HOT AND BOTHERED
WHOLAN NOOK TRAIL RACE - CALDERDALE WAY RELAY - HARROCK HILL RACE SERIES [1]
Another three races under the belt - three in eight days to be precise - a ratio which is pushing the boat out for this old boy. Still sore from the bone dry conditions at the Wholan Nook trail race, Sunday's Relay was sufferance in the midday sun. Any hopes that I could run through the stiffness, soreness and lethargy on another hot and sticky affair at Harrock Hill three days later were dashed as I got really frustrated with my complete lack of engine power and resorted to petulance and ill behaviour.
Wholan Nook didn't go so badly, aside from the ball ache at registration. This cost me valuable warm-up time. I would never blame the organisers, it's just a sign of the times. The third race of the Burnley & Pendle Grand Prix, this was a series that looked to be on the wane a few years back but it's popularity has recently boomed. Once upon a time, arriving with three quarters of an hour to spare after work used to be easily enough to get parked up, get your number, get warmed up and then crack on. Not any more. I must have spent up to twenty minutes here going through the process of shuffling through the masses to get to the table of entry forms, then to wait for an available biro and finally join a long and coiled queue. Aside from those queuing, runners already registered seemed to be hanging around chatting in there rather than taking their conversations outdoors on a perfectly pleasant evening. It all felt a bit chaotic and claustrophobic to be quite honest. With all due respect to the otherwise commendable ambience of Clowbridge Reservoir Sailing Club's HQ, I couldn't wait to get my number and get the hell out of there.
I hadn't decided if I was going to go Yorkshire bound instead for a bash at the Kildwick fell race until quite late in the day. Ultimately - and ironically - what turned my head in favour of Wholan Nook was a shorter distance to travel and therefore more time to warm-up... not so.
The course, up on the moors above Burnley, turned out to be fast on mainly hard tracks weaving out beyond Clowbridge Reservoir. Even the few sections upon grassier trods were hard as nails after over a week without a decent downpour. As well as opting for the wrong race perhaps, I also picked out the wrong footwear - a rather silly faux pas from somebody who works in a shop advising and selling running shoes - but I didn't realise actually how much man made hard track there was going to be. Looking around at other runners and asking one or two I knew beforehand, there was no definitive slant evident in favour of shoe type - so if in doubt, I thought, just go with the trusty fell racing x-talons. Yet the unforgiving ground took it's toll late on and I was begging for the feel of some cushioning or give in the ground. The race had gone reasonably but for a sticky five minute patch where I lost ground on a few guys I was hoping to be closer to. Once off the moors and upon the long, flat run in to the finish by the reservoir's edge I started feeling a bit leggy. I was overtaken in front of a spectating Phil Hall, once a prestigious local track athlete and now a coach at Clayton-le-Moors. I admire Phil for some of his track running achievements and still cutting the mustard as a veteran. Also the distinction of winning a fell race on Pendle Hill in a pair of cross country spikes is a feather in his cap. His suggestion that my black Ribble Valley vest was weighing me down and that I change it to the white one of Clayton was harmless banter, or at least I would normally think so if it wasn't for his bitter disdain of all things Ribble Valley Harriers! Thankfully his little quip had a positive effect on my finish to the race though, salvaging back that placing lost with thirty yards to go. Thanks 'coach' ;-)
Four days later it was team duty at the Calderdale Way Relay. My first time involved in the competition and a first for the Ribble Valley club. With a team of twelve required, our hand was forced as to which category we were chasing. With not quite enough ladies and certainly not enough men, it had to be a Mixed team and with the exception of this particular nobody in particular, we had the quality in the team to be quietly confident of winning the Mixed Team shield. This is one of the things that attracted me to joining the club. Not attaching myself like a leech to a team of winners (even though that's a bonus!) but just being there in a team, competing in this type of relay race. I was on the fifth leg out of six on the near 52 mile Calderdale Way which winds it's occasionally complicated way along the rolling hills surrounding Halifax. Leg 5 is second shortest at 7.5 miles and is picked up from a road crossing just outside the small settlement of Wainstalls Road. I had reccied the route a fortnight earlier with my then partner to be, Ben Walmsley. We unintentionally added a little entertainment by going off piste and spent far too much time not even being able to locate exactly where we were... this, despite map, compass and GPS gadgetry on our phones! Other than that it was fairly plain sailing. A week later though and unforeseen injury required team jugglery and Ben was switched elsewhere. Now Caitlin Rice is down to join me on Leg 5. I was quite looking forward to that, not just because she is an esteemed fell runner, but because this was another novel and unique beauty of the Ribble Valley set up - wherever else in the club running world would an ageing Lancashire lad be paired up with a top class lass from Derbyshire? But then there was another twist, as the evening before race day the chairman rings and tells me it's had to change yet again - and that now I'm running with him instead! No offence to Mr Barnes, but I was a touch deflated by this. Suddenly novelty and unknown quantity was replaced by familiarity and also a bit of fear... Barnes is on really good form of late.
Being a rather poorly organised individual, whilst I knew the date of this relay race well in advance, it was maybe only ten days prior to it that Sara brought it to my attention it was also her birthday weekend. Now let's get it straight, I hadn't forgotten Sara's birthday - I'd just inexplicably failed to connect the two together! I managed to get away with it though, fortunate enough to get a late booking at a place to stay nearby Wainstalls at The Crossroads Inn. On Saturday I took Sara and Connie dog out on to Haworth Moor for a walk up to Within Ruins via the Bronte Bridge. A cracking day in weather beautiful to walk in if not to run in. Sara is now reading Wuthering Heights, so she certainly got in to the spirit of things. I just enjoyed walking - rather than running for a change - routes that I've raced so many times. It's amazing what a different perspective you get and the wonderful things that go unnoticed. Back to race day though and almost with regret must I remind myself that this a running diary rather than an account of my private, social and recreational activity. I was right back there then, on that bench up at Withins having my butty with Sara. What a wonderful moment.
So Sunday morning and another lovely, but much shorter walk this time, around Ogden reservoir more to the direct North of Halifax. Oops, there I go again indulging in social and recreational references, but the link to racing was that much as I was enjoying the stroll, I wasn't realistically conceiving how I was going to switch in to some sort of running race mode in an hour or two's time. Sure enough the nerves were there, the anticipation - but physically I wasn't exactly looking forward to racing midday in this Spring heatwave and I felt a bit tired. Three steady pints of Peroni the previous evening might not have helped, but it was Sara's birthday and I would argue that having a fourth would have been a much more considerable hindrance. I managed to resist that fourth one and besides, I felt a bit livelier by the time Sara had dropped me off at our starting point. Chris turns up in Union Jack shorts, his original RV vest coarsely self crop-topped and splattered in what looked like bullet holes, but what he described as air holes to help him keep cool. The outfit was some sort of tongue in cheek ode to the Royal Wedding of Harry and Meghan, whilst also a celebration of new club kit on the horizon. Maybe part of it was also to teeter with the regulation of club vest uniformity? Maybe it was just Barnes the exhibitionist? Who knows - a rebel with his own cause is Chris Barnes. I'd pay good money to have a fish around inside that cranium of his to see what makes it tick. As it was, I felt under-dressed and straight laced in my untampered club vest and boringly matching black shorts.
The warm conditions were not conducive to particularly fast times and so we were hanging around a fair bit longer than projected to take the baton from our Leg 4 runners. I probably made a mistake of letting Sara go off to meet me at the other end without taking a water out of the car first. I went almost an hour without a sip before setting off, which was probably not ideal whilst trotting about and generally dehydrating a little whilst we waited. I didn't think much of this at the time, until during and certainly after the run when I was absolutely spitting feathers. Suddenly Andy Payne and Katie Walshaw came in to sight after what looked like a beast of a final climb up the valley and we were off at last. Barnes set the pace but then I ended up ahead at a stile after he took a crap line through a very rare patch of boginess. Then I took it on a bit harder than I should on the following first bit of climb and probably got Chris thinking, "Oh shit, Sutty's on it". I felt like it at that point, easing down the next valley thinking 'I'm going to smash this'. Then my partner nudged ahead again on the flat and I carelessly clipped a toe end on the top of a stile in full flow, crashing to the deck from a height on to my shoulder and face and forming a crumpled heap for a few seconds. Chris hadn't even realised and was now thirty yards ahead. That tumble had no lasting physical effects, but seemed to symbolise the sort of lumbersome and clumsy runner I feel I have become this year.
I couldn't get near Chris again and he had to rear up at times so not to get too far ahead. The following little road hill really started to hurt, my legs were stiffening up and we were barely two miles in. Now I'm thinking that Barnes is thinking, ''Oh shit, Sutty's bombed already''. Off that backwater road and at a most unlikely outpost through a small gap in a big stone wall, up some steps along a very narrow path and my favourite fell race legends Dave and Eileen Woodhead were hiding out taking photographs. That put a smile on my... well perhaps not my face, but I was smiling inside at least. Getting a bit of encouragement from these two was the very last recollection of any positive or heart warming emotion I experienced until we finally popped out of a ginnel at Shelf and it was all over. Uphill sections were really punishing me and there was no recovery there to kick in to decent flat speed. I could blame the hot sun, the punishing heat in the baking bottoms of theses windless little valleys, but it was the same for everybody. It would be easier to concede that I'm just not up to the job, which would be the frankly honest explanation. On the plus side though, we - or should I say 'I'? - because the run was basically dictated by my own lack of pace, well we/I didn't lose a place for the team and in fact even gained one late on. Barnes seemed happy enough, so that was the main thing. In actual fact our Leg 5 time turned out to stand up as a decent effort in the broader picture of things and surprisingly eighth quickest on the day. Relief for me that no damage was done to jeopardise the team's chances in the Mixed category which we went on to win convincingly. Given three of our lasses were on Inter Counties Fell Champs duty the day before - and, well, and that I was in the team - a very good return and for me personally my first ever team winning honours in a relay. Equally impressive was our 11th place overall. 11th then became 10th thanks to Clayton-le Moors receiving a time penalty - one of their young fast lads Danny Collinge returned from an ill-fated transfer to Salford Harriers too hastily before the paperwork came through.
Spring had barely showed it's hand before what feels like the height of Summer has descended on us all unexpectedly. Now in to the third week of the hot stuff, if it's good for the flowers and the bees, it's a tougher time than usual for ducks and runners. Even the evenings are starting to get muggy as well which was the case at the opening Harrock Hill fixture three days on from that Calderdale slog. I really did get hot and bothered at this one. There was debate during the day whether to take it on as I certainly didn't feel at all refreshed after Sunday. But the first Harrock Hill has often been a 'where I'm at or where I'm not' race at this time of year and besides, it's a race and I need to keep racing.
Best intentions to finally nail a relaxed and thorough warm up were foxed again - this time by my own stupidity. I got in the car, the petrol gauge beeps - ok no problem - five minute detour to stick a tenner in - I can do this. No I can't, I opened my wallet to be reminded I'd left my bank card and cash in the shorts I was wearing earlier in the day. Aaaagh! I phone home for Sara's youngest to find my card, tell me the details and hope that some sort of manual transaction could go through - ''it might work'', said the patient cashier. But it didn't, so it was time to hand over my valuables and nip back home to get the bank card. Just over twenty minutes wasted there and whilst still enough time to have a bit of a trot and a stretch, I'd got in a tizz and so proper pre-race preparation went to the dogs yet again.
I'd set my stall out in the race with a two part plan to run the first half nice and steady and not get sucked in, then engage racing gear in the second half and try to pick off as many places as possible. Well, the first part of the plan went well. As for the second half, the gearbox went knackered. I felt I was having a real stinker and it got to the point where I'd basically tossed the towel in on myself. I graciously conceded a place to a Liverpool runner on the final climb, thinking it only good manners really as his need sounded greater than mine on this single file section. But the gentlemanly consolidation of my fate ended right there. The next guy to pass by when the path broadens out again really wound me up a bit as he needlessly cut right in front of me, making contact when there was enough room for a small car to overtake. That got the fire back in my belly, but then I proceeded to race the last mile on negative energy and got it all wrong, which unfortunately brought out the temperament of my former footballing self - never that far from the surface it would seem in the boiling pot of competition. As I started to reel the perpetrator of my annoyance back in, a Warrington vest came by and so rather than sit on him to guide me by, I immediately surged past the pair of them. Now hunting down that Liverpool vest, I got past him again down the last descent but could hear more company building up on the final road section. I held out until the young Warringtonian completely steamed me on the short pull to the line - my goose was cooked here and I had no reply. Then I felt somebody else gaining yardage just as I approached the funnel. Still 'juiced up' as John McEnroe would say, thinking it was that runner who had got my heckles up I petulantly and blindly gesticulated rudely to the opponent behind, stopped a yard short of the line and with guiding hands said, ''just f**ing 'av it then!''. Oops... wrong person. It was that Liverpool guy again - I still let him have it, but was quick to apologise for my actions. I don't think he took much offence fortunately. I still don't know who the seemingly clubless runner was who gave me the elbow and the subsequent results don't seem to shed any light on it either.
So I'd got myself all wound up, behaving like a childish brat just because I wasn't on it, then spitting out the old ''I'm done, it's over, I've got to the end'' spiel to Johnny Horrocks. He's heard it all before. I've always been a poor loser - you'd think I'd got used to it by now. Despite my behaviour, the finishing time was actually not quite as catastrophic as it felt. Significantly though still some one hundred seconds off where I finished the series here last Summer. The real legend that is Paul Muller, now 61 and the country's finest for his age, overheard my 'the end is nigh' routine to Johnners and basically talked me out of it whether or not he intended to. I just listened intently and lapped up what he had to say for five or ten minutes. If the words of the great Mr Muller weren't enough to put things in to perspective when a race doesn't go to plan - and they were - then the truly saddening news later that a competitor from Wirral AC had collapsed and died during the race most certainly was.
Wednesday 16th May 2018
WHOLAN NOOK TRAIL RACE 5m Clowbridge Reservoir, Burnley
1st Man - Tom Corrigan (Barlick) 29:37
1st Lady - Pauline May (Todmorden) 36:13
My Stats - 33:10 12/288
Sunday 20th May 2018
CALDERDALE WAY RELAY Leg 5 7.5m Wainstalls Road to Shelf, West Yorkshire
1st Men's Team - Calder Valley Fell Runners 6.07:30
1st Ladies Team - Todmorden Harriers 8.08:54
1st Mixed Team - Ribble Valley Harriers 6.54:53
My Stats - Paired with Chris Barnes 1.01:37 8/100
Wednesday 23rd May 2018
HARROCK HILL RACE SERIES [1] 5.2 m Bispham Green, West Lancs.
1st Man - Peter Bray (Chorlton) 33:01
1st Lady - Joanna Goorney (Lytham) 40:44
My Stats - 37:45 17/232
Monday, 28 May 2018
Wednesday, 9 May 2018
CONSISTENTLY AVERAGE
ROGER COLSON COWM 5K - LOTHERSDALE - MEARLEY CLOUGH
The weeks have flown by quickly, but sadly the same cannot be said about my leg speed! Regular racing has now kicked in again but I'm still feeling shy of what I consider to be satisfactory form. With regards to getting a jolt forwards on the back of months of sessions and a few longer runs in the bank, there has been nothing to show for it all. I can claim consistency at least from the last three races lately, but albeit at a very average rate and a breakthrough performance is still not forthcoming. I'm actually really surprised at how long it's taking to click in to a faster racing gear. I really must have been kidding myself at Podium in early April to think I was tapping in to the form of late last Summer. Over a month on and I'm still nowhere near. But the final jigsaw to last Summer's routine is set to be pieced up after a pitch inspection yesterday revealed that my 'Buttercup Meadow' loop on the local park is good to firm and soft in places again and also freshly mowed! Grassy sessions are back this weekend.
Back to recent competition though and a return to Cowm Reservoir seven days on was a success if only for finding the place without a hiccup this time around, but an improvement of six seconds was modest and yet an improvement nonetheless. My club chairman Barnes challenged me to knock more than five seconds off or wear a ridiculous forfeit vest next time out. I thought I'd easily do it, but I couldn't have cut it any finer. In fact by my watch I thought I hadn't done enough, but the official results came to the rescue and spared me that all important extra second. It was a tough run again in the latter stages although I managed to feel comfortable at pace for longer until Salford's Billy McCartney effortlessly came by on lap two. Despite wondering what he was playing at - having been a minute quicker than me last week and seemingly cantering here - I managed to hang on to his shadow and come in a few seconds behind him for a nose bleeding fourth place. Clearly not quite the strength in depth at the top end in this week's race then, as just six seconds of pace bought me thirteen places the better, but that shouldn't detract from a decent win by my fellow Ribble Valley Harrier Ste Hall.
The following week was my first visit to Lothersdale, a fairly remote little village down a steep valley between Colne and Skipton. A cold, heavy shower timed itself to perfection with five minutes to go before the race started. Not an entirely pleasant experience when having nowhere to run to in vest and shorts. It briefly turned to sleet a few minutes in to the first climb, but thankfully fine weather resumed and numbness thawed well before reaching the Tow Top Moor trig point from which we returned in an out and back affair. Two fifteen year old lads dominated this one. I'd heard of the victorious Sam Smith, but not Eric Beaumont, a close second - a Wharfedale lad and a Keighley lad to keep eyes out for in the future. I inadvertently ended up sharing a few words with Eric's rightfully very proud mum in the finishing area. It seems that because his Dad got him a sneaky pint after a good race at the Haworth Bunny Runs, he expects one after every race now - a proper fell runner then! For me this was a race of two halves where I struggled, but held out for a top ten spot on the ascent and then did ok on the way back out to hold my own. But still I wasn't able to engage in to that elusive highest gear.
And so another week later, one of my favourites and the classic short fell race upon the steep slopes of Pendle that is Mearley Clough. Lothersdale was low key with only my club mate Louisa Powell-Smith recognisable, but not so at Mearley with a record sized field and lots of familiar faces. Once again the climbing let me down despite a recent training run in the Lakes, but I was able to descend with a bit more conviction only for my flat pace to disappointingly hit a plateau. Relatively speaking, the result proved not to be disaster by any stretch but still about a minute and the rest off where I felt I could be. Conditions were perfect. Not for catching views, but certainly for racing. A cool blanket of thick mist had descended on Pendle after the day had started with blue skies. For the third race in succession that I lined up at, a fellow RVH runner took some winning spoils as pocket rocket Katie Walshaw soared to a ladies victory. A few more guys from the club were present watching the race after doing a session nearby and lined up against a stone wall just as I was coming off the fell to treat me to a rendition of some sort of pre-trophy lifting 'whooooaaa' celebration as I went by. It was novel if nowt else. The last time I recall anything like this experience was on a training run maybe ten years ago when I proceeded with caution wondering what the hell all the noise was about before interrupting a Roman battle being reenacted near the ruins of Hollinshead Hall at Tockholes. One male voice shouted "runner!", before silence fell and this large group of historical thespians formed what was like a guard of honour to let me through, whence continuation of said battle progressed on my passing.
The day after Mearley then, and I don't feel half as sore as I ought to but not for a lack of effort I hasten to add. Maybe the old body is finally toughening up to regular racing again afterall? Only the next race will tell.
Wednesday 25th April 2018
ROGER COLSON COWM 5K Cowm Reservoir, Whitworth.
1st Man - Stephen Hall (Ribble Valley) 17:19
1st Lady - Jenny Pilling 20:14
My Stats - 18:09 4/59
Wednesday 2nd6 May 2018
LOTHERSDALE West Yorkshire 3.6/600ft
1st Man - Sam Smith (Wharfedale) 26:31
1st Lady - Louisa Powell-Smith (Ribble Valley) 29:27
My Stats - 28:24 9/82
Tuesday 8th May 2018
MEARLEY CLOUGH Worston, East Lancs. 3.?m/1250ft
1st Man - Ted Mason (Wharfedale)
1st Lady - Katie Walshaw (Ribble Valley)
My Stats - 36:31 19/237
ROGER COLSON COWM 5K - LOTHERSDALE - MEARLEY CLOUGH
The weeks have flown by quickly, but sadly the same cannot be said about my leg speed! Regular racing has now kicked in again but I'm still feeling shy of what I consider to be satisfactory form. With regards to getting a jolt forwards on the back of months of sessions and a few longer runs in the bank, there has been nothing to show for it all. I can claim consistency at least from the last three races lately, but albeit at a very average rate and a breakthrough performance is still not forthcoming. I'm actually really surprised at how long it's taking to click in to a faster racing gear. I really must have been kidding myself at Podium in early April to think I was tapping in to the form of late last Summer. Over a month on and I'm still nowhere near. But the final jigsaw to last Summer's routine is set to be pieced up after a pitch inspection yesterday revealed that my 'Buttercup Meadow' loop on the local park is good to firm and soft in places again and also freshly mowed! Grassy sessions are back this weekend.
Back to recent competition though and a return to Cowm Reservoir seven days on was a success if only for finding the place without a hiccup this time around, but an improvement of six seconds was modest and yet an improvement nonetheless. My club chairman Barnes challenged me to knock more than five seconds off or wear a ridiculous forfeit vest next time out. I thought I'd easily do it, but I couldn't have cut it any finer. In fact by my watch I thought I hadn't done enough, but the official results came to the rescue and spared me that all important extra second. It was a tough run again in the latter stages although I managed to feel comfortable at pace for longer until Salford's Billy McCartney effortlessly came by on lap two. Despite wondering what he was playing at - having been a minute quicker than me last week and seemingly cantering here - I managed to hang on to his shadow and come in a few seconds behind him for a nose bleeding fourth place. Clearly not quite the strength in depth at the top end in this week's race then, as just six seconds of pace bought me thirteen places the better, but that shouldn't detract from a decent win by my fellow Ribble Valley Harrier Ste Hall.
The following week was my first visit to Lothersdale, a fairly remote little village down a steep valley between Colne and Skipton. A cold, heavy shower timed itself to perfection with five minutes to go before the race started. Not an entirely pleasant experience when having nowhere to run to in vest and shorts. It briefly turned to sleet a few minutes in to the first climb, but thankfully fine weather resumed and numbness thawed well before reaching the Tow Top Moor trig point from which we returned in an out and back affair. Two fifteen year old lads dominated this one. I'd heard of the victorious Sam Smith, but not Eric Beaumont, a close second - a Wharfedale lad and a Keighley lad to keep eyes out for in the future. I inadvertently ended up sharing a few words with Eric's rightfully very proud mum in the finishing area. It seems that because his Dad got him a sneaky pint after a good race at the Haworth Bunny Runs, he expects one after every race now - a proper fell runner then! For me this was a race of two halves where I struggled, but held out for a top ten spot on the ascent and then did ok on the way back out to hold my own. But still I wasn't able to engage in to that elusive highest gear.
And so another week later, one of my favourites and the classic short fell race upon the steep slopes of Pendle that is Mearley Clough. Lothersdale was low key with only my club mate Louisa Powell-Smith recognisable, but not so at Mearley with a record sized field and lots of familiar faces. Once again the climbing let me down despite a recent training run in the Lakes, but I was able to descend with a bit more conviction only for my flat pace to disappointingly hit a plateau. Relatively speaking, the result proved not to be disaster by any stretch but still about a minute and the rest off where I felt I could be. Conditions were perfect. Not for catching views, but certainly for racing. A cool blanket of thick mist had descended on Pendle after the day had started with blue skies. For the third race in succession that I lined up at, a fellow RVH runner took some winning spoils as pocket rocket Katie Walshaw soared to a ladies victory. A few more guys from the club were present watching the race after doing a session nearby and lined up against a stone wall just as I was coming off the fell to treat me to a rendition of some sort of pre-trophy lifting 'whooooaaa' celebration as I went by. It was novel if nowt else. The last time I recall anything like this experience was on a training run maybe ten years ago when I proceeded with caution wondering what the hell all the noise was about before interrupting a Roman battle being reenacted near the ruins of Hollinshead Hall at Tockholes. One male voice shouted "runner!", before silence fell and this large group of historical thespians formed what was like a guard of honour to let me through, whence continuation of said battle progressed on my passing.
The day after Mearley then, and I don't feel half as sore as I ought to but not for a lack of effort I hasten to add. Maybe the old body is finally toughening up to regular racing again afterall? Only the next race will tell.
Wednesday 25th April 2018
ROGER COLSON COWM 5K Cowm Reservoir, Whitworth.
1st Man - Stephen Hall (Ribble Valley) 17:19
1st Lady - Jenny Pilling 20:14
My Stats - 18:09 4/59
Wednesday 2nd6 May 2018
LOTHERSDALE West Yorkshire 3.6/600ft
1st Man - Sam Smith (Wharfedale) 26:31
1st Lady - Louisa Powell-Smith (Ribble Valley) 29:27
My Stats - 28:24 9/82
Tuesday 8th May 2018
MEARLEY CLOUGH Worston, East Lancs. 3.?m/1250ft
1st Man - Ted Mason (Wharfedale)
1st Lady - Katie Walshaw (Ribble Valley)
My Stats - 36:31 19/237
Wednesday, 25 April 2018
LOST BUT NOT LAST AT LEAST
BOB & HILARY TOWELL COWM 5K RACE
That recent Podium experience left my tail between my legs. Finishing last wasn't particularly a disgrace, but more so the time I clocked. Certainly in those next few days after the race, going out running again ranked as by far the biggest chore... even more so than truly mundane stuff like hoovering, pegging out two loads of washing, mowing the grass, doing a bit of weeding... there was nothing there, no zip, no physical urge, no mental intent. I was running because I had to, because if I didn't then everything would slip and if nothing else I still have some good sessions in the bank and somewhere along the lines they must count for something if I can just plod through this Podium hangover. By the middle of the following week I had mentioned on a club thread that I was interested in another 5K the following Wednesday and by doing that it was a sort of commitment to myself that would at least give me a bit of short term focus to get back on it. Still feeling lethargic, I nevertheless got a bit more mileage in than recent weeks, but didn't stretch my legs out to any fast stuff until a kind of mini-session of eight one minute surges the night before the race. It did the trick of waking my legs up without battering them.
So to race night. One of Andy O'Sullivan's Andems Runners races, of which I haven't got over to for a good few years. But these are just the sort of low key evening races with a great ambience about them that I will always enjoy. The likes of myself are guaranteed some decent competition. A 5K around Cowm Reservoir near Whitworth, upon the far Rochdale reaches of Rossendale on an early Spring evening? Sounded good to me.
A 7pm start would leave just enough time to get there from work and allow for a bit of a warm up, or so that would be the case all being well. And all was going well until I got off the A56 at Rawtenstall. This wasn't actually a mistake even though I thought it was at the time, in fact the first mistake was forgetting my phone charger in the morning and having three per cent power left at this point so I could only stop and check Google maps when absolutely necessary. Mistake number two was then misreading that map, thinking that I should turn around and carry on down the A56 again and therefore bypass Rawtenstall centre - wrong! Within minutes I was trapped and merging on to the M66. Vulgarities were sounded out to myself at some decibels inside my little Citroen C1 box and more so when I saw the sign for the next exit being some seven miles away... and for Bury! I was lost.
A little less than forty minutes left until the race start, here I was now hurtling away from my destination quicker than I was finding it. It was foot down on this fairly quiet stretch of motorway and when the Bury junction came, it also offered a left turn to Heywood - and a light bulb went on in my frazzled head. I'm thinking, 'Heywood, that's near Rochdale, Rochdale is near Whitworth... let's do Heywood'. From Heywood, one of two crucial very last faint battery saving peeks of Google maps pulled me out of the mire, but it was less than twenty five minutes until kick off now and I'd half resigned myself to just eventually finding the place but having a jog out and watch the race instead. But once I picked up the checkpoint to the back of Rochdale Golf Course fairly handily, from there hope returned again and with one more memorised glimpse of the map on my phone before it's lights went out for good, I finally got there at just gone quarter-to. Not ideal, but sod it I might as well have a go now. I was really lucky to roll in to a space right outside the pub to register and once inside, with eyes like a rabbit's in the headlamps looking for an entry form and a biro, I received a reassuring tap on the shoulder by one of the Andems race officials and told to stay calm. ''Don't worry yourself, plenty of time. Seventeen minutes yet''. Seventeen? Bonus! Enough time to pin my number on, have a loo stop and get to the start at least, but already resigned to the fact that a proper warm up was out of the question.
Including myself, six Ribble Valley runners were present at the start which also included the two time English Fell Running Champion, winner of more or less every big race on the calendar and proper legend that is Shaun Livesey who pinned a proper number on for the first time in over a decade. It was an honour to be there for that alone. Recently accepting presidency of the club, the whole reformation of Ribble Valley Harriers, for whom Shaun was an original member, has rekindled his interest in the sport which I think is great.
The race started below the reservoir damn with a short climb up the road on to the track around the reservoir which underfoot is a mixed variant of pavement and firm track. Two laps and it's back down to where we started. I began to tighten up a bit in the last mile and lost a few places which was a little disappointing, but managed to keep it together and at least better that Podium time on a slower course and with a tough headwind up one side of the res.
A face I couldn't catch last Summer at the Rossendale Fell Series was that of Rochdale veteran Danny Bennett. He came past with about a kilometre to go which was all well and good but for the fact he was wearing a pair of Brooks Ghost. In my line of work at the moment, that added insult to injury. They are a great running shoe but not the most economical in a short race like this I might argue and this observation hurt me more than actually losing places!
So it's back here next week for the next one I reckon, to try and chip some time off. Getting there in time for a warm up might help. It was great to be back at one of Andy O'Sullivan's races, quite distinctive and dare I say a lovingly eccentric character who still shares his thoughts on that trademark loud speaker before, during and after the race. Nowt like it.
Wednesday 18th April
BOB & HILARY TOWELL COWM 5K RACE Whitworth, Nr. Rochdale
1st Man - Mac O'Malley (Trafford AC) 16:14
1st Lady - Charlotte Corrigan (Hyndburn AC) 20:51
My Stats - 18:15 18/107
BOB & HILARY TOWELL COWM 5K RACE
That recent Podium experience left my tail between my legs. Finishing last wasn't particularly a disgrace, but more so the time I clocked. Certainly in those next few days after the race, going out running again ranked as by far the biggest chore... even more so than truly mundane stuff like hoovering, pegging out two loads of washing, mowing the grass, doing a bit of weeding... there was nothing there, no zip, no physical urge, no mental intent. I was running because I had to, because if I didn't then everything would slip and if nothing else I still have some good sessions in the bank and somewhere along the lines they must count for something if I can just plod through this Podium hangover. By the middle of the following week I had mentioned on a club thread that I was interested in another 5K the following Wednesday and by doing that it was a sort of commitment to myself that would at least give me a bit of short term focus to get back on it. Still feeling lethargic, I nevertheless got a bit more mileage in than recent weeks, but didn't stretch my legs out to any fast stuff until a kind of mini-session of eight one minute surges the night before the race. It did the trick of waking my legs up without battering them.
So to race night. One of Andy O'Sullivan's Andems Runners races, of which I haven't got over to for a good few years. But these are just the sort of low key evening races with a great ambience about them that I will always enjoy. The likes of myself are guaranteed some decent competition. A 5K around Cowm Reservoir near Whitworth, upon the far Rochdale reaches of Rossendale on an early Spring evening? Sounded good to me.
A 7pm start would leave just enough time to get there from work and allow for a bit of a warm up, or so that would be the case all being well. And all was going well until I got off the A56 at Rawtenstall. This wasn't actually a mistake even though I thought it was at the time, in fact the first mistake was forgetting my phone charger in the morning and having three per cent power left at this point so I could only stop and check Google maps when absolutely necessary. Mistake number two was then misreading that map, thinking that I should turn around and carry on down the A56 again and therefore bypass Rawtenstall centre - wrong! Within minutes I was trapped and merging on to the M66. Vulgarities were sounded out to myself at some decibels inside my little Citroen C1 box and more so when I saw the sign for the next exit being some seven miles away... and for Bury! I was lost.
A little less than forty minutes left until the race start, here I was now hurtling away from my destination quicker than I was finding it. It was foot down on this fairly quiet stretch of motorway and when the Bury junction came, it also offered a left turn to Heywood - and a light bulb went on in my frazzled head. I'm thinking, 'Heywood, that's near Rochdale, Rochdale is near Whitworth... let's do Heywood'. From Heywood, one of two crucial very last faint battery saving peeks of Google maps pulled me out of the mire, but it was less than twenty five minutes until kick off now and I'd half resigned myself to just eventually finding the place but having a jog out and watch the race instead. But once I picked up the checkpoint to the back of Rochdale Golf Course fairly handily, from there hope returned again and with one more memorised glimpse of the map on my phone before it's lights went out for good, I finally got there at just gone quarter-to. Not ideal, but sod it I might as well have a go now. I was really lucky to roll in to a space right outside the pub to register and once inside, with eyes like a rabbit's in the headlamps looking for an entry form and a biro, I received a reassuring tap on the shoulder by one of the Andems race officials and told to stay calm. ''Don't worry yourself, plenty of time. Seventeen minutes yet''. Seventeen? Bonus! Enough time to pin my number on, have a loo stop and get to the start at least, but already resigned to the fact that a proper warm up was out of the question.
Including myself, six Ribble Valley runners were present at the start which also included the two time English Fell Running Champion, winner of more or less every big race on the calendar and proper legend that is Shaun Livesey who pinned a proper number on for the first time in over a decade. It was an honour to be there for that alone. Recently accepting presidency of the club, the whole reformation of Ribble Valley Harriers, for whom Shaun was an original member, has rekindled his interest in the sport which I think is great.
The race started below the reservoir damn with a short climb up the road on to the track around the reservoir which underfoot is a mixed variant of pavement and firm track. Two laps and it's back down to where we started. I began to tighten up a bit in the last mile and lost a few places which was a little disappointing, but managed to keep it together and at least better that Podium time on a slower course and with a tough headwind up one side of the res.
A face I couldn't catch last Summer at the Rossendale Fell Series was that of Rochdale veteran Danny Bennett. He came past with about a kilometre to go which was all well and good but for the fact he was wearing a pair of Brooks Ghost. In my line of work at the moment, that added insult to injury. They are a great running shoe but not the most economical in a short race like this I might argue and this observation hurt me more than actually losing places!
So it's back here next week for the next one I reckon, to try and chip some time off. Getting there in time for a warm up might help. It was great to be back at one of Andy O'Sullivan's races, quite distinctive and dare I say a lovingly eccentric character who still shares his thoughts on that trademark loud speaker before, during and after the race. Nowt like it.
Wednesday 18th April
BOB & HILARY TOWELL COWM 5K RACE Whitworth, Nr. Rochdale
1st Man - Mac O'Malley (Trafford AC) 16:14
1st Lady - Charlotte Corrigan (Hyndburn AC) 20:51
My Stats - 18:15 18/107
Tuesday, 10 April 2018
PERSONAL WORST
PODIUM 5K
Quite often this blog, diary, rambling or whatever it may loosely be classified as, is a rod for my own back. When I have a crap race I might want to talk about it briefly and may even spout excuses, but I don't particularly enjoy making a written record of it. I just want to stew in my own self deprecating thoughts, try and work out what happened and why, then get out there and try again before thoughts of taking up Crown Green bowling return with serious intent. In life, I have, and continue to fall short of making good of things that I might actually have a talent for. So why on earth do I expect to buck that trend over something that I'm not so talented at like running? Psychological flaws would be the answer to that one.
I'm not a good enough runner to take things too seriously, but I'm serious enough to be disappointed and embarrassed after recording a shock personal worst 5K time at Podium. What an absolute joke of a performance! Training had been suggesting for a few weeks that a sub-17 minuter was on the cards. Worst case scenario, I can always dig out a sub-18, even off not much training backbone and at least warrant my place within the current 'A' race time band. But I couldn't even scratch that bare minimum requirement on this occasion, falling well short of doing enough to even justify my albeit insignificant participation.
Instead I suffered a second all time top five worst race in the space of less than four months. Hardly a statistic to fill my heart with joy. There was no lack of effort, I grimly held on for the last two kilometres despite the fact that it felt as if this possibly flattest 5K course in the country was actually on a hill. As far as the stiff back was concerned, it felt fine when running. In fact I felt great warming up - sometimes a bad sign! There's no excuses for this result, but there has to be some sort of tenuous explanation after probably the most solid bank of uninterrupted and intensive interval training I've ever done.
At the time of the wheels falling off on Saturday night and the immediate aftermath of what had just happened, all seemed inexplicable. But the subsequent post-mortem pointed towards the previous weekend's extreme deviation from training routine and the two short but very sharp up and downers that I couldn't resist upon the slopes of Helvellyn's Dodd's. Quad muscles mashed, subsequent lactic was seemingly flushed out by a decent flat speed session which restored confidence in still being able to run well at Podium. But remembering back to Saturday evening and locating where the stride shortened and the wheels buckled, it wasn't the usual suspect of hamstrings, adductor or gluets. It was the quads. Could this have been my undoing? The morning after, it was the quads that felt the most worked-out muscle set, which is extremely unusual after a flat 5K . It's normally the calf muscles or the hamstrings doing the screaming. That said and if true, it's still a poor do that I couldn't even hang on for anything near a sub-18. An all time personal worst of 18:19 recorded and last place all to myself by a distance. One or two other competitors bailed however, which I consider a bit of cop out at this sort of distance unless you're injured. It did cross my mind to join them, but with a DNF only last month I can't make it a habit. I stayed on and took my punishment.
I was hoping to have a bit of a ding-dong with my former Blackburn clubmate Paul Guinan as he continues to progress through his most recent comeback. But after all the pre-race bantering by myself, Guiny must have been wondering what a load of deluded drivel I had been banging on about. In retrospect, so do I! He pulled away from me about half way around and that was that.
The next race is going to tell me what's going on. Training has been going well all in all so I'm thinking it was a blip, fatigued quads, very bad day at the office or something like that. What I must stop doing is bigging myself up before a race which is something I've noticed has crept in to my game. I don't do it through arrogance - I have nothing to be arrogant about! - I think it's just sporting nerves and getting myself revved up like back in the footballing days, but it's got to stop. More often than not my words don't match my actions and I end up looking like an even bigger dick than already perceived! If that's possible?!
Lest not I completely smother the good name of Podium 5K in my own misgivings and shortcomings, for I really ought to comment on observations I made at the other side of the track on a night when the course record was beaten again. Talented St Helen's racer Matthew Crehan's trademark confidence was evident. He's not afraid to have a go and took this one out from the front like a man possessed. Every time I glimpsed across he was well ahead, officially by eleven seconds at one point I am informed. Crehan equalled the old record on the night but I was surprised and equally impressed to hear that wily GB runner Tom Lancashire produced the perfect finish to reel him back in and take the race - and the record - in the very closing stages. That's what Podium is actually about, not some ageing average half beat four minutes adrift who dreams of a long term Indian Summer of racing form from within the confinement of the icy caverns of stark reality.
So why do I really invest considerable time and effort in an activity that I'm pretty average at and unlikely to improve upon at forty bloody four? Well, I love it. Not all the time, but most of the time.
However if the grim reaper of athletical capability really does show me his hand this year, then switching codes to the bowling green is right back on the agenda.
Saturday 7th April 2018
PODIUM 5K Steven Burke Cycle & Sports Hub, Barrowford, East Lancs
1st Man - Tom Lancashire (Bolton Utd Harriers) 14:19
1st Lady - Becky Rigby (Preston Harriers) 16:30
My Stats - 18:19 51/51
PODIUM 5K
Quite often this blog, diary, rambling or whatever it may loosely be classified as, is a rod for my own back. When I have a crap race I might want to talk about it briefly and may even spout excuses, but I don't particularly enjoy making a written record of it. I just want to stew in my own self deprecating thoughts, try and work out what happened and why, then get out there and try again before thoughts of taking up Crown Green bowling return with serious intent. In life, I have, and continue to fall short of making good of things that I might actually have a talent for. So why on earth do I expect to buck that trend over something that I'm not so talented at like running? Psychological flaws would be the answer to that one.
I'm not a good enough runner to take things too seriously, but I'm serious enough to be disappointed and embarrassed after recording a shock personal worst 5K time at Podium. What an absolute joke of a performance! Training had been suggesting for a few weeks that a sub-17 minuter was on the cards. Worst case scenario, I can always dig out a sub-18, even off not much training backbone and at least warrant my place within the current 'A' race time band. But I couldn't even scratch that bare minimum requirement on this occasion, falling well short of doing enough to even justify my albeit insignificant participation.
Instead I suffered a second all time top five worst race in the space of less than four months. Hardly a statistic to fill my heart with joy. There was no lack of effort, I grimly held on for the last two kilometres despite the fact that it felt as if this possibly flattest 5K course in the country was actually on a hill. As far as the stiff back was concerned, it felt fine when running. In fact I felt great warming up - sometimes a bad sign! There's no excuses for this result, but there has to be some sort of tenuous explanation after probably the most solid bank of uninterrupted and intensive interval training I've ever done.
At the time of the wheels falling off on Saturday night and the immediate aftermath of what had just happened, all seemed inexplicable. But the subsequent post-mortem pointed towards the previous weekend's extreme deviation from training routine and the two short but very sharp up and downers that I couldn't resist upon the slopes of Helvellyn's Dodd's. Quad muscles mashed, subsequent lactic was seemingly flushed out by a decent flat speed session which restored confidence in still being able to run well at Podium. But remembering back to Saturday evening and locating where the stride shortened and the wheels buckled, it wasn't the usual suspect of hamstrings, adductor or gluets. It was the quads. Could this have been my undoing? The morning after, it was the quads that felt the most worked-out muscle set, which is extremely unusual after a flat 5K . It's normally the calf muscles or the hamstrings doing the screaming. That said and if true, it's still a poor do that I couldn't even hang on for anything near a sub-18. An all time personal worst of 18:19 recorded and last place all to myself by a distance. One or two other competitors bailed however, which I consider a bit of cop out at this sort of distance unless you're injured. It did cross my mind to join them, but with a DNF only last month I can't make it a habit. I stayed on and took my punishment.
I was hoping to have a bit of a ding-dong with my former Blackburn clubmate Paul Guinan as he continues to progress through his most recent comeback. But after all the pre-race bantering by myself, Guiny must have been wondering what a load of deluded drivel I had been banging on about. In retrospect, so do I! He pulled away from me about half way around and that was that.
The next race is going to tell me what's going on. Training has been going well all in all so I'm thinking it was a blip, fatigued quads, very bad day at the office or something like that. What I must stop doing is bigging myself up before a race which is something I've noticed has crept in to my game. I don't do it through arrogance - I have nothing to be arrogant about! - I think it's just sporting nerves and getting myself revved up like back in the footballing days, but it's got to stop. More often than not my words don't match my actions and I end up looking like an even bigger dick than already perceived! If that's possible?!
Lest not I completely smother the good name of Podium 5K in my own misgivings and shortcomings, for I really ought to comment on observations I made at the other side of the track on a night when the course record was beaten again. Talented St Helen's racer Matthew Crehan's trademark confidence was evident. He's not afraid to have a go and took this one out from the front like a man possessed. Every time I glimpsed across he was well ahead, officially by eleven seconds at one point I am informed. Crehan equalled the old record on the night but I was surprised and equally impressed to hear that wily GB runner Tom Lancashire produced the perfect finish to reel him back in and take the race - and the record - in the very closing stages. That's what Podium is actually about, not some ageing average half beat four minutes adrift who dreams of a long term Indian Summer of racing form from within the confinement of the icy caverns of stark reality.
So why do I really invest considerable time and effort in an activity that I'm pretty average at and unlikely to improve upon at forty bloody four? Well, I love it. Not all the time, but most of the time.
However if the grim reaper of athletical capability really does show me his hand this year, then switching codes to the bowling green is right back on the agenda.
Saturday 7th April 2018
PODIUM 5K Steven Burke Cycle & Sports Hub, Barrowford, East Lancs
1st Man - Tom Lancashire (Bolton Utd Harriers) 14:19
1st Lady - Becky Rigby (Preston Harriers) 16:30
My Stats - 18:19 51/51
Friday, 6 April 2018
A SPRING IN TO RACING ACTION
PETE HARTLEY MEMORIAL LIVER HILL RACE... AND OTHER STUFF
Even if you're not a rebel who believes in the meteorological seasons like myself, but more of an astronomical conformist who panders to the needlessness of GMT clock changing and light tampering at this time of year, or maybe just happen to think it's nowhere near warm enough yet, the news is that weather or not (get it? weather or not?) there is no escaping that Spring is officially here.
Spring means night racing and I managed to finally get myself over to Rawtenstall to embark upon the Liver Hill race for the first time. During the last month or so it's fair to say that as far as the fells are concerned I've only done some amblings with Connie the dog which have all played their part in the weekly regime, but so far as where the effort has been focused then it's all been about interval sessions and in that respect probably training more intensively than ever before. This is all about tomorrow's Podium 5K of course, to which I'll ramble about later on.
At Liver Hill, it was all about getting the ball rolling for regular racing again. Regardless of sore fast twitch muscles, general fatigue and any other excuse I could conjure to play down my own hopes to myself, getting a feeling for where my fitness is going in to the new season was also the aim of the game. Entry was free for this one with a no-pressure contribution to Rossendale Mountain Rescue on the table. Any tight arse that didn't stick a few quid in the box - then shame on their very sorry existences.
The race starts and finishes in cross country territory, taking in a couple of the mudslides on the notorious Marl Pits course. Whilst out and back on the moors, there was little to report other than more mud, more bog and how inconspicuous the summit of Liver Hill actually is. Maybe I'm a spoiled fell running brat when I say I wasn't particularly inspired by the course, but it was most certainly a good race with plenty of talented young lads from the host club Rossendale Harriers setting the pace. By the turnaround point at the small cairn on Liver Hill it was clear that most of those ahead of me were going to stay there. I did make the odd gain and the odd loss on the way back in, but it was just a proper get your head down, slog and churn out everything I had on the night. I didn't feel fresh one bit. I suppose I was slightly disappointed with seventeenth in what is essentially a low key race, but I ought not to ponder too much about that as I was only fifty seconds or so from what would have been a very satisfactory seventh. I think a few more races down the line and with the distraction of Podium out of the way then I could get there.
So training has been geared around speed sessions for a good month and a half now, in more recent weeks mainly quarter mile sets of ten with one minute recoveries, run well beyond race pace two or sometimes three times a week. Mileage in between has generally been run to feel or just recovery plods. It's all about a sub-seventeen minute 5K at Podium. All this speed work must count for something and whilst I don't want to pile too much pressure on myself, I really ought to get under seventeen all being well.
All was going to plan until a return of the old lower back strains yesterday, without any particular reason or notice other than sod's law. As I type this now with just less than thirty-one hours until the gun, it's touch and go. Ibuprofen and self massage with my knuckles seem to be giving me some relief! I'll be gutted if I'm not right to run tomorrow night.
Ok so sod's law gets the blame, but maybe I have been getting a bid giddy lately and asking for trouble? When staying at St John's In The Vale for last weekend's Easter break with Sara and Connie, we were literally at the foot of the steep Helvellyn mass up to Stybarrow Dodd. The only way was up for a couple of crazy two and a half milers that left my quads in bits. I simply couldn't resist though - when in Rome... what else to do with a spare half hour after walking all day? When back home, the last flat speed session on Tuesday went some way to flushing out the lactic from the weekend's descents and I was feeling perfectly tuned heading towards my Saturday showdown - that was until the back went twang. Now little over thirty hours to go, I think the worst of it may just have peaked so hope remains.
Tuesday 27th March
PETE HARTLEY MEMORIAL LIVER HILL RACE
Marl Pits, Rawtenstall. East Lancs. 4.3m/820ft
1st Man - Callum Davidson (Rossendale) 34:03
1st Lady - Lauryn Gregg (Rossendale) 44:33
My Stats - 40:10 17/128
PETE HARTLEY MEMORIAL LIVER HILL RACE... AND OTHER STUFF
Even if you're not a rebel who believes in the meteorological seasons like myself, but more of an astronomical conformist who panders to the needlessness of GMT clock changing and light tampering at this time of year, or maybe just happen to think it's nowhere near warm enough yet, the news is that weather or not (get it? weather or not?) there is no escaping that Spring is officially here.
Spring means night racing and I managed to finally get myself over to Rawtenstall to embark upon the Liver Hill race for the first time. During the last month or so it's fair to say that as far as the fells are concerned I've only done some amblings with Connie the dog which have all played their part in the weekly regime, but so far as where the effort has been focused then it's all been about interval sessions and in that respect probably training more intensively than ever before. This is all about tomorrow's Podium 5K of course, to which I'll ramble about later on.
At Liver Hill, it was all about getting the ball rolling for regular racing again. Regardless of sore fast twitch muscles, general fatigue and any other excuse I could conjure to play down my own hopes to myself, getting a feeling for where my fitness is going in to the new season was also the aim of the game. Entry was free for this one with a no-pressure contribution to Rossendale Mountain Rescue on the table. Any tight arse that didn't stick a few quid in the box - then shame on their very sorry existences.
The race starts and finishes in cross country territory, taking in a couple of the mudslides on the notorious Marl Pits course. Whilst out and back on the moors, there was little to report other than more mud, more bog and how inconspicuous the summit of Liver Hill actually is. Maybe I'm a spoiled fell running brat when I say I wasn't particularly inspired by the course, but it was most certainly a good race with plenty of talented young lads from the host club Rossendale Harriers setting the pace. By the turnaround point at the small cairn on Liver Hill it was clear that most of those ahead of me were going to stay there. I did make the odd gain and the odd loss on the way back in, but it was just a proper get your head down, slog and churn out everything I had on the night. I didn't feel fresh one bit. I suppose I was slightly disappointed with seventeenth in what is essentially a low key race, but I ought not to ponder too much about that as I was only fifty seconds or so from what would have been a very satisfactory seventh. I think a few more races down the line and with the distraction of Podium out of the way then I could get there.
So training has been geared around speed sessions for a good month and a half now, in more recent weeks mainly quarter mile sets of ten with one minute recoveries, run well beyond race pace two or sometimes three times a week. Mileage in between has generally been run to feel or just recovery plods. It's all about a sub-seventeen minute 5K at Podium. All this speed work must count for something and whilst I don't want to pile too much pressure on myself, I really ought to get under seventeen all being well.
All was going to plan until a return of the old lower back strains yesterday, without any particular reason or notice other than sod's law. As I type this now with just less than thirty-one hours until the gun, it's touch and go. Ibuprofen and self massage with my knuckles seem to be giving me some relief! I'll be gutted if I'm not right to run tomorrow night.
Ok so sod's law gets the blame, but maybe I have been getting a bid giddy lately and asking for trouble? When staying at St John's In The Vale for last weekend's Easter break with Sara and Connie, we were literally at the foot of the steep Helvellyn mass up to Stybarrow Dodd. The only way was up for a couple of crazy two and a half milers that left my quads in bits. I simply couldn't resist though - when in Rome... what else to do with a spare half hour after walking all day? When back home, the last flat speed session on Tuesday went some way to flushing out the lactic from the weekend's descents and I was feeling perfectly tuned heading towards my Saturday showdown - that was until the back went twang. Now little over thirty hours to go, I think the worst of it may just have peaked so hope remains.
Tuesday 27th March
PETE HARTLEY MEMORIAL LIVER HILL RACE
Marl Pits, Rawtenstall. East Lancs. 4.3m/820ft
1st Man - Callum Davidson (Rossendale) 34:03
1st Lady - Lauryn Gregg (Rossendale) 44:33
My Stats - 40:10 17/128
Wednesday, 21 March 2018
LOOKING AHEAD, BUT NOT TOO FAR
I expressed my thoughts - ranted perhaps - about the righteousness of the meteorological seasons last back end. But even I would have to admit that twenty odd days in to what I classify as Spring, there has been hardly any sign of it whatsoever. If anything, since the turn of meteorological March we've had a more wintry snap than the whole of Winter itself had to offer. But under closer inspection, the snowdrops are out, the daffodils are trying, the bluebells are sprouting and wild garlic is showing shoots. As fabulous as it is to closely observe the marvels of the different seasons in transition, this also means we can only be a couple of weeks away from midweek evening races returning to the calendar!
So this year I'm going in to the new season with a little bit of clout already behind me. A few races and some good training since the beginning of February particularly, I have managed to get in regular speed and hill sessions each week and finally those pain in the arse niggly Winter aches and pains are also showing signs of fading away. Whether or not deemed an anti-social at the club for evading their sessions and doing my own thing instead lately, essentially it's what I need to do to stay on the right side of injury wrongs. I sincerely hope to be in a good place the next time I rack up on a starting line.
Another DNF would be unthinkable. Even if racing fitness itself will take a few tries to kick in, the feeling is that I'm not far off and should be able to pile in to the night races with more confidence than trepidation and get some reasonable results under my belt right from the off.
The off will be Liver Hill at Rawtenstall - if I can physically get there on time for a 6:45 start. Annually bookmarked as first midweek evening fell race of the year, it's one I've yet to actually get over to and race. So it's time I did. After this, probably next up will be my one and only tarmac assault of the season at Podium 5K. I'm after a sub-17 minuter which would not be a bad effort for this old goat. Approaching this one with training going even better than the last Podium in November - and more geared towards the distance and the speed required - I ought to get it smashed and done with so long as I keep ticking over like I am at the moment without interruption. There's no point pretending to myself and playing it down - I really want the time at Podium - then I can put this final target on the tarmac to bed once and for all.
In the longer term, it's just about trying to enjoy the Spring and Summer races without a massive plan as such, other than to try and compete at least once a week and build up something reminiscent of consistency for once in my running life.
In the longer term maybe a time will come to actually have a plan, to pick big races, to get stuck in to some of the Cumbrian stuff again with regularity. Obviously things outside of running also come in to play and right now running plans can't get too carried away. But within the cranium of this running nobody in particular there is a vision of sorts - if a little hazy on the distant horizon, focused in the foreground at least.
I expressed my thoughts - ranted perhaps - about the righteousness of the meteorological seasons last back end. But even I would have to admit that twenty odd days in to what I classify as Spring, there has been hardly any sign of it whatsoever. If anything, since the turn of meteorological March we've had a more wintry snap than the whole of Winter itself had to offer. But under closer inspection, the snowdrops are out, the daffodils are trying, the bluebells are sprouting and wild garlic is showing shoots. As fabulous as it is to closely observe the marvels of the different seasons in transition, this also means we can only be a couple of weeks away from midweek evening races returning to the calendar!
So this year I'm going in to the new season with a little bit of clout already behind me. A few races and some good training since the beginning of February particularly, I have managed to get in regular speed and hill sessions each week and finally those pain in the arse niggly Winter aches and pains are also showing signs of fading away. Whether or not deemed an anti-social at the club for evading their sessions and doing my own thing instead lately, essentially it's what I need to do to stay on the right side of injury wrongs. I sincerely hope to be in a good place the next time I rack up on a starting line.
Another DNF would be unthinkable. Even if racing fitness itself will take a few tries to kick in, the feeling is that I'm not far off and should be able to pile in to the night races with more confidence than trepidation and get some reasonable results under my belt right from the off.
The off will be Liver Hill at Rawtenstall - if I can physically get there on time for a 6:45 start. Annually bookmarked as first midweek evening fell race of the year, it's one I've yet to actually get over to and race. So it's time I did. After this, probably next up will be my one and only tarmac assault of the season at Podium 5K. I'm after a sub-17 minuter which would not be a bad effort for this old goat. Approaching this one with training going even better than the last Podium in November - and more geared towards the distance and the speed required - I ought to get it smashed and done with so long as I keep ticking over like I am at the moment without interruption. There's no point pretending to myself and playing it down - I really want the time at Podium - then I can put this final target on the tarmac to bed once and for all.
In the longer term, it's just about trying to enjoy the Spring and Summer races without a massive plan as such, other than to try and compete at least once a week and build up something reminiscent of consistency for once in my running life.
In the longer term maybe a time will come to actually have a plan, to pick big races, to get stuck in to some of the Cumbrian stuff again with regularity. Obviously things outside of running also come in to play and right now running plans can't get too carried away. But within the cranium of this running nobody in particular there is a vision of sorts - if a little hazy on the distant horizon, focused in the foreground at least.
Friday, 16 March 2018
THE DNA OF A DNF
RODDLESWORTH ROLLER
DNF. Did Not Finish. An acronym runners never like to be associated with. I might get back to the tedious detail leading up to my very own DNF, which paled in to insignificance at the Roddlesworth Roller last Sunday. But more so I would like to explore a little further in to the dark world of the runner who pulls out of a race. There is a definitive stigma of failure attached to a DNF and an often staining legacy upon a runner's self respect. I've had four DNF's in the past, through injury, through exhaustion and through chucking my toys out of the pram.
Certainly a DNF by injury is without choice and therefore an easier burden for the conscience to accept - yet latterly depressing - for there is the consequence of the injury to consider and the frustration of being sidelined for an indefinite period of time.
DNF by exhaustion boils down to the amount of stubbornness and resolve of an individual. Those whose stubbornness isn't matched by resolve may allow themselves to reach a stage where they sacrifice wellness or risk injury for the sake of bravado. Those with a more matter of fact outlook might know exactly when to pull the plug and think of the long term. To some, the latter would be a clear choice between being hardcore or a softy. To others it's a simple distinction between madness or sensibility.
DNF by dummy spit and toy chucking is just a messy place to be and a sure way to feel diappointed in yourself. At least that is my view from personal experience. But we are human and these things can happen.
DNF by just not feeling you can't race to a decent enough standard on the day to satisfy your competitive needs could be deemed as an equally lame excuse and bottling out by some, yet perfectly understandable by others. This can depend on the class of the runner and whether more stoic or perfectionist. Those gifted few that possess both of these traits in abundance would tend to be the very cream of the crop that can rely on raw talent to pull them through and avoid such a consequence.
Nobody wants to DNF. Nobody really bothers to travel and turn up for a race thinking they'll see how it goes but probably pull out at some point. Many runners tell ourselves we'll never DNF and pride ourselves, foolhardily or not, on a clean slate at finishing every single race they've started. But a DNF can happen to anybody, anytime and once that seal has been broken, thoughts about a DNF can creep in during a race that may not be going particularly well and then those thoughts need dealing with - again, speaking from experience!
My DNF seal was first broken years ago at the Three Shires fell race after a bad fall. The choice was made for me, my right knee was a right mess and it was all over. The next time was at Sedburgh Hills where I pulled something and maybe could have carried on, but most definitely had made things worse in the long run over that beast of a course, so cop out I plea not. Three Peaks last year? Well I just wasn't up to the job and was ill prepared. Then less than two years ago, I spat the dummy and threw the toys out at Sabden Trail Race. Not running as well as I thought I should or could - deluded really, given my form and fitness at the time - I just stopped and started trotting back the opposite way. Since that particular incident at Sabden, DNF demons plague my thoughts when I perceive that a race isn't going well. The process tends to happen early on if the legs feel heavy and there seems to be little sign of any reasonable output despite the expense of maximum input. Thoughts such as, ''This is crap, I'll give it a bit longer and see how it goes", or "I'll see how I am at the top of that next climb", or "Oh shit, suchabody's passing me now, this is bloody awful''... the demons start dragging me down. More often than not I can dig out a positive response and at some point get myself back in to the race. Sometimes I deliberate over pulling out for so long that I might as well just carry on as the race is over half way around so a DNF becomes an even more pointless exercise! Sometimes I've just had a rusty start and it takes a few miles for the engines to fire. But like it or not, I can't hide the fact that since that cop out at Sabden, I've left the door ajar for a mental weakness.
Heart, legs and lungs are the big players on race day, but if the head starts to get overly involved when the adrenaline is pumping around, this is when there is a vulnerability. The head - and certainly my extensively sized version - is not always to be trusted once in the heat of competitive action. The head can set the legs off too quickly, believe the impossible, overrate our own capabilities. The head might also tell us we are not up to the job, to quit before it gets worse, underrate our own capabilities.
For whatever the reason and whether a spontaneous action, carefully calculated or just a desperate necessity, a DNF can be a personally haunting memory for a competitiv runner and can only begin to be put right by the next opportunity to put some kit back on and get a decent run in. That is precisely what happened to me after last Sunday's DNF. The batteries felt more charged the day after and I found myself blasting out cross country laps on the local park in the mud and rain as hard as I could and enjoyed the punishment. It did the trick I think.
I'm not a happy bunny about feeling the need to pull out on Sunday but there's no point getting hung up about it. This latest DNF came under the category of just not feeling up to standard. I've been training fairly well, got sessions and races under my belt of late, felt strong all last week and was confident of having quite a decent run at Roddlesworth this year. I think I made the mistake of running with the dog the day before a bit further than I ought to. Yep, if in doubt blame the dog among other lame excuses. A mile in and everything was feeling more and more out of sync. I was blowing hard and yet well shy of race pace and I spent probably less than half a minute considering the option to drop out before saying ''sod this'' and deviating off course to the other side of the woods for a couple of miles on my own before heading back to register my DNF status. That somebody shouted to me, "Mate! This way, mate", from behind was a wee source of amusement to soften the blow. There were at least half a dozen guys closely filed in singular fashion on the main track ahead of me and it would have been a quite ridiculous alternative route choice!
In retrospect, if this had been a race I'd not done before in unfamiliar territory and unfamiliar company then I'd have muddled through. But as it was, I didn't see the point. I'd like to think I'm a better runner than that at the moment, even if I may be judged a lesser person for pressing the quit button so readily.
Sunday 11th March 2018
RODDLESWORTH ROLLER Abbey Village, Lancs. 5.5m
1st Man - Chris Davies (Blackburn H.) 33:19
1st Lady - Jenifer Dixon (Middleton) 40:38
My Stats - DNF
RODDLESWORTH ROLLER
DNF. Did Not Finish. An acronym runners never like to be associated with. I might get back to the tedious detail leading up to my very own DNF, which paled in to insignificance at the Roddlesworth Roller last Sunday. But more so I would like to explore a little further in to the dark world of the runner who pulls out of a race. There is a definitive stigma of failure attached to a DNF and an often staining legacy upon a runner's self respect. I've had four DNF's in the past, through injury, through exhaustion and through chucking my toys out of the pram.
Certainly a DNF by injury is without choice and therefore an easier burden for the conscience to accept - yet latterly depressing - for there is the consequence of the injury to consider and the frustration of being sidelined for an indefinite period of time.
DNF by exhaustion boils down to the amount of stubbornness and resolve of an individual. Those whose stubbornness isn't matched by resolve may allow themselves to reach a stage where they sacrifice wellness or risk injury for the sake of bravado. Those with a more matter of fact outlook might know exactly when to pull the plug and think of the long term. To some, the latter would be a clear choice between being hardcore or a softy. To others it's a simple distinction between madness or sensibility.
DNF by dummy spit and toy chucking is just a messy place to be and a sure way to feel diappointed in yourself. At least that is my view from personal experience. But we are human and these things can happen.
DNF by just not feeling you can't race to a decent enough standard on the day to satisfy your competitive needs could be deemed as an equally lame excuse and bottling out by some, yet perfectly understandable by others. This can depend on the class of the runner and whether more stoic or perfectionist. Those gifted few that possess both of these traits in abundance would tend to be the very cream of the crop that can rely on raw talent to pull them through and avoid such a consequence.
Nobody wants to DNF. Nobody really bothers to travel and turn up for a race thinking they'll see how it goes but probably pull out at some point. Many runners tell ourselves we'll never DNF and pride ourselves, foolhardily or not, on a clean slate at finishing every single race they've started. But a DNF can happen to anybody, anytime and once that seal has been broken, thoughts about a DNF can creep in during a race that may not be going particularly well and then those thoughts need dealing with - again, speaking from experience!
My DNF seal was first broken years ago at the Three Shires fell race after a bad fall. The choice was made for me, my right knee was a right mess and it was all over. The next time was at Sedburgh Hills where I pulled something and maybe could have carried on, but most definitely had made things worse in the long run over that beast of a course, so cop out I plea not. Three Peaks last year? Well I just wasn't up to the job and was ill prepared. Then less than two years ago, I spat the dummy and threw the toys out at Sabden Trail Race. Not running as well as I thought I should or could - deluded really, given my form and fitness at the time - I just stopped and started trotting back the opposite way. Since that particular incident at Sabden, DNF demons plague my thoughts when I perceive that a race isn't going well. The process tends to happen early on if the legs feel heavy and there seems to be little sign of any reasonable output despite the expense of maximum input. Thoughts such as, ''This is crap, I'll give it a bit longer and see how it goes", or "I'll see how I am at the top of that next climb", or "Oh shit, suchabody's passing me now, this is bloody awful''... the demons start dragging me down. More often than not I can dig out a positive response and at some point get myself back in to the race. Sometimes I deliberate over pulling out for so long that I might as well just carry on as the race is over half way around so a DNF becomes an even more pointless exercise! Sometimes I've just had a rusty start and it takes a few miles for the engines to fire. But like it or not, I can't hide the fact that since that cop out at Sabden, I've left the door ajar for a mental weakness.
Heart, legs and lungs are the big players on race day, but if the head starts to get overly involved when the adrenaline is pumping around, this is when there is a vulnerability. The head - and certainly my extensively sized version - is not always to be trusted once in the heat of competitive action. The head can set the legs off too quickly, believe the impossible, overrate our own capabilities. The head might also tell us we are not up to the job, to quit before it gets worse, underrate our own capabilities.
For whatever the reason and whether a spontaneous action, carefully calculated or just a desperate necessity, a DNF can be a personally haunting memory for a competitiv runner and can only begin to be put right by the next opportunity to put some kit back on and get a decent run in. That is precisely what happened to me after last Sunday's DNF. The batteries felt more charged the day after and I found myself blasting out cross country laps on the local park in the mud and rain as hard as I could and enjoyed the punishment. It did the trick I think.
I'm not a happy bunny about feeling the need to pull out on Sunday but there's no point getting hung up about it. This latest DNF came under the category of just not feeling up to standard. I've been training fairly well, got sessions and races under my belt of late, felt strong all last week and was confident of having quite a decent run at Roddlesworth this year. I think I made the mistake of running with the dog the day before a bit further than I ought to. Yep, if in doubt blame the dog among other lame excuses. A mile in and everything was feeling more and more out of sync. I was blowing hard and yet well shy of race pace and I spent probably less than half a minute considering the option to drop out before saying ''sod this'' and deviating off course to the other side of the woods for a couple of miles on my own before heading back to register my DNF status. That somebody shouted to me, "Mate! This way, mate", from behind was a wee source of amusement to soften the blow. There were at least half a dozen guys closely filed in singular fashion on the main track ahead of me and it would have been a quite ridiculous alternative route choice!
In retrospect, if this had been a race I'd not done before in unfamiliar territory and unfamiliar company then I'd have muddled through. But as it was, I didn't see the point. I'd like to think I'm a better runner than that at the moment, even if I may be judged a lesser person for pressing the quit button so readily.
Sunday 11th March 2018
RODDLESWORTH ROLLER Abbey Village, Lancs. 5.5m
1st Man - Chris Davies (Blackburn H.) 33:19
1st Lady - Jenifer Dixon (Middleton) 40:38
My Stats - DNF
Friday, 9 March 2018
FROM LONDON WITH LOVE
ENGLISH NATIONAL CROSS COUNTRY CHAMPIONSHIPS
As a wooly-backed Northern lad from farming stock, it's nice to go and take in the capital city from time to time and get a taste of how the other half live. I would struggle to live there I think, but nowt wrong with a trip out and especially when it's the triennial turn of Parliament Hill to host the English National Cross Country Champs. I remember my last visit to this occasion back in 2015 with Blackburn Harriers. I loved it and wondered why the hell I had never done it before. As such, until my legs can no longer get me around in a half respectable time, it's a must-do when it's in London. I'm already mentally checked in for 2021!
Back to the present though and this time around with Ribble Valley Harriers. Most of us travelled down together in some style with an eight seater Merc put on by our chauffeur Andy Heys. Those machines just cruise at 70mph - it felt like 50. There was plenty enough room and comfort to avoid scrunching up our athletically tuned bodies and thus getting away with making the long journey on the early morning of race day. Our hotel was ideally situated near Hampstead Heath where the action was at and once parked up, it was a short walk to the scene of one of the greatest amateur spectacles the sport has to offer. With a huge pre-entry of almost 10,000 athletes across the board of the ten races on show, it's renaissance of popularity in recent times is a real positive for the club running scene and the sport in general. The Nationals is not about running to raise money for charities - not that I believe such a thing should be outlawed, far from it, before some crazed Neo-Liberal Conservative twists my sentiments here and takes it to The Daily Mail - but nor is it about jogging around with smiley faces and thumbs up, or running for the basic sake of activity itself. There are plenty of opportunities on the race calendar to tick those types of boxes - but this race is most definitely not it. The Nationals is all about pure racing, the competition, getting stuck in and running the very best you can on the day. Everybody else is doing the same thing. Blackburn stalwart Matt Nuttall doesn't say a great deal, but it's normally profound when he does. I believe Matt to be spot on when hearing he remarked that in a normal race these days you might get only ten percent of the field racing really hard for positions, but at the Nationals it's the opposite way around with ninety percent - and when that's out of a field of over 2300 like this year's senior men's line-up, this makes for one hell of a race.
Such a swell of numbers conspired to create a few chaotic moments though early on in the race as the course bottlenecks quickly on the brow of Parliament Hill. If you didn't or couldn't sprint off hard enough to make the top hundred after that first hundred yards or so then congestion came your way. Things came to a bit of a standstill on two or three occasions where the course narrows early on, but that's how it is. Over a distance of 12K, there's plenty of time and opportunity to get some places back. For some higher end athletes, however - such as my shop boss Ben Fish who got stuck in that traffic - it's a bit frustrating because some serious ground was lost on his rivals. For the rest of us though, it's not ideal but I guess we were all in the same boat. I wouldn't like to see the start of the course change as the bottleneck is an infamous feature of the Parliament Hill experience. The day after the weekend before, Ben and I were putting the world to rights and pondered the best way around the problem for in three years time and in order to give the higher end athletes a little bit more priority, but without limiting overall participation. The conclusion was narrower pens and even single file pens for clubs less represented with the pens labelled by club names rather than number where each club can literally put their faster runners to the very front and be responsible to line the rest up in order of ability - thus a more staggered and less frenetic merge upon that opening slope perhaps?
Anyway, back to the race itself and I was feeling really quite comfortable after the first smaller lap. Too comfortable perhaps? I began to crank the pace up a little bit on the next larger lap and it's incredible how even when over half way around there are still so many runners around to overtake and still a good few to be overtaken by - I doubt my position stayed the same for more than ten seconds at a time throughout the whole duration of my race. It's a proper ding-dong all the way around. Once in to that final large lap and fully revised of the course, I started to dig in a bit more and do some serious serial overtaking. But even in massive fields like this one, there is always one face that becomes familiar and in my case it was a chap from Manchester club Chorlton Runners. I thought I'd got rid of him three or four times, but as much as I wound the speed up harder and harder on that final lap he kept popping up beside me again. With probably just less than a mile to go, I decided enough was enough and I had now shut out everybody else in the race and was eyeballs out to get away from the sight of that Chorlton vest for good. But no, half a mile to go and he came by again. As the descent through the woods begins and the finish is in sight, I passed him once more thinking I must have broke him by now. But no - yet again - as the 300 metre or so flat sprint to the finish began, he flew by once more so I hung on to his shadow, hoping I might find that little bit extra on him somewhere before the finishing line. He proved equal to my final offerings though and did me by a couple of seconds. On the plus side, chasing this guy as if my life depended on it must have bought me at least another dozen places in those closing stages. Perhaps I'd gone out too conservatively early on, but I was jiggered at the finish and enjoyed the contests out there. All that effort for 832nd! But I'd do it all again tomorrow, it was ace.
Last time here three years ago I was on the back end of a chest infection so couldn't really dig very deep at all. It was nice to come back to this iconic venue, reasonably fit this time and really feel like part of the battle.
It was a fantastic day for Ribble Valley Harriers all in all. Our ladies team - which is what it's all about - finished a fantastical fifth. An awesome achievement as Walshaw, Jackson, Powell-Smith and Glover finished between 39th and 68th from over 1100 runners to put a club with fewer than twenty members in to the national gaze. The old geezers didn't do too badly, machines Gaskell and Hall were about four minutes and 400 places ahead of myself. The fast improving and comparatively youthful Andy Heys, at 38, also ran a blinder just 80 seconds behind me. I fairly smacked that last lap out as well so I may have to watch my back for him this year.
Ribble Valley put out ten runners, including a full ladies team at the Nationals, despite being a club of so few members. With the exception of Blackburn Harriers, who fielded a strong turnout and gained an excellent 22nd in the men's team standings, no other club was in evidence flying the flag for Lancashire. It's been a familiar tale in recent times regardless of the championships' location and quite a saddening statistic. The Cross Country Nationals - and particularly at it's spiritual home on Parliament Hill - epitomise what the sport is all about. A huge turnout where everyone of all levels of ability get stuck in and race hard. As a spectacle to both watch and participate in, they are fantastic races. That poses the questions, where were all the other clubs from our area and why? Most definitely their loss - not just for the racing, but the crack.
A meal and a few too many beers in the evening, a physically disjointed but aesthetically pleasant four mile run around a sunny but bitter Hampstead Heath in the morning, before a late breakfast and then homeward bound. A cracking little weekend of running club indulgence.
Saturday 24th February 2018
ENGLISH NATIONAL CROSS COUNTRY CHAMPIONSHIPS
Parliament Hill Fields, Hampstead Heath, London.
1st Senior Men's Race (12K) - Adam Hickey (Southend-on-Sea AC) 39:35
1st Senior Ladies Race (8K) - Phoebe Law (Kingston AC & Polytechnic Harriers) 28:33
My Stats - 52:25 832/2328
ENGLISH NATIONAL CROSS COUNTRY CHAMPIONSHIPS
As a wooly-backed Northern lad from farming stock, it's nice to go and take in the capital city from time to time and get a taste of how the other half live. I would struggle to live there I think, but nowt wrong with a trip out and especially when it's the triennial turn of Parliament Hill to host the English National Cross Country Champs. I remember my last visit to this occasion back in 2015 with Blackburn Harriers. I loved it and wondered why the hell I had never done it before. As such, until my legs can no longer get me around in a half respectable time, it's a must-do when it's in London. I'm already mentally checked in for 2021!
Back to the present though and this time around with Ribble Valley Harriers. Most of us travelled down together in some style with an eight seater Merc put on by our chauffeur Andy Heys. Those machines just cruise at 70mph - it felt like 50. There was plenty enough room and comfort to avoid scrunching up our athletically tuned bodies and thus getting away with making the long journey on the early morning of race day. Our hotel was ideally situated near Hampstead Heath where the action was at and once parked up, it was a short walk to the scene of one of the greatest amateur spectacles the sport has to offer. With a huge pre-entry of almost 10,000 athletes across the board of the ten races on show, it's renaissance of popularity in recent times is a real positive for the club running scene and the sport in general. The Nationals is not about running to raise money for charities - not that I believe such a thing should be outlawed, far from it, before some crazed Neo-Liberal Conservative twists my sentiments here and takes it to The Daily Mail - but nor is it about jogging around with smiley faces and thumbs up, or running for the basic sake of activity itself. There are plenty of opportunities on the race calendar to tick those types of boxes - but this race is most definitely not it. The Nationals is all about pure racing, the competition, getting stuck in and running the very best you can on the day. Everybody else is doing the same thing. Blackburn stalwart Matt Nuttall doesn't say a great deal, but it's normally profound when he does. I believe Matt to be spot on when hearing he remarked that in a normal race these days you might get only ten percent of the field racing really hard for positions, but at the Nationals it's the opposite way around with ninety percent - and when that's out of a field of over 2300 like this year's senior men's line-up, this makes for one hell of a race.
Such a swell of numbers conspired to create a few chaotic moments though early on in the race as the course bottlenecks quickly on the brow of Parliament Hill. If you didn't or couldn't sprint off hard enough to make the top hundred after that first hundred yards or so then congestion came your way. Things came to a bit of a standstill on two or three occasions where the course narrows early on, but that's how it is. Over a distance of 12K, there's plenty of time and opportunity to get some places back. For some higher end athletes, however - such as my shop boss Ben Fish who got stuck in that traffic - it's a bit frustrating because some serious ground was lost on his rivals. For the rest of us though, it's not ideal but I guess we were all in the same boat. I wouldn't like to see the start of the course change as the bottleneck is an infamous feature of the Parliament Hill experience. The day after the weekend before, Ben and I were putting the world to rights and pondered the best way around the problem for in three years time and in order to give the higher end athletes a little bit more priority, but without limiting overall participation. The conclusion was narrower pens and even single file pens for clubs less represented with the pens labelled by club names rather than number where each club can literally put their faster runners to the very front and be responsible to line the rest up in order of ability - thus a more staggered and less frenetic merge upon that opening slope perhaps?
Anyway, back to the race itself and I was feeling really quite comfortable after the first smaller lap. Too comfortable perhaps? I began to crank the pace up a little bit on the next larger lap and it's incredible how even when over half way around there are still so many runners around to overtake and still a good few to be overtaken by - I doubt my position stayed the same for more than ten seconds at a time throughout the whole duration of my race. It's a proper ding-dong all the way around. Once in to that final large lap and fully revised of the course, I started to dig in a bit more and do some serious serial overtaking. But even in massive fields like this one, there is always one face that becomes familiar and in my case it was a chap from Manchester club Chorlton Runners. I thought I'd got rid of him three or four times, but as much as I wound the speed up harder and harder on that final lap he kept popping up beside me again. With probably just less than a mile to go, I decided enough was enough and I had now shut out everybody else in the race and was eyeballs out to get away from the sight of that Chorlton vest for good. But no, half a mile to go and he came by again. As the descent through the woods begins and the finish is in sight, I passed him once more thinking I must have broke him by now. But no - yet again - as the 300 metre or so flat sprint to the finish began, he flew by once more so I hung on to his shadow, hoping I might find that little bit extra on him somewhere before the finishing line. He proved equal to my final offerings though and did me by a couple of seconds. On the plus side, chasing this guy as if my life depended on it must have bought me at least another dozen places in those closing stages. Perhaps I'd gone out too conservatively early on, but I was jiggered at the finish and enjoyed the contests out there. All that effort for 832nd! But I'd do it all again tomorrow, it was ace.
Last time here three years ago I was on the back end of a chest infection so couldn't really dig very deep at all. It was nice to come back to this iconic venue, reasonably fit this time and really feel like part of the battle.
It was a fantastic day for Ribble Valley Harriers all in all. Our ladies team - which is what it's all about - finished a fantastical fifth. An awesome achievement as Walshaw, Jackson, Powell-Smith and Glover finished between 39th and 68th from over 1100 runners to put a club with fewer than twenty members in to the national gaze. The old geezers didn't do too badly, machines Gaskell and Hall were about four minutes and 400 places ahead of myself. The fast improving and comparatively youthful Andy Heys, at 38, also ran a blinder just 80 seconds behind me. I fairly smacked that last lap out as well so I may have to watch my back for him this year.
Ribble Valley put out ten runners, including a full ladies team at the Nationals, despite being a club of so few members. With the exception of Blackburn Harriers, who fielded a strong turnout and gained an excellent 22nd in the men's team standings, no other club was in evidence flying the flag for Lancashire. It's been a familiar tale in recent times regardless of the championships' location and quite a saddening statistic. The Cross Country Nationals - and particularly at it's spiritual home on Parliament Hill - epitomise what the sport is all about. A huge turnout where everyone of all levels of ability get stuck in and race hard. As a spectacle to both watch and participate in, they are fantastic races. That poses the questions, where were all the other clubs from our area and why? Most definitely their loss - not just for the racing, but the crack.
A meal and a few too many beers in the evening, a physically disjointed but aesthetically pleasant four mile run around a sunny but bitter Hampstead Heath in the morning, before a late breakfast and then homeward bound. A cracking little weekend of running club indulgence.
Saturday 24th February 2018
ENGLISH NATIONAL CROSS COUNTRY CHAMPIONSHIPS
Parliament Hill Fields, Hampstead Heath, London.
1st Senior Men's Race (12K) - Adam Hickey (Southend-on-Sea AC) 39:35
1st Senior Ladies Race (8K) - Phoebe Law (Kingston AC & Polytechnic Harriers) 28:33
My Stats - 52:25 832/2328
Saturday, 3 March 2018
BACK AT IT
PARBOLD HILL RACE
After managing to string together four weeks of consistent training, the acid test would have to be a race. Parbold Hill was long since booked in and has been a date on the calendar that I had been eyeing in which to get my ass back in to some sort of gear. Parbold Hill precedes the English Cross Country Championships the following week and so would also serve as a sharpener for that one. Given my twenty-five showings at the Harrock Hill races over the years, which are like little Summer series sisters to this annual Parbold race that covers much of the same course but more, it's a weird one that this was my first appearance at the bigger brother. Probably work or just a lack of planning to pick this race out would be reasons why it's gone amiss over the years, but this time I was under instruction to enter as it's an important race in my new club's short history - so a suitable excuse I thought - it was about time I got a Parbold Hill under my belt.
This is a mutli-terrain affair with some road sections, fields and tracks. But the off-road sections were particularly cut up with all the wet weather this Winter. Fast Summer trails in Summer's Harrock Hill Series were unrecognisable muddy swamps here in wet February. However race day itself saw the sun come out.
I didn't really know what to expect from this race, but I was fairly confident that any sort of capitulation like my last outing at the Lancs Cross Country was highly unlikely. I went out steady, knowing more or less the route of the first half of the race and started to pick my way past a few. The main climb is a tarmac one to the top of Parbold Hill itself and I'd decided from off there I was going to invest some more serious effort and put a proper shift in. There was the risk of blowing up, but I felt stronger than that as I continued to pick a few more runners off. Since early on in these Parbold proceedings, only one competitor managed to pass me and that was club mate and last year's ladies winner Louisa Powell-Smith. I knew she was pressuring behind for some time as I recognised the breathing noises from Tuesday night training sessions. About two miles to go, at this point I picked up speed to leap the cattle grid behind High Moor Restaurant that I have leapt many a time, hoping it would psych her out! It turned out Louisa was suitably impressed, but it couldn't camouflage her superior leg speed as she soon enough surged past just before the final climb of note. I wonder if I should have dug deeper to go with her because, post-surge, there wasn't that much between us after that, making twenty seconds on me to the finish. But tagging on to Louisa would have been a risk. I had to run my own race. However I sense I'm not too far away from the sort of form where I can take chances like that and race with a little less caution. Overall I was fairly pleased with how this one panned out. The heart did flutter for a split second coming down off Harrock Hill in the closing stages. A couple of fences are made in to hurdles, banked up with bails of straw from which to project yourself. An over enthused approach, with a strong run up and one eye on Powell, nevertheless left a lazy trailing leg which clipped the top of the fence and almost sent me for a crash landing. But I somehow stayed on my feet and expressed apologies for my French, so to speak, to the small cluster of spectators.
It was nice to be in the prizes for a change as well as I got a bit of something as a counter in our winning men's team. Our Ribble Valley contingent swept almost everything up in fact. That's how it is with these guys.
Saturday 17th February 2018
48th PARBOLD HILL RACE, Hilldale, West Lancs. 6.75m
1st Man - Matthew Crehan (St Helens & Sutton) 41:59
1st Lady - Katie Walshaw (Ribble Valley) 46:58
My Stats - 48:47 16/442
PARBOLD HILL RACE
After managing to string together four weeks of consistent training, the acid test would have to be a race. Parbold Hill was long since booked in and has been a date on the calendar that I had been eyeing in which to get my ass back in to some sort of gear. Parbold Hill precedes the English Cross Country Championships the following week and so would also serve as a sharpener for that one. Given my twenty-five showings at the Harrock Hill races over the years, which are like little Summer series sisters to this annual Parbold race that covers much of the same course but more, it's a weird one that this was my first appearance at the bigger brother. Probably work or just a lack of planning to pick this race out would be reasons why it's gone amiss over the years, but this time I was under instruction to enter as it's an important race in my new club's short history - so a suitable excuse I thought - it was about time I got a Parbold Hill under my belt.
This is a mutli-terrain affair with some road sections, fields and tracks. But the off-road sections were particularly cut up with all the wet weather this Winter. Fast Summer trails in Summer's Harrock Hill Series were unrecognisable muddy swamps here in wet February. However race day itself saw the sun come out.
I didn't really know what to expect from this race, but I was fairly confident that any sort of capitulation like my last outing at the Lancs Cross Country was highly unlikely. I went out steady, knowing more or less the route of the first half of the race and started to pick my way past a few. The main climb is a tarmac one to the top of Parbold Hill itself and I'd decided from off there I was going to invest some more serious effort and put a proper shift in. There was the risk of blowing up, but I felt stronger than that as I continued to pick a few more runners off. Since early on in these Parbold proceedings, only one competitor managed to pass me and that was club mate and last year's ladies winner Louisa Powell-Smith. I knew she was pressuring behind for some time as I recognised the breathing noises from Tuesday night training sessions. About two miles to go, at this point I picked up speed to leap the cattle grid behind High Moor Restaurant that I have leapt many a time, hoping it would psych her out! It turned out Louisa was suitably impressed, but it couldn't camouflage her superior leg speed as she soon enough surged past just before the final climb of note. I wonder if I should have dug deeper to go with her because, post-surge, there wasn't that much between us after that, making twenty seconds on me to the finish. But tagging on to Louisa would have been a risk. I had to run my own race. However I sense I'm not too far away from the sort of form where I can take chances like that and race with a little less caution. Overall I was fairly pleased with how this one panned out. The heart did flutter for a split second coming down off Harrock Hill in the closing stages. A couple of fences are made in to hurdles, banked up with bails of straw from which to project yourself. An over enthused approach, with a strong run up and one eye on Powell, nevertheless left a lazy trailing leg which clipped the top of the fence and almost sent me for a crash landing. But I somehow stayed on my feet and expressed apologies for my French, so to speak, to the small cluster of spectators.
It was nice to be in the prizes for a change as well as I got a bit of something as a counter in our winning men's team. Our Ribble Valley contingent swept almost everything up in fact. That's how it is with these guys.
Saturday 17th February 2018
48th PARBOLD HILL RACE, Hilldale, West Lancs. 6.75m
1st Man - Matthew Crehan (St Helens & Sutton) 41:59
1st Lady - Katie Walshaw (Ribble Valley) 46:58
My Stats - 48:47 16/442
Sunday, 4 February 2018
RUNNING... AND RANTING AGAIN
So in the end I took seven days out from running and by then I was ready to have a go again. I came back refreshed, de-niggled, with a fresh purpose and now absolutely convinced that tarmac is a sin. For road running, read repetitive stress. Note to self here, it's been noted before but it's time I took notice of my own advice! Almost two weeks back in to training and it's all been about trying to replicate the routine of last Summer with a few seasonal twists. So far, so good. Back at club training it was the rarity of a flat session with 5K broken up in to sixteen reps and half minute recoveries - I think we were meant to be doing some sort of particular pacing or other, but this served only to confuse me so it was head down and just get on with it. Feeling good, I ran them all pretty solid at a flattering pace. This came on the back of just over a week of running steady stuff in strictly bog and mud only, with a couple of short rep sessions up Clitheroe Castle chucked in. As such, a flat speed session on a hard surface in racing shoes was a welcome contrast. Since then, more Castle reps and more bogs. This sort of routine needs to be ticking over now to build strength and speed going in to races later this month. Well, that's the plan at least.
Back training with the club then last Tuesday, an incident occurred which backed up some of the rant I touched upon here a few weeks ago. We were just on a mile and a half or so warm up before the session, innocently going about our business down Whalley Road and about to pass a lady jogger to whom we gave plenty of space, even stepping wide off the pavement and in to the road for. Bizarrely she overreacted by stopping as if physically barged out of the way and complaining loudly, ''Oh, I didn't know it was a race?!''. What? Oh sorry, is it criminality to overtake now? This backs up recent stories I've heard about some runners shouting things like ''show off!''. What is it with these people? That's what I'm talking about when I fear Neo-Liberal Conservatives are trying to hijack the sport. They might still be a minority, but it's a growing trend and hence my concern and irritation.
Running as an activity is simple - slip a pair of shoes on and from your doorstep, off you go - you have a right to do so who ever you are and at whatever pace you select. But that anybody can do it is precisely why in some ways running as a sport is vulnerable to holding it's own as a competitive outlet first and foremost. If running hard - or in this case just warming up before running hard - is to be frowned upon because it makes a slower runner feel somehow belittled, intimidated or offended, then I would prefer to challenge why the hell that is than bow to it and tip toe around these people. They may dress up their right to be a runner in a robe of pure equality and opportunity for all - which is great - but only on their terms it would seem, and so there you have it - your archetypal Neo-Liberal Conservative runner! Aspiring to a challenge, but resenting competition.
Back training with the club then last Tuesday, an incident occurred which backed up some of the rant I touched upon here a few weeks ago. We were just on a mile and a half or so warm up before the session, innocently going about our business down Whalley Road and about to pass a lady jogger to whom we gave plenty of space, even stepping wide off the pavement and in to the road for. Bizarrely she overreacted by stopping as if physically barged out of the way and complaining loudly, ''Oh, I didn't know it was a race?!''. What? Oh sorry, is it criminality to overtake now? This backs up recent stories I've heard about some runners shouting things like ''show off!''. What is it with these people? That's what I'm talking about when I fear Neo-Liberal Conservatives are trying to hijack the sport. They might still be a minority, but it's a growing trend and hence my concern and irritation.
Running as an activity is simple - slip a pair of shoes on and from your doorstep, off you go - you have a right to do so who ever you are and at whatever pace you select. But that anybody can do it is precisely why in some ways running as a sport is vulnerable to holding it's own as a competitive outlet first and foremost. If running hard - or in this case just warming up before running hard - is to be frowned upon because it makes a slower runner feel somehow belittled, intimidated or offended, then I would prefer to challenge why the hell that is than bow to it and tip toe around these people. They may dress up their right to be a runner in a robe of pure equality and opportunity for all - which is great - but only on their terms it would seem, and so there you have it - your archetypal Neo-Liberal Conservative runner! Aspiring to a challenge, but resenting competition.
Friday, 19 January 2018
THE SMILING FACE OF RUNNING'S FUTURE?
Whilst temporarily out of action, I thought a good old rant to myself should exhale some of the tensions that brew when I'm not getting a running fix in.
The whole running scene has changed quite a bit, even in the relatively short time I have embraced it since 2006. Fell running to an extent, thankfully remains intact. Not entirely, but generally speaking. There are still fell races on the calendar where everything is still as blissfully raw and uncomplicated as it was when I first started racing.
Some races have bitten the dust though unfortunately, including my old favourite the Winter Hill fell race. What I consider to be a very strange rationale from conservation groups such as English Nature and land owners United Utilities were behind this. In this particular case it was deemed unacceptable for generally less than 200 runners to make that once a year invasion upon some areas deemed sensitive moorland. But what about the mountain bikers with wheels far more erosive than feet and given a 24-7-365 license to go where the frig they want? What about the weather? Water from the sky does it's fair share of damage, perhaps they should ban rain as well or put the whole of the West Pennine Moors under a protective canopy? It seemed unfair and certainly a knee-jerk reaction rather than a more considered move. I, and I am sure the many, would have happily paid more for the privilege to race it and seen those extras go towards conservation work on the moor for example. But that sort of offer never reached the table I don't think, which was a pity. An opportunity to continue the race but rerouting to official paths was on the table, but I was with the organisers on this and not settling for second best. The whole distinct character of the race would be lost. Soon enough and equally as sad, even the shorter race over Winter Hill from the Belmont end was also pulled off the calendar.
And what of the Fell Runners Association? Things have changed there. For the better when initially engaging UK Athletics to become involved in the insurance side of things. When a race organiser was remortgaging their house to fight a court case against them, rational action and a proper liability framework was long overdue. For the worse though, the FRA have since let that said national governing body interfere too much, bowing down to generic UKA rules and regulations, of which some frankly don't apply to the discipline of fell running. Tick-box culture has filtered it's pretentious way in to the very nooks and crannies of this simple amateur sport. I would argue the FRA have become a lap dog organisation and have ultimately handed over the governorship of their own sport. It might be easy for me to say, sat on my backside rambling my thoughts as an outsider trying to look in. But rather like in politics, I can't help thinking that well meaning folk get involved on committees for all the right reasons but then become detached of their original values and get sucked in to the system, losing the ability to question their own actions - or indeed the lack of them.
Anyway, on to online entries for races. That was always going to snowball, but in some cases to the detriment of racing as an actual contest. Probably more so in road racing than on the fells, but with some races filling up very quickly and awash with nobody in particular's, many athletes of higher end ability may not want to commit six months in advance to some low key but highly attended race. They certainly won't be hanging around on waiting lists, and so the quality runners that surely we all want to be involved to give any race more credence and competition are being squeezed out and so the standards slip. 10K races with a thousand runners won in 36 minutes and all that sort of carry on... once upon a time 36 minutes wouldn't get you on the first results page. Not only can pre-entry detract the more serious athletes, but it's actually an advantageous system for runners who all along were planning just to plod around the course with a groin strain and fuzzy head from the best part of a bottle of wine the night before. Somehow that's not right and it certainly isn't progressive for the sport.
A massive new wave of beginner runners in recent times has seen the rise of events companies popping up left, right and centre, creating and taking over the organisation of races. These guys have spotted the boom and found a niche in the market. Charging incredulous fees of up to £25 for a 10K race around the stark streets of suburbia, chuck in a cheap looking finishing medal and a bag of tacky goodies and everybody is happy. Well, happy for now perhaps. Twenty five quid for a 10K, ten quid for a 5K... holy smoke, I thought Dick Turpin wore a mask? Prizes for actually winning some of these race are often reported as very poor indeed given the entry fee. Again, another turn off for the faster boys and girls.
Then there's Ultra runs for the sake of 'Ultra' status, 24 hour races, 'Great Run' such a place, 'Great Run' the other... these events are undoubtedly popular to the new wave, but I don't like the whole corporate attachment which intrudes on what ought to be - and I repeat - a simple amateur sport. Times will change again I am sure. The boom may go bust as folk wise up to the big rip off. These event companies threaten to price themselves out of existence just as much as they threaten to take over. For the good of the game, I hope it's the former rather than the latter. It will be interesting to see the future unfold.
Proper race organiser's do it for the love. Certainly I for one will ensure that races I enter either support the organising club, make a direct contribution to a worthwhile cause, or both.
Speaking of the current running boom, somewhere along the lines since I got involved in running, Parkrun has exploded on to the scene. The free, weekly 5K time trial, fun run, jog with your dog, whatever you want it to be. The positive effect Parkrun has had on hundreds of thousands of lives worldwide should not be underestimated, but I would like to see a couple of key amendments made so far as Parkrun UK is concerned. I think participants should be asked to consider sticking a quid in the bucket at parks which are open and managed by voluntary organisations that have to raise their own funds. This would, and I believe should, be the case at my local Cuerden Valley Parkrun for example. A few pay for parking on site which is fair enough, but we all know there's loads of places nearby to park for free that some tight arses will find. I doubt this motion would be popular though, I mean heaven forbid some participants being asked to stick their hands in their pocket for a Parkrun!
Parkrun is massive and a great success. But why are the statistics from these runs religiously updated on UK Athletics' Power of Ten website? Parkun is many things, but a proper race it is not. No entry fee, no race numbers... and besides, Parkrun have their own excellent website from which one can dig a result or statistic out from anywhere in seconds. It's like UK Athletics attaching themselves like leeches to something popular and progressive in the sport that in fact they have had absolutely no input towards. Is this the best they can do for grassroots? Pretend they are a player on the Parkrun bandwagon? I did plenty of actual races last year, but no signs of them on Power of Ten - not that I'm particularly bothered about that - but it's this strange prioritising of Parkruns on there which makes me smell a rat. Strange processes at UK Athletics are nothing new, just look up the history past and present when it comes to selecting (or not selecting) athletes for major championships. In the corridors of power at UK Athletics, I have a vision of grey suits with a very studious eye for business, opportunism and political game playing. A lack however, of understanding and passion for athletics - from the very grass roots right through to rising talent who we know are not supported anywhere near like they ought to be. Where does all the money really go?
I'll finally put this rant to bed by controversially perhaps, expressing my disdain as I peruse various running magazines with photographs exclusively of people doing daft stuff for the camera during races. All this jumping in the air, smiley faces and thumbs up nonsense does my head in. If it's at the finishing line and they've something to celebrate, then I get it. But this habit of runners perceiving to be having the time of their life in a race when, as is often the case, they really can't wait for it to end - it really is a complete nonsense. Just be natural, let's see your pain please if there is some. And if there isn't any and you can't be arsed making an extra effort, don't devalue the occasion for the rest of us!
Killjoy? Who, me? If you like, but it's almost like pain, effort, competitiveness and even reality itself is to be censored and that we must all run for fun and purely for fun and even if we don't find it fun, let's just pretend and make it look like it's fun. And what do we class as fun? I find competing fun. Is competing allowed to be classed as fun? This brings me on to a theory that Neo-Liberal Conservatives with too much money and a desperation to find a healthy hobby are trying to take over the sport, over-socialising it, trying to ring-fence and demote running as some sort of purist inclusion activity. These people are the sort of lobbyists who endorse non-competitive sports at school, but then scratch their head in dismay when the country falls short of medallists at major competitions. I'm not denying anybody their right to inclusion, but I fear this smothering effect could indefinitely send some quarters of the running scene spiralling in to something where style and smile prevails at the expense of substance.
Racing is essentially an ugly spectacle where hours, weeks, months of hard graft and toil may or may not boil down to a brief moment of success. When the good old Athletics Weekly magazine starts filling up with pictures of jolly jumping, smiley faces and thumbs up... well that could be a whole new and very different reason for me to take up Crown Green bowling instead.
Whilst temporarily out of action, I thought a good old rant to myself should exhale some of the tensions that brew when I'm not getting a running fix in.
The whole running scene has changed quite a bit, even in the relatively short time I have embraced it since 2006. Fell running to an extent, thankfully remains intact. Not entirely, but generally speaking. There are still fell races on the calendar where everything is still as blissfully raw and uncomplicated as it was when I first started racing.
Some races have bitten the dust though unfortunately, including my old favourite the Winter Hill fell race. What I consider to be a very strange rationale from conservation groups such as English Nature and land owners United Utilities were behind this. In this particular case it was deemed unacceptable for generally less than 200 runners to make that once a year invasion upon some areas deemed sensitive moorland. But what about the mountain bikers with wheels far more erosive than feet and given a 24-7-365 license to go where the frig they want? What about the weather? Water from the sky does it's fair share of damage, perhaps they should ban rain as well or put the whole of the West Pennine Moors under a protective canopy? It seemed unfair and certainly a knee-jerk reaction rather than a more considered move. I, and I am sure the many, would have happily paid more for the privilege to race it and seen those extras go towards conservation work on the moor for example. But that sort of offer never reached the table I don't think, which was a pity. An opportunity to continue the race but rerouting to official paths was on the table, but I was with the organisers on this and not settling for second best. The whole distinct character of the race would be lost. Soon enough and equally as sad, even the shorter race over Winter Hill from the Belmont end was also pulled off the calendar.
And what of the Fell Runners Association? Things have changed there. For the better when initially engaging UK Athletics to become involved in the insurance side of things. When a race organiser was remortgaging their house to fight a court case against them, rational action and a proper liability framework was long overdue. For the worse though, the FRA have since let that said national governing body interfere too much, bowing down to generic UKA rules and regulations, of which some frankly don't apply to the discipline of fell running. Tick-box culture has filtered it's pretentious way in to the very nooks and crannies of this simple amateur sport. I would argue the FRA have become a lap dog organisation and have ultimately handed over the governorship of their own sport. It might be easy for me to say, sat on my backside rambling my thoughts as an outsider trying to look in. But rather like in politics, I can't help thinking that well meaning folk get involved on committees for all the right reasons but then become detached of their original values and get sucked in to the system, losing the ability to question their own actions - or indeed the lack of them.
Anyway, on to online entries for races. That was always going to snowball, but in some cases to the detriment of racing as an actual contest. Probably more so in road racing than on the fells, but with some races filling up very quickly and awash with nobody in particular's, many athletes of higher end ability may not want to commit six months in advance to some low key but highly attended race. They certainly won't be hanging around on waiting lists, and so the quality runners that surely we all want to be involved to give any race more credence and competition are being squeezed out and so the standards slip. 10K races with a thousand runners won in 36 minutes and all that sort of carry on... once upon a time 36 minutes wouldn't get you on the first results page. Not only can pre-entry detract the more serious athletes, but it's actually an advantageous system for runners who all along were planning just to plod around the course with a groin strain and fuzzy head from the best part of a bottle of wine the night before. Somehow that's not right and it certainly isn't progressive for the sport.
A massive new wave of beginner runners in recent times has seen the rise of events companies popping up left, right and centre, creating and taking over the organisation of races. These guys have spotted the boom and found a niche in the market. Charging incredulous fees of up to £25 for a 10K race around the stark streets of suburbia, chuck in a cheap looking finishing medal and a bag of tacky goodies and everybody is happy. Well, happy for now perhaps. Twenty five quid for a 10K, ten quid for a 5K... holy smoke, I thought Dick Turpin wore a mask? Prizes for actually winning some of these race are often reported as very poor indeed given the entry fee. Again, another turn off for the faster boys and girls.
Then there's Ultra runs for the sake of 'Ultra' status, 24 hour races, 'Great Run' such a place, 'Great Run' the other... these events are undoubtedly popular to the new wave, but I don't like the whole corporate attachment which intrudes on what ought to be - and I repeat - a simple amateur sport. Times will change again I am sure. The boom may go bust as folk wise up to the big rip off. These event companies threaten to price themselves out of existence just as much as they threaten to take over. For the good of the game, I hope it's the former rather than the latter. It will be interesting to see the future unfold.
Proper race organiser's do it for the love. Certainly I for one will ensure that races I enter either support the organising club, make a direct contribution to a worthwhile cause, or both.
Speaking of the current running boom, somewhere along the lines since I got involved in running, Parkrun has exploded on to the scene. The free, weekly 5K time trial, fun run, jog with your dog, whatever you want it to be. The positive effect Parkrun has had on hundreds of thousands of lives worldwide should not be underestimated, but I would like to see a couple of key amendments made so far as Parkrun UK is concerned. I think participants should be asked to consider sticking a quid in the bucket at parks which are open and managed by voluntary organisations that have to raise their own funds. This would, and I believe should, be the case at my local Cuerden Valley Parkrun for example. A few pay for parking on site which is fair enough, but we all know there's loads of places nearby to park for free that some tight arses will find. I doubt this motion would be popular though, I mean heaven forbid some participants being asked to stick their hands in their pocket for a Parkrun!
Parkrun is massive and a great success. But why are the statistics from these runs religiously updated on UK Athletics' Power of Ten website? Parkun is many things, but a proper race it is not. No entry fee, no race numbers... and besides, Parkrun have their own excellent website from which one can dig a result or statistic out from anywhere in seconds. It's like UK Athletics attaching themselves like leeches to something popular and progressive in the sport that in fact they have had absolutely no input towards. Is this the best they can do for grassroots? Pretend they are a player on the Parkrun bandwagon? I did plenty of actual races last year, but no signs of them on Power of Ten - not that I'm particularly bothered about that - but it's this strange prioritising of Parkruns on there which makes me smell a rat. Strange processes at UK Athletics are nothing new, just look up the history past and present when it comes to selecting (or not selecting) athletes for major championships. In the corridors of power at UK Athletics, I have a vision of grey suits with a very studious eye for business, opportunism and political game playing. A lack however, of understanding and passion for athletics - from the very grass roots right through to rising talent who we know are not supported anywhere near like they ought to be. Where does all the money really go?
I'll finally put this rant to bed by controversially perhaps, expressing my disdain as I peruse various running magazines with photographs exclusively of people doing daft stuff for the camera during races. All this jumping in the air, smiley faces and thumbs up nonsense does my head in. If it's at the finishing line and they've something to celebrate, then I get it. But this habit of runners perceiving to be having the time of their life in a race when, as is often the case, they really can't wait for it to end - it really is a complete nonsense. Just be natural, let's see your pain please if there is some. And if there isn't any and you can't be arsed making an extra effort, don't devalue the occasion for the rest of us!
Killjoy? Who, me? If you like, but it's almost like pain, effort, competitiveness and even reality itself is to be censored and that we must all run for fun and purely for fun and even if we don't find it fun, let's just pretend and make it look like it's fun. And what do we class as fun? I find competing fun. Is competing allowed to be classed as fun? This brings me on to a theory that Neo-Liberal Conservatives with too much money and a desperation to find a healthy hobby are trying to take over the sport, over-socialising it, trying to ring-fence and demote running as some sort of purist inclusion activity. These people are the sort of lobbyists who endorse non-competitive sports at school, but then scratch their head in dismay when the country falls short of medallists at major competitions. I'm not denying anybody their right to inclusion, but I fear this smothering effect could indefinitely send some quarters of the running scene spiralling in to something where style and smile prevails at the expense of substance.
Racing is essentially an ugly spectacle where hours, weeks, months of hard graft and toil may or may not boil down to a brief moment of success. When the good old Athletics Weekly magazine starts filling up with pictures of jolly jumping, smiley faces and thumbs up... well that could be a whole new and very different reason for me to take up Crown Green bowling instead.
Wednesday, 17 January 2018
LANCS CHUMP
LANCASHIRE CROSS COUNTRY CHAMPIONSHIPS
Straight to the point - that was bloody awful. Down there with my worst five races - and that's saying something. This was the first time I had taken on the County Champs, for I have never had a particular enthusiasm for cross country. But it was a debut to quickly forget. In a very meagre defence of the return of self deprecation and sorrow to these pages, I suppose the training leading up to the race was a bit hotchpotch with annoying niggles just not going away. But the very lack of engine to battle against the odds on the day was the biggest disappointment. I just felt knackered and was stuck in one pace from the very off. With a race in the bag the previous week, I wasn't expecting too much, but had every right to expect progress. So regression, and the extent of it, took me by surprise and with the legs not turning up, it didn't take long for the head to go. For me, this was a bit of a humiliation and felt like a public one too. The reality is that few people watching probably cared or even noticed, and of those that did they probably sympathised. But to return to the home soil of Witton Park so to speak and with most other Tom's, Dick's and Harry's within the local running circles in attendance, this was a really frustrating and ultimately not very enjoyable afternoon of racing. Despondent war cries could be heard from yours truly on the climb known colloquially as 'The Saucer'. I lost the plot.
If it wasn't nice for me personally, there was also the burden of doing a major injustice to the new club vest. Thankfully my very weary performance paled in to insignificance as far as the Ribble Valley men's team was concerned. The first four counters of Gaskell, Livesey, Hall and Barnes all did the business and stormed to a Veteran's team victory for gold medals all around. As expected, the Ribble Valley ladies were all over the medals table as well. Pleased as punch as I was for all these guys, I was nevertheless the black sheep in the black vest who ran crap and went home deservedly empty handed. Ah well, there's always next year.
Since that race, things have continued to go backwards. Winter has got the better of me. Never truly shaking off that gluet strain from last month, one of half a dozen other aches and pains which have culminated in me being shackled and unable to actually enjoy a single run so far this year. Currently on day three of sidelining myself, I'll put some running shoes back on once body and mind are genuinely in agreement that it's a good idea again. All I can do is to look forward to starting again and getting in shape for Spring.
Saturday 6th January 2018
LANCASHIRE CROSS COUNTRY CHAMPIONSHIPS Witton Park, Blackburn.
1st Senior Men's Race (9.8K) - Daniel Bebbington (Preston H.) 31:01
1st Senior Ladies Race (6.5K) - Sarah Astin (City of Norwich) 24:04
My Stats - 39:25 73/154
LANCASHIRE CROSS COUNTRY CHAMPIONSHIPS
Straight to the point - that was bloody awful. Down there with my worst five races - and that's saying something. This was the first time I had taken on the County Champs, for I have never had a particular enthusiasm for cross country. But it was a debut to quickly forget. In a very meagre defence of the return of self deprecation and sorrow to these pages, I suppose the training leading up to the race was a bit hotchpotch with annoying niggles just not going away. But the very lack of engine to battle against the odds on the day was the biggest disappointment. I just felt knackered and was stuck in one pace from the very off. With a race in the bag the previous week, I wasn't expecting too much, but had every right to expect progress. So regression, and the extent of it, took me by surprise and with the legs not turning up, it didn't take long for the head to go. For me, this was a bit of a humiliation and felt like a public one too. The reality is that few people watching probably cared or even noticed, and of those that did they probably sympathised. But to return to the home soil of Witton Park so to speak and with most other Tom's, Dick's and Harry's within the local running circles in attendance, this was a really frustrating and ultimately not very enjoyable afternoon of racing. Despondent war cries could be heard from yours truly on the climb known colloquially as 'The Saucer'. I lost the plot.
If it wasn't nice for me personally, there was also the burden of doing a major injustice to the new club vest. Thankfully my very weary performance paled in to insignificance as far as the Ribble Valley men's team was concerned. The first four counters of Gaskell, Livesey, Hall and Barnes all did the business and stormed to a Veteran's team victory for gold medals all around. As expected, the Ribble Valley ladies were all over the medals table as well. Pleased as punch as I was for all these guys, I was nevertheless the black sheep in the black vest who ran crap and went home deservedly empty handed. Ah well, there's always next year.
Since that race, things have continued to go backwards. Winter has got the better of me. Never truly shaking off that gluet strain from last month, one of half a dozen other aches and pains which have culminated in me being shackled and unable to actually enjoy a single run so far this year. Currently on day three of sidelining myself, I'll put some running shoes back on once body and mind are genuinely in agreement that it's a good idea again. All I can do is to look forward to starting again and getting in shape for Spring.
Saturday 6th January 2018
LANCASHIRE CROSS COUNTRY CHAMPIONSHIPS Witton Park, Blackburn.
1st Senior Men's Race (9.8K) - Daniel Bebbington (Preston H.) 31:01
1st Senior Ladies Race (6.5K) - Sarah Astin (City of Norwich) 24:04
My Stats - 39:25 73/154
Tuesday, 2 January 2018
ALI'S LANG SYNE
DALESIDE BREWERY AULD LANG SYNE RACE
Well you really had to be there, and I'm glad to say I was. The swansong race for the brilliant Mr and Mrs Woodhead after thirty years of organising fell races. Fitting then, that at least one of the Brownlee's, of whom both brothers started racing here at the Quarry Runs in their very younger years, should honour this occasion and it was Alistair that did so by gracing it with his fifth Auld Lang Syne victory. Alistair's presence speaks volumes about how the Brownlee's, even now as two of the country's most famous sportsmen, are so refreshingly grounded. Brother Jonny was meanwhile engaged at the other side of the county border racing the Ribble Valley 10K at Clitheroe with the Northern Road Championship at stake. Each to their own, but I'm with his older bro on this one - no other place to be on New Year's Eve morning than packed in to the Penistone Hill quarry where Dave Woodhead yelled, "Reight yeeuo lot! Get baaack 'ere!" for the very last time.
I tried to even ever so briefly thank the man personally after the race and was completely ignored! That's just how it is with him on race day. You can't get near him. I was more embarrassed than offended though. Maybe I'll send Dave and Eileen a nice card that might get their attention to accept my gratitude.
The Woodentops thing captured my heart ever since my first appearance as a keen fell racing beginner at the Withins Skyline race back in 2006. Ever since, if fit, if able, Woodentops races have always been high on the agenda.
AULD LANG SULK
I can be a ridiculous creature at times. Sara would verify this, she lives with me. My well rehearsed mindset that this race was all about just being there and less about hoping for performance went out of the window. Recent weeks suggested performance wasn't going to happen anyway, but pre-race nerves somehow crept in to abandon all those sobering, rational thoughts that I had carefully put in place. Suddenly I was taking myself and indeed my place in the race way too seriously. It turned out I even forgot to pin my race number on - never done that before - so my head was certainly up my backside for some reason. Just as expected though, I didn't have a flyer and so the clouds of disappointment built up in the aftermath. In short, I got in to a bit of a sulk.
Woodentops races never do quite start on time so no chance in this one, especially with Alistair Brownlee poised on the front line - even more photographs taken than usual as we all freeze our bits off - but as one would rightfully expect in the presence of greatness. Once off and away I avoided trouble where the field bottlenecks out of the quarry and felt fairly strong at probably twenty somethingth, beginning to build confidence until around the halfway mark. Then I realised that for the easier, mainly downhill and wind assisted second half of the race I didn't have another gear to crunch in to and it was hang-on time as the testing ascent out of Ponden Valley took it's toll. There was very little kick left in my legs at all for the final mile to the finish. Past they came, I wasn't counting, but probably in to double figures and that's never a nice feeling towards the end of a race, culminating in a state of said post-race sulky chops.
All done then, and it really was just about being there in fact. Heading back across the moor towards the welcome warmth of Sara's car with heated seats, I spot a nearby runner and turn to Sara, already suitably impressed at seeing Brownlee in action to compensate enduring the bitter wind; "Look at that, a double Olympic champion there just tootling along, you don't get that every day when your out with the dog" ...thirty yards ahead, the lonesome figure of the race winner casually jogs across our path. "Go and ask him for a photo, I'm sure he won't mind", says Sara. I wished I had, he probably wouldn't have minded but I just couldn't do it. The lad was on his cool down and it was great enough just to keep an eye on him as he faded in to the distance, dropping off the moor towards Haworth. Besides, he deserved a few moment's peace to himself and had probably got a bit cold after sticking around at the finish for the final Woodentops photo shoot.
And so, with that inspiring sight, that was that for 2017 and the end of a Woodentops era.
Sunday 31st December 2017
DALESIDE BREWERY AULD LANG SYNE RACE Penistone Hill, Haworth, W. Yorks. 6m/1000ft
1st Man - Alistair Brownlee (Bingley) 44:54
1st Lady - Nichola Jackson (Ribble Valley) 49:49
My Stats - 51:47 44/368|
2017 Mileage Total: 1528.3
DALESIDE BREWERY AULD LANG SYNE RACE
Well you really had to be there, and I'm glad to say I was. The swansong race for the brilliant Mr and Mrs Woodhead after thirty years of organising fell races. Fitting then, that at least one of the Brownlee's, of whom both brothers started racing here at the Quarry Runs in their very younger years, should honour this occasion and it was Alistair that did so by gracing it with his fifth Auld Lang Syne victory. Alistair's presence speaks volumes about how the Brownlee's, even now as two of the country's most famous sportsmen, are so refreshingly grounded. Brother Jonny was meanwhile engaged at the other side of the county border racing the Ribble Valley 10K at Clitheroe with the Northern Road Championship at stake. Each to their own, but I'm with his older bro on this one - no other place to be on New Year's Eve morning than packed in to the Penistone Hill quarry where Dave Woodhead yelled, "Reight yeeuo lot! Get baaack 'ere!" for the very last time.
I tried to even ever so briefly thank the man personally after the race and was completely ignored! That's just how it is with him on race day. You can't get near him. I was more embarrassed than offended though. Maybe I'll send Dave and Eileen a nice card that might get their attention to accept my gratitude.
The Woodentops thing captured my heart ever since my first appearance as a keen fell racing beginner at the Withins Skyline race back in 2006. Ever since, if fit, if able, Woodentops races have always been high on the agenda.
AULD LANG SULK
I can be a ridiculous creature at times. Sara would verify this, she lives with me. My well rehearsed mindset that this race was all about just being there and less about hoping for performance went out of the window. Recent weeks suggested performance wasn't going to happen anyway, but pre-race nerves somehow crept in to abandon all those sobering, rational thoughts that I had carefully put in place. Suddenly I was taking myself and indeed my place in the race way too seriously. It turned out I even forgot to pin my race number on - never done that before - so my head was certainly up my backside for some reason. Just as expected though, I didn't have a flyer and so the clouds of disappointment built up in the aftermath. In short, I got in to a bit of a sulk.
Woodentops races never do quite start on time so no chance in this one, especially with Alistair Brownlee poised on the front line - even more photographs taken than usual as we all freeze our bits off - but as one would rightfully expect in the presence of greatness. Once off and away I avoided trouble where the field bottlenecks out of the quarry and felt fairly strong at probably twenty somethingth, beginning to build confidence until around the halfway mark. Then I realised that for the easier, mainly downhill and wind assisted second half of the race I didn't have another gear to crunch in to and it was hang-on time as the testing ascent out of Ponden Valley took it's toll. There was very little kick left in my legs at all for the final mile to the finish. Past they came, I wasn't counting, but probably in to double figures and that's never a nice feeling towards the end of a race, culminating in a state of said post-race sulky chops.
All done then, and it really was just about being there in fact. Heading back across the moor towards the welcome warmth of Sara's car with heated seats, I spot a nearby runner and turn to Sara, already suitably impressed at seeing Brownlee in action to compensate enduring the bitter wind; "Look at that, a double Olympic champion there just tootling along, you don't get that every day when your out with the dog" ...thirty yards ahead, the lonesome figure of the race winner casually jogs across our path. "Go and ask him for a photo, I'm sure he won't mind", says Sara. I wished I had, he probably wouldn't have minded but I just couldn't do it. The lad was on his cool down and it was great enough just to keep an eye on him as he faded in to the distance, dropping off the moor towards Haworth. Besides, he deserved a few moment's peace to himself and had probably got a bit cold after sticking around at the finish for the final Woodentops photo shoot.
And so, with that inspiring sight, that was that for 2017 and the end of a Woodentops era.
Sunday 31st December 2017
DALESIDE BREWERY AULD LANG SYNE RACE Penistone Hill, Haworth, W. Yorks. 6m/1000ft
1st Man - Alistair Brownlee (Bingley) 44:54
1st Lady - Nichola Jackson (Ribble Valley) 49:49
My Stats - 51:47 44/368|
2017 Mileage Total: 1528.3
Friday, 29 December 2017
END OF YEAR REPORT
I didn't want to believe it, but back in Spring, very strong forces were present in the over-thinking cranium of yours truly telling me to step aside from competitive running and finally hit the bowling green instead. Of course, there had to be one last crack of the whip before fully conceding to a change of sport. As it happened, the time of year was sympathetic to my plight, in that the season of midweek evening races was kicking off and I just absolutely love evening fell races. If I was going to pack it all in, I was going to do so by enjoying it at least. In my favour, if by default, was a surprisingly high cholesterol reading at that time, from which dietary adjustments saw weight drop off that I didn't think possible. As much as a possible swansong, Summer also became a race-myself-to-fitness experiment. One race a week, looking for increments of improvement and eventually stumbling upon decent form by the end of Summer and a training routine that was working really well for me. After the fell race at Widdop by mid-July, I dared to believe. I felt like I was racing again. Some good results followed. Even going in to Autumn and losing that little extra snippet of sharpness from weekly racing, I proved in mid-November that there really is some racing life in this old dog yet with a 5K time of 17:05 at the Podium race.
Looking back at some low points earlier on in the year - a capitulation on Pendle at the Stan Bradshaw, a punchless plod at the Darwen Half Marathon, pulling the plug at the Yorkshire Three Peaks, pulling out of a track session so not to hold the rest of the group up - it's been quite a turnaround. Initially, I had to take some hidings, but in the end I made it and I think I still have more to offer in 2018 before the next serious consideration of signing up for the Crown Green.
There almost endeth my ramblings for the year, but not quite my running. One last bite of the 2017 cherry will be the Auld Lang Syne fell race at Haworth on New Year's Eve. I'd like to do it some justice as this will be the final race that Woodentops legends Dave and Eileen Woodhead will be organising from Penistone Hill. A real sadness about that for many hundreds, thousands of fell runners by whom they are loved and admired. But their great races will continue at least with Wharfedale Harriers taking on the mantle of Woodentops madness.
Winter niggles have pestered my progress during December - a bit of a cold snap and all sorts of bits and pieces start nagging. As such, regarding Sunday's race and the Lancs Cross Country Championships the following weekend, in all honesty I am expecting potentially disappointing outcomes for myself. But just to be there and able to race them without further hindrance would be a suitable underlying success.
I didn't want to believe it, but back in Spring, very strong forces were present in the over-thinking cranium of yours truly telling me to step aside from competitive running and finally hit the bowling green instead. Of course, there had to be one last crack of the whip before fully conceding to a change of sport. As it happened, the time of year was sympathetic to my plight, in that the season of midweek evening races was kicking off and I just absolutely love evening fell races. If I was going to pack it all in, I was going to do so by enjoying it at least. In my favour, if by default, was a surprisingly high cholesterol reading at that time, from which dietary adjustments saw weight drop off that I didn't think possible. As much as a possible swansong, Summer also became a race-myself-to-fitness experiment. One race a week, looking for increments of improvement and eventually stumbling upon decent form by the end of Summer and a training routine that was working really well for me. After the fell race at Widdop by mid-July, I dared to believe. I felt like I was racing again. Some good results followed. Even going in to Autumn and losing that little extra snippet of sharpness from weekly racing, I proved in mid-November that there really is some racing life in this old dog yet with a 5K time of 17:05 at the Podium race.
Looking back at some low points earlier on in the year - a capitulation on Pendle at the Stan Bradshaw, a punchless plod at the Darwen Half Marathon, pulling the plug at the Yorkshire Three Peaks, pulling out of a track session so not to hold the rest of the group up - it's been quite a turnaround. Initially, I had to take some hidings, but in the end I made it and I think I still have more to offer in 2018 before the next serious consideration of signing up for the Crown Green.
There almost endeth my ramblings for the year, but not quite my running. One last bite of the 2017 cherry will be the Auld Lang Syne fell race at Haworth on New Year's Eve. I'd like to do it some justice as this will be the final race that Woodentops legends Dave and Eileen Woodhead will be organising from Penistone Hill. A real sadness about that for many hundreds, thousands of fell runners by whom they are loved and admired. But their great races will continue at least with Wharfedale Harriers taking on the mantle of Woodentops madness.
Winter niggles have pestered my progress during December - a bit of a cold snap and all sorts of bits and pieces start nagging. As such, regarding Sunday's race and the Lancs Cross Country Championships the following weekend, in all honesty I am expecting potentially disappointing outcomes for myself. But just to be there and able to race them without further hindrance would be a suitable underlying success.
Thursday, 7 December 2017
MAKING LIGHT OF THE DARK
Since switching clubs, one or two have remarked on me turning to "the dark side". I laughed it off - all in good spirit - but actually, is it? There does seem to be this underlying reputation of elitism attached to the Ribble Valley club which gets up some people's noses. That very deluded stigma in itself gets right up mine. As I have said quite clearly to all inquisitors, my own presence at Ribble Valley Harriers proves the club is anything but elitist!
It's a tightly knit group of runners who are very competitive. There is no shame in this and nor should there be. Let us remember that running is not just an activity, but firts and foremost it is a sport. Let us remember that running clubs can be more than just social clubs with a running habit.
On a local level at least, RVH founder Chris Barnes has stirred up volcanic reaction in recent times with his forthright opinions on the current state of amateur running. Notably, the diminishing numbers of fast runners at local races and the massive increase at the slower end. That opens up a separate can of worms, but generally speaking, from that volcano, Ribble Valley Harriers emerged as a new island flying the flag of the purely competitive. Ok, so Ribble Valley would appear to be a closed shop to the new wave of 'social runners' and to an extent beginners, but then I don't understand people being offended by this. Why should every running club have to try to accommodate and please absolutely everyone? Adhering to a misled culture of box ticking and extreme political correctness has got to stop somewhere. Provided there's no sexism, racism, or other immoral ism's in place, surely a club is entitled to it's own ethos? RV runners just want to get better times, better positions and pull each other along. Some folk can get a bit Neo-Liberal about the old saying, ''t'is not the winning but the taking part that counteth.'' Cue another potential can of worms here - non-competitive school sports days. What on earth is all that about?
But all that said, Ribble Valley's lack of popularity, partially at least, probably boils down to personality and that Chris is not everybody's cup of tea. He says what he thinks and he also loves a wind-up. I don't always agree with him entirely, but I believe his passion for what he thinks is right makes him a great asset to the sport. He's re-founded a club with an ethos he strongly believes in and where would the world be without the Podium 5K's and the December Turkey Trot? He organises races that, contrary to the elitist tag, cater for absolutely all. He's giving plenty back to the sport and people are probably too quick to forget this just because he likes to drop a grenade of uncomfortable discussion now and again. If this is the dark side, then I have seen the light.
PAIN IN THE BUM
A quick update on the running then as well whilst on the page. After ticking over nicely the past couple of weeks I now find myself nursing a pull in the gluteus regions which is quite literally a pain in the bum. Cold weather doesn't help. I knew that Tuesday night's hill rep session with the club would be a tester for what has been an ongoing niggle of sorts for some time. Foolhardily, I ran the last few reps with things tightening up quite a bit and then once the muscles cooled down later that evening, so the soreness kicked in. It was a fest of Tiger Balm and ibuprofen yesterday. Another day on and it doesn't nag when walking at least. The very steadiest of a steady mile or two will be tested out later. With a couple of races coming up this month and again in January, I feel I'm suddenly treading on thin ice to be in good fettle for them at the moment. As always, time will tell.
Since switching clubs, one or two have remarked on me turning to "the dark side". I laughed it off - all in good spirit - but actually, is it? There does seem to be this underlying reputation of elitism attached to the Ribble Valley club which gets up some people's noses. That very deluded stigma in itself gets right up mine. As I have said quite clearly to all inquisitors, my own presence at Ribble Valley Harriers proves the club is anything but elitist!
It's a tightly knit group of runners who are very competitive. There is no shame in this and nor should there be. Let us remember that running is not just an activity, but firts and foremost it is a sport. Let us remember that running clubs can be more than just social clubs with a running habit.
On a local level at least, RVH founder Chris Barnes has stirred up volcanic reaction in recent times with his forthright opinions on the current state of amateur running. Notably, the diminishing numbers of fast runners at local races and the massive increase at the slower end. That opens up a separate can of worms, but generally speaking, from that volcano, Ribble Valley Harriers emerged as a new island flying the flag of the purely competitive. Ok, so Ribble Valley would appear to be a closed shop to the new wave of 'social runners' and to an extent beginners, but then I don't understand people being offended by this. Why should every running club have to try to accommodate and please absolutely everyone? Adhering to a misled culture of box ticking and extreme political correctness has got to stop somewhere. Provided there's no sexism, racism, or other immoral ism's in place, surely a club is entitled to it's own ethos? RV runners just want to get better times, better positions and pull each other along. Some folk can get a bit Neo-Liberal about the old saying, ''t'is not the winning but the taking part that counteth.'' Cue another potential can of worms here - non-competitive school sports days. What on earth is all that about?
But all that said, Ribble Valley's lack of popularity, partially at least, probably boils down to personality and that Chris is not everybody's cup of tea. He says what he thinks and he also loves a wind-up. I don't always agree with him entirely, but I believe his passion for what he thinks is right makes him a great asset to the sport. He's re-founded a club with an ethos he strongly believes in and where would the world be without the Podium 5K's and the December Turkey Trot? He organises races that, contrary to the elitist tag, cater for absolutely all. He's giving plenty back to the sport and people are probably too quick to forget this just because he likes to drop a grenade of uncomfortable discussion now and again. If this is the dark side, then I have seen the light.
PAIN IN THE BUM
A quick update on the running then as well whilst on the page. After ticking over nicely the past couple of weeks I now find myself nursing a pull in the gluteus regions which is quite literally a pain in the bum. Cold weather doesn't help. I knew that Tuesday night's hill rep session with the club would be a tester for what has been an ongoing niggle of sorts for some time. Foolhardily, I ran the last few reps with things tightening up quite a bit and then once the muscles cooled down later that evening, so the soreness kicked in. It was a fest of Tiger Balm and ibuprofen yesterday. Another day on and it doesn't nag when walking at least. The very steadiest of a steady mile or two will be tested out later. With a couple of races coming up this month and again in January, I feel I'm suddenly treading on thin ice to be in good fettle for them at the moment. As always, time will tell.
Wednesday, 22 November 2017
WHAT A RACE!
PODIUM 5K
There may have been one or two big names and regular faces missing but this was surely the highest quality 5K in the short history of the Podium races, if not to rival recent roadraces elsewhere in the country. Won in a rapid time of 14:27 by Liverpool's John Ashcroft, they came in thick and fast behind him as the top fifteen all finished inside fifteen minutes. A further twenty-seven crossed the line inside sixteen minutes, twenty-two inside seventeen minutes and beyond those, eleven 'stragglers' of which a respectable 17:52 brought up the very rear of seventy-six runners. All that quality, yet still a relatively low key affair upon a dimly lit cycle track down a pitch-black lane in a little known East Lancashire outpost. It was an honour to take part.
In the national interest, former British track athlete Colin McCourt travelled from Glasgow to see out a bet that he could come back and run a sub-16 minute 5K this year after totally losing shape since retiring from the sport in 2012. Sure enough, after shifting the weight, the pedigree of a pair of fast legs returned. He smashed it with a 15:38 to win him £100 apiece from seventeen guys to whom he would forfeit having their names tattooed upon him if he didn't succeed. Of more local interest, it was a night of personal bests amongst which progressive Blackburn Harrier Tim Raynes dipped under fifteen minutes for the first time in a superb 14:51. Fellow Blackburner Ben Costello continued his rapid rise through the time barriers in recent months with a brilliant 16:05, made all the more miraculous after doubling this up with his best cross country race to date only four hours earlier when third in the Red Rose fixture at Bolton. From my former club then, to my new club and Nick 'blow a gasket' Gaskell. What can be said about the Gaskell? Like a maturing whisky in a barrel of ancient oak. Nick has been around the running block a long time now and at the age of 47 he thumped home a sensational all time 5K best of 16:21. He certainly inspires the rest of us older boys to believe.
Conditions on this Saturday evening were perfect - a bit chilly but not raw, very little breeze whatsoever and the surface was dry. Just how many personal best's were notched that night would be interesting to know. The preceding 'B' race also had it's fair share too.
No PB for myself, but the fastest I have run in my forties and for seven or eight years I think! Driving over the darkness of Pendle Hill after work to the race, I was thinking I ought to achieve a course best at the very least for my fourth attempt on the Barrowford circuit. Interval sessions have thinned a little lately, but training has been solid and last week's outing at Dunnerdale was a useful reminder of race pain. Mileage reduction in recent times has kept my legs fresh. The fear factor I have experienced in previous Podium races - certainly the last two - had been replaced by a quiet confidence. The grim target of mere damage limitation had been replaced by an excited air of expectation, although I didn't quite know exactly what to expect.
Even at the back end of a ferociously paced race like this it is difficult not to go out a little bit too quick. I didn't have my fancy watch on to delve in to the retrospective of split times, but I'm fairly sure I ran the first kilometre above my station. Fear of thinking I may be in last place was the driving force. But I settled down to a rhythm the next two laps and found myself in the thick of the ladies race at one point. I recognised Rebecca Robinson and Hannah England, these two surged in to lap three and there was no way I could risk trying to go with those two fasties. Another lass gave me a good elbowing on the inside before a bend, then cut in front and I couldn't help but nearly trip her - the Mary Decker Slaney and Zola Budd incident sprang to mind. Fortunately she stayed upright, but then also drifted further ahead as the race went on. I was still happy with things going in to lap four though and whilst the Lancaster & Morecambe girl who I had been in close proximity with all the way had now also gained a bit of yardage, I decided just to carry on trying to maintain pace and not get too excited as I could feel my stride just starting to tighten a little. The bell for the final kilometre or so was the cue to really start hurting myself properly though. I hung on to the L&M girl Scarlet Dale's shadow and finally managed to get past her with about 200 metres to go. Catching up on the next runner ahead, I can't help thinking now that if I'd started kicking a little earlier I might have snatched another place back, but at the time I was pretty pleased indeed to see 17:05 on the clock as I crossed the line. A sub-17 run is definitely still on here if I can go in to it with more recent speed sessions banked. As Nick Gaskell proves, age need not be a barrier.
Saturday 18th November 2017
PODIUM 5K 'A' Race Steven Burke Cycle & Sports Hub, Barrowford. Lancs.
1st Man - John Ashcroft (Liverpool Harriers) 14:27
1st Lady - Rebecca Robinson (Kendal AC) 16:39
My Stats - 17:05 67/76
PODIUM 5K
There may have been one or two big names and regular faces missing but this was surely the highest quality 5K in the short history of the Podium races, if not to rival recent roadraces elsewhere in the country. Won in a rapid time of 14:27 by Liverpool's John Ashcroft, they came in thick and fast behind him as the top fifteen all finished inside fifteen minutes. A further twenty-seven crossed the line inside sixteen minutes, twenty-two inside seventeen minutes and beyond those, eleven 'stragglers' of which a respectable 17:52 brought up the very rear of seventy-six runners. All that quality, yet still a relatively low key affair upon a dimly lit cycle track down a pitch-black lane in a little known East Lancashire outpost. It was an honour to take part.
In the national interest, former British track athlete Colin McCourt travelled from Glasgow to see out a bet that he could come back and run a sub-16 minute 5K this year after totally losing shape since retiring from the sport in 2012. Sure enough, after shifting the weight, the pedigree of a pair of fast legs returned. He smashed it with a 15:38 to win him £100 apiece from seventeen guys to whom he would forfeit having their names tattooed upon him if he didn't succeed. Of more local interest, it was a night of personal bests amongst which progressive Blackburn Harrier Tim Raynes dipped under fifteen minutes for the first time in a superb 14:51. Fellow Blackburner Ben Costello continued his rapid rise through the time barriers in recent months with a brilliant 16:05, made all the more miraculous after doubling this up with his best cross country race to date only four hours earlier when third in the Red Rose fixture at Bolton. From my former club then, to my new club and Nick 'blow a gasket' Gaskell. What can be said about the Gaskell? Like a maturing whisky in a barrel of ancient oak. Nick has been around the running block a long time now and at the age of 47 he thumped home a sensational all time 5K best of 16:21. He certainly inspires the rest of us older boys to believe.
Conditions on this Saturday evening were perfect - a bit chilly but not raw, very little breeze whatsoever and the surface was dry. Just how many personal best's were notched that night would be interesting to know. The preceding 'B' race also had it's fair share too.
No PB for myself, but the fastest I have run in my forties and for seven or eight years I think! Driving over the darkness of Pendle Hill after work to the race, I was thinking I ought to achieve a course best at the very least for my fourth attempt on the Barrowford circuit. Interval sessions have thinned a little lately, but training has been solid and last week's outing at Dunnerdale was a useful reminder of race pain. Mileage reduction in recent times has kept my legs fresh. The fear factor I have experienced in previous Podium races - certainly the last two - had been replaced by a quiet confidence. The grim target of mere damage limitation had been replaced by an excited air of expectation, although I didn't quite know exactly what to expect.
Even at the back end of a ferociously paced race like this it is difficult not to go out a little bit too quick. I didn't have my fancy watch on to delve in to the retrospective of split times, but I'm fairly sure I ran the first kilometre above my station. Fear of thinking I may be in last place was the driving force. But I settled down to a rhythm the next two laps and found myself in the thick of the ladies race at one point. I recognised Rebecca Robinson and Hannah England, these two surged in to lap three and there was no way I could risk trying to go with those two fasties. Another lass gave me a good elbowing on the inside before a bend, then cut in front and I couldn't help but nearly trip her - the Mary Decker Slaney and Zola Budd incident sprang to mind. Fortunately she stayed upright, but then also drifted further ahead as the race went on. I was still happy with things going in to lap four though and whilst the Lancaster & Morecambe girl who I had been in close proximity with all the way had now also gained a bit of yardage, I decided just to carry on trying to maintain pace and not get too excited as I could feel my stride just starting to tighten a little. The bell for the final kilometre or so was the cue to really start hurting myself properly though. I hung on to the L&M girl Scarlet Dale's shadow and finally managed to get past her with about 200 metres to go. Catching up on the next runner ahead, I can't help thinking now that if I'd started kicking a little earlier I might have snatched another place back, but at the time I was pretty pleased indeed to see 17:05 on the clock as I crossed the line. A sub-17 run is definitely still on here if I can go in to it with more recent speed sessions banked. As Nick Gaskell proves, age need not be a barrier.
Saturday 18th November 2017
PODIUM 5K 'A' Race Steven Burke Cycle & Sports Hub, Barrowford. Lancs.
1st Man - John Ashcroft (Liverpool Harriers) 14:27
1st Lady - Rebecca Robinson (Kendal AC) 16:39
My Stats - 17:05 67/76
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