Spofforth Gala 10k trail race, 27 August 2012

The Spofforth village website boasts a famous past inhabitant: “Blind Jack Metcalf, the eighteenth century road builder, lived in Spofforth in his later years and is buried in Spofforth Churchyard.” Had he returned to this serene spot, had his vision restored and then set eyes on the liquid state of the trails we ploughed through on this day, doubtless he would have raised those orbs heavenward and vowed to build more roads.

Ronald Arthur Dewhirst introduced me to the Spofforth Loop about 6 years ago, when we went on a bike ride to Knaresborough; since then I have enjoyed this c.35 mile circuit, (missing out Knaresborough) sometimes solo, sometimes with friends. I have taken Tony, Viv, Deb, Kim and most recently, Chloe and they all enjoyed the route in varying degrees.

You learn a lot about someone by seeing how they respond to the joys of the Spofforth Loop, in fact with some, friendship has been pushed to its limits.

Finding out there was a 10k trail race in Spofforth simply added to the allure for me and I had visions of leading a peloton of 15-20 Striders who would share my enthusiasm for the day, following mainly bridlepaths there and quiet roads back (apart from a couple of horrendous stretches of fast road)…

Ron himself expressed interest in joining us and committed to do so, but then fractured a rib. Paul Sanderson was compelled to pull out as he also was injured a couple of days before race day, so at 10.30 am on a fairly grey but warm Bank Holiday Monday myself, Paul Smith, Gary Mann and Steve Dixon set off from Meanwood – a quartet of enthusiasm, a generation inspired.

We followed King Lane up to Eccup and from there followed the bridlepath through Harewood, and there we had our first sight of mud. We were on a fairly tight schedule, and didn’t have time to stop, we needed to be at Spofforth by 12.30 pm to register. I had managed to negotiate a later registration cut off time with the race announcer who understood I was cycling there. He had kindly assured me by email, “no power on earth will stop you getting a run” – which words were shortly to be recalled by Steve recognising my grim determination to get to Spofforth in time for the start, in the face of mounting obstacles en route.

Leaving the Harewood estate, we crossed the A61 and continued to follow the bridlepath of the Leeds Country Way to East Keswick. All was going to plan.

The first fall was fairly straightforward, I just fell straight into shrubs and then jumped straight back on again, no tears only laughter.

I went down the hill shortly after, just before leaving the bridlepath to head to East Keswick and I then realised I had lost the others. Worried that there had been another fall, I went back to find them, fortunately all was well and as I had scooted off and lost them at a junction, I now realised that I needed to make sure no one got left behind – or lost.

We crossed a busy road and continued to follow the bridlepath, wended our way along the gladed, smooth trail and quietly glided over the Wood Hall bridge. The second fall was a little more complicated requiring fairly complex operations to secure my removal from barbed wire – I was hoist by my own petard, literally. My release was managed only by ripping a hole in my cycling shorts. No tears, just laughter, a quick dusting down and we were off again.

Up the short, steep, sharp pull to the Wood Hall hotel, then sweeping down the driveway, four highwaymen pounding away like there was no tomorrow; and flying through Linton, from there onto the disused railway from Wetherby to Spofforth…

Now we were behind our schedule, no time having been factored in for falls; we put the pedal to the metal and pushed on at a good pace towards Spofforth slowing only for women and children. We were greeted at Spofforth by friendly registration marshalls, a selection of homemade cakes the length of the village hall and promises there would be plenty left by the end of the 10k race.

We were also greeted by Paul Sanderson who had cycled from Northallerton to hook up with us, by Ian Sanderson and Kathy who came to support us and by Ged Coll who beat our 2h 15m scenic bike ride with his 35m road cycle. Pascale Fotherby, a new recruit, joined us and we posed for pre-race pictures, giddy with the excitement the day had so far offered and had yet to bestow. 

 

The Spofforth Gala 10k trail race was a muddy trail race, and the map of the route rightly referenced ‘bogs’.  

 

 

 

The Spofforth 10k Gala trail race is a scenic circular across fields and tracks, you will get your running shoes dirty on this one so don’t wear your new ones. The runners gather on the historic Spofforth Castle field and then walk to the start along the road. Before you know it you are off and, on your way.

Powered by lemon drizzle cake and inspired by Chloe Hudson, I determined to keep up with those in front and try not to be overtaken, and I felt I held my pace fairly respectably round. Fortunately for me there were no major hills as I tend to grind to a halt at times like that; I enjoyed the light rain which cooled and cleaned and decided to grit my teeth and get to the end without further mishap. This was done. And before you know it you are at the end of the race, finishing with a sprint up Heroes’ Hill, back in the Castle field, in the middle of the Gala.

1st       Mark Bryant 00:37:33 Leeds City AC
27th    Gary Mann 00:44:44
42nd   Paul Smith 00:47:12
63rd    Steve Dixon 00:50:16
74th    Ged Coll 00:51:43
86th    Sarah Smith 00:53:32
113th  Pascale Fotherby 00:57:00

190 finished.

We posed for post race photos proudly be-medalled, courtesy of Kathy, then headed back to the village hall for more lemon drizzle cake and pork butties.

Cycling back, four became five as we had picked up Paul Sanderson - but not Ged who seemed to disappear rather than risk become embroiled in our madcap escapade. Now, acting more responsibly, I was able to advise the group about the route ahead, warn of busy roads and advise on safe positioning.  

 

No mishaps, just good cycling down to Kirkby Overblow, then up by Weardley, stopping only for a quick photo stop at the top of the last hill

 

 

 

 

and just before the rain started we peeled off in our separate ways to go home and get clean.

A very good day out. We agreed that we should cycle to more races, Gary confirming that he did not think that the cycling impacted much on his time.

Celebrating in the Lake District, staying at Low Hall Garth

A fabulous Bank Holiday weekend in the Lakes with exceptionally good accommodation and company.

We reccied the Great Lakes fell race and ran a lowland route around Coniston.

I hope to go again soon, it was fabulous.  A first in relation to triple bunk beds for me. 

Amazing.

The Lyke Wake race, 9 July 2011

The morning of Saturday 9 July was dry and quite crisp as I hurried along the lane from Osmotherley to Sheepwash car park for my start time of 5.20 am. A few minutes later it was time to go, along the road, across the cattlegrid to take the path into Coalmire plantation, across a field, a ford, a road, up steep stone steps, across Carlton Moor, down Carlton Bank, to the first check point, Carlton Bank, 6.30 am.

After this, a little detour from the Cleveland Way meant less climb and less view but more progress, missing out Cringle Moor but this is a race and this is allowed; nipping through Broughton plantation meant missing out Hasty Bank and the viewpoint for the photo opportunity but sometimes the low road is the best. Down to the second check point, Chop Gate at 7.17 am.

Now here is a little climb, up Carr Ridge to another Round Hill, above Greenhow Moor; past Bloworth Crossing and along the disused railway which wends its way round the dalehead to Farndale Moor. Mile after mile it’s easy to imagine you are a train winding your way along the winding track… and then you pull into the Lion Inn at Blakey Ridge, check point number three, at 9 am. Here you are treated to rice pudding and peaches. Two cups of coffee here too. A marshall recognised my Striders vest and wondered where all the Striders were, he remembered there used to be a lot in years gone by.

Five years ago, I couldn’t believe people ran from Osmotherley to Ravenscar, the seed was sown, I started running and here I am, running in the Lyke Wake race. The overriding feeling is one of freedom, as you fly across the moors for just overv 40 miles relying on the kindness of strangers and you don’t know how you are going to get home.


This is a handicap race, the organisers decide your start time taking into account your previous times and your own estimated time. If you beat your estimated time by 2 hours or more you are disqualified.


Well, Geoff told me to get a team together and Sylvia told me if you believe you can run that far you will. There was some interest but strangely enough people had to move house the same weekend and taper for the Lakeland 50 so no team formed but I knew I could run that far and entered.

Dear Race Director.
Last time I entered the Lyke Wake race, I was timed out at Eller Beck, however since then I have taken up running.
I think I could aim for 10 hours but it could be longer but I am sure I could finish within 12 hours. With thanks. Etc.

The seven checkpoints between the start and finish provide water, jelly babies, biscuits, cakes, millionaire’s shortbread, and an opportunity to connect with humanity; there are some very fine people marshalling at the checkpoints and they are all part of the history and tradition of the Lyke Wake race.

Leaving the Lion Inn, you cut across Rosedale Head and follow the road round past Fat Betty and turn left where the tarmac has been helpfully sprayed LWW – this is the way to the sea, you see the path stretching out for miles ahead – once you have emerged from the boggy West Gill Head, you embrace Shunner Howe and past there, come to check point 4, Hamer Track at 10.21 am.

Past Blue Man i’ th’ Moss standing stone, you wend your way through Wheeldale Moor, keeping Bumble Wood on your left, I lost the path and realised quite quickly I was going in the wrong direction so ended up flying across heather to meet the path further ahead. It’s getting quite warm now. Arrive at check point 5, Stape Road at 11.24 am.

Stepping across the stones across Wheeldale beck, you then climb up to Simon Howe and enjoy fabulous views ahead; there is a good stretch here and you descend to cross the North Yorkshire Moors railway then you are at check point 6, Eller Beck Bridge at 12.10 pm.

Deborah, Joey and Tulip were meeting me at Eller Beck with dry trainers but I was going much faster than I had expected to, and had to rush off without waiting for them. It was singularly kind of Deb to agree to meet me at a random point on the A169 with little information other than the words Eller Beck between 1 and 3 pm… so leaving without the support I had requested I felt ungrateful but I couldn’t wait.

This section was the hardest. I lost the path and ploughed through heather possibly on the brink of becoming crazed. Where was Lilla Cross? Nowhere to be seen… But looking back I could see a group of runners and they seemed to be catching me up – I endured an ad hoc fartlek session looking for paths of burnt heather to make up some time on and eventually found the track which led me to Lilla Howe and the eponymous Cross where I thanked the heavens for my good fortune, inhaled a banana and a sports gel, wiped my face with my arm and off I went.

I took a wrong fork to the left and was overtaken by two people who stayed on the right path to my right; my path started to divert back to the right and just as I was about to meet them the man fell, the lady stopped, I ran past and then turned round to check he was ok – he was – so I kept going but they over took me again, I think. It’s all a little blurry from here on. Down the ravine that is Jugger Howe, up the other side and rolling along the tank road to check point 7, Jugger Howe Road at 1.45 pm.

The last hour of my run was accompanied by thunder and lightening but I escaped the storm, the torrential rain and hail which rained down on Fylingdales Moor running at a good pace into the Raven Hall Hotel in sunlight at 2.20 pm exactly nine hours after I set off.

“I’m here” I joked, as I lurched into the gazebo at the finish and picked up my certificate, a t-shirt (preordered and prepaid) and a very high quality glass memento with the Lyke Wake coffin floating in the middle; this memento recalling the Lyke Wake dirge which the route was named after, the old dialect verse describing the journey of the soul across the desolate moors on its way to heaven or hell.

Deb, Joey and Tulip surprised me by meeting me at the end which I hadn’t expected so seeing them at the Raven Hall Hotel was a real treat – I tucked into some houmous sandwiches, saw a wedding party in their finery promenading against the dramatic backdrop of the North Sea and Robin Hood’s Bay from the hotel lawns in glorious sunshine, had a shower in the Raven Hall Hotel and was whisked away as the heavy rain came down.

I was told at one check point that I was the first runner through, and would win the race if I got a move on - but two others finished before me; I was the second lady to finish which felt great but I did have a headstart on most.

My time: 09:00
My position: 24th
73 finished
86 started
102 entered

1st man
Neil Ridsdale 05:49

1st lady
Shelli Gordon 06:42

A letter from the Race Director dated 11 July encloses the results sheet, gives a weather report of the conditions on race day, and goes on to castigate previous entrants and clubs, for “None of the previous regular competitors that have ceased running have ever shown an interest in helping – especially the running clubs, the Valley Striders, East Hull Harriers and Chapel Allerton etc etc”. Well, I said at the end I would marshall next year and I was told I couldn’t because I would be running it. The race is in jeopardy with a dearth of marshals who are getting older (“more marshals between 65 and 80 plus than under 60”) and diminishing in number naturally.

The London marathon, 17 April 2011

The London marathon, an amazing experience. Running a marathon is quite a quest, it really does have the long haul feel to it in the weeks, then days and hours leading up to it. I made so many friends on Sunday. The man at the bus stop waiting for the bus from Dulwich College to Lewisham, where the market traders setting out their stalls all called out good luck to me, the friendly bobbies at the [free] Docklands Light Railway station where I caught the DLR to Greenwich, the lady who sat with me on the DLR whose training plan had disintegrated the same way mine had due to injury, whose attitude - I am pretty damn sure I have got it in my legs to run a marathon without training - I liked as I realised that was mine when fully articulated...

When you finally get to start, setting off is quite daunting, you just try to stay calm, focus, relax and then settle into a rhythm. I liked the slow pace of pen number 5, I spent the first hour or so listening out for any niggles and tried to make minor adjustments to biomechanics to compensate for any. You just keep moving, checking your pace every mile, making sure you don't fall over and when that's all working well, actually enjoy it. Each mile took a fairly predictable ten minutes, the math was easy - if I kept this up for 26 miles and pushed my foot down towards the end, I might beat Peter's PB for the London Marathon and he would treat me to a coffee and cake. That was never going to happen though. I could dream. I did follow the thin blue line most of the way in honour of the athletes who preceded me along the route, and in fairness to save energy and hopefully a few seconds off my time.

Meanwhile, there were the water, Lucozade and Lucozade gel stations to interrupt any thoughts of victory over Peter. They seemed to loom into view as soon as the road became clear of empty bottles; this is not a criticism, this seemingly almost constant supply of food and drink was really welcome. Something else happened which almost caused memory loss especially when it came to the all important need to beat Peter's PB. Thousands of people applauding, smiling, cheering, shouting and by the end screaming all the way round... ... literally willing all the runners on, literally picking up those who fell. People in Hallowe'en costumes (or maybe they were just goths) outside a pub, jazz bands, horns, mobile discos, DJs on balconies, Darth Vader guarding a traffic island, blokes sat on settees on the pavement drinking beer cheering us on, bag pipes, drummers pounding under bridges... even a Valley Strider cheering a Valley Strider on!

The handful of images I have retained are a drop in the ocean of what I saw as I ran the 26.2 miles. The last 5 or 6 miles I cannot describe without my lip wobbling. I am pretty sure that there was a very loud wall of noise for a long time which was just constant and unwavering and I don't think I have ever been anywhere like it. I have to confess a lot of it is a bit of a blur. I was so proud to be taking part in such an amazing event and so proud when I finished. I beat Peter's time by seconds. He was gracious in defeat and handed me the crown, by gracious text.

At the end of such a momentous marathon experience it should have come as no surprise to receive a text from Bob before an hour had passed with his congratulations and observations on my split times. Well that was more welcome than an automated text generated by chip timing and deserves thanks, surely.