, the race was flat, icy, and horrible. In both cases, I came away with a mildly injured right ankle/calf/Achilles combination. So, this year, the goal was to enjoy racing and come home fit!
I'd like to say the race was really exciting and interesting. But, from the back half of the pack, it was just a case of running hard, passing where possible, and trying not to fall into the canal where the course takes a sharp dip into a 90-degree turn (or a filthy swim!). There was a nice, short hill to keep us on our toes. A bit of mud here and there added to the challenge. In the end, I managed to keep a very similar pace to last week's Festive Five, which is very pleasing.
At the front end of the field, of course, there was a bit more nip and tuck. The EVRC Ladies definitely showed up, placing three in the top 10 and winning a team 2nd place. The faster part of the Men's team put a consistent group in the high teens and 20s, giving them a 4th place. From the pictures, and they certainly looked both fast and exhausted! Then, I spent my evening feeling a bit rough from the effort and the cold air while planning the Sunday trail run with super crew chief Nicola, as she trains for her first (and second, and third) trail marathon(s).
Sunday, we decided to take in a part of the Cotswold Way that we've not been on before, from Cleeve Hill to Seven Springs. I'd looked at the map a few times and decided it was a pretty easy route - one good long downhill and two really tough uphills to keep us company. The nice thing about choosing a route based on the criteria of "I'd like to learn about that bit of trail" and "that's the right sort of distance" means that you don't always think through the ramifications. So, it wasn't until I was speeding down the hill towards Dowdeswell Resevoir, that I realised we would have to get back up the beast on the way back. Still, hills are great fun and there was no reason to worry just because I hadn't planned on a particularly tough day. In the end, we put in nearly 16 miles and 2500ft of climb.
Theory tested, and it seems like a good way forward in the short term, I'd rather have a run-free day on the weekend. We'll have to see how it all pans out over the next few weeks.
Thursday, 12 January 2012
Thursday, 5 January 2012
First Race of 2012 - Fladbury Festive 5 (and a bit)
2012 started out with a nice easy 5k to ease away the effects of New Year's Eve. For once, I was first out of bed, and when I finished sorting out the detritus, the house was still quiet. So, I headed out for a short run to loosen up and be ready for the Fladbury Festive Five on the 2nd. It had been a while since I last ran without a pack full of the bits I'll need for longer races, and the feeling of freedom was overwhelming. But, there's only so much time and energy after a night of revelry, so I had to shelve that feeling and hope it would come back the next day. The race is only 5.6 miles, so I hoped to have enough in the tank to have a good run.
For the first day in far too long, Monday dawned bright. The race wouldn't start until 10:30, but we were entering on the day so I made sure we arrived nice and early. Fine for me, but I'm not sure my in-laws, who were visiting for the long weekend and were commandeered into the cheering section, appreciated the fine facilities and many runners milling about. Nic and I enjoyed the chance to catch up with various friends who were also competing.
Not long out of the blocks, I realised that I was just behind fellow EVRC runners Bob and Stuart (who had planned to hold to my shoulder for as long as he could). At Mortimer last month, I marked Bob for the first 4 miles before I picked him up. At Bredon in July, I marked him for the entire race (and never caught him!). So, I decided to try to stick to Bob for the first half and then see how things went from there.
The first mile sped by as we raced on mostly road and gently down towards the Avon. As the second mile passed, we encountered the first real bottleneck of the race. The line of runners in front of me bunched as they climbed a stile (a slippery and tricky one). Nice, easy stiles have enough space for a full shoe facing the fence, rather then a little bit of wood that runs parallel to the fence, like this one. The result is that most runners were taking a few extra seconds to avoid slipping and straddling the fence in a most uncomfortable way. I decided not to bother with taking care on the far side and launched myself off the low fence. Luckily, my landing wasn't too messy and I kept the momentum as I began running again. The extra momentum gave me a few yards, if only because I didn't slip on the downward wooden step.
Somewhere exists a picture from Bredon of me boring holes into the back of his head as I try (and fail) to catch him on the long descent. So, when I saw someone taking pictures, I thought I'd lighten my spirits a little by showing how hard I was trying to close the small gap between us.
Bob kindly encouraged me as I finally passed him - telling me there was a hill just ahead. I'd been wondering if I would have any sort of hill to help me pick up some time on those in front. As it happened, the hill was fairly small, but it took its toll on a couple of the guys up ahead. Over the next mile I picked up runners one by one, trying to hold a steady pace at 7:00. A couple of these runners have recently finished well ahead of me, so I knew I was having a good race. By the time we crossed the rail bridge at five miles, I was running on the edge of what I could maintain over any reasonable distance.
Good club support from Tara, Linzi, and their families with 400m to go spurred me on. My eyes were already watering from the effort (so, I don't actually know who else was cheering), but I started to kick harder, passing two more runners with apparent ease. But, with only 200m to go, I realised I'd kicked a bit too early when the dry heaves came to get me. I had to slow down just to keep running upright. One of the guys I'd passed overtook me, and I didn't have anything left to regain my place. I started to recover after about 10 seconds and was able to give one last push to keep anyone else from catching me. I'm sure my in-laws were cheering me on, but goodness knows I couldn't hear anything above the sound of my own discomfort. Fortunately, breakfast stayed where it was!
Overall, I ran quite a bit faster than I had expected to, finishing 21st. In part, the underfoot conditions were better than expected. The fantastic turnout from EVRC (25% of the field) meant that I had a pretty good idea of how I was running based on who was around at various points in the race - and stoked up some competitive spirit! The good club support also meant that we helped the local village raise funds for its community projects. Nearly as important, though, it gave us a chance to celebrate over the fine cakes and tea provided as part of the entry fee. So, thank you very much to the Friends of Fladbury for providing such an excellent start to 2012!
For the first day in far too long, Monday dawned bright. The race wouldn't start until 10:30, but we were entering on the day so I made sure we arrived nice and early. Fine for me, but I'm not sure my in-laws, who were visiting for the long weekend and were commandeered into the cheering section, appreciated the fine facilities and many runners milling about. Nic and I enjoyed the chance to catch up with various friends who were also competing.
Not long out of the blocks, I realised that I was just behind fellow EVRC runners Bob and Stuart (who had planned to hold to my shoulder for as long as he could). At Mortimer last month, I marked Bob for the first 4 miles before I picked him up. At Bredon in July, I marked him for the entire race (and never caught him!). So, I decided to try to stick to Bob for the first half and then see how things went from there.
The first mile sped by as we raced on mostly road and gently down towards the Avon. As the second mile passed, we encountered the first real bottleneck of the race. The line of runners in front of me bunched as they climbed a stile (a slippery and tricky one). Nice, easy stiles have enough space for a full shoe facing the fence, rather then a little bit of wood that runs parallel to the fence, like this one. The result is that most runners were taking a few extra seconds to avoid slipping and straddling the fence in a most uncomfortable way. I decided not to bother with taking care on the far side and launched myself off the low fence. Luckily, my landing wasn't too messy and I kept the momentum as I began running again. The extra momentum gave me a few yards, if only because I didn't slip on the downward wooden step.
Somewhere exists a picture from Bredon of me boring holes into the back of his head as I try (and fail) to catch him on the long descent. So, when I saw someone taking pictures, I thought I'd lighten my spirits a little by showing how hard I was trying to close the small gap between us.
 |
| Trying to claw my way back up to Bob, with Stuart just holding on. (picture courtesy of race organizers "Friends of Fladbury" and race sponsors Birdseye Sports, Evesham) |
Bob kindly encouraged me as I finally passed him - telling me there was a hill just ahead. I'd been wondering if I would have any sort of hill to help me pick up some time on those in front. As it happened, the hill was fairly small, but it took its toll on a couple of the guys up ahead. Over the next mile I picked up runners one by one, trying to hold a steady pace at 7:00. A couple of these runners have recently finished well ahead of me, so I knew I was having a good race. By the time we crossed the rail bridge at five miles, I was running on the edge of what I could maintain over any reasonable distance.
Good club support from Tara, Linzi, and their families with 400m to go spurred me on. My eyes were already watering from the effort (so, I don't actually know who else was cheering), but I started to kick harder, passing two more runners with apparent ease. But, with only 200m to go, I realised I'd kicked a bit too early when the dry heaves came to get me. I had to slow down just to keep running upright. One of the guys I'd passed overtook me, and I didn't have anything left to regain my place. I started to recover after about 10 seconds and was able to give one last push to keep anyone else from catching me. I'm sure my in-laws were cheering me on, but goodness knows I couldn't hear anything above the sound of my own discomfort. Fortunately, breakfast stayed where it was!
Overall, I ran quite a bit faster than I had expected to, finishing 21st. In part, the underfoot conditions were better than expected. The fantastic turnout from EVRC (25% of the field) meant that I had a pretty good idea of how I was running based on who was around at various points in the race - and stoked up some competitive spirit! The good club support also meant that we helped the local village raise funds for its community projects. Nearly as important, though, it gave us a chance to celebrate over the fine cakes and tea provided as part of the entry fee. So, thank you very much to the Friends of Fladbury for providing such an excellent start to 2012!
Saturday, 24 December 2011
2011 - The Breakthrough Year
I started 2011 with high hopes. My endurance was good, I had five tough trail marathons left in my Endurance life 7x Challenge, and nothing hurt too much. The goal was to complete that series, hopefully pick up another marathon as a "bonus" for completing the challenge, throw in another in July to keep the legs ticking over, and then head into the Autumn on song for another PB on the road. So, how did it go?
The first race of January was my annual tilt at the local cross country county championships (survival, rather than victory, is my goal!). Once again, I had a lot of fun, and once again, I tweaked my calves. It wasn't really a surprise, given that I don't do nearly enough speed work. But, with a bit of rest, some good work by Sara to break up the knots and tape me back together, I duly headed off to Anglesey for marathon number 3. I didn't have much fun, but I completed it. With the combination of the calf issues and recovery from Anglesey, I averaged a paltry 20 miles per week for January.
I also, for the first time in many years, had decided to keep an eye on my weight. Once upon a time, I'd weigh myself to see if I had managed to put on a few pounds so that people stopped looking at me like some sort of underfed alley cat. At Anglesey, I realised that the waistband of my Skins was folding over due to the pressure from the remains of Christmas and New Year revelry. Ah, how times and metabolism change. So, I weighed in at 11 stone (154lbs) and cut back on the beer (except for marathon recovery, of course!).
February took me to South Devon for marathon number 4. The day shone bright and I had an absolutely wonderful race. The joy of having a good race is that it usually takes less time to recover from than a bad race. So, even with the planned recovery, I managed to nudge the weekly mileage up to 25. I also managed to leave seven pounds on the trails.
March was planned as the tough month of the year, with marathons 5 and 6 with only one off weekend in between. Pembrokeshire was fast, but exhausting. Sussex was exhilarating until I had to tackle Beachy Head, and also rather tiring. With two big races, much of the month was geared towards recovery and repair, so I dropped back to a weekly average of 20 miles. Another couple of pounds melted away, and the Skins finally started to fit properly around the midriff.
In April, I only had one race planned, so I started to look at the upcoming calendar and realised I needed to re-introduce speed sessions to be prepared for the post-marathon season. So, I headed out to the local race at Peopleton and picked up a small PB for that course. Then, it was down to Exmoor for marathon number 7 - expected to be the toughest of the series. By this time, the tape on my legs was more placebo than requirement, but I was taking even more recovery time. I averaged only 17 miles per week and the weight finally stabilised at 144lbs (gross!). But, the recovery of low/no mileage seemed to work. Exmoor was an amazing race in a fantastic setting. By the time we got home from the race, it was marked in the calendar for 2012.
May brought "The Edge," Endurancelife's bonus race for series completion and fast finishing. The course was reasonable, I went off far too quickly, but the series of speakers in the evening was truly inspiring. The mad ideas that have been going through my head ever since are slowly turning into a long-term plan for foolishness. May also brought the annual club team relay at The Hilly Hundred. As the team organisers, Nic and I bombed about the countryside delivering and cheering the runners. I enjoyed my leg, albeit somewhat more slowly than I had in 2009. Again, weekly mileage was low, but mostly because real life took its chance to get in the way of some good running.
June's schedule rapidly filled up with some short local races, as I tried to get some speed into my legs. A couple of hilly midweek dashes and another hilly relay later, combined with some hot weather training during a trip home to Texas, and I was back to 25 miles per week. The weight was still steady (a great result considering a trip to the US!), and I was looking forward to my first experience of running in the Lake District.
I started July with a rather warm Coniston Marathon, and followed it up with some great hiking in the Appalachians. No running in the mountains this year, on account of the amount of falling down I did the previous year. We headed to the Atlantic coast for a week of R&R and beach running, which just managed to keep the excellent Atlantic seafood from taking hold.
August was due to be another big month. Not having any big racing planned, and with a hole in my schedule until the October PB attempt, I mentally slipped and added a solo ultra into the schedule. The attempt to hit nearly 50 miles turned into 50km as I repeatedly lost my trail and eventually was so hacked off by the combination of weak mind and tiring body that I bailed out at the earliest of my potential finishing points.
September slipped by without much notice. I was finally managing regular speed sessions. My race-paced runs were actually going better than planned. Weekly mileage was still hanging out in the mid-20s. October's PB attempt at Abingdon was looking pretty feasible.
Of course, there's always one last speed session required to tune up for a big race, so I popped over to Stourport for their 10K the first Sunday in October, and got to within a few seconds of my PB - completely unexpected and a most welcome mental boost for the trip to Abingdon a couple of weeks later. Then, just a few days before the big day, a business trip that involved 90 minutes of traffic and a stiff clutch resulted in nasty cramp in the glutes with 5 miles to go after 21 miles of staying dead on schedule.
The PB didn't happen, my butt is still not fully recovered, and November was a bit of a write-off. The various fell runs I had pencilled into the training plan got rubbed out, and training is still a bit hit-or-miss, depending on which days the glutes decided to go on strike. Sara steadily put me back together, and I joined some fellow club members in Shropshire for the Mortimer Forest 10. It was a blast to get back into the mud and hills as Winter approached.
A lot going on, but to what end? With the loss of November and the extra recovery between marathons, not to mention a bit more travel time than usual, 2011 will actually have fewer running miles than 2010. But, what miles! Most of my running has been in the Cotswolds or racing other stunning trails around the UK. Of course, 2011 was unusually dry, so I actually got to see where I was going - let's not fool ourselves into thinking it will be the same every year. As a result of all this fun, Nic's signed herself up for a few Endurancelife marathons, which gives me the ideal excuse to bump myself up to the ultras. If that goes well, then I may just get that chance to run the complete Cotswold Way this Summer. 2011 seemed incredibly ambitious when I planned it, but it looks like it's main purpose was to whet my appetite for 2012.
 |
| 2011 Training: Plenty planned, but to what end? |
I also, for the first time in many years, had decided to keep an eye on my weight. Once upon a time, I'd weigh myself to see if I had managed to put on a few pounds so that people stopped looking at me like some sort of underfed alley cat. At Anglesey, I realised that the waistband of my Skins was folding over due to the pressure from the remains of Christmas and New Year revelry. Ah, how times and metabolism change. So, I weighed in at 11 stone (154lbs) and cut back on the beer (except for marathon recovery, of course!).
February took me to South Devon for marathon number 4. The day shone bright and I had an absolutely wonderful race. The joy of having a good race is that it usually takes less time to recover from than a bad race. So, even with the planned recovery, I managed to nudge the weekly mileage up to 25. I also managed to leave seven pounds on the trails.
March was planned as the tough month of the year, with marathons 5 and 6 with only one off weekend in between. Pembrokeshire was fast, but exhausting. Sussex was exhilarating until I had to tackle Beachy Head, and also rather tiring. With two big races, much of the month was geared towards recovery and repair, so I dropped back to a weekly average of 20 miles. Another couple of pounds melted away, and the Skins finally started to fit properly around the midriff.
In April, I only had one race planned, so I started to look at the upcoming calendar and realised I needed to re-introduce speed sessions to be prepared for the post-marathon season. So, I headed out to the local race at Peopleton and picked up a small PB for that course. Then, it was down to Exmoor for marathon number 7 - expected to be the toughest of the series. By this time, the tape on my legs was more placebo than requirement, but I was taking even more recovery time. I averaged only 17 miles per week and the weight finally stabilised at 144lbs (gross!). But, the recovery of low/no mileage seemed to work. Exmoor was an amazing race in a fantastic setting. By the time we got home from the race, it was marked in the calendar for 2012.
May brought "The Edge," Endurancelife's bonus race for series completion and fast finishing. The course was reasonable, I went off far too quickly, but the series of speakers in the evening was truly inspiring. The mad ideas that have been going through my head ever since are slowly turning into a long-term plan for foolishness. May also brought the annual club team relay at The Hilly Hundred. As the team organisers, Nic and I bombed about the countryside delivering and cheering the runners. I enjoyed my leg, albeit somewhat more slowly than I had in 2009. Again, weekly mileage was low, but mostly because real life took its chance to get in the way of some good running.
June's schedule rapidly filled up with some short local races, as I tried to get some speed into my legs. A couple of hilly midweek dashes and another hilly relay later, combined with some hot weather training during a trip home to Texas, and I was back to 25 miles per week. The weight was still steady (a great result considering a trip to the US!), and I was looking forward to my first experience of running in the Lake District.
I started July with a rather warm Coniston Marathon, and followed it up with some great hiking in the Appalachians. No running in the mountains this year, on account of the amount of falling down I did the previous year. We headed to the Atlantic coast for a week of R&R and beach running, which just managed to keep the excellent Atlantic seafood from taking hold.
August was due to be another big month. Not having any big racing planned, and with a hole in my schedule until the October PB attempt, I mentally slipped and added a solo ultra into the schedule. The attempt to hit nearly 50 miles turned into 50km as I repeatedly lost my trail and eventually was so hacked off by the combination of weak mind and tiring body that I bailed out at the earliest of my potential finishing points.
September slipped by without much notice. I was finally managing regular speed sessions. My race-paced runs were actually going better than planned. Weekly mileage was still hanging out in the mid-20s. October's PB attempt at Abingdon was looking pretty feasible.
Of course, there's always one last speed session required to tune up for a big race, so I popped over to Stourport for their 10K the first Sunday in October, and got to within a few seconds of my PB - completely unexpected and a most welcome mental boost for the trip to Abingdon a couple of weeks later. Then, just a few days before the big day, a business trip that involved 90 minutes of traffic and a stiff clutch resulted in nasty cramp in the glutes with 5 miles to go after 21 miles of staying dead on schedule.
The PB didn't happen, my butt is still not fully recovered, and November was a bit of a write-off. The various fell runs I had pencilled into the training plan got rubbed out, and training is still a bit hit-or-miss, depending on which days the glutes decided to go on strike. Sara steadily put me back together, and I joined some fellow club members in Shropshire for the Mortimer Forest 10. It was a blast to get back into the mud and hills as Winter approached.
 |
| As a bonus, my running clubmates kindly recognized my inability to say no to a race in our annual awards ceremony. |
A lot going on, but to what end? With the loss of November and the extra recovery between marathons, not to mention a bit more travel time than usual, 2011 will actually have fewer running miles than 2010. But, what miles! Most of my running has been in the Cotswolds or racing other stunning trails around the UK. Of course, 2011 was unusually dry, so I actually got to see where I was going - let's not fool ourselves into thinking it will be the same every year. As a result of all this fun, Nic's signed herself up for a few Endurancelife marathons, which gives me the ideal excuse to bump myself up to the ultras. If that goes well, then I may just get that chance to run the complete Cotswold Way this Summer. 2011 seemed incredibly ambitious when I planned it, but it looks like it's main purpose was to whet my appetite for 2012.
Tuesday, 13 December 2011
Mortimer Forest 10 - The final race of 2011
This year, I managed just over 50 miles of road racing - half of them in October. The other 250-odd race miles were off the beaten track. So, what more fitting way to end the year than a 10 mile jaunt through the trails and tracks of Mortimer Forest near Ludlow? And in an unbelievably dry year, where the waterproof hat and the snazzy OMM jacket I bought last year spent most of their time on hooks, it was about time for a bit of mist, rain, and ankle-deep mud. So, I joined some friends to take in the sights and sounds of the Shropshire hills.
Mortimer Forest has a fine history for our club. Some keen speedsters have found their bodies crumbling (oh, sure, they blame the flu for that green pallor...). A few bloody knees and elbows tell tales of treacherous descents where the brambles creep beneath the leaves to snare the unwary and unlucky alike. Phrases like "I've never felt so awful in my life" and "I can't wait for next year" are heard in quick succession - not always from the same runner, it must be said. Having never partaken of this particular race, it sounded to me to be too good to miss.
Arrival and warm-up were easy and without incident. Parking is tight, so we joined up in Evesham and Bob drove. Great for the environment, but it meant 3 runners, 1 car key, and all the kit in the boot due to a lack of secure bag-drop facilities (what do you expect for 5 pounds - at least they had hot showers). I got to carry the key, on the assumption that I'd be back first. No pressure, then.
The start was a little unexpected. I lined up, ready to head around the playing field where we were gathered, and when the starter shouted "Go", everyone shot to my left. Turns out we were going to run straight across the field, rather than around the tape markings (why bother with the tape?). Anyway, I trotted along and tried to ease into the race. I'd done 15 minutes of warm-up, but just didn't feel like I had it together yet. After about half a mile, the first bottleneck trapped me mid-pack as we climbed a narrow path. I wasn't really in much of a hurry, since I was still feeling my way into the race, but it is quite irritating when people shoot off down a road only to realise they should probably not have worn road shoes on a wet and slippery race. As I picked my way past the ill-shod, the course levelled out and I was finally off and running with some rhythm.
As predicted, an even harder hill came along about a mile later. Yes, it was steep. Yes, it was slippery. About 100 people had already scrambled up it, and there wasn't much solid turf left to grip into. Where I could, I kept to the long grass. It was harder to see what I might step on or into, but I could at least keep from sliding back down onto the runners behind. The ascent seemed to go on forever, and I didn't know whether to hope for or against coming back down the path at the end - that would have been quite exciting!
After eventually levelling out, we had a mile or so before a series of three short and steep ravine crossings. Both up and down were at a steeper grade than I normally get to play on. With plenty of surface mud, the descents were part running and part skiing. Or, in the case of the third drop, my youthful impression of a slide into second base gained me a place or two as I slid past my fellow runners on my right hip - righting myself straight into a run when my left foot found purchase on a clump of grass. If I tried that a hundred times, it would never work so well again - with luck I managed to avoid all rocks, sticks, roots, and other injury-inducing obstacles during my slide.
Once out of the third little ravine, I was looking forward to a bit of flat running to sort myself out. Instead, I found a long track winding its way further up the hill. So, I speed-hiked up, losing only a little ground to a few guys who were moving slowly with a running motion. This was the ideal place for pictures. I could tell that, were it not for the heavy mist / light rain, I would have a fantastic view of something. As it was, I was looking at water not quite suspended in the air and decided to leave the camera in its pocket.
By this time, I was starting to wonder about my choice of attire for the day. At around 6C with heavy moisture, I'd opted for shorts, a short-sleeved top, and a club vest over the t-shirt. Gloves and a buff came on and off as the temperature and gradient dictated. But through this section the wind was up and reminding me that all of my clothes were wet. I held off on digging my jacket out of my pack on the grounds that eventually I'd get back into the woods and be too warm. Finally, at around 6 miles, we turned out of the wind and started the "easy" section of the race.
Footing for the final few miles was better on the hilly parts, and there were some good, long descents to help get the pace up. A pine wood with a nicely needled track made for some interesting footing, but as long as you kept an eye out for roots it was quite exhilarating. As I moved up what turned out to be the final climb, I kept wondering how far the race would actually be. I'd mentally budgeted for 10.5, on the grounds that nothing is ever accurately measured on the trails. Then, I topped the climb and headed onto yet another narrow path. Soon, I heard the voices and cheering of the finish nearby and sped up. I didn't want to be passed in the final approach - even though I thought I had about 3/4 of a mile left to go. It turned out to be closer to 1/4, so the final effort was a good move.
The race finish is a 5-10 minute walk from HQ (depends on how cold it is and how tired you are). I felt full of energy, if not speed, as I headed back to the car. I grabbed my warm, dry clothes and headed for the changing room (eventually located in a nice, warm, basement of the hosting school). Normally, at this stage, I would take my time to ease out of the wet and muddy gear and into something less disgusting. But, as I gingerly eased off my filthy shoes, I realised that Bob should only be a few minutes behind me and wouldn't have any way to get his gear out of his car. So, I quickly changed and headed to the cars to find a slightly chilled Bob delighted to see me. Note to self: next time, figure out before the race how to manage the 3 runners, 1 key situation.
Eventually, we all managed to get ourselves changed, listened to the presentations, and had a nice return trip home full of tales of running and runners. Of the eight Evesham runners, we came away without significant injury, although Bob lost a fight with one of those creepers under the leaves, but it resulted in only a rather spectacular stumble and a few scratches. It's nice, on wet and miserable days, to go out and have a good time, rather than let the weather dictate. It's even better when everyone comes through injury free!
Now, it's time to review the year, reconsider the crazy ideas for next year, and chart out the thrills and inevitable spills that 2012 will bring!
Mortimer Forest has a fine history for our club. Some keen speedsters have found their bodies crumbling (oh, sure, they blame the flu for that green pallor...). A few bloody knees and elbows tell tales of treacherous descents where the brambles creep beneath the leaves to snare the unwary and unlucky alike. Phrases like "I've never felt so awful in my life" and "I can't wait for next year" are heard in quick succession - not always from the same runner, it must be said. Having never partaken of this particular race, it sounded to me to be too good to miss.
Arrival and warm-up were easy and without incident. Parking is tight, so we joined up in Evesham and Bob drove. Great for the environment, but it meant 3 runners, 1 car key, and all the kit in the boot due to a lack of secure bag-drop facilities (what do you expect for 5 pounds - at least they had hot showers). I got to carry the key, on the assumption that I'd be back first. No pressure, then.
The start was a little unexpected. I lined up, ready to head around the playing field where we were gathered, and when the starter shouted "Go", everyone shot to my left. Turns out we were going to run straight across the field, rather than around the tape markings (why bother with the tape?). Anyway, I trotted along and tried to ease into the race. I'd done 15 minutes of warm-up, but just didn't feel like I had it together yet. After about half a mile, the first bottleneck trapped me mid-pack as we climbed a narrow path. I wasn't really in much of a hurry, since I was still feeling my way into the race, but it is quite irritating when people shoot off down a road only to realise they should probably not have worn road shoes on a wet and slippery race. As I picked my way past the ill-shod, the course levelled out and I was finally off and running with some rhythm.
As predicted, an even harder hill came along about a mile later. Yes, it was steep. Yes, it was slippery. About 100 people had already scrambled up it, and there wasn't much solid turf left to grip into. Where I could, I kept to the long grass. It was harder to see what I might step on or into, but I could at least keep from sliding back down onto the runners behind. The ascent seemed to go on forever, and I didn't know whether to hope for or against coming back down the path at the end - that would have been quite exciting!
After eventually levelling out, we had a mile or so before a series of three short and steep ravine crossings. Both up and down were at a steeper grade than I normally get to play on. With plenty of surface mud, the descents were part running and part skiing. Or, in the case of the third drop, my youthful impression of a slide into second base gained me a place or two as I slid past my fellow runners on my right hip - righting myself straight into a run when my left foot found purchase on a clump of grass. If I tried that a hundred times, it would never work so well again - with luck I managed to avoid all rocks, sticks, roots, and other injury-inducing obstacles during my slide.
Once out of the third little ravine, I was looking forward to a bit of flat running to sort myself out. Instead, I found a long track winding its way further up the hill. So, I speed-hiked up, losing only a little ground to a few guys who were moving slowly with a running motion. This was the ideal place for pictures. I could tell that, were it not for the heavy mist / light rain, I would have a fantastic view of something. As it was, I was looking at water not quite suspended in the air and decided to leave the camera in its pocket.
By this time, I was starting to wonder about my choice of attire for the day. At around 6C with heavy moisture, I'd opted for shorts, a short-sleeved top, and a club vest over the t-shirt. Gloves and a buff came on and off as the temperature and gradient dictated. But through this section the wind was up and reminding me that all of my clothes were wet. I held off on digging my jacket out of my pack on the grounds that eventually I'd get back into the woods and be too warm. Finally, at around 6 miles, we turned out of the wind and started the "easy" section of the race.
Footing for the final few miles was better on the hilly parts, and there were some good, long descents to help get the pace up. A pine wood with a nicely needled track made for some interesting footing, but as long as you kept an eye out for roots it was quite exhilarating. As I moved up what turned out to be the final climb, I kept wondering how far the race would actually be. I'd mentally budgeted for 10.5, on the grounds that nothing is ever accurately measured on the trails. Then, I topped the climb and headed onto yet another narrow path. Soon, I heard the voices and cheering of the finish nearby and sped up. I didn't want to be passed in the final approach - even though I thought I had about 3/4 of a mile left to go. It turned out to be closer to 1/4, so the final effort was a good move.
The race finish is a 5-10 minute walk from HQ (depends on how cold it is and how tired you are). I felt full of energy, if not speed, as I headed back to the car. I grabbed my warm, dry clothes and headed for the changing room (eventually located in a nice, warm, basement of the hosting school). Normally, at this stage, I would take my time to ease out of the wet and muddy gear and into something less disgusting. But, as I gingerly eased off my filthy shoes, I realised that Bob should only be a few minutes behind me and wouldn't have any way to get his gear out of his car. So, I quickly changed and headed to the cars to find a slightly chilled Bob delighted to see me. Note to self: next time, figure out before the race how to manage the 3 runners, 1 key situation.
Eventually, we all managed to get ourselves changed, listened to the presentations, and had a nice return trip home full of tales of running and runners. Of the eight Evesham runners, we came away without significant injury, although Bob lost a fight with one of those creepers under the leaves, but it resulted in only a rather spectacular stumble and a few scratches. It's nice, on wet and miserable days, to go out and have a good time, rather than let the weather dictate. It's even better when everyone comes through injury free!
Now, it's time to review the year, reconsider the crazy ideas for next year, and chart out the thrills and inevitable spills that 2012 will bring!
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