GOING DOWNHILL SLOW
RIVINGTON PIKE
Maybe it wasn't the wisest move to race the Pike just a few days after a leg trashing training run up and down Moel Eilio. Then the out and back walk to the summit of Snowdon on the Rhyd Ddu Path the morning after wasn't what you might call 'active rest' in this instance either. But then it's important not to get back in to a habit of shirking races and conjuring lame excuses to myself.
I'd planned on racing 'Rivi' at the weekend if we weren't up to much else, yet how was I to know I'd get carried away more or less as soon as we landed on our midweek mini-break in Snowdonia? It was difficult not to get excited as we approached our campsite where Eilio and the closely connected duo of Mynydd Mawr with Craig Cmbychan soar out of nowhere to form the mouth of the valley which starts at Betws Garmon and follows the Avon Gwyrfai up to Llyn Cwellen.
The top of Moel Eilio was calling and I knew I had to have a crack at getting up and down there before light faded and mouths got too hungry back at base camp that early evening. Although just shy of only four miles later, I'd climbed and then come down 2000ft of this 2382ft lump as fast as I possibly could. The steep descent worked my quads to the point of glorious numbness, which is something that needs to be done from time to time (fell runners will understand) and then particularly the downhill walk off Snowdon the day after left them in absolute bits. (Well worth it though, I think it's 25 years since I last topped the highest point in Wales. A truly spectacular day and a great route which avoided most of the crowds aside from the fifteen minute queue at the summit!)
Running was then out of the question for a few days, but even walking downstairs was still challenging as late as Friday morning. It wasn't so much a case of should I or shouldn't I do Saturday's race, more a case of could I or can I? Saturday morning and the stairs felt normal again. Quadriceps still sore to touch but the devil had already taken over my mindset, I was racing. It wasn't until parking up at Horwich and trotting the half mile up the road to registration at the Crown Hotel that I had my doubts. My legs were still a bit tender. But I was here now, so no going back.
Even arriving with fifty minutes to spare at the Crown, a queue spiralled through the pub, over-spilling in to the beer garden and on to the pavement. Another case of no decent warm-up time I feared, but my disgruntlement turned to relief as the queue shifted along quickly. Thanks to exemplary organisation and efficiency from the team on the race desk, I was entered and out of there in ten minutes.
Rivington Pike is a classic fell race. Maybe not actually a fell race as such, as at least half of the course is on road. But it does go up a fell and it's a no nonsense up and downer that dates back to the nineteenth century and the country's earliest known hill race still in existence. Greats have run it, greats have won it. Perhaps the most famous would be Ron Hill, although the mere mention of Ron alone isn't fair on all the other fantastic athletes, male and female, of fell or road racing pedigree that have taken this illustrious title. In more recent times, fell champion Rob Hope is well worth a mention, for he has seven victories to his name at this race. Next year it will be a quarter of a century since Rob's first taste of Rivington Pike glory back in 1995. That he is still in the mix today and third place at the ripe old age of forty-four says much about his sheer class. Rob Hope remains one of the fell running contemporary greats for me, a living legend in every sense of the word along with the likes of Ian Holmes and Rob Jebb. These guys keep it real and let their running do the talking too. No hype, no histrionics and no bull shit 'hashtagging'. (Whatever that's all about)
Pure, hard working, top quality athletes who keep winning stuff and yet just get on with it.
This was only my second appearance here. It took me a while to get a free Saturday from work to run it, then when I finally did it in 2013, it obviously didn't tug at my heart strings enough to return with too much haste. All I remember of that year was an iron-like taste of blood in my mouth at the finish after burning lung tissue trying to catch Ashley Holt and Rob Jackson.
So jogging around with plenty of time in hand seemed to ease the legs off before the start, but I was cautious not to do too much as temperatures were peculiarly in to the seventies Fahrenheit for the time of year. Even the breeze was warm. Not conducive to good racing conditions, but it was the same for everyone. One of Ribble Valley's esteemed recruits Michael Cayton went one place better than last year to win it for the first time. The name of Ambleside's Sarah McCormack caught my eye last week at Loughrigg where she smashed it. Here she was again winning easily and a fantastic eleventh overall ahead of some very handy male competitors.
Further down the field and I didn't seem to be going along too badly. Holt's here again, on decent form and wasn't too far ahead a mile in, nor were the sort of usual suspects that I don't want to be getting too far away from me such as Raby, Gilbert and Walsh. That was until we hit the steep short grassed section just before the gates of the final push to the Pike itself. It was like being at Loughrigg again, but worse. There's an unflattering terminology used by runners - ''I was blowing out of my arse'' - which refers to fates similar of going off too fast or just struggling due to not being up to the job. It was that very same proverbial hole which I was blowing out of here at Rivington. Unlike Loughrigg last week, I didn't even find any sort of recovery whatsoever coming down. In fact it got harder. I don't recall slowing so much whilst running downhill before! I was working hard, really hard to sustain what poor pace I could muster and yet even the forces of gravity didn't seem to be an advantage. The still slightly downwards main road to the finish had the arms and legs out all over the place. It was pain. At the end I led down and literally could barely speak to anyone for two minutes, maybe more. (lucky them) I was out of it.
Other than those dreary details, no point dwelling too much. Next race please...
Saturday 20th April 2019
RIVINGTON PIKE FELL RACE
Crown Hotel, Horwich. Nr. Bolton 3.2m/699ft
1st Man - Michael Cayton (Ribble Valley Harriers) 17:20
1st Lady - Sarah McCormack (Ambleside) 20:11
My Stats - 51/409 22:20
I'd planned on racing 'Rivi' at the weekend if we weren't up to much else, yet how was I to know I'd get carried away more or less as soon as we landed on our midweek mini-break in Snowdonia? It was difficult not to get excited as we approached our campsite where Eilio and the closely connected duo of Mynydd Mawr with Craig Cmbychan soar out of nowhere to form the mouth of the valley which starts at Betws Garmon and follows the Avon Gwyrfai up to Llyn Cwellen.
The top of Moel Eilio was calling and I knew I had to have a crack at getting up and down there before light faded and mouths got too hungry back at base camp that early evening. Although just shy of only four miles later, I'd climbed and then come down 2000ft of this 2382ft lump as fast as I possibly could. The steep descent worked my quads to the point of glorious numbness, which is something that needs to be done from time to time (fell runners will understand) and then particularly the downhill walk off Snowdon the day after left them in absolute bits. (Well worth it though, I think it's 25 years since I last topped the highest point in Wales. A truly spectacular day and a great route which avoided most of the crowds aside from the fifteen minute queue at the summit!)
Running was then out of the question for a few days, but even walking downstairs was still challenging as late as Friday morning. It wasn't so much a case of should I or shouldn't I do Saturday's race, more a case of could I or can I? Saturday morning and the stairs felt normal again. Quadriceps still sore to touch but the devil had already taken over my mindset, I was racing. It wasn't until parking up at Horwich and trotting the half mile up the road to registration at the Crown Hotel that I had my doubts. My legs were still a bit tender. But I was here now, so no going back.
Even arriving with fifty minutes to spare at the Crown, a queue spiralled through the pub, over-spilling in to the beer garden and on to the pavement. Another case of no decent warm-up time I feared, but my disgruntlement turned to relief as the queue shifted along quickly. Thanks to exemplary organisation and efficiency from the team on the race desk, I was entered and out of there in ten minutes.
Rivington Pike is a classic fell race. Maybe not actually a fell race as such, as at least half of the course is on road. But it does go up a fell and it's a no nonsense up and downer that dates back to the nineteenth century and the country's earliest known hill race still in existence. Greats have run it, greats have won it. Perhaps the most famous would be Ron Hill, although the mere mention of Ron alone isn't fair on all the other fantastic athletes, male and female, of fell or road racing pedigree that have taken this illustrious title. In more recent times, fell champion Rob Hope is well worth a mention, for he has seven victories to his name at this race. Next year it will be a quarter of a century since Rob's first taste of Rivington Pike glory back in 1995. That he is still in the mix today and third place at the ripe old age of forty-four says much about his sheer class. Rob Hope remains one of the fell running contemporary greats for me, a living legend in every sense of the word along with the likes of Ian Holmes and Rob Jebb. These guys keep it real and let their running do the talking too. No hype, no histrionics and no bull shit 'hashtagging'. (Whatever that's all about)
Pure, hard working, top quality athletes who keep winning stuff and yet just get on with it.
This was only my second appearance here. It took me a while to get a free Saturday from work to run it, then when I finally did it in 2013, it obviously didn't tug at my heart strings enough to return with too much haste. All I remember of that year was an iron-like taste of blood in my mouth at the finish after burning lung tissue trying to catch Ashley Holt and Rob Jackson.
So jogging around with plenty of time in hand seemed to ease the legs off before the start, but I was cautious not to do too much as temperatures were peculiarly in to the seventies Fahrenheit for the time of year. Even the breeze was warm. Not conducive to good racing conditions, but it was the same for everyone. One of Ribble Valley's esteemed recruits Michael Cayton went one place better than last year to win it for the first time. The name of Ambleside's Sarah McCormack caught my eye last week at Loughrigg where she smashed it. Here she was again winning easily and a fantastic eleventh overall ahead of some very handy male competitors.
Further down the field and I didn't seem to be going along too badly. Holt's here again, on decent form and wasn't too far ahead a mile in, nor were the sort of usual suspects that I don't want to be getting too far away from me such as Raby, Gilbert and Walsh. That was until we hit the steep short grassed section just before the gates of the final push to the Pike itself. It was like being at Loughrigg again, but worse. There's an unflattering terminology used by runners - ''I was blowing out of my arse'' - which refers to fates similar of going off too fast or just struggling due to not being up to the job. It was that very same proverbial hole which I was blowing out of here at Rivington. Unlike Loughrigg last week, I didn't even find any sort of recovery whatsoever coming down. In fact it got harder. I don't recall slowing so much whilst running downhill before! I was working hard, really hard to sustain what poor pace I could muster and yet even the forces of gravity didn't seem to be an advantage. The still slightly downwards main road to the finish had the arms and legs out all over the place. It was pain. At the end I led down and literally could barely speak to anyone for two minutes, maybe more. (lucky them) I was out of it.
Other than those dreary details, no point dwelling too much. Next race please...
Saturday 20th April 2019
RIVINGTON PIKE FELL RACE
Crown Hotel, Horwich. Nr. Bolton 3.2m/699ft
1st Man - Michael Cayton (Ribble Valley Harriers) 17:20
1st Lady - Sarah McCormack (Ambleside) 20:11
My Stats - 51/409 22:20
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