Oldham Half Marathon 2013

Ho Ho Ho  -A festive start finish area in mid October!

Perhaps I did too much after the Bullock Smithy. I paid the price for the extra miles, coming down with symptoms of a cold that made me feel run down and lethargic. I decided to take my foot of the gas for three weeks and in the run up to Oldham I wondered if I'd make it to the start line. I had chosen Oldham as part of a visit to see a friend. Jeremy is fairly new to running having only a Great North run and two 10ks to his name.   

 

As the weekend approached I began to feel better and so made the trip on the train to stay with Jeremy at his house in the mill town of Mossley. The Oldham Half Marathon is a simpler name for the official, "Milltown to Moors Half Marathon". The route is hilly, the type of hills that aren't found in Lincolnshire. On race day I was surprised to find Christmas Decorations lining the route to the start/finish area. Oldham Borough Council are obviously planning ahead.

 

The race begins in the heart of Oldham Town centre. It climbs miserably through the first four miles from the Milltown to the Moors around Saddleworth. The climb through the opening miles was tough. We climbed so far I half expected to meet God at the top. I would have been happy to fall to my knees but Instead at the top, there was a water station for which I was grateful and I had to carry on. During the climb a man on mountain bike pulled alongside me. He had recognised my Grantham Running Club top and he decided to ask this novice boy from the flatlands how he was coping with this stiff Northern climb. I would have explained that I'm from fell running stock having hailed from Stockport but I was far too indebted to oxygen for that. The last thing I remember him saying as he cycled merrily away was "there are some killer climbs on this route" I ran on pondering how the current hill that I was on didn't seemed to be included in his warning.

 

A latent talent - Jeremy Hinks 1:46:01

After four miles things began to improve. The uphill gradient turned downhill and I was able to pick up a rhythm. There were great views across the Pennine hills to Saddleworth Moor. The weather was dry but damp and cloudy. The undulating route ran through Mumps, Grain Bar, Delph, Ladcastle, Lydgate and Lees. The final mile or so had been re routed through Glodwick, a multi ethnic area and scene of riots in 2001. I wonder if the route had been chosen as part of a community inclusiveness strategy, either way, I can confirm that running recognises no ethnic boundaries. A young Asian looking girl stood at the roadside offering a tray of what looked like Lassi. I was tempted to stop but by now I was tired and looking forward to the final push back to Oldham town centre. I finished in 1:38:09 and given that I'd been run down for the previous three weeks I was glad to get a half under my belt and save for that initial climb I felt pretty good throughout the 13.1 miles.

 

I walked quickly back to the baggage area to collect my camera before returning to catch a photo of Jeremy crossing the line. Such was his impressive race I missed him. At 2 hours I was still standing camera poised beginning to get concerned when Jeremy tapped me on the shoulder from the side. It turned out he had pb'd on a tough course coming home in 1:46:01. The winner of the race was one of the country's best road runners, Andi Jones. How he ran 1:09:52 on that course I'll never know. Check out his splits - amazing.

 

Race Ale.

A great day was topped with amusement. We went to watch the presentation and as the V65 prize was given out a male V75 stormed the stage demanding that the prize was due to him. The organiser asked him to stand to aside but skilfully reassured him that he would be looked after and not left out of pocket if he had a legitimate claim to a prize. I'm happy to report that the following Monday Jeremy sent me a photo from the official collection which included the V75 complainant stood sporting a broad smile arm in arm with the race organiser. Clearly he did have a legitimate claim and he hadn't been left out of pocket!

 

After the race we retired to the local hostelry for a pint of specially brewed Milltown to Moors ale. There was a buffet for runners included in the entry fee, you can't say fairer than that. I  enjoyed my trip to Oldham and I'm sure I'll run the race gain.  

                 

Harvest Hobble 2013 - Undulations, Deer and a False Self Clip.

The Harvest Hobble 2013.

Since moving to Grantham some six years ago, I have been meaning to get to the Lincolnshire Wolds. I'd heard a rumour  that there were hills to be found and the temptation of running through 26 miles of a new area with a bit of hilly terrain seemed to good to miss. I had not heard of the Harvest Hobble before until a club mate passed me a flyer at the previous week's Ponton Plod. Apparently the event hasn't been run since 2003 but a new LDWA organising team led by Terry Baines is bringing this excellent event back to life.

 

The are two route choices 13 miles and 26 miles. The 26 mile route begins at Ludford some way North East of Lincoln and passes through Tealby - Walesby - Otby House - Normanby le Wold - Acre House - Nettleton Grange - Rothwell - Thoresway - Stainton le Vale - Binbrook - and back to Ludford.  There are four checkpoints, each providing the weary runner with cake and juice and there are a further three self clip points.



Fuel = Cake and Juice

As we left Ludford at 8am a, Paul Elliot ran off fast in front. He was wearing a bright orange t-shirt which I thought might help  my navigation but within the first three miles Paul had run out of sight. He went on to cover the ground in a whizzo 3 hours and 35 minutes. I was left behind with a group of two other local runners. I thought that running with local folk would also be beneficial in terms of finding my way but I had to have a pit stop before the first checkpoint and the two in front (and another bloke that came through) ran ahead leaving me to run this event on my Jack Jones. I decided to follow a map instead of using  the route description. It worked well. I didn't get lost.

This event was run in excellent conditions. Some late summer sun illuminated the harvested landscape. The trails ran through, or adjacent to ploughed, drilled fields. The promised Wolds hills were more like undulations but the undulations  provided a stiff test. The gradients were mostly not long enough to excuse walking but they were definitely steep enough to make running hard.

 

On the way to Otby House my map suggested I was approaching a self clip. It is easy to miss a self clip, usually they consist of a small hand held metal or plastic scissor like clamp which runners use to clip out a piece of their tally cards to prove that they have visited a particular point on the course. I was concentrating hard on locating the self clip and was relived to see it on top of an isolated stick at the side of the track. When I got closer it seemed the self clip was but a simple plastic clothes peg and I was confused about how the peg with its smooth interior would cut a hole out of my tally card. I stood by the side of the track pressing the clothes peg hard against my tally. It didn't matter how hard I pressed, it was smooth and it was not going to leave an imprint, I couldn't understand it. Eventually the runner behind caught up with me and suggested the clothes peg wasn't the self clip. The self clip was at least 200m further along the track. Oh dear...More than slightly embarrassed I journeyed on to find a proper metal clip device adjacent to a fence post a little bit further along the trail.

 

A typical post harvest Lincolnshire Field

 

I wonder if someone from the adjacent farm had put that peg out as a joke. It was so obviously the self clip it wasn't funny! I suspect the joker responsible was watching me fumble around from an behind an adjacent bush or something - grrrrr.

I felt good as far as Rothwell but I noticed that on the way to the second self clip I was being caught by a runner behind. It didn't feel like I had slowed down but I had to put in a bit more of an effort to avoid getting caught. By Rothwell there were at least four runners in front of me but I couldn't see them even on the long straight sections. The sun continued to shine and I enjoyed finding my way in the still frequent undulating and unfamiliar location. At one point on the course I passed a gaggle of deer and at another I was running at a field edge adjacent to a horse and rider. It was great to be in the glorious outdoors and was worth the 5.30am wake up.  

There was a long straight road after the checkpoint at Rothwell and despite filling up on cake and juice the extra pace on the tarmac took it out of me. I was looking forward to a drink at Stainton le Vale (18.6 miles) and was disappointed to arrive to remember that the checkpoint was another self clip with no refreshments. My body was slowing down dramatically, it was time to dig deep and shuffle on.

On the way to the final checkpoint at Binbrook a herd of brown cows came careering towards me. The farmer had just left the wide open field in his 4x4. I don't if the cows thought I was the farmer returning with food but they certainly seemed pleased to see me. I wasn't as pleased to see them. I ran faster than they towards the nearest fence. When I arrived at the sanctuary a staring match ensued between me and the cows. It was a proper stand off and I got a bit cocky knowing I could scale the fence if their curiosity turned into a charge. The staring match continued as I stealthily tiptoed round the field. The diversion took me off route and it took some time in the adjacent fields before I could relocate with the map, I thought I would be caught by the runner behind but when I got back on the route I checked behind and there was no sign.

 

Glad to finish.

I was grateful to reach Binbrook at about 22 miles. I had kind of had enough by now and was struggling to keep the legs turning. I drank the juice I had been awaiting since Stainton, ate some more cake and carried on. During the final section I began to catch up some of the walkers doing the 13 mile route. It meant I could concentrate less on thumbing the map. Acknowledgements were mutually shared as I passed each walker and eventually the village of Ludford came into view - phew.

The road through the village back to the finish seemed to take forever and I was grateful to arrive back fifth in 4 hours 10 minutes. I enjoyed butternut squash soup and skipped the rice pudding with fruit in favour of a pint in a local pub. I was grateful to the two local runners in front of me for suggesting areas worth visiting on the way back to Grantham. The Wolds was a great area and a bit like the Harvest Hobble it is a bit of a hidden gem. 

 

Thanks to Terry Baines and the team, especially the checkpoint volunteers, the cakes were especially good!      

               

Ponton Plod 2013 - In the Company of Legends.

The Ponton Plod is an excellent local event organised by long distance walker and veteran of the 100 mile distance, Stuart Ashley and his wife Kath. They are supported by a cast of cheerful volunteers many of whom operate the four checkpoints at Buckminster, Croxton Kerrial, Harlaxton and Wyville. The start and finish is in the quaint villlage of Great Ponton, just outside Grantham. There are 12, 17 and 27 mile route choices. I chose to run the 27 mile route. I knew the route well after running the event twice before. In 2010 I went round in 4 hours three minutes. My second attempt in 2011 ended in DNF after I turned my ankle just before Croxton Kerrial.

 

Commeth the runners.

 

Entrants gathered in the car park for a start at 8:30am. I was later to talk to a runner from Hull who had got out of bed at 5am to get to the start. Organiser Ashley stood on the dry stone wall to make pre event announcements. It was interesting to hear that ultra running legend Eleanor Robinson was in the car park ready to take part in the event. In her day, Eleanor set various records at ultra distances by racing all over the world. In 1985 Eleanor won the Nottingham Marathon in 2:55:18. I doubt that Eleanor would have known it, but the men's winner of the same event, Phil Hall who ran 2:25:15 in 1985 was also in the car park ready to run the 17 mile plod. It was energising to be in such illustrious company.   

 

Organiser Stuart Ashley

At 8:30am we were released into the beautiful Lincolnshire Countryside. I was determined to stick to a conservative strategy until Croxton Kerrial. I had run 56 miles of the Bullock Smithy the previous weekend and I didn't think my legs would thank me for pushing at the front of the field. I kept in touch towards Stoke Rochford where the 27 and 17 mile route spilt. It was then evident that there were five runners in front of me and I watched on the road towards Skillington as they gradually pushed ahead. By the first checkpoint at Buckminster Water Tower I felt pretty good, my legs weren't complaining after the previous weeks efforts and my conservative strategy seemed to be paying off. The five in front had run ahead but on the way to Saltby two of them, Arthur Short and one other appeared some way in front, climbing a fence back on to the official route. It seemed they had taken a wrong turn and had just relocated. 

 

Robert McArdle, Catherine Payne & Ben Mason Grantham Running Club.

The section between Buckminster and Croxton Kerrrial is long. Although I was feeling good I was grateful to arrive at the checkpoint. On the way to Croxton Kerrial the promised rain had materialised. In the car park, before the start, I had taken the last minute decision to ditch my waterproof top and when the clouds broke I began to regret the decision. Thankfully as I stumbled up the horribly rutted motor cross path the shower had ended and it turned out that the rest of the event was run in dry, cloudy, windy conditions.   

 

At Croxton Kerrial everything happened at once. The five runners in front had congregated in the village after missing the checkpoint. As I arrived they were retracing their footsteps and I was able to guide them into the checkpoint. This worked well for my pre run strategy of conservatively running to Croxton and then pushing on from there. I was now at the head of the field albeit with five others but I guessed my reserved energy might pay dividends in the second half. These events aren't super competitive but its nice to be as far up the field as possible and it would be good to get a better time than my previous 4 hours 3 minutes. 

 

It became apparent about half a mile after leaving Croxton that despite two runners leaving Croxton ahead of me, I was at the front of the field. On the descent into Harston I could see a fair way in front but there were no other runners to be seen, perhaps the two that had scaled the fence after going wrong earlier had done it again? I was able to run fast between Harston and Denton Reservoir although I laboured up the hill before the checkpoint at Harlaxton. 

 

Glad to finish in 4:01

I ate cake and banana and left the checkpoint quickly. The marshalls had to point me in the direction of a diversion which involved a trek up the appropriately named Swines Hill. I was glad to get to the top. From here there was perhaps six miles left and another checkpoint left to visit. Could I hold off the chasing runners behind and perhaps better that time of 4 hours 3 minutes?

 

I had begun to catch up walkers who I presume were taking part in the 17 mile event. The walkers provided handy confirmation that I was navigating the right route and we exchanged encouraging words of to each other as we passed. By the checkpoint at Wyville I was beginning to slow down. Time for more cake and banana and a brief chat to a colleague from work who was volunteering at the checkpoint.

 

Onwards for the final four mile leg to the finish. My memory had mentally shortened my recollection of the valley through towards Stoke Rochford which was a bit tragic but the road came soon enough. More encouraging words from a walker on that nasty hill before the right hand turn down the track towards Great Ponton. A quick glance behind confirmed there was nobody chasing and I could cruise back home. I crossed the A1 and back into the car park at Great Ponton village hall finishing in 4 hours and 1 minutes! phew a pb by two minutes. I'm nothing if consistent.

 

It was time for the best bit - food. This is a great LDWA style event. Participants have the choice of three types of soup including cauliflower and stilton. I chose parsnip and apple followed by lemon meringue and cream all complimented by lashings of rejuvenating tea.

 

Post event fun with Grantham Running Club

 

 

Arthur Short came back shortly after me and he would have been in front had he not kept getting lost. He confirmed that he and his compatriot had missed a turn after Croxton which had put me to the front of the field by default. Grantham Running Club fielded a strong team including ultra runner Ben Mason also completing the 27 mile event less than a week after 56 miles of the Bullock Smithy. 

 

The Ponton Plod is an excellent event. The majority of the proceeds from the event go to Besso Childrens Home in Hosur, India and a smaller portion to Glaston Parish Church in Rutland who pass this on to World Vision. In 2012 the total raised was £2150

 

Thanks to Stuart and the team for another great day.

    
      
  


 

Bullock Smithy 2013

On the Thursday before the event, the Mountain Weather Information Service forecast a "complex weather pattern" that would have the potential for "significant effects on hill walkers". Although the forecast was uncertain, heavy rain seemed guaranteed. By Saturday morning as we gathered like lambs to the slaughter in Hazel Grove, the sun shone through broken clouds and the threat of rain seemed remote. The conditions were ideal for a 56 mile romp through the glorious Peak District courtesy of 3rd Hazel Grove Scouts. 

 

When the hammer strikes the anvil, the event begins.

This year my friend Mark "unfinished business" White came back to avenge his DNF from 2004. During the last 9 years Mark has attempted to forget his previous retirement but a DNF on the Bullock Smithy is a memory not easily forgotten. Almost a decade later Mark was back, accompanied by his brother-in-law Simon, both in good shape and ready to put the Bullock to bed.

Ben Mason, Ben Hatherley and me.

I had also managed to dupe encourage a couple of friends from Grantham Running Club. Ben "methodical approach" Mason and Ben "I've never quit anything in my life" Hatherley had both signed up after hearing me bang on about the event throughout the previous year. It is easy to sell the positive aspects of the Bullock Smithy to potential contenders, camaraderie, self satisfaction and the raw humanity found in the collective pursuit of a difficult challenge are but a few. The negatives which can last for days or weeks can include exhaustion, muscle soreness and mental fatigue. It's fun to cite the positives to friends and let them find out about the negatives. After the event it is good to do an assessment to make sure you have some friends left!

 

The iconic anvil was struck at noon and 250 or so entrants left Devonshire Park through various different exits. I soon found myself in good company running with various repeat offenders who without rational explanation had come back for another dose of Bullock Smithy pain. Stockport Harriers had again fielded a strong team led by Usain Buccleuch who took an early lead across the fields towards Anson Road. James Scott-Buccleuch of Stockport Harriers is the Bullock Smithy record holder. In 2011 James romped round in 8 hours 46 mins. This year there were rumours that James was looking to better his record time.

 

I ran  steadily up to the first checkpoint to Bow Stones conserving energy on the climb whilst chatting to Nigel Aston and Steve Jackson. During the descent from checkpoint 1, I could see event leader James far in the distance. It was inspiring to see a white speck on the hill in the distance as he headed out towards Whalley Moor. It was also interesting to see that someone had gone with him. I doubted anyone could challenge James. Who was competing with him at the front? 

Simon & Mark

I ran on from Bow Stones to Chinley taking a bad line towards Whalley Lane. I caught up with five familiar faces from Stockport Harriers on the climb to Chinley Churn and we ran on together more or less all the way to Peak Forest. There were more recognisable faces operating the drinks station at Peep o Day including Julie Gardner who was aiming to improve her chances of gaining entry into one of the classic American 100 milers. I grabbed a biscuit, filled up my water bottle and ran on towards the long climb to Edale Cross. The sunshine was still penetrating distant clouds. I was grateful that I had decided to take my small day sac.  I had almost plumbed for a larger 10 litre sac so I could take extra waterproofs and warm clothing in case the rain came but the dry path up to Edale Cross and the extensive views behind towards Manchester confirmed that I has made the right choice of kit by travelling lighter.
 

Colin Wood & Roger Gill

Edale is always a welcome refuge, by this stage we had run 18 miles. This, for me is where the first signs of tiredness start to creep in. I had managed to keep up with the Stockport Harriers on the road to the checkpoint but their pace was perhaps faster than I should have run. I dwelled a little longer than the harriers at the checkpoint and ate rice pudding with fruit whilst chatting briefly with the checkpoint staff before heading off in pursuit of those in front.

The next section is short but involves a stiff lung busting climb to Hollins Cross before a tricky descent into Castleton. The trig point on top of the hill was busy with resting walkers who shouted encouragement as I laboured up to the top. I tred cautiously down the descent to Castleton and again caught up with Stockport who seemed to be working well as a team. Another fast run on the tarmac road bought all six of us to the checkpoint in the car park. Surprisingly the promised rain had come to welcome us at the checkpoint, in addition to the friendly checkpoint volunteers.     

Bullock Smithy Record Holder -James Scott-Buccleuch leaves Bow Stones chased by Charlie Sharpe.  

 

There is an on going debate about whether it is best to run from Castleton to the next checkpoint at Peak forest via the more popular route to Cave Dale or alternatively take the stiff climb up Goosehill. Last year I swore never to go up Goosehill again and so this year I went up Goosehill................ again.

In hindsight, It was a measured decision. I had been to have a look at the route a couple of weeks previously and rather than take a direct line up the steep grassy slope I had been advised to take a diagonal towards the stile at the top. I had been discussing the pros and cons with my Stockport comrades on the way into Castleton. They seemed certain that Cave Dale was preferable. Stockport were going to run up Cave Dale and I was going up Goosehill, perhaps today we could conclusively settle the issue - whoever got to the top first would have a good claim to having ascended the best route.

Almost at Chelmorton 

 

We all left Castelton more or less together, the Harriers being just a few seconds in front. I ran to the foot of Goosehill and began a diagonal up the grassy slope. Just minutes later Deja Vu came back to haunt me as painful memories of that God awful grassy bank came flooding back. I was soon in the same state as the previous year, labouring with hands on knees, sweat rolling off my nose and my chin, occasionally on all fours and swearing aloud at the adjacent sheep who were staring, sheepishly at me in pity. Diagonal or straight up, it matters not - that grassy bank is nasty. I quickly became demoralised. I wasn't three quarters of the way to the top, "Stockport would surely be out of Cave Dale by now, why didn't I go with them"?  I carried on towards the part that levels towards the stile.

 

It is often said that the benefit of Goosehill is that you get the climb done quicker and then you meet a runnable section at the top. I met the runnable section but was far to exhausted to be runnable. I asked another staring sheep what it was looking at and then staggered on angrily over the stile and towards the junction. If I hadn't have been so slow, I should have met Stockport coming up Cave Dale at that point. There was no initial sign and I couldn't see them ahead. "They must be at Peak Forest already". I managed to start a shuffle and as I approached the junction I was surprised to hear voices I looked down the Cave Dale route and saw the famous five now reduced to four approaching through the gate. The "best route" debate must continue!

Nigel Aston

We ran across the moor towards Peak Forest at 24 miles. It might be worth noting that Stockport were much stronger than I for the rest of that section. I started to experience a slump that would continue until half way to Miller's Dale and Stockport extended a lead. As I ran into the Peak Forest check point, Stockport were on their way out. I was feeling ropey but it was good to see Tracy and I decided to dwell a bit longer taking an energy drink and refuelling on bananas and crisps. I could only manage a walk up the road to the crash barrier. As I reached the top of the next grassy bank things got worse, I glanced behind to see another runner gaining on me - oh dear time to dig deep. I trundled the road to Wheston not allowing myself to stop and walk. Gradually I began to come out of the slump, my pace improved and I was back on good form but with no sight of Stockport in front.        

 

A herd of cows stood menacingly guarding the gate before the barn at Miller's Dale. The path forms a tunnel with a farm building on the right and a high bank on the left. There was nowhere for the cows to go. I could see Peter Wood's head peering over the cows from the other side of the gate and he laughed as he could see I was a little concerned. Any other day I would have retreated to find an alternative path but this was Bullock Smithy day. I had to be brave and walk amongst the herd. I took a deep breath and ventured slowly forward. Pete opened the gate and as soon as there was enough space for me to get through I bolted from the herd to the other side, more amusement for Pete but relief for me, phew! A brief stop at Miller's Dale and then time for the second half. I wondered when my friends would arrive at half way later in the day, Mark avenging his DNF and Ben, Ben and Si on their first attempts at the Bullock Smithy.  

Finish! 10:30

Walk 100 paces, run 100 paces was the method used to get me to the A6 road junction. I carried on to the top of the hill. I like this bit, the majority of the significant climbs are done, there are some flat runnable sections to come and best of all your are now running for home. From the top you can see the checkpoint near Chelmorton at 32 miles I don't remember seeing the Stockport four in front but when I arrived at the checkpoint Lee Barrett had sadly come to grief with back problems, the four were now three. I enjoyed a doughnut and decided to run on at pace still feeling pretty good. The lane to the A515 goes on a bit but its runnable. The scary cow fields into Earl Sterndale were next. I could see the cows in the fields but happily they were some distance away I gave them a nod of respect and carried on into the quaint village of Earl Sterndale at 36 miles. It was great to see Geoff Pettengell and Mike Nelson out in support. Both previous finishers, Geoff with an amazing 24 completions to his name. Sadly no time to dwell other than to grab a piece of Mrs Nelson's flapjack which went down a treat, thanks Mrs N.  

 

On the way between Earl Sterndale and Brand Top the sun began to fade. I would need to keep a good pace to get down the rocky path to Cumberland Cottage in the daylight. That was my sole motivation for I didn't fancy the rocky path in the dark. I walked up the tarmac road which cuts through the remote landscape and ran down towards Booth Farm avoiding a farmer with a couple of yapping Jack Russell dogs on the way. There is an eerie static caravan which perches on the hill at the top of a muddy track just before the Brand Top checkpoint and I was a bit startled when a young girl appeared in the early evening dusk to ask me politely to close the gate at the top of the track. I kept running into check point at Brand Top with 39 miles now in the Bullock bag.

Ben & Ben on finishing their first ultra

 

I always enjoy the leg between Brand Top and Cumberland Cottage. Its energising to run through the remote lanes at the back of the Roaches with good views of Shutlingsloe in the background. The sun was now descending at pace leaving a warm glow to the clouds behind. There is a nice stillness on the roads to Three Shire Head and everything points towards the close of what had been another excellent day of running. I crossed Three Shires Bridge at the place where Staffordshire, Derbyshire and Cheshire meet and ran on towards the climb to the A54. As I approached the first part of the climb I was surprised to see a gaggle of people climbing the ladder stile high above. It was the Stockport three. I hadn't seen them since Peak Forest earlier in the day. I had no intention of giving chase, I was too tired by now and more interested in getting to the ladder style myself to look behind and make sure nobody was chasing me!

Steve Holt and some members of the organising team - thanks for another great event.

 

The climb to the ladder is steep. I paused at the top and looked back across the Peak District. The shadow of the hills through which I had run sat peacefully in the dusk for miles in the distance. It was time to say goodbye to the Peak District and run back towards civilisation. The welcome party at Cumberland Cottage checkpoint was awesome the volunteers were outside cheering my arrival. It is surprising how such a welcome can lift your spirits. I recognised Tom Buttery who was volunteering on the check point and it was nice that he remembered our Bullock Smithy in 1998 when we had run the latter stages together. 

 

By now I had largely had enough. It was time to grind out the final 13 miles. I ran all the way to the Stanley Arms and then power walked up the hill. I had noticed a shadow waking up towards Charity Lane which later, I think turned out to be one of the Stockport three, Phil Burns of Stockport leaving just Neil Thompson and Stephen Jones in the group ahead. I didn't dwell at Walker Barn, it was time to get this thing done.



Keeley Buckley, Cath & Alex Tye

On the way to Whitely Green I was running along a particularly dark lane in Bollington with my head torch switched off, when, all of a sudden, I noticed, in an instant, a dark shadow approaching fast in front. It was clear that whatever was coming towards me was going to hit me at speed and I had noticed it perhaps  two seconds before impact. This was a quiet country lane and it was pitch black. I grimaced, tensed and let out a "uuuuurrrgghhh" which I thought might help to absorb the impact. At the same time the shadow coming towards me at speed let out a similar noise and somehow miraculously the cyclist avoided me. We were both unlit and wearing dark clothes and the cyclist was really speeding along. That cyclist must have been scared to death. Never in a million years would he have expected a runner to be coming down the middle of that remote lane on a Saturday night dressed in black. I suspect he might have thought that he had seen a ghost and in a fit of deliriousness, I ran down the next cobbled path uncontrollably laughing out loud into the night.       

        

My sister had come out to support at Whitely Green and Tracy was also there to offer encouragement. Great to see them but no time to waste. I ran on out of the checkpoint to the Middlewood way for the obligatory three mile nightmare to Higher Poynton. This year it was so dark I had to keep my head torch on and I later wondered if that was the reason the bridge at the Miner's Arms arrived sooner than it ever has done.

 

I was able to keep up a good pace running all the way through the final miles to the finish. I finished fifth in 10 hours 30 minutes.  Time to congratulate the Stockport runners, Neil Thompson and Steve Jones who also maintained a strong finish to come home in 10:09. James Scott-Buccleuch stormed round in 9 hours 14 minutes and suggested he might use his talent on longer road ultras in the foreseeable future, I hope he comes back to the Bullock Smithy. James had been pushed hard throughout by Charlie Sharpe. It was Charlie who had accompanied James across the hill near Whalley Moor earlier in the day and Charlie had stayed in pursuit throughout, coming home just nine minutes behind James. 



Mark White the day after the Bullock Smithy.

After a breakfast supper it was time to go out and see how my friends were doing. Ben Hatherley and Ben Mason came home in 14 hours 43 minutes, a very decent time considering it was their first attempt at ultra distance. Ben M did a sterling job navigating and Ben H followed with a foggy eye as he had pierced it with a drilling accident the previous week making his completion even more impressive. Mark White and Simon Platts romped home in 20 hours 18 minutes, Mark finally putting the Bullock to rest and going on to put his Grandmother's stair lift to good use. 

 

Thanks to the good folk of Stockport  Harriers for your company in the early stages and thanks as always to the volunteers who give up their time for the pleasure and pain of those who take part.

 

Until next year....

          


 
     

            
      

Thunder Run 2013 - Sunshine, Storms and Broken Bones.

The Thunder Run 2013 will generally be remembered because of the extreme weather. By day, it was baking hot with wall to wall sunshine. By night, an aggressive storm had swept across Catton Park. The torrential rain that accompanied the storm lasted all night.

 

Team GRC

 

 

Grantham Running Club will remember the event because of an awful injury that was caused by the extreme weather. The torrential rain left the course in a quagmire and at approximately 3am John Ellerby decided to sit down on his ankle, breaking it on the way.   

 

Grantham Running Club was represented by over 20 runners split into three teams. I ran in a mixed team of eight. The idea at TR24 is to run 10 kilometres as fast as you can before handing over a wrist band to a team mate. The process repeats until the baton is back with you. The pre race planning led by team Captain Mason concluded that I would run five laps of the technical, off road circuit. The course involves mixed varied terrain of tracks, grassy fields, woods, hills and switch backs. The 24 hour nature of the event means that at some point runners will run through the night. If you are a solo runner you will run all day and all night. Captain Mason notified me that I would be going out at about 11:50pm and then about 4.30am but they would be my night laps and first I had to do my share of laps in the hot light of day.



TR24

I arrived at Catton Park on the Friday evening. The race begins at midday Saturday which left plenty of time to take in the atmosphere across the event campsite. Thousands of runners take part in this event and most choose to camp in the park grounds. This, as another post describes is, "the Glastonbury of running".  Friday night was spent regulating the amount of alcohol intake to manageable levels, for the effort the next day would involve much effort. Mark provided warm up entertainment in the form of a quiz before the main event of the evening "Scott Jones and his guitar".



Scott's running talents are matched by his musical ability. He is so good that he has someone to warm his strings. As Phil strummed gently the anticipation built up until finally Scott took over, taking the guitar and strumming diverse requests from "Postman Pat" to the "Stones Roses". We sat and we sung, Actually we sat and failed miserably at trying to remember the words. Mark attempted to find lyrics on his mobile phone. Eventually Scott was reduced to a two string melody. Scott explained that those two strings could be used as the background to according to almost any song. "Kumbaya" was suggested and the team launched into verse. We quickly became concerned that the religious  nature of the lyrics might lead to us being shunned the next day at race start. Concerns were heightened as we watched Scott break into solo, his eyes eerily piercing through the night. Scott peered over the guitar, his fingers strummed slowly and with a serious face he softly murmured the words to Kumbaya it was scary, very scary.

 

Scott Jones

It was decided as a team tactic that Scott would be placed with guitar in the woods the next evening. He would intermittently present himself on the trail in the dark usually in front of single female runners and usually on remote woodland track. Scott would stand menacingly in the trees, strumming the chords and singing the song in the same most serious fashion. If sightings of a guitar wielding ghost in the woods spread through the event, the more vulnerable runners would refuse to go out on the course meaning that by default we would be bumped up a few places. The whole thing seemed hilariously achievable - more hilarious than it should of done. Perhaps we had enough to drink, it was getting late. It was time to retire to our tents  but not before Scott struck some 1980's classics in the form of Erasure - at last we could all remember the lyrics to those tunes and we sang heartily before bed!

 

Saturday morning bought more serious business in the form of race day. I had hardly slept a wink through the night. I hadn't considered the strategy of "tent placement". On Friday evening I had plumbed for a spot nestled in next to Phil and Arthur's tent. You should never ever nestle in next to Phil and Arthur. My lack of tent placement strategy led to a night of listening to a member of the adjacent tent snore like a simmering volcano. I listened and tried to put the eruptions out of my mind, then it was morning.

 

The race start at midday approached and the anticipation around the festival grew. Our star runner Arthur was first to go out. Arthur steamed round the course in a super fast time. Arthur's lap gave our team, "Disco Balls Out" which was also known as, Grantham's A team, a handy place towards the start of the field. I was next to go. I remembered the course from the previous year. The tracks were hard after being baked in heat which continued. It was now 1pm on Saturday afternoon the sunshine was serious and the heat would be likely take victims. I was glad to have the first lap under my belt. I returned in about 43 minutes, handed over to Ben Hatherley and retired for a cold shower and five hours of rest before my next lap was due.

 

Andrew Pask hands to Scott Jones

The Thunder Run continues in that fashion for twenty four hours. The teams that have run the most laps win the day. Lap results are instantly uploaded and can be viewed in the food marquee which adds to the excitement and provides a handy source of motivation for teams. At one point we climbed as high as 9th in out category, not bad for the size of the club. Ultimately we finished 14th.   

 

Between laps there is a balance to be struck between, eating, resting, drinking, encouraging team mates on the course and taking in the atmosphere of the event. Saturday's sunshine continued. It was hot, baking hot. A commentator broadcast news across the Park. At one stage on Saturday I remember the commentator predicting a significant storm was on its way to the East Midlands and would arrive by midnight. At that stage it seemed an unbelievable possibility, the sky was blue, the sun was out and the humidity was intense. "The French were looking after the storm", we were told, but it was heading our way. The storm arrived with gusto making a rude entrance, unfashionably early at around 7pm on Saturday night. Let me not underestimate the strength of the storm, it was massive.

 

My first "rain lap" began around 11:40pm. The rain was torrential and the campsite had become cold in the evening dark. I opted for leggings and a waterproof jacket and soon regretted the decision as I quickly became too hot. Soon after setting off, I was to learn first hand that the "hard" course which had baked all day in sun had become a seriously boggy and dangerous mudfest. It quickly became apparent that a fast time was out of the question. This lap would be about remaining in an upright position and getting back safely. It was dark, darker in the woods, I was satisfied that Scott wouldn't endure these conditions with his guitar but I plodded on cautiously just in case. The rain was coming down so fast it obscured any vision. All I could see was a stream of rain falling through the light beam of my head torch in front of me. I just followed the rain and I was grateful when I could see the occasional red light on the back of a runner in front. The rain had seriously churned up the course and the lack of vision meant that this lap was going to be about simply getting to the finish in one piece.

 

Misery

 

 

The woodland sections were almost unrunnable. There seemed to be endless thick muddy trails with switch backs that hid deep puddles of mud, the puddles of mud hid ankle turning tree roots. About an hour later, I was glad to return cold, wet, muddy and miserable to hand the baton over and retire for bed. "Good luck with that mate" were the only words that seemed suitable as I passed on the baton to Ben Hatherley.

 

Wishing John a speedy recovery

This was a low point. I returned to the tent and took off my soaking clothes. I tried to put off thoughts of having to venture back out into that quagmire at 5am. It was time to try and get some sleep. I quickly warmed to a comfortable state but I found that like the previous night, I couldn't sleep, this time probably due to the apprehension of having to go and do another lap. I nodded off around 3am and woke an hour later with the sound of an unfamiliar engine that seemed to be right outside my tent. It turned out that John Elllerby had fallen badly in the storm. Other runners had summonsed assistance and between them they had managed to get John off the course and into the medical tent. After first aid John was transferred via quad bike ambulance back to his tent and it was the quad bike that I had heard as it pulled up to drop him off. I listened in a dazed state and tried to understand what had happened to him. I could hear pieces of conversation vaguely from the team members who had come to assist and I tried in my sleepy state to piece them together. It appeared that John had turned his ankle. In the cold light of the next day the swelling suggested it was more serious than a sprain and a week  later on, John is now laid up with pins and plates in his broken ankle after an operation at Grantham Hospital.         

 

As I lay in my tent at 4am, the rain was still pounding down and the storm was at its highest. I lay in my comfy sleeping bag. It was quiet outside, the others were either asleep or on the course. I questioned which poor soles had copped for the worst of the storm. It seemed ironic that Ben Mason was out on the course. The previous week, Ben as team captain had suggested that runners who were due to run night sections should do two consecutive laps. The rain thrashed again against the tent and I wondered how relieved Ben might have been that we decided against those additional night laps. I turned in my sleeping bag and smiled as I lay in the warmth thinking of the hapless soles outside. My only concern was for the storm to pass by the time I was next due out, then I remembered - I was due out and the storm hadn't passed.

 

My tent was full of misery. My kit was wet. I had to transfer my running number on to another t-shirt and I was running out of time. I didn't want to go back out. I questioned the point. Nobody could run fast in those conditions, it was dangerous at worst, miserable at best. Maybe the organisers might have cancelled the event? I struggled out of the tent in a dozy fashion and some of the other team members that were milling about confirmed that this nightmare was still on.

 

The last lap went slowly. The biggest achievement was only falling once. One minute I was up the next - "slap", I was down. This was my fourth lap and I spent it thinking up convincing arguments to sell to my team mates to ensure that I would be excused a final fifth lap. It was possible, given the timings, that I would be asked to go out again. I wasn't going to go out again but it was all about how I could sell that position to my team mates in as honourable way as possible and so as not to lose face.

 

Captain Mason and Andrew Pask.

I got back a little over an hour after setting off and I retired straight to bed. It was around 6am. A wink later I awoke and decided to join the increasing breakfast crowd that I could hear gathering outside my tent. I joined the others and quietly professed my unwillingness to do another lap. It seemed to go down very well, either the others recognised the difficulty I was facing or more likely hadn't heard me. Either way I got away with four laps with the heroic Arthur Short being the only GRC runner to complete five laps this year.

 

There was some final entertainment just before midday as the other two GRC teams had people on the course and if they got back before 12 noon another team member could go out to complete a final lap. We ran out to various parts and encouraged and cajoled the runners to try to get them to make the noon deadline. Meanwhile, the next runners stood on the start line hoping they wouldn't make the noon deadline.

 

Not 200m from the finish Yvonne Taylor stormed up the hill with three minutes to go until the cut off, she was going to make It! Gordon Geech stood on the start line swearing under his breath for if she made the cut off he would have to go back out. Team GRC watched from a distance to the race finish mat far below. We waited for Yvonne to appear for the final ten metres as the clock continued to tick down. The crowd below chanted "ten, nice, eight, seven, six, five" Yvonne appeared and crossed the mat - amazing she had made it and Gordon would have to run a final lap!

 

It turned out that Gordon didn't go. Yvonne had crossed the mat but by the time she reached Gordon in the change over area the organisers had roped off the start line to prevent any further runners going out. No-one was bothered, least of all, I suspect, Gordon!

 

A fine weekend in good company tainted by John's injury - Good luck John, wishing you a speedy recovery.           

               

Toonie 10k Trot 2013 and Notfast 10k 2013

Toonie Trot 10K 2013

Three days after the Peaker's Stroll Ben Hatherley and I were lined up on a start line again, this time over a more respectable 10k distance at the Toonie Trot. Ben Mason had taken the sensible decision of resting his legs at his chess club's AGM. 

A stiff race

 

The race whilst shorter than the event which we had completed there days before was none less hilly. The race begins at Wooodland waters caravan park and runs in a circular direction with a short steep climb at about 2 kilometres. It was soon apparent that my legs had not recovered from the previous weekends efforts as I staggered on along the tracks adjacent to the fields. Ben Hatherley despite being out for over six hours the previous weekend overtook me at the top of the hill and went on to extend a lead to the finish. The sunny weather had continued and despite my leg muscle soreness I was enjoying running in the late evening sunshine. The previous time that I had run this race the course had been run in the opposite direction. i favoured the clockwise direction because the hill is short yet steep but then leaves a gradual long decsent to the finish.  The race crosses a train line twice, once on the way out and again further up the line on the way back. The idea is to run as fast or as slow as not to have to stop if the barrier comes down.I heard whilst mingling with others at the finish that some runners had been held up by  a passing train and were ruing their decision not to study the timetable. I finished 13th in 42:28.  We sat on the patio with a drink in the evening sun and watched as the rest of the race field returned. Chris England new to running was happy to pick up the first of many a race medals.         

Notfast 10k 2013

The following Sunday we were out again making the most of summer racing. Ben and I decided to cycle from Grantham to the race start at Newark. I had an advantage on road race tyres and I glided along as Ben put in the effort to keep his thicker mountain bike tyres turning. We arrived in Newark in good time to run 10k along a new course.

 

The new course tuns right after leaving Newark Rugby Club and runs up the pavement to Kelham after which runners turn right again and then complete and anti clockwise lap which involves a stiff hill. The cycle to Newark provided a good warn up and Ben and I raced fast through the first few kilometres overtaking each other at least a couple of times. I was feeling strong but running at balls out capacity. I had run a tough 25 miles the week before with a leg loosening 10k in the midweek, I knew If i could last the sustained effort through the last 2 and half kilometres I would be on for a good time. The physical exertion was overtaken by a mental determination to keep going at pace. I was grateful to reach Kelham Bridge and hammer out the final kilometre back to the rugby club. My effort was rewarded by what I think is a pb over the distance coming home in 16th in 39:09.    

This was  a good value race, each finisher receives a sports bag and a towel emblazoned with the notfast running club logo. Ben and I cycled the 20 miles back to Grantham and I learnt on the way that his mum trains with the club that hosts the race. The club caters for veterans and NOTFAST, apparently stands for, Newark Over Thirty Five And Still Training!