TOUGH CALL AS TRANSFER TAKES A TWIST 
Many a polite sentiment expressed in a notice of resignation would not be worth the paper it is written on. Or, given a more contemporary twist, nor the micro-millibytes of whatever it is that powers the teleportation of an email. But every single trite soundbite and cliche imaginable in this circumstance would actually express my genuine sadness in leaving Blackburn Harriers & AC after nine years in the blue and white vest.
The initial intention for a move more geared towards my fell running interests was to join Bowland Fell Runners - an apolitical bunch of laid back sorts that would suit me just fine. That would leave me in a position where I could stay on at Blackburn as second claim for road and cross country and thus not conflict activities with Bowland who are affiliated for fell running only. This way I could be selfish and get in to the fray for fell team relay races and yet not entirely shun my existing club for whom I was nevertheless proud to be a member of. Obviously, I was never going to just bullishly send an application form to Bowland without some preparatory contact made to discuss my imminent membership, but strangely a reply to my message from their club secretary never came. There's no other source of connection to the club in the public domain, even such as a telephone number. I waited patiently, then wondered if perhaps the email had gone to spam and I should send it again? But then a twist in proceedings took place. My intentions and twitchy feet had previously cropped up in conversation with Ribble Valley Harriers re-founder Chris Barnes. A week or so later Chris was in the running shop and subtle seeds had been planted. Then he popped in again a little later that day with Mars bar cake from the Megabites shop across the road. Bribery?
Next news, the day after I'm in the shop again on a busy Saturday afternoon and had three separate visits from three fairly familiar faces that also greeted me with cake, a hand shake and nothing said. Definitely bribery.
Well it certainly got a laugh out of me, but also prompted the serious consideration that an opportunity to join Ribble Valley was now on the table. A newly reformed club and brilliantly successful so far, at least as far their majority contingent of high end lasses is concerned - British Fell Relay champions, sixth and twelfth respectively at Northern and National road relays. Yet also the black sheep in the eyes of some. A move to Ribble Valley would also have a controversy about it and given their affiliation in all running codes it would have to be an all or nothing switch which is not what I had planned at all.
I thought it through and against my procrastinating genetics, didn't overly dwell about it and decided to go for an adventure and join Ribble Valley Harriers. Ringing Blackburn Harriers' secretary George Davies with my decision was really difficult. The heart lay very heavy before, during and after that call. I have much respect for George on many different levels, as indeed I have for a good few more of the cogs inside the Blackburn Harriers machine. I knew he'd be disappointed about the situation, but more my concern was that he would be disappointed in me. One of many admirable traits George possesses is that he is straight and calls a spade a spade. If he thought I was an arsehole he would tell me. I'd expect nothing less from some of the guys at the club that I have got to know over the years once they catch wind of my transfer. Then again, it's a big move for me but barely a ripple in the pond at Blackburn Harriers. As one of the club's junior coaches Andrew Knowles put it to me today, "it's not like Ronaldo leaving Real Madrid". Exactly!
I certainly got the impression that George was not convinced my fell running team needs would necessarily come to fruition at a club like Ribble Valley, and it is a risk given the current small number of members, particularly blokes. But it's a relatively new venture and I think an exciting one with it's own particular ethos developing. George also touched on the fact that I might have given up on driving the fell running scene at Blackburn too easily. There is much truth in that too, but I did give it a go. Unfortunately my resolve as a team captain was never a match for my initial enthusiasm.
Ribble Valley becomes my third club in nearly twelve years of running. I've never quite been that one-club man and indeed one of the reasons I left Chorley for Blackburn in the first place was just to broaden my experiences and allow the running journey just to take it's course. That's certainly the case here where quite literally a lost email and a few pieces of cake conspired to influence a really tough decision.
So Tuesday night training now also takes a twist. Witton Park track is back off the agenda. I'll miss it because I enjoy it and there's a fantastic set up over there. But this was also one of the considerations to take in to account before completely severing official ties with Blackburn. Since switching from the off-road reps of the Summer months, I crossed over to the athletics track quite efficiently and ran some good sessions. But, if I'm truly honest with myself, Witton reps take more of a toll these days and particularly on the hamstrings, which is not conducive to fell running or indeed the rest of my week's running schedule. I was told Ribble Valley sessions are an ''accquired taste'' and certainly my first experience was a bit different with head torches aglow for ten reps up Clitheroe Castle. A real quad buster, but I would have to say most certainly up my street. With Witton now out of the picture it's the quirky sessions that the Barnes has to offer and, cut up badly or not, back to my circuit of turf I call 'Buttercup Meadow' to do some flatter interval stuff during the Winter.
Tempo in training has been generally back on the agenda in the last fortnight, including some truly cracking runs during a four night stay in Devon. We stayed there last year, a few miles outside the village of Colyton around the same time when I was so full of manflu and a rough chest that I couldn't even jog ten yards. It was a little frustrating given the perfect formula of quiet, tight, winding and undulating roads on offer where we stayed. But this year I did get to discover them and don't recall enjoying a couple of runs on a road surface in recent times quite as much as I did last week. Between those cheeky road four milers, over the county border to Charmouth on the Jurassic Dorset coast I sneaked off for a pre-lunch cliff top rep session from beach to the very tip of Stonebarrow Cliff and down, three times over. Four miles and 1400 feet of ascent in 36 minutes. Thank you very much! I day dreamed about doing that session last year. This year the day dream became a reality and a fantastic adrenaline rush.
This weekend Dunnerdale will be only my second race of the Autumn. The following Saturday, it's a rare tarmac bash with the Podium showdown and an opportunity to get a decent recent 5K time under my belt. Big names anticipated at this one. Hardly like I'll be in competition with them for more than the first five yards, but kudos to join them on the starting line nevertheless.