Well, what a race. Brutal is a word you could use.
We got over to Hayfield with plenty of time to wander up and have a quick look at the final run in- and also at the start. Which is quite a daunting crazy hill straight up the side of a hill with a large amount of rather lush vegetation.
Changed and numbered up, I was running my first race in club colours- Glossopdale, and having had a couple of races in which I was put somewhat at a disadvantage by letting others charge off and waiting til the back to start, I thought I would go in with a slightly different race tactic of going hell for leather up the slope, and seeing how things pan out for the rest of the race. Maybe not my greatest tactical move ever.
3,2,1, off we go, not so much running as scrambling over the roots, brambles and through trees, then it gets steeper, and someone remarked that it was like breaking out of prison. (prison? which prison was that guy in?!). and after a mercifully short time, we were back on the flat and going oh, not flat, but up to the dragons back up toward Mount Famine itself.
I had done what I wanted, and was within spitting distance of the fast group, and slowly bleed places as I shuffled my way up the hill, trying with all my might to get my pulse back down to somewhere resembling a non-max HR. It didnt work.
So for the next couple of km’s I steadily dropped back down the field, but not so much that I was particularly worried. I seem to be slower than average on the ups. Something of a theme in my running, and by the time I was at the first peak, I was with a team mate who indicated to the steep incline to our left and said- yup we’ve got to come back up that in a minute.
Down, up and down into the clough, I managed to hold my place there, but on the climb back up I had nothing. overtaken by another 3 guys, and then, after scrambling my way back to the top of Famine, a real hands and feet job, I turned and saw another of Glossopdale in close pursuit. Damn.
I stumbled off the top, leaden legs swinging my way toward home, back down the dragons back, finally managed to take back one of the places robbed of me on that last climb- (his shoe laces were coming undone by that point, so it didnt really count), and on, down into the the wood- nearly catching another who had caught me- when Dave comes past me saying “come on Tim”… nice- my retort… “I’ll be with you in a minute”.
We over took the next guy and he homed in on a- I think he was a Dark Peaker, but I just didn’t have the legs in me at that point. I knew we were 400metres from home, and I’d done myself in. My breathing was laboured and my diaphragm was beginning to spasm. It would respond really well to Soft Tissue Release, or a session of MET, but at the end of a race, they aren’t really an option. I was a good 30 metres behind them, and just about managed to stay in touch. The distance ground away, and I stopped concentrating on the guy behind, and followed Daves heels. He took the DPer on a short incline, then he was taken back, we hung a right, then a quick left into the play park, was still a good 30 metres behind, the funnel came into view, and even though a few moments ago I honestly thought I was a gonner, and my lungs were bursting somehow, from somewhere my legs started going, bang, it was like the other two had slowed down- I guess they hadn’t because they were racing for the line, but in those last 20metres I had the final burst of speed and dropped them both, not even 5 metres from the end.
54.47 by my watch. (didn’t know that til I looked on the computer- I was so excited by the end I forgot to stop my watch).
|Me at the end. Watch still running|
Nice to see so many of the Glossopdale lot out, and nice to feel properly knackered at the end of it as well. Couldnt stay for cake as my contact lenses were playing up.
Tactics need to be developed somewhat. As does my climbing…