OFF THE HOOK IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE 
PILGRIM'S CROSS
I must be a sucker for punishment. After waking up with a really stiff and sore back for the fourth morning in succession, there was still this uncontrollable compulsion to think I could race. The back trouble had got in to a rhythm of easing by afternoon, to the point were I had still been able to do a run later in the day. Even though I couldn't even bend down properly to put on my socks this particular morning, Pilgrim's Cross remained firmly on the agenda for the evening. Why risk it? Well, it's a case of use it or lose it. Racing may not be going great right now - may not come good ever again - but if I'm fit enough to have a go in time for the start and still compelled to persevere, shying away from competition is certainly not going to improve my results.
It was difficult to make head or tail of how I ran at Pilgrim's Cross. On the one hand, I was blowing up for a period in the latter half, losing half a dozen places during a sticky half mile and failing to hang in for a chance to catch them back. On the other hand, I looked back in surprise to find I was 84 seconds quicker than last year. That was odd, I thought I ran alright last year! It may have been a little windier last time, the going underfoot marginally faster in places this time, but not enough to make up that sort of time. So am I actually doing a bit better than I think? This is one of those instances where the very finest threads of positivity are worth clinging on to and taking in to the next race.
I arrived for this one in good time. Given my lower back's state of fragility, a good warm up was essential. The pain and stiffness had subsided so I considered myself off the hook and officially fit to race.
Whilst warming up I found myself trotting around the local recreation grounds at Helmshore, where maybe a dozen football pitches are closely concentrated. I could envisage the action, hear the noises and smell the smells of all these pitches soon to be a hub of activity when the new season kicks off. It brought back a memory or two to my exceedingly modest playing days, but it was a group of six lads which caught my attention. (I say 'lads', probably in their mid-twenties - I must be really getting on a bit) They were just having a knock around, but with some proper goal nets attached to one of the goalposts. I had already admired the goalposts around here for their substantial stanchions in the top corners. You can't beat a good old hooked stanchion in the top corner of a net. Stanchions give goal nets extra depth and characteristic - to actually strike the stanchion makes any goal look extra fabulous in my opinion. Trevor Brooking's goal for England versus Hungary back in 1981 forever sticks in my mind because Trevor actually stuck the ball in the hook - optimum magnificence for a stanchion geek like me. Even I stuck it in the hook once - 1993 on the Witton Park astroturf at Blackburn. I was only playing Wembley Doubles with college mates mind you and my strike was from barely six yards out, but suffice to say the subsequent celebration outweighed the occasion a thousand fold.
Anyway, back to Helmshore and the six lads... unforgivably they hadn't netted up over the top of the hooked stanchions. To make matters worse the nets were pegged in all tight and rigid. No sag, no shape, no depth and what a complete waste of stanchion. There's lots wrong with football in recent generations that has naturally waned my interest, and generic goal netting would be one of the most recent. You don't see many stanchions at all these days, particularly hooks. So what I witnessed here was borderline criminality. I felt like going over and advising them on the matter, but it wasn't actual criminality I suppose and, in fact, absolutely none of my business. I doubt they would have even remotely related to my enthusiasm and passion for goal stanchions. More likely I would have been told, ''f*ck off, weirdo''. It is to be hoped though that all the stanchions get fully utilised here on official match days or Helmshore should be forced by the authorities to give them up to more appreciative footballing communities!
That my warm up provoked more thought and retrospective than the actual race tells it's own story. That bad patch in the second half saw a recently improving old foe of mine Ashley Holt come by with two fellow Rossendale Harriers and a Clayton-le-Moors man getting away from me on the last climb up to Bull Hill. My hamstrings and glutes were screaming, which may link up to this recent lower back trouble, but besides, there just wasn't the next gear required to come back at them. A better time, but it felt like a poorer result. I keep believing I'm only as good as the next race, rather than the last. I think that's what's keeping me motivated at the moment.

Wednesday 8th August 2018
PILGRIM'S CROSS   6m/1100ft   Helmshore, Rossendale. Lancs.
1st Man - Luke Turner (Clayton-le Moors) 40:05
1st Lady - Heather Turner (Rossendale) 48:50
My Stats - 43:19   17/192