Familiar foes and same old woes…

Bradford Parkrun

Date – Saturday 23^rd February 2013

Venue – Lister Park

I really don’t like early morning racing.  This again became apparent during the first lap of my ‘home’ Parkrun.  I need to fugure out what to eat and how much time to leave between breakfast and racing.  I instantly feel sick and any thought of increasing speed (pah, not likely) or effort (I thought I was giving it my all…) leaves me less than dapper. 

The Mighty Byrom bolted off from the start and we left most of the Bradford City colours somewhere behind us.  Then, past the big, rabbit statues – I only spotted these recently - and I overtook the Mighty Byrom.  The route consequently bears left, down the tarmac path to the 110^o turn left again and the guidance of two marshals.  The long slightly downhill straight was completed with ease.  Too much ease, it would seem.

Around Tony’s Corner and up the ‘Teeny Tiny Hill’, the Mighty Byrom displayed the full benefit of good marathon training as he powered at speed up the rise.  He’d gained approximately 30m just on this 75m stretch.  No doubting that I was crushed and coupled with not feeling on top form I immediately knew I’d be doing well to catch him.  First mile was recorded at 6.59.

The first fly-by at the bandstand was greeted with an inspirational blast of ‘Ride of the Valkyries’ and I just tried to stay at a moderate pace and not blow up.  As I turned on to the long straight I started to feel warmer, but this just seemed to emphasise the growing murmurs in my guts.  Urgh!  The Mighty Byrom was still only 30m ahead so I hadn’t lost any further distance.  I tried to control my breathing on approach to the Teeny Tiny Hill.  

I was strong heading up the hill and on turning left past the start line I clocked 7.15 for the second mile.  As I passed the bandstand for the second time, inspiration was replaced by aggression as ‘Kung-Fu Fighting’ chimed from the music system.  Dodging between the bollards and past the house, I tried to find another gear to claw back the Mighty Byrom.  I knew if I could stay with him that I’d be under a milestone time.

I powered up the last ascent of the Teeny Tiny Hill and turned for home.  The third mile registered at 7.24 – actually it could’ve been something else as sweat was now dripping into my eyes.  I could still see the Might Byrom well ahead though and he wouldn’t be caught today.  Some banal soft rock blurted out as I tried to race round the bandstand and across the finish line.

Post-script

Sub 23.00 was still my second fastest at this course, but I didn’t feel comfortable and the run was not enjoyable. I then sipped a water, consumed an energy gel and started my training run back to Pudsey.  Huge thanks to the staff at the crafts store adjacent to the canal towpath at Shipley.  A much needed toilet stop prepared me for the long slog from the canal, up Thackley Drive, across the Leeds Road, through Idle up to Five Lane Ends.  I then cruised back to Pudsey in light, falling snow – neither warm nor satisfied with the effort of the morning.   

Discovering new challenges and unique targets…

Dewsbury Parkrun

Date – Saturday 16th February 2013

Venue – Crow Nest Park

I don’t like early morning running.  Not sure whether it’s the reduced length of sleep or the fact breakfast has been rushed and sits somewhat without a home; somewhere between mouth and stomach.  Any start prior to 10.30 seems to disagree.  Especially when it’s at the weekend!  But, it’s amazing what a Pacer ‘wildcard’ can do to one’s grumbling, reticent motivation.

The Dewsbury course is hilly and a real challenge to my usual Lister Park, Bradford; four-laps of Crow Nest Park including a small ornamental pond to navigate. Harder still, though, the course has a number of 90^o and one 135^o turns that really hinder flowing motion, particularly for big units like wildcard caller Graham ‘Fisher-Price’, the Mighty Byrom and me; the fourth Pacer Mark ‘Grunter’ Smith would likely excel today with his stronger descents, lighter flight and basically ‘cause he’s a faster runner!

A little after 9am the field of approximately 80 runners set off north towards the highest point of the course.  The weather was sunny, cold and calm.  Gloves, hats and tights were still worn by most. Salted grit crunched under cushioned road shoes as we trudged away from the start line.  A few groans and coughs signaled the displeasure of the initial 300m climb; I was just unhappy at the early start!

After the first 90o left and a short recovery downhill, the route then turned a further two consecutive lefts before a little pull-up and then to the right.  The café passed to the right as the field turned left and left again at the cenotaph.  The field had completed the first ‘short’ lap and I was again pulling-up the 300m climb.  I’d moved just ahead of the Mighty Byrom and by the time we’d circled the monument at the the summit, Grunter Smith was already 150metres clear.  Graham Fisher-Price was somewhere behind. 

By the time we’d passed the pond and started the longer 400m climb my legs and body were starting to falter.  This was only 2 miles in so I’d clearly not recovered from the man-cold, Rombald’s Stride or 3 weetabix consumed only 45mins prior!  As the Mighty Byrom – never thought I’d describe him as thus – glided past I got an overwhelming inkling that I might need a stop at the café toilets.  Upon entering the downhill section I glanced across to see the hi-viz orange top of Fisher-Price trudging up the climb.

As I passed the pond to start my final lap I could see Grunter had opened up a clear 300metre gap over me.  The Mighty Byrom was at least 75m ahead as I fought off the mild stomach cramp on the climb to the summit.  I was consumed with two thoughts on the final lap: first, reminding myself to enjoy each run even if I wasn’t running especially well; second, a new challenge for the Parkrun circuit that involves the requirement of a toilet stop mid-race and the aim to still complete a sub-25mins!  Simple things and all that…

I fought hard to complete the final 150 metre rise up to the finish line and not be overtaken by too many.  I knew I’d be outside of my previous time on the course, but still hoped for a sub-23 mins.  Grunter and the Might Byrom both had strong runs and looked fresh at the end.  I was knocked and not quite on top form.  I’d enjoyed the race, though.  Fine weather, good company and no unforeseen accidents!

Post-script

I was informed later that weekend of my 23.03 time – grrrr!; feels great when one dips inside a target time, but more frustrating when it goes the other way.  When I fall on the wrong side of a milestone time it just makes me eager to get back at the next challenge. 

The morning after the Stride before...

Yorkshire Veterans’ Athletic Association

Date - Sunday 3^rd February 2013

Venue – Leeds Trinity/ Hunger Hills

Host Club – Horsforth Harriers

The first fixture of the 2013 series was always going to be something of an uncertainty; new venue for the host club, limited information of the course route and the day following the riggers of the Romablds Stride.  The temptation to stay in bed was overwhelming, especially after a fitful night of ‘dreaming-dog’ legs and bruised toes - however the challenge of attempting to compete in a full house of vets races was greater.

The race would follow a two lap route starting and ending on the clay athletics track and weaving up and down Hunger Hills in between.  After registering with Mester & Missus Pop I reviewed a map of the route, full of yellow dots, arrows, marshal points and hazards.  All too much for me and my pootlin’ plan to plod so I just decided to follow others in front. 

A cold, blustery wind buffeted across the athletics track.  Runners huddled together or bumbled round as much as survival as a sociable warm-up.  I gently skipped round with Mark Dances with Paws-on as other Pacers suggested my presence was crazy after the effort the day before; I knew in a few minutes once we'd started the previousday would all be irrelevant. 

The race pack set off on the far side of the track from the finish line.  One and a half laps then out into the unknown.  On the even, but damp clay surface I managed to share congratulations with other Striders, including runners from Kirkstall and Horsforth.  Spectators energetically clapped as the field left the track; I suspected it was just as much an attempt to stay warm. The immediate sloppy, slight uphill footpath presented the first challenge.  Most runners around me wore either trail or road shoes so I managed to ease past in my fell shoes.  At the lane top we turned right on to a quiet road, past the tennis courts then residential houses.

The route then ushered left off the tarmac surface and into the woods.  A motivational marshal and exposure to the fierce wind guided us down the muddy trail.  Hilary Taylor and Loretta Robson both carefully worked their way over and through the tree roots and deep brown slop respectively.  These provided some technical features and the race route then, with bushes and undergrowth on both sides, turned sharp left and marginally uphill. A further marshal - sheepishly perhaps – complimented the good progress already made and directed the field of runners 90^o to the left. As a previous resident of the area I knew the short, sharp incline that was coming.

Beyond the first climb the route promptly left the woods and displaced all runners out into the open grass fields; ticker tape, movement of runners in all directions and a few Pacer Paparazzi all contributed to a little confusion.  The clockwise double-doughnut up and down the open fields quickly sapped my remaining energy, and this was just the first lap!  A number of neat, Knavesmire nibblers nobbled their way past me (and others) up one of the incline runs - a good example of teamwork and use of a peleton. Mark Smith ferreted his was down the final field section as I slowly headed upward. The final down section of field offered an opportunity to kick out and try to get past the colours of Stainland, St-Theresa’s and Kirkstall. 

A slippy stile presented a large pool of muddy water on the other side.  Through a neat snicket with bushes and residential houses on either side, then 90^o left on a tarmac road.  A further 100 metres on then the field of runners were guided  half-left by a positive, smiling marshal.  The footpath rose slightly uphill with steep verges and hawthorn hedges on both sides.  No escape.  The path was constructed of broken stone and occasional cobbled stones with a worn central groove.  There was no space to easily overtake and near the end of the 300 metres section I could see the leaders speeding past in the open fields high to my left.  I immediately know there would be conflict between the race leaders and the slower runners to the rear of the field. 

The race route then filed out along puddle-strewn lane and then past the tennis courts.  Lap 2 had commenced.  I gained a few places by advancing past other competitors – perhaps a tad recklessly, judging by the tuts – on the minor technical and muddy slopes.  As I marched up the short Hunger Hill track I ushered others to keep going and aim for a strong finish.  Loretta Robson passed displaying good pace and determination to pass other runners.  Equally, Burjor Langdana (Kirkstall) and John Smithurst (Bingley) also ground their way up the hill. 

On my first ascent up the open field I could see Tony Mawson powerfully sprinting down on his way to the slippy stile and an impressive finish of 43:39.  I cheekily passed a few runners on the downhill sections after they’d happily slipped past me on the uphills; my legs had no power to climb and I didn’t want to cause an injury. I passed Loretta and then – just before the narrow footpath towards the final furlong - Stella Cross (Abbey). As the footpath again opened out on to the muddy lane I went past a few tiring runners.  The route then turned sharp 90o right and down the increasingly sloppy footpath towards the finish.  Lynne Barrett had just ended ahead of me in an impressive time of 47:09.  I turned at the end to see Loretta Robson just miss out on taking Stella Cross (Abbey), but still post a solid time of 47:48.  It wasn’t long before other Pacers – Hilary Taylor (52.24), Stephen Cowgill (52.57), Carol Parkinson (55.02), Graham Fisher (58:58) and Sandra Cuddy (60:46) – all successfully completed the first of many vets races this season.  Special congratulations go out to David Roberts (48.12) and Lorraine Lawson (66:14) who respectively both completed their first race as Pudsey Pacers. 

Post-script

Excellent organisation and great venue.  The route has a bit of everything on a number of different surfaces.  The food after was ace and Mark ‘Dances with Paws-on’ was even spotted going up for seconds!  A minor criticism was the inevitable congestion on lap 2 between the elite runners and the steady pacers.  Perhaps keeping the course inside the open fields would be an improvement for next year?  Also, the wait for a fine cup of tea was a wee bit longer than those heading for a pint….

Next race – Honley (where I hear you ask?) 11.00: Sunday 28^th April 2013

Rombalds Stride

Rombalds Stride 2^nd February 2013 

Weather – sunny/ mild NW breeze/ 0^oC

 

The Rombalds Stride is a long-distance walking event.  It is a great spectacle.  Boots, gaiters, thermos flasks and enough silly hats to put Millets out of, erm, I mean challenge Go Outdoors! And, for some time now, the event has been gate-crashed by runners.  Not just any runners, though: fell-runners - a strange breed of athlete who would appear to also enjoy the fells although at speed and not always able to take in the fine views on offer.  At this event, walkers would also be able to enjoy at various checkpoints and at a bit more leisure the selection of cakes, bakes and hot drinks on offer!  As one of the runners, though, I would get first dibs on the hot pie, potatoes and peas at the end…

The official start area for the race is basically the public land between bungalows adjacent to the A65.  Entrants were busy fiddling straps, nervously swigging from drinks bottles or adjusting footwear.  I had just started talking to friends not seen in years when a loud signal alerted entrants to commence.  And like a flock of starlings the massed group filtered towards a gap in the wall.  Some brave (and pointless really) athletes vaulted the 3 foot stone wall while others sensibly appreciated the enormity of the race ahead.  I quickly calculated that the race could not be completed in the first 50 metres, but it easily could have ended. 

Before entering Esholt Woods I passed on brief best wishes to other runners, including Dave Maguire (Hyde Park Harriers) and Steve Pattinson (fellow Pudsey Pacer).  Then spent a few moments trying to evade walkers with poles on the residential streets of Guiseley!  I guess they were possibly trying for a wee spurt to give them a little advantage over others in walking boots?  Down the field and safely navigated under the rail bridge then the race split into two: the main group filing left of the beck across the footbridge and up the steep track and a splinter group turning right immediately after the underpass.  Again at this early stage I’m not sure if there was much to gain.  At the top of this first small climb the race route cut straight ahead – ignoring the muddy tracks left and right – over fallen leaves and small becks.  I gave a final good wish to Mark Nolan (fellow PP) as he skipped past with a small rucksack firmly affixed to his back. I would again next meet Mark at Menston, some 18 miles further on.  

Sunshine blinded the field as it descended across copper leaves and out into Esholt village. From the soft envelope of the woods the tarmac surface sent a quick shock up through my body and reminded me of my mantra for the first section – go steady and identify other runners with whom to pace.  I glanced across the valley to the north-west and tried to identify the leaders already rounding the War Memorial above Hollins Lane.  Quickly it seemed, the route turned right off the tarmac lane and cut across a pasture field to reach Hollins Lane.  Surprisingly, a group of walkers (each with tally cards for checkpoints) had already reached this point.  Incidentally, the leading group of runners passed some walkers who had apparently set off at 8.00am further on at Weecher Reservoir!  This wouldn’t affect the runners but may alter a fair record for the completed walkers.  

I removed my 227 coin to deposit in the bucket drop and received a warm support from DJB and Tina.  While others slowly plotted their way up and across a sticky field I felt strong and ferreted up towards the left of the Old Chapel.  The stile has been helpfully altered to allow pedestrian access and the snicket behind was overgrown, hiding the route ahead.  More early starters were passed as the runners snaked up and along a lane, and down across a half-step stile to the track, left of the War Memorial.  The route turns sharp left and a line of runners stretched out up over the moor ahead.  Beyond the first 500m of semi-frozen, sticky mud the field then received the first blast of winter breeze as it crossed wet grass up towards Moorside Farm.  Another PP, Steve Boom (Boom, Shake The Room!), commented on my pedestrian approach up towards the second checkpoint and sarcastically the lack of prizes for walking; I wonder what the nearby walkers made of this comment?! 

I decided to miss the offer of cake and drinks; my race plan was to hopefully get to Weecher in approximately 60 minutes and then take on supplies.  Steve Boom shortly passed me again with a HUGE chunk of sponge cake in hand and whilst munching away he splurted something to me (later confirmed as (a) did I miss the cake on offer and (b) how much he loved this race).  The ground around the northern fringes of Baildon was coincidentally very spongey, with soft peat turf covered by lots of recently fallen rain and surface water.  The slow rise up Baildon Moor displayed some ice and evidence of things to come.  I again conserved energy and preserved the leg muscles as the route steepened up the Moor.  The wind again showed some teeth on the top; much like the altercation between the two dogs whose owners were struggling to keep them apart.  I again removed my tally card inside my clothing and clipped at the third checkpoint.  

In full blast of the cold wind I peered north and briefly saw runners already darting up and over towards Lanshaw Lad.  Tears fell down my face – the cold wind not feeling dispirited.  Honest!  I followed a runner in shorts and a hi-viz orange jacket who was carrying only a water bottle.  I would again see, lose and then see again this runner over the next 2-3 miles.  The route sharply fell off Baildon Moor into the shade and ground cover of frozen bracken.  After crossing the tarmac road I quickly clipped at the fourth checkpoint titled Baildon Moor 2.  The path then crossed largely frozen ground and the only thing I remember was saying good morning to a female runner who was having a wee in long grass.  The route then ran on pleasant soft grass adjacent to the grit of the horse tracks and then onto a tarmac road.  Hi-Viz Orange again passed me.  After a brief zig-zag the route reached the fifth checkpoint and I clipped with Lord Davies of Guiseley.  I reached the end my first section in just over my estimate target; I therefore only consumed 4 jelly babies and a glass of orange!

I’d prior identified my next section from Weecher to Piper’s Gate and estimated it would likely take me 50mins. Other runners walked up past Weecher Reservoir as they consumed cakes and took on energy gels.  I felt strong and didn’t want to get cold especially with the open section of Ilkely Moor to tackle next.  I eased up the incline and went passed 4-5 runners, including Hi-Viz Orange.  A small section of busy road was safely navigated and a further bolster of support from two good folk who resembled DJB and Tina D!  Again, Hi-Viz passed me at speed on an early moorland stretch of Bingley Moor.  The stiffening breeze was certainly a test.  As was the shadows cast from the sun behind to the south.  Either runners following would cast their shadow over my striding path or I would do similar with my own.  I decided to keep my head down and focus on only 4-5 strides ahead.  This was partly not to feel overly fazed by the route up ahead and also because I was cautious of losing my contact lenses in the head wind.  Through a boggy undulating section I passed Hi-Viz Orange for the final time.  I wouldn’t again see his unorthodox style of sprint/ walk/ sprint/ walk.  I hope he finished ok and didn’t get injured and/ or cold.  I don’t think the water bottle was offer much warmth or insulation.

The route opened out into deep, boggy terrain with burnt heather on one side after crossing through a large, steel gate with stone walls on either side.  I recalled my mantra again and identified two female runners who seemed to be adopting a similar pace.  Moreover, they both displayed an efficient running gait on this difficult ground.  And one of them presented a shapely rear that is helpful to follow!  The boggy ground soon gave way to a firmer and smoother track which gently began to rise in gradient.  Whetstone Gate mast was in view to the left.  I soon passed the Twelve Apostles to the right and skipped on to the recently laid flagstones across the top of Ilkley Moor.  

I promptly clipped my tally card at the sixth checkpoint titled Lanshaw Lad and followed a male runner on the flags.  Although the firm stone should – in theory – offer a kinder and quicker surface, this was not the case.  The flags are positioned primarily for walkers and, as such, each slab is generally designed to the full stride of an adult rambler; when running one has to adjust every 3-4 strides to ensure a foot is not placed on or near the small and uneven gap between two slabs.  Also, there were sections that were frozen and – especially for those wearing studded fell shoes – this presented additional challenges.  In fact, it was so cold on the tops that the refreshments were all semi-frozen at the Whetstone Gate checkpoint.  Lastly, there were a plethora of paparazzi along the track towards the mast.  The only time I remember lifting my head was to spot the next photographer and then wipe saliva off my face accordingly.  I can’t remember enjoying the view from the highest point on the route which seems a bit of shame, really.  

I departed from the seventh checkpoint with a spring in my step.  This may have been the orange juice consumed or the handful of sweets that were inside my mouth.  The reality however was that I’d realised a gap had been created between me/ others and the next runner, some 500m ahead.  Unfortunately, I set off too enthusiastically and as I skipped between an open field gate and the fence post I caught my hip on the gate bolt. Ouch!  I also nearly choked on those jelly babies!  Boggy ground to the left of the stone wall quickly gave way to a wooden stile and descending down a rocky outcrop and heading to the right of the forest on Rombalds Moor.  I surprisingly caught up with the runners ahead before beginning the descent down heather fields to Piper’s Gate.  Like most other runners, I found myself turning 90^o west as other runners passed in the opposite direction.  Verbal instruction soon established the next checkpoint was two fields over and then required a return run.  Steve Pattinson (fellow PP) passed approximately 90 seconds ahead having already reached the eighth checkpoint titled Piper’s Gate.  We shared eyed contact and then he was gone.  I would next see Steve heading towards Guiseley after the Chevin.  A quick glance at my watch indicated that my second race section had taken nearly 60 minutes and a little over my estimation.  

Dodging past other runners I then crossed through a gate and the view of the day was before me.  Looking east along Ilkley Moor, beyond the Cow and Calf and then in the distance, the forested Otley Chevin.  Gulp… such a long way to go! My penultimate race section was from here to Burley Woodhead.  I expected this to take 60mins.  Occasionally, I did glance up at the majestic Wharfedale valley. And this was an amazing view!  Sun cast shadows from the ridge to the south and beyond tree lines.  The moorland to the north was crisp and in clear focus.  The next 2 miles however were more technical than anticipated; I didn’t get a chance to relax and at least temporarily switch off mentally.  The gradient on the stretch to Ilkley is generally down and should have been a fine recovery section.  However, large parts were dissected by frozen surface water run-off and each runner had to keep their eyes ahead to plot a safe passage.  This was once further complicated by two chocolate Labradors who were ignored by their owner and keen to play with anything that moved. 

I veered off the hardcore path to the right and headed for the ninth checkpoint at Ilkley Bottom.  A few young Scouts were in charge of administering the check.  A handful of sweets and a slab of chocolate flapjack and off up over the road bridge and down the tarmac road.  As a runner returned to reclaim a dropped glove, I took a bite of the flapjack and nearly lost a few teeth – the slice was well frozen in the cold air (or perhaps the Ilkley WI needs to improve on their produce!).  The route turned right some 250 metres down the road.  I sucked on the sweet for a bit then as the gradient rose I had to spit it out.  I would’ve needed a fine brew to wash it down.  As the steep, cobbled climb to White Wells approached I did however offer a jelly baby to a fellow competitor.  He was so happy that for moment I thought he was about to give me an embrace - mud, sweat and dried saliva!  I then received a bit of morale support from Dr D, Mama D and Mr. Dog who’d kindly waited in the cold.  I shared a brief chat and little drink then hugged all (including Mr Dog) before heading further up to the ridge above.  

I soon passed through Rocky Valley with its technical steps and ankle-turning stones.  Back into the sunshine and a few runners ahead appeared to take a lower route towards the next target of Coldstone Ghyll.  Big thanks to the Coopers for showing me the more efficient route.  As I passed the Pancaske Stone I seemed to – metaphorically – fall off a cliff.  My energy levels suddenly depleted and I had little or no fuel in the tank.  My legs were quickly heavy as I tried to focus on the route ahead and keep other runners in sight.  Nobody passed me; although I lost complete sight of the two runners ahead (one of whom was the wee lady from near Weecher).  I somehow managed to plod one muddy foot in front of the other.  A brief stop and some rations at the next checkpoint was my only focus.  I easily traversed Coldstone Ghyll and on rising up the far bank I began to unclip my waist pack.  The checkpoint was 50 metres ahead.  Without warning I was on my side.  Crash!  This was not the time for complex equations, but put simply: Hard fall = Conditions (Fell-studs + Ice) x Lack of concentration.  A kind runner picked up my discarded waist pack and made sure I was ok.  Dozy sod, he likely thought. Some energy consumed in the form of sugar sweets, energy gel and water and I headed off from the tenth checkpoint.  Soon, I was heading down a frozen grass hillside and through the gates to the eleventh checkpoint at Burley Woodhead.

The previous section had taken 75 minutes; including brief stops and falls.  I was now on the final section. I adjusted my waist bag over my left shoulder as it was starting to hurt my stomach.  A sharp sound of a car horn was followed by an request for a condition update from DJB and Tina.  I tried to sound jovial, but was honest to say that I felt knackered!  Turning right up the main road, the route then went left down the lane and through the metal kissing gate at the end.  I could see runners just lurching over the grassed fields towards Menston.  I safely negotiated the few stiles and gates, and paddled through a very muddy, wet snicket that led out on to Bleach Mill Lane.  The gentle hill on the approach to the village was much harder than I recall during the reccie.  The sun hit my face again as I turned left down towards the centre of the village.  Just after turning left at Burley Road and right on to Fairfax Road I joined up with half a dozen other runners.  I recognized some of their clothing; I even remembered a few faces.  The back of a runner was definitely familiar as was his clear limp down one side.  Mark Nolan (fellow PP) was suffering and still had 5 hard miles to conquer.  He gritted his face as I asked if he was ok.  A fall and a twisted knee had curtailed his race.  I wouldn’t see him again until the finish, but with more grit and likely some cursing he did finish. 

After crossing the rail bridge, main road and guiding others down the snicket by the waste bin, I actually started to enjoy the race again.  I knew I hadn’t yet tackled the hard slog up and over the Chevin.  But, again I replayed the overall race mantra: enjoy the day!  I followed a few other runners up and along the Gill Brow; I even managed to pull clear of some of them before the route descended down West Chevin Road.  Perhaps unwisely – given the number of cars - I decided to run on the road; I wanted to conserve my leg muscles and preserve whatever I had left for the Chevin. A family skipped down the grass slope - all happy and laughing - as I hurled my bulk up against the hillside.  I walked immediately but wanted to keep moving; as much to take on the challenge and also because the north side of the hill was cold in the shade.  I glanced up and saw other runners approximately 250 metres ahead, just disappearing into the wooded area.  From then on I counted in steps of 25 and didn’t look any further ahead than the next stride in front of me.  A bearded male and a spritely female both eased past me. Instinctively, I tried to increase my pace and lengthen the stride to keep with them however an immediate warning of possible hamstring cramp restored my approach to something more economical.  

I quickly clipped at the twelfth checkpoint - ambiguously titled Above Stile - and progressed to the large wooden steps.  Shortly on, the route then crossed through soft ground with a covering copper beech leaves.  I glanced back and could see one or two runners some 200 metres back.  At the crest of the hill, among conifers and sheltered from the wind, I tried to engage body into a light run.  Those first dozen strides suggested that my legs belonged to someone else.  I soon got the feeling back and, just before the thirteenth checkpoint at Yorkgate Quarry, was shot by the Pudsey Pacer Paparazzi!  I turned right on to the tarmac road and the Aire Valley swept out in front of me.  I was soon turning left on to a broken, muddy and very soft lane towards Guiseley.  I safely navigated the deep muddy puddles with broken ice and turned on to Moor Lane.  I could see two runners already on the road for home.  I gained great strength in the final stretch and even caught one of the two runners ahead.  Steve Pattinson (fellow PP) had given his all and I ushered him to work with me past the church to the finish.  As we approached the school a finish sign directed us to the reception area.  I’d successfully completed in 4hrs 13 and was equally chuffed not to endure cramp at any time.  A great day, excellent race and will definitely be back in 2014… hopefully breaking 4 just before 40!