Oh what a beautiful morning! Dark and White Autumn Series 2017 event 1. Carsington Water.

Digested read: first time at a Dark and White series event.  It was lovely.  17km of fantastic views with brilliant organisation. Worth the horror of getting up in the dark.    You get cake!  No really, and you don’t have to navigate and it was super-friendly.  I was sad there was no teleporter as I first thought, but otherwise would recommend.

I can’t lie.  There were quite a few less than charitable words being exchanged in the car on the way to Carsington water yesterday morning.  The topic under debate was ‘whose fault’ it was that we’d had to all get up at stupid o’clock, when it was actually IN THE DARK to go and run round in a great big circle somewhere.   Accusations flew around the dark interior of the car where our not-so-merry quartet had gathered en route to Derbyshire. Finger pointing isn’t pretty, but it does sometimes happen during the angst-ridden journeys into the unknown. Bet it was exactly the same when people first set out to circumnavigate the world, which is basically the same thing as setting off to do a new trail run.  Accusations and counter accusations were in play, with some reference to ‘you need to take personal responsibility for your actions’ alongside alternative tactics of blaming people who weren’t even there.  I wonder if this is what it will be like when the world ends.  Bickering about how we got into this mess, rather than trying to extricate ourselves from it?  Probably. Don’t worry, we made up, and by the end it wasn’t a question of allocating blame, it was more a question of celebrating whosoever it was that inspired us to take on the challenge, but that was later.   All happy and friends again. Aren’t we lovely?

I’ve only just noticed the foot photo-bomb, but I like that. Did you know that in many South-East Asian countries pointing a foot like that would be considered really offensive?  It’s OK in Derbyshire though, so no need for retaliation or retribution on this occasion even if we did know whose foot it was.

Where was I?  And more importantly, where were we going?  Oh, erm, it was the first race of the Dark and White Autumn event series.  Pre going myself, I was disproportionately confused by what these runs actually are.  Basically, it’s a series of three runs organised over the Autumn, you can enter them individually or as a series for a discount. Each of the three events offers a choice of two routes: long (14-17 km) and short (5-7 km), all in and around the Peak District National Park.  They are very well organised, well-signed and supported, with water stations mid-point and cake at the end.  Yes, you read that right. Cake.  At the end.

For reasons that had become lost in the mists of time, four of us had made a misguided ‘all for one and one for all‘ sort of pact to do the long route.  Which at 17km was actually further than I’d expected, because it didn’t sound too far in kilometres as I still can’t really fathom what they are, but is actually 10.5 miles, but hey ho, bit late to be backing down at this stage.  Hence we were now in a car at 6.30 in the morning, bickering and blaming one another, albeit in a good-humoured, smiley sort of way.  Fortunately, because, Smileys are all basically lovely, the squabbling died down pretty quickly, and we became distracted by the gorgeousness of the route in the early morning.

This is where we were heading. Carsington water.  I did actually steal this photo from their events  website, but it did honestly look like this.  Blooming lovely out there.

It was a cold, but it gave way to brilliant sunshine and it was like being on a safari drive heading out of Sheffield. There was mist rising from Longshaw as we passed by, then we saw two huge fallow deer just chilling on a road somewhere. Our next sighting was of a fox, slinking across our path, a common enough sight in urban areas, but it’s years since I’ve seen one in the countryside.  And then a more disputed sighting, but I reckon was a stoat (or possibly a weasel), others thought maybe a juvenile squirrel, but it’s tale was too long and anyway it’s the wrong time of year for a young squirrel and one that small wouldn’t be crossing roads on its own anyway. Plus, deciding factor, my blog, my rules.  It was stoatally a stoat.  Because I say so.  Personally, I also got very excited at the sight of a sign for somewhere called The Pudding Room, but it would  have been shallow to have drawn too much attention to it whilst surrounded by my sporting elite buddies.  I feared they would shudder at the thought of such Dionysian access to free range carb unless it was already built into their current training plan’s gantt chart under the ‘nutrition’ column.  Then again, I should have credited them with a bit more of a capacity for reason.  17km romp or face plant into a smorgasbord of cakes and pastries?  Hmm, tough call, though to be fair it wasn’t open yet, another day, another mission perhaps…

With only one minor detour, we arrived at Carsington Water about 7.45 a.m. ish.  I’ve never been before, but it was an impressive venue.  There was a massive car park which was basically empty, and flags were up denoting the start of race and there was a posse of marshals in hi-viz doing purposeful things.   In a run event first, we actually managed to park directly opposite the registration area.  Closer than the usual bag drop at an event.  Nice.  This would be  a great place to go for a run anytime really, as the facilities are great.  A huge visitors centre, loos, lots of parking, well-marked easy-going trails. Well, they say ‘easy-going’ I didn’t find the going altogether easy to be fair, but then I was trying to run faster than usual, you don’t have to.

You can pay for either 2 hours or all day parking.  We opted for a day at £4.70 so we knew we’d have until midnight to get round.  Well we had all gone for the long route and no point in putting ourselves under unnecessary pressure.  There are loads of pay and display machines around but – user alert – you have to  put in the last three digits of your car registration number when you get a ticket. That nearly defeated me, it not being my car, but we got there in the end.  Buying a ticket is harder than you might think these days, if you are parked a long way from a machine and getting a ticket for the driver you might want to bring a pen and paper with you to avoid purchasing mishaps yourself.

Once we’d got over marvelling at how well parked we were, we went to explore.  Outside the registration area were lots of signs clarifying kit requirements and the route.  The website also gave a pretty detailed course description of the Carsington Water Dark & White route to be fair. The blah de blah stated:

The run starts and finishes at Carsington Watersports Centre, see here for more information www.carsingtonwater.com

Both routes set off on the initially pan flat reservoir perimeter track in a southerly direction – the track is a smooth, hardcore surface making for fast, flowing trail running; after crossing the dam the routes split at the 2km point and the shorter route then completes a slightly undulating route back ‘under’ the dam before returning to the finish. The long route continues on the super smooth surface round the reservoir but the going becomes a bit more ‘rolling’ from now on so expect to start getting a bit of a sweat on!

At the 8km point the long route crosses a main road and the character of the course changes as it starts to gradually climb to a high point on the High Peak Trail. At the east of Hopton village a field path is taken and this is good, grassy running but on a steady, energy sapping incline off and on for around 2km; after crossing a lane there is a ‘dip’ in the track with a sharp little ascent to meet the High Peak Trail (which is on old railway line converted to a cycling/walking track). We’re now back on a smooth, fast, hardcore trail – flat to start with then it’s climbing again as we ascend the Hopton Incline which has a gradient of around 6% for nearly 1km. The high point of the route (330m above sea level) is reached at the 12km point – if you haven’t noticed already the views from here are amazing albeit blighted somewhat by the massive wind turbines nearby…

We now turn south for ‘home’ on an excellent field path – come over a brow and the best view of the day pops up i.e. the whole of Carsington Water in all it’s glory – now that’s got to be worth getting out of bed for! A steep grassy descent (care needed) follows into Carsington village then it’s a nip through the houses, cross the main road again and we’re back on the fast reservoir track for a 2km blast back to the finish. 17.1km/230m of climb – done and dusted – time for tea and cake!

So if you just wanted the route information you are done with this blog post now and are excused. Go do something more useful with your life and less time-vampirish than hanging out here with me.

It was extremely clear. There was also a scary kit requirement warning along the lines of ‘don’t even think of turning up at the start line without’ kind of thing.  They had relaxed the requirement for waterproof trousers and another top though, so that was good.  The kit requirements and other information are given out in detail on the information section of their website. Worth a browse.  Helpful stuff for a first timer like myself, even if I didn’t have the wit to follow all of it through.

Inside the registration are was a tight-knit team of friendly marshals on hand.  Again, I was an epic fail at this, as the first question was ‘do you have your disclaimer form with you?’ and I didn’t.  I explained about having it sat on the printer at home but that doesn’t count apparently. Fortunately the hi-viz heroes seemed a non-judgemental and patient lot. They also had a big stash of disclaimer forms for people like me to sign in a hidden room at the back of the sign up area  – the officials were extremely keen everyone did sign away as much as possible, which is fair enough. At your own risk and everything.  Then you gave your name in return for a dibber (or dabber, I still don’t know what it is really.)  There was a brief opportunity to admire the purple top of another of the race organisation team. It had a particularly appealing tactile and textured finish, and as a reward for our sighs of admiration and expressions of longing, we were allowed a little chaste stroke of the garment’s arm to express our admiration and appreciation,  before turning to the next table where we got given our numbers.  I got 22, which pleased me.  You also got a map, with the route on one side and emergency contact details and procedures on the other.  I forgot to get this and had to go back again.  Doh.

Next stop was the women’s changing rooms to attach our numbers with the aid of a mirror. Then of course the first of the precautionary pees of the morning.  There were loads of loos.  Only one in the changing room, but I rejected that, because alongside all my other neurosis is my affliction of bashful bladder, I knew I wouldn’t perform if my Smiley buddies were waiting for me directly outside the cubicle. I know how irrational that is, but it is also true.  I went in search of other loos, there are some in the visitors centre, but that doesn’t open until 10.00 a.m. but there were loads of clean and well equipped toilets in a couple of blocks alongside.  It was great venue for a race HQ.  Also, as I ambled over to these I got to appreciate the first of many amazing views across the reservoir as the sun rose, and a fine owl. I like owls.  Not a real one though.  Still nice.

This wasn’t a big event, and it starts in waves so it was all pretty relaxed.  We mootled about, admired the scenery and chatted a bit to other runners whilst faffing about with our kits.  I was taken with a Sparkhill Harriers running club vest.  Great name Sparkhill – fortunately the vest wearer was friendly, Sparkhill is a region outside Birmingham (sort of) apparently.  I think I should have known that, maybe did one time.  Still, no harm in being reminded of it.  This is a really low-pressure event. I’d already decided just to treat it as a yomp out, like a marked training run.  Of course it catered for speedy souls who wanted to bomb round, but it is also, in my view at least, inclusive in how it’s set up.  Friendly, no navigation and lots of support, generous cut off times and a nice milling and chilling start line.

The first wave, which we’d signed up for, was due to set off at 8.30.  A little bit before we gathered round the start flag for a briefing.  Straightforward, we were shown the route markers, advised to look out for each other and the CARE signs on the way.  Reminded of dibbing protocol – the beginning, the end and the mid-pointish feed station…

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and that was it.  We were on our way.  Gorgeous weather, the sunshine was almost too bright.  My new Sparkhill friend was in a different wave as I saw him jogging towards the start as we were heading out, he gave a cheery wave.  Within seconds I was distracted by the stunning views.  I was taking my time and I’ve just got my camera back from being mended so was soon on task pausing to take some shots along the way. This is not good for running times, but it is good for appreciating where you are.  This route was  rather more manicured than I expected from a trail run, but it was stunning.

Just as we set off, there was a duo on bikes heading off down the track simultaneously.  One struck up a conversation with me, first asking me about what we were thinking doing and then when I told her it was  a 17km run offered me a lift.  Which I politely declined.  It got me thinking though. Did you know that’s the third time I’ve been offered a bike ride by way of assistance whilst I’m participating in an organised race?  I’ve also previously been stopped by someone wanting directions!  That’s quite a high number of outside interventions to contend with I think. I don’t know anyone else whose fessed up to having the same offer made even once.  I can’t work out quite why this is, but I think it is a combination of one or all of the following:

1. I must look in desperate need of outside assistance
2. I must look highly corruptible, the sort of person who would give in to temptation and climb aboard
3. I look friendly and approachable and up for a chat, or …
4. (most likely) I look like I’m ambling along so half-heartedly I can’t possibly be engaged in any competitive endeavour, so free for a natter before I continue

None of these people have got the memo which states most categorically that I cannot talk and run simultaneously.  It’s very annoying.  They were nice though, these cyclists, and after a bit they got bored crawling along at my pace so they went on ahead, weaving through the runners with care, occasionally giving their bells a good old ding (not a euphemism) to let them know they were nearby.

It was quite roady to start with, a tarmac track around the perimeter of the reservoir.  I did wonder if I might have been better in road shoes, those hard surfaces are really hard on my poor arthritic feet.  I can feel all those bones inside them shattering on impact.  According to Wikipedia there are 26 bones in the foot.  I think I have must have more than that as I swear I can feel bits breaking off inside as I run.  Oh well.  It’s a tough call.  This route was majority hard compact surfaces, and I’d have loved more cushioning in my shoes, but for those muddy and steep off road sections, short as they were, I do think trail shoes were essential.  My innov-8s were probably the right call on balance, though I did have a moment of angst I’ve not really run them in properly.  I’ve only done one parkrun and one 6.5 mile run in them previously, I was a bit worried they might be so new I’d get blisters.  I did in fact, but only one, and right at the end, so OK.  On the subject of parkrun, did you know that as Exodus are now parkrun partners you can get a free apricot tee if you quote your parkrun ID when booking one of their holidays?  Me neither until last week.

The next bit of early on excitement was the presence of Chris Meads, official race photographer, who took some shots of runners heading out with the reservoir backdrop.  Official photos were £5.50 which isn’t bad I think, although in Sheffield we are very fortunate that some races have given up charging for photos in favour of a donation.  Here is one of mine, proof I made it out on the course.  Also, I like that you can see the boats.  I am so far in the lead of all the other runners there is no-one else in sight!  I know, who’d have believed it!

I was soon settled into the back of my wave, gazing around.  It was pretty flat, and so I was able to get into a bit of a rhythm.  I decided to just try to run continuously for 5k, because if I can do that at a parkrun I can do it at an event.  The field was quite spread out, and I couldn’t see runners ahead or behind.  This meant I ran long sections on my own with my thoughts, but that was fine.  There were some dog walkers, a few people on bikes.  Fabulous views.  An early sign for cake!  Oh no, too soon, it actually said ‘care’ ahead of some particularly sudden turn or other hazards.

One disconcerting aspect of the signage, was signs warning cyclists to take care which were particularly graphic in nature. The first one I saw made me gasp out loud.  It showed a cyclist being flung into the air.  I presume these signs were to warn cyclists not to advertise the spectacle we’d expect to see as we cornered by way of a tourist attraction.  In all seriousness, I  imagine these signs would be pretty effective, no ambiguity about them. Towards the end of the course was one that had been ‘enhanced’ by those with local knowledge perhaps.  Naturally, I don’t normally approve of such vandalism, but then again, good to know if you end up in the reservoir there will be sharks to contend with, forewarned is forearmed and all that.

The route was scenic, lots of gorgeous views on the way round.  I surprised myself by keeping running for a fair while, but inevitably, eventually there was an uphill bit which thwarted my ‘just keep on running’ aspirations.  Some runners from the next wave started to overtake me after about mile 2.  They were all unfailingly friendly, we exchanged breathless greetings.  I trotted out clichéd words of encouragement, I was going for a supportive but non-patronising yet not too sycophantic riff.  Mostly this became ‘good job!’. Which isn’t great, but you must have something pithy or there isn’t time to complete the sentiment.  To a  few I remarked (hilariously) ‘I’m going to chase you now!’ which most understood to be a joke, but a couple fled away with such speed I can only conclude that it seemed a very real threat.  Sorry about that, wasn’t intending to deliver threats with menace on the trails.

It might sound strange, but I quite like being overtaken by the faster runners. It’s inspiring to see some of them whizz by, apparently weightless and effortless eating up the miles with grace.  It’s also encouraging as most did have a word of positivity as they passed, and it adds interest to proceedings too.  It motivated me to run a bit more, as I’d have a bit of lope when I could hear them coming up behind and then try to run on again after them for a bit more before relapsing  back into a walk at times.

It seemed to go quickly, not that I was especially fast, but I suppose the terrain was pretty easy-going and it was a lot less challenging than the 12.12 which is my most recent event, so by comparison the miles flew by.  Even so, I didn’t need all that much encouragement to STOP when I got near the first of two busy road crossings.  A cheery marshal was on had to open the gate so I had no reason to slow too much as I went through.  Photo’s not great is it, oh well you get the idea…

From there, it didn’t seem too far to get to the nearly mid-point feed station.  It was up a bit of a hill.  There were a couple of marshals, one of whom I’d swear had earlier been at the registration HQ but a few minutes before. Either they had teleported up, or I hadn’t been traveling forward quite as fast as I imagined.

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Your path was blocked by a hi-viz hero in possession of a dibber, so no danger of going through unrecorded.  The feed station had water and some energy gels I think and some cups of squash.  I went for the squash as I suddenly realised it might be a good idea to have a top of sugar and I didn’t fancy my naked bar and can’t tolerate gels.  I gulped it down, but it tasted funny.  Like cold lemsip. I gulped down some water afterwards, and then fretted as I felt all that liquid sloshing around that I’d maybe had an electrolyte drink by accident and what if that made me sick?  At the end I found out it was just sugar-free squash I think.  Lesson learned though, I’m not drinking anything at a drink station ever again without knowing what it is.   I walked for a bit to let things settle, and then after a short road section (very short) it was a sharp right over a slightly concealed wall style and continuing up a steep hill.

This was way too distracting for me.  I paused to breathe in the view and stood aside to let some faster runners past as I lined up what I hoped was a nice shot.  It’s hard to capture on film, especially when you have zero aptitude behind the lens at the best of times and have injected a still further element of surprise into the proceedings by not wearing your glasses whilst you snap away either.  I think you’ll get the idea though.  I noticed hardly any of the later waves of runners were carrying kit.  There weren’t any kit inspections that I was aware of today, but the inside word is they may be relaxed on a lovely sunny day like this, but in inclement weather the kit police will be crawling all over you, so be prepared!  This did seem a benign environment, but once you get high, weather can change quickly.  Gear is carried for a reason.  It isn’t just to make all your race photos deeply unflattering it seems.  You don’t want to end up like that pants man on Snowdon now do you?  Superman knickers were insufficient protection against the elements for him it seems.

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As I still had a lot of water sloshing, and there was still quite a bit of upwardness, I walked a fair distance from here.  I really do need to crack my ‘hydration and fueling’ strategies if I’m serious about doing longer distances.  I think I get away with things up to half marathon, but I’m sure I could save a lot of time and faffing if I worked out a more efficient way of doing things.

Onwards and upwards.  The next ‘excitement’ was more excitement than I’d have ideally liked.  I found myself running ‘on my own’ i.e. no runners in sight ahead or behind.  I crossed a minor road and there was a sign pointing straight ahead as you went over a stone wall. Thing is, as I ran ahead, the terrain got rougher and there were no more arrows.  I felt sure I’d gone wrong.  I looked back, and another two runners were following me.  I called out to them, but one said confidently ‘no, the arrow is definitely straight on’ so we continued, until we saw a sort of collapsed stone building and barbed wire and there was no doubt this was wrong.  Behind us, cresting over the hill, and gloriously back-lit by bright early morning sunshine was a veritable stampede of other runners, each following the one in front and all wrong, all because of me (sort of).  We frantically gestured at them back down the field and people variously romped round the wet grass in all directions.  At this point I felt the comedic value of the situation far outweighed the couple of hundred metres added to our course.  I decided to take some runners in action shots, as most of the field sped by, leaving me literally, as well as metaphorically standing.  It was a hoot though, and where’s the fun in a run if you don’t have a mini-adventure on the way round.  Plus, for clarity, this was a real anomaly on the course, the route was fantastically well signed, so well signed, that as soon as the arrows disappeared I knew I must have gone wrong. You didn’t need to navigate, though we did have our A4 maps in case of need.

I like my photos at this point, especially the one of the colourful snake of runners heading onwards and upwards up that hill.  Unstoppable, fearless, and still fresh as daisies they were, all the way to the top!  Well probably, possibly then.  I never got to see the state of them at that point to be fair.

I followed in their wake.  It was lovely.  The next unexpected bit of enrichment on the course was a tunnel!  It wasn’t a particularly long stretch, but I wasn’t expecting it, and I found out something about myself.  I found out that running through a tunnel all on your own is ridiculously fun!  You can hear the echoes of your own feet reverberating off the walls, and because of the contrast between the bright sunshine outside and the unlit tunnel interior, there is a brief section in the middle when you can’t see your feet or your body really even, so it feels like you are levitating. It was amazing.  Granted, I probably need to get out more given that I have found myself raving so much about what basically took a few seconds, but I would really recommend it as a running aspiration if you have not yet done so.  Find a long dark stretch of tunnel somewhere and run down it. Maybe not a London underpass in the small hours, choose wisely. You’ll work it out.  I might get you to sign a disclaimer form first though, because you have to own your choices if you are going for subterranean options I know not yet of, and haven’t had an opportunity to risk assess for myself.  My sample survey is of just the one tunnel.  it could be not all tunnel running is quite so much fun.  Or quite so safe.  Was it Indiana Jones who had some boulder issues when he was tunnel running?  Just use your common sense, that’s all I’m saying.

By now we were nearing the high point of the run. The extraordinary wind turbines came into startling view. I know some people hate them, but I’ve always rather liked them. They seem sort of sculptural to me.  So yes, I stopped to take some photos of these too, as correctly speculated on by one of my Smiley buddies, who was guessing my photo stops at the end of the route.  Seems my movements are entirely transparent.  It was around this point that my Sparkhill friend romped past.  I waved him on.

Around the wind turbines there was an enormous temptation to take a short cut across a road, but I was very good and followed the trail correctly.  A couple of fairly fiendish walls to clamber over. There were steepish stone steps sticking out of the walls to aid ascent and descent, but they were slippery and my legs were more tired than I realised and not impressed by having to shift into clambering mode.  There was another hill to traipse up, and my enthusiasm temporarily waned.  I let some other runners pass.  I told them I was there to supervise and they were doing well and should keep on moving through.  I don’t expect they believed me though.  At the top, more amazing views, right back across the reservoir.  It was gorgeous.

That was lovely.  But, what goes up, must come down, and my, this certainly knew how to come down steeply. The downhill bit that followed was practically like stepping off the end of the earth.  I was very glad of the grip on my shoes and I gingerly wended my way down.  The views were fabulous, but even what looked like naturally speedy runners seemed to stop and pick their way down quite hesitantly.  There was a big CAKE no, not cake, that was just me hallucinating, CARE sign, and it was very much needed. It wasn’t a long section at all, but I think it must have been the most hazardous section of the course.

After this alarming plummet from the summit, there were two further marshaling points.  The first one, greeted me with a cheery smile ‘did you enjoy that’ he said. Which I had, up until this point, but I had a brief moment of confusion as it sort of implied I was near the end, which I wasn’t really. I explained that I was having a lovely time and taking photos along the way, so he obliged by posing for one for me too, before waving me on my way. Thank you marshal!

Then it was down some windy, tree-lined paths a bit more and down to another road crossing.  Just as a I approached a motorbike screamed past at extraordinary speed.  I would not have wanted to be trying to cross when that came by, it was insane.  Me and the marshal blinked at each other in shock.  ‘Has it been like that all morning?’ I enquired.  Apparently not, that was the first one.  Terrifying.  Knobhead.  (he motorcyclist, not the marshal).  I assiduously followed my green cross code and Tufty club directives several times before stepping out on the tarmac myself to venture to the other side.   Phew, made it across unsquashed.

From here it really was nearly at the end. Just a gentle yomp.  As we were back near the visitors centre there were more walkers and families pushing buggies, most of whom gave a smile or word of encouragement.  One couple shouted after me ‘what are you all running for?‘  ‘I have no idea‘ I replied, truthfully.  This satisfied them greatly, I was happy to oblige.  At this point I was feeling a lot fresher than I’d expected, my stop / start approach taking photos along the way clearly works for me, but I was aware of a blister developing on my little toe.  I know why.  I’ve had a mysterious foot pain on the top of my foot for a while now which I’ve been ignoring.  It affects how I land and I suppose after 10 miles of weird gait it was bound to take it’s toil on me.

I think it might be time for me to share my Strava map of the route – here we go:

Maybe not an actual circle shape to be fair, but you do basically run round the reservoir and an extra hilly bit for good measure.

‘Suddenly’ there was a sign just 1km to go, and then I saw a familiar – well I was going to say ‘face’ but actually it was ‘back’ just a few metres ahead.  A smiley buddy and fellow Dig Deep graduate to boot!  We must have been really closely paced the whole way round.  I slowly closed, but as we got to the finish she sprinted ahead.  Who can blame her. I’m not competitive particularly, but if I’d been her and led all the way round I’d have felt mightily aggrieved if someone like me popped up apparently from nowhere and zipped in front.

Very pleasingly, our lovely smiley buddies were there to cheer us in. We had a dib in finish, and were reunited with fleeces before going back into race HQ.  Here your dibber was carefully removed (and I lurve this attention to detail) with a pair of surgical scissors which have one side blunted to avoid cutting accidentally.  This was put in the magic computer, and then you got an instantaneous print out of your time (because some people care about these apparently)  and a certificate too no less!

My final memory of the actual running part of the event is in the last 100 metres where in response to someone cheering me on as I mustered up the energy for my version of a sprint finish I shouted back ‘they’ve promised me coffee at the end’ and I heard behind me him calling out ‘there is!  Cake too!’  And you know what? There really was!  There was a table with a selection of biscuits, some bought lemon drizzle cakes, an urn with water for tea and coffee and lots of squash.  Best of all, a savoury fix.  A platter of mini cheese thins and crisps.  Brilliant.

It was lovely in the sun, so we drank coffee and had a mutual Smiley debrief about best bits of the run.  We’d all had a good time.  Two of our number had made new best friends, one more convincingly than the other.  It seems both had found similarly matched individuals to yomp round with and bonded not so much in adversity as in running, as so often happens.  One had hung on to her friend and was able to parade her to the rest of us by way of evidence. The other had only tales to relate about her new best friend, but she was nowhere to be seen.  We must all believe what we choose to believe I suppose…

Just time for photo posing, and lingering farewells.  As we supped our coffee and shared our tales, the hi-viz super marshal who had been at registration and then the mid-point feed station was now in evidence clearing up.  How was that possible.  ‘Is it a teleportation device?’ I queried.  Apparently not, the secret of such rapid transportation is in fact a big white van.  I was gutted.  To be fair, that was the only disappointment of the day, so not a bad satisfaction score overall…

and that was it.  Job done.

Wasn’t that great?  Whose idea was it?  That person should henceforth be feted. This series is wonderful.  I bet the sun always shines at these events.

Conclusion.  A great way to enjoy some stunning scenery at a really well run event. The organisers have set out to create  ‘events that are sociable and relaxed … which you can make as easy or as tough as you like – they are suitable for most ages and abilities’.  Based on my experience I’d say they have succeeded.  Yay. Check out their Peak District Trail Running website for more, but I’d definitely go again, they have a ‘doable’ feel to them.  Super friendly.  Thank you nice people who worked hard to put on a great day out.

On the way home there was one moment of nervous laughter at disaster evaded.  We found another event was also taking place, also very well signed. Our lovely morning yomping could have gone horribly wrong!  Phew, we were lucky to live to run another day!  You know when people say ‘what’s the worst that could happen?’ Well, for me, frankly, with my navigational skills it would be inadvertantly going off piste and being faced with this. Accidentally having to run a 160k route just because I can’t find my way out of a paper bag. I mean those arrows look awfully familiar don’t you think…  Still, all’s well that ends well eh?

Oh you want to know the results?  How very obsessive, there you go, for those that care the results of the Autumn Series 2017 are all here but really, ask yourself, are you missing the point.  Mind you, respect to the speed merchants who clearly went for it.  Different choices.

I’d recommend, for what that’s worth. See you at the next ones?  Online entry here

Round 2 | Calver | Sunday 22nd October  2017 – car share advised limited parking

Round 3 | Monyash | Sunday 26th November 2017

Happy yomping out and about til then!

 

 

 

New beginnings, in search of my running mojo and running in the dark

Digested read:  I felt the fear and did it anyway. Venturing out into the dark and unknown I joined a new off-road running group for the first time, in an attempt to locate and reboot my running mojo.  I had a running buddy to hold hands with though, I’m not that brave.  And you know what, it was grand. Really glad I went. Thanks Accelerate Trail Runners new beginner group.  Hope to be a regular, my natural southerner nesh tendencies permitting.  You hardy northerners will venture out on days I’m too scared to even look out the window after all.  Even so, in future, I’m going to try to remember to just give it a go more than not.

I’ve actually been eyeing the Accelerate Trail Runners Facebook page for a while. They have been meeting for evening trail runs over the summer months along the lines of woodrun except that the runners are more hardcore.

The website blah de blah states:

Welcome to Accelerate Trail Runners. We’re a trail running group in Sheffield that meet in Low Bradfield every Tuesday at 6:50 pm for an evening of led trail runs. There are several groups suitable for beginners and seasoned runners alike.

About Us

We normally meet at 6:50pm at the cricket pavilion in Low Bradfield for a 7:00 start. Occasionally, we may start from another location so check the announcements on this page to make sure.  Parking can be found at the public car park behind the cricket pitch.

I like this idea in principle, but honestly, my perception has been that this group of runners are a bit hard-core for me, whatever the blah de blah may say about all levels being welcome.  I imagined a crowd of elite athletes, fleet of foot and fearless of demeanor, they sprint off up mountain paths like goats on speed – or like I think goats on speed would look if they ever slowed down enough for you to be able to catch a glimpse of them.  To be fair I’ve not knowingly personally witnessed either the runners or speed-fuelled goats in action, which is a limitation of my comparison for illustrative purposes.  Still, I’m pretty confident I’m right….    They are great climbers too, just like those Accelerate whizzy fell running types who can ascend and descend vertically. Impressive certainly, but not really relatable to.

A goat leaps across a stream in Glacier National Park, Montana.

Back to the topic in hand:  I was in Accelerate the other week – getting my innov 8 parkclaws if you must know – and asked about the trail runs then.  At that time the candid feedback was that truthfully, yep at the moment the group composition was catering for speedier runners, as that’s how it had evolved with people getting fitter together over the summer, but there was talk of starting up a beginners group, so you never know…  I was torn.  Some disappointment at it not being suitable on the one hand, but this was counterbalanced on the other by huge relief that I wouldn’t therefore have to romp too far out of my comfort zone by running off-road in the dark.    That was me off the hook then.  Better yet I can truthfully claim to have tried.  Not my fault.

On the other hand, my running mojo has gone awol.  I have been fretting a lot about the legitimacy of my claim to be even a very peripheral member of the running community, whatever the motivational posters have to say on the topic of what constitutes a ‘real runner’. There have to be some limits. Leaving the house with your trainers on might be one reasonable criteria for inclusion for example.  Not even having to run in them, just getting out and about in my active wear.  And weirdly, I do like running, I like the social things that surround it and the post running high, and sometimes, astonishingly, I’ve even liked running at the time. The problem is that if I don’t run for a bit, I lose confidence, I remember how little aptitude I have and frankly I feel embarrassed at running in public again.  It’s hard when you keep sinking back to square one…

Sometimes dear reader, fate lends a hand.  Not that I really believe in fate, but hey ho, it was a timely coincidence.  Not a week later,  Accelerate Trail Runners ‘suddenly’ pronounced they were indeed recommencing a beginner group for their off-road runs round Low Bradfield on a Tuesday night, and that set in motion an almost inevitable chain of events.  Afterall, I have said for a while if they had a beginner group I’d be tempted, and so it would be rude not too when they said this:

New beginner group!

New for Tuesday evenings with Accelerate Trail Runners – a complete off-road beginner group. Nothing demanding. All very easy going. Emphasis on fun, safety and building confidence before joining the more demanding groups if so desired. Alternatively, for those already completing tougher, longer trails in general, a chance to wind down and enjoy a simple recovery run once in a while.

If not now, then when?  This was my big deciding moment.  Maybe….

Trouble is, then the running mind demons kicked in. I’m so crap at running, and even more out of practise than usual.  Also, Low Bradfield is something of a pain to get to.  My car is from the south, it can’t cope with some of those steep and winding hills en route.  It’ll be dark.  It’ll be humiliating.  Oh what’s the point in subjecting myself to yet another demoralising confirmation of my running ineptitude, as if it isn’t hard enough to muster the courage to get out the door and run when I’m on my own…

However, a particularly supportive smiley buddy had similarly expressed the sentiment of being game to ‘give it a go’ – admittedly before we knew the forecast was going to be for strong winds and torrential rain – and so somehow, we agreed we were going to go together.  I can’t lie, there may have been a bit of last-minute ‘I will if you will/ are you sure? Have you seen the forecast?’ type toing and froing via Facebook messenger in advance, but we basically committed.  Aren’t we lovely by the way?  This is the after shot that’s why we look happy, we survived! Good to know.

Lovely or not – would we blend in with this intrepid lot?  They are wearing ultra gear.  Plus you can see the muscle definition on their calf muscles from here.  Bet there is barely a couple of percentage body fat between them.  I’ll be spotted as an imposter from half a mile a way.  Oh well, one way to find out….

I was apprehensive to the point of fear, which I know is ridiculous.  But my buddy scooped me up.  We set off in the car peering through the torrential rain that battered down on the windscreen.  I was satisfied that it would at the very least be an adventure, also, everyone knows running in the rain just makes you really hardcore and a ‘proper’ runner, however woeful that running performance might be.  Running in the dark as well?  Surely even more so.  Also this run felt sort of symbolic, I’m not going to get any better at running if I never run.  A new beginner off-road winter running group is a great opportunity for a fresh start and running reboot.  There couldn’t be a more auspicious  bit of timing, I must embrace this.

Mind you there are limits. Did you see the scenes in Copenhagen for the half marathon, that’s not hardcore, that’s death wish running in the raw!

 

I was glad my buddy did the driving as her car ate the hills and twisty roads, plus she knew how to get there. We pulled into the car park and immediately spotted sporty looking types surrounded by running shoes.  In what turned out to be a mistaken belief that they knew what was going on we trooped over to introduce ourselves.  Pleasingly, they had no idea what was going on either, being Scott shoes reps along to flash their merchandise. Good – oh!  I’m always up for a shoe test. They even whisked a foam pouf out of the back of their white van to facilitate the shoe trying!  I immediately was sat on top of the comfy cube, ripping off my innov-8 s to enable hoiking on of some new treasure. My excitement however was short-lived.  The Scott shoe is so narrow I was like one of the ugly sisters trying to heave it on. I gave up rapidly, if I can’t even get my toe into it at the heel end, it doesn’t bode well for the toe box roominess test further down. It was probably for the best.  I’ve bought two new sets of trail shoes in the past month, I don’t want to be tempted by any more.  I’m sure their shoes would be great for others if you favour a precision fit, it is no reflection on Scott shoes they can’t cater for me, I’m very needy on the running shoe front I’m afraid.  What do you think of my choice of running kit by the way?  Positively understated next to the Scott shoes rep in his gold crown hat thing.  I like his running cape though. That looks practical.

As we did the shoe-trying on dances, which was a team effort. Some really serious looking runners, all zero fat and wearing ultra packs cruised through the car park.  Me and my running buddy exchanged a knowing glance which meant ‘wow, they look hardcore, glad we wont be expected to run with them‘ only to see them double back and enquire in a friendly tone whether we were for the accelerate run.  Because, if we were, then the rendezvous point is the cricket club pavilion not the car park. ‘OK, I’m properly intimidated now‘ I said in my head or possibly out loud.

We tried to delay the inevitable by offering to help carry the box of trial trail shoes into the club house, but our services were not required. We walked with some reluctance towards our fate. Inside, the place was heaving.  Lots of runners, some familiar faces, but I felt like a Lilliputian in a land of giants. Everyone seemed tall, lean and oozing athletic prowess. This was not feeling like my natural habitat. Actually, I don’t really know what my natural habitat is, but I’m pretty sure it involves me wearing an invisibility cape. Truthfully, if I hadn’t had my running buddy with me I’d have caved in and just pretended I was there for the Low Bradfield Cricket Club AGM which I think was happening later on.  As it was, I said a bit too pointedly (sorry about that) to the nice accelerate person ‘you promised a beginners group! Where are the beginners?’  Sensing my rising panic she spoke soothingly, like you would to a psychotic person in possession of an axe ‘don’t worry, there will be one‘.

Temporarily pacified, I went in search of the rep from Silva head torches.  To be honest, I already have a silva headtorch which I really like, I thought the ones we trialled today weren’t as good as the one I have, but I figured I’d try one anyway.  Especially since I’d left my headtorch in my running buddy’s car.  Turns out, putting on an unfamiliar headtorch is almost as hard as putting on a Scott shoe. On the plus side, it caused enormous merriment to my running buddy and helped to distract us temporarily from the growing terrifying and gnawing thought we might end up having to run with the elites.

Torches on, we signed our names and put our £1 coins in the tin – you give a £1 donation which goes towards putting runners through run leader courses and other similar costs.  There was quite a buzz.  Mercifully, our cheery ‘beginners’ run leader appeared, and another woman – who was by chance a one-time smiley – also identified herself as a beginner.  The group was brought to order by the esteemed proprietor of Accelerate (harder than it sounds, runners are not naturally compliant it seems) and a briefing given. There seemed to be four groups tonight. Super speedy, doing reps and awesome stuff.  Speedy runners, moderately speedy and then the beginner group.

A little pep talk for our beginner group – we had a Scott shoe rep along with us too.  The plan was to take as long as it takes to do a circuit ’90 minutes if necessary’ on a 6 mile loop.  That was fine, distance is never an issue with me (not so far anyway) it’s the speed that scares me.  90 minutes was clearly being given as an unimagineably slow time, a sentiment I appreciated whilst inwardly wincing as I knew with me along for the yomp it was quite likely to be needed.  I was a bit surprised though it was that far for a beginner group.  I don’t know why, I suppose I’d not thought it through.  I’d imagined a more parkrun type entry-level distance.

Pretty soon afterwards, everyone scattered with their respective leaders.  We five went running in the woods.  Heading off through the car park and … yep, my twin nightmares, up hill and on a road.  I was barely 50 metres in when I thought I’d break.  The first mile was really tough, partly because as with all new endeavours, we hadn’t worked out our team dynamic. I was acutely aware that with exquisite form our leader was running in what for him must have felt like slow motion, meanwhile, all the blood vessels in my head were popping in unison.  It seemed a bit soon to bail, it always takes me a while to get going, you’d think I’d know this by now. I was very definitely at the back.

A mile or so in, it levelled off, we dipped down through a gate and onto softer, wooded trails.  This was way better for me. A combination of flatter, softer ground and being warmed up meant I got a brief moment of thinking ‘maybe I can do this, maybe this will be fun?’  Ahead of us our run leader was wearing some super-bright turbo powered silva head torch offering.  It was pretty impressive, which is good, because it was like being led by someone brandishing  a search light, and bad, because from henceforth all other head torches will be a disappointment.

I was glad of my running buddy for reassurance though. She knows me and was able to vouch for my character.  At some point we paused and there was an attempt to evaluate how we were getting along.  Acknowledging I was way back tactics were discussed.  I explained that I was actually fine (which was true) it’s just that I’m always slow. I know from bitter experience if I try to sprint out of my natural rhythm on unfamiliar terrain I’ll probably either fall over; or over-stride and get injured and/or end up in tears of frustration. The alternative is to leave me be, and I’ll eventually find a yomping rhythm and all will be well.  My buddy had to affirm that I spoke the truth when I explained about being completely unable to talk and run, so my silence shouldn’t be taken as hostility.  Equally, my grumpy face doesn’t necessarily mean I’m actually grumpy, but sometimes, just to keep everyone on their toes it might mean I am indeed grumpy as well, so you have to take your chances on that one.  As it was getting dark though, you couldn’t really tell, so that was fine.

It was better after this mutual pep talk.  I was given the opportunity to run ahead, but expressed a preference to being at the back, partly because I had no idea where we were going, and partly because if I feel like I’m being chased I find running especially stressful.  Over enthusiastic sweepers jollying me along are the stuff of nightmares for me.  I appreciate it may be unnerving for run leaders if I am out of sight behind them, but honestly I’m careful and safe at the back, everyone’s a winner.  Better a slow runner than a fallen, injured, angry spitting and hissing one.  Yep, that was the choice.  Fortunately most run leaders are receptive to such incisive logic. Good to know.

As we ran, the rain started to fall.  Under the cover of the trees it got darker.  It was fun! There is something sort of exciting about being out in the countryside in the dark.  Shapes and shadows keep you alert, the ground under you seems to shift, everything looks different. There was some irony in being completely unable to see where we were.  One of my motivations for wanting to join this trail running group was to learn some new routes.  I hadn’t factored in the ‘you are running in the dark’ aspect.  Not great for orientation purposes, though rather fine for sensory stimulation.

I did do a run round here earlier in the year.  Here it is in daylight:

Nope, didn’t see anything like that.

Rather, we started imagining it as the set for horror films.  Trying to pretend scare one another for good measure.  Was that a shadowy figure lurking behind, or just an optical illusion?  Great for team building, raw fear.  Hurrah! This is not a run I would do on my own.  I inadvertently contributed to the scream quotient by steadily dropping back silently to such an extent that at one point they thought I’d actually disappeared.  Like those oh so predictable  plot lines where the protagonists start to go missing (minor characters first), unobserved one by one. If only I’d realised the disquiet I was causing I’d have found a way capitalise on this for comedic purposes by somehow overtaking them and reappearing on the trail ahead of them wide-eyed and manic to completely freak them out.

As we traced our way round the reservoirs other runners cheerily pointed out sections of the route they recognised.  ‘Here’s where I saw an abandoned child’s bike‘ quipped one, ‘this is where triathlete buddy lost two teeth doing a face plant onto a rock‘ that kind of thing.  It’s good to note recognisable landmarks on the way round, makes it easier if you have to retrace your steps. Except, this wouldn’t have worked at all as basically it was dark,so  everywhere just looked, well dark.

At some point we came upon other runners one in a group jogging in formation up the road towards us like well-drilled fire flies.  Another group were pausing before no doubt doubling back on themselves for more tough hill reps.

It was nice, sort of companionable within our little gang of five, but with a sense of a wider community of runners in the vicinity.   I’d like to get better at this.  Inevitably, my problem was not with distance, nor even terrain, although I was a bit cautious as it was my first head-torch run of the year – it’s maintaining a pace.  It is fantastic to get to run with others who have such good form, our run leader was like a human metronome running, and looked like it was entirely effortless he was so energy-efficient, but I just can’t maintain a constant speed, well not that one anyway, and especially not if there is the slightest sniff of an uphill gradient.   It’s because that’s how I’ve taught myself to run I suppose. I walk / run always.  My only continuous running is parkrun, but left to my own devices I doubt very much I run even 5k continuously in training which is pretty pathetic now I come to write it down. I mean, it is obvious isn’t it, if I can do 5k at a parkrun I should be able to do that distance whilst running on my own, if I stay steady enough.    It stands to reason.  Maybe running is indeed mostly in the mind.  Though I still maintain at some point you will actually be required to run, and that sure as hell feels like a physical process to me.

In any event, the group paused for me to catch up from time to time so we could regroup, and then there was one bit when I did express a desire to walk for a bit. Which was apparently ‘fine’ except that then we walked for ages, and I wasn’t sure if I should have said ‘I’m ok now’ to enable running to recommence or whether that was interfering with some broader plan.  I fear my fellow runners felt the cold.   Oh well, I guess the more we run out together the more we will come to understand one another’s preferences and foibles.

Then, almost suddenly, we were nearly back where we started. A fellow woodrunner was driving homeward and paused in his car to shout support through his window which I appreciated.  Then we were back into the warmth of the club house for a run debrief.

A time for candour. I’m really glad I went.  I did more than I thought I would, and it is most definitely good for me to pick up the pace.  Our run leader was supportive and encouraging, there is definitely a desire to get a beginners’ group up and running.  For my part?  Well, I’m just so acutely aware that I’m the weakest link.  I do slow things down.  Upshot is, I think we agreed that I do want to come regularly (snow and ice and scary drive there permitting) but if there comes a point where I’m impeding the progress of others, then by mutual agreement I’ll cease.  I don’t think I’m generally believed when I say I have only one pace, but it’s true. With training I can go longer, but I’ll never be a sprinter.  Then again, if I can reduce my walking time then I will end up covering distances faster, and I don’t need persuading I can learn a lot about improved technique by association with this knowledgeable lot.   If I run more efficiently, that should not only help to keep me injury free, but also I’ll surely pick up a fraction more speed along the way as well?  So it seems that, ironically enough, running in the dark literally, has maybe lifted me out of my metaphorical patch of running in the dark.  Temporarily at least.

This is where we went by the way. I’m chuffed. 6.5 miles is quite good for me on an evening run.  Plus, there is no way on earth I’d have headed out and done that on my own.  So thanks Accelerate and thanks even more so in buckets to my running buddy for getting me there.  I can only be brave on my own up to a point. I’ll go to a race event on my own because that’s not much of a commitment is it.  Going to a group in anticipation of a long-term relationship?  Now that’s frightening.

Then there was a drive home debrief.  Obvs.  Guess what.  No regrets.  That irrefutable truth holds trued, no-one ever regrets a run, not ever.  Not even me and not even after a bad run.  My running buddy is awesome, but is also going to be away for a lot of winter, having selfishly arranged her annual travel plans with a complete disregard for my neediness!  The conclusion for me is that I actually coped better with the distance than expected considering how little running I’ve done of late.  I could have carried on no problem, just not at any speed. This understanding is critical, because the next race I’m eyeing is the Dark and the White.  It’s on Sunday. That’s soon, but then again why not?

Various so-called friends smilies and others have been banging on about the Autumn series.  They are apparently in amazing locations, well organised, and offer two different routes.  A short and a long.  There is a Dark and White race this Sunday, at Carsington Water.  Three people I know are doing it – not least my running buddy for this night; we can go together.  It’s just 9 miles or thereabouts, that’s the distance we’d just run and a parkrun.  I mean a parkrun!  You can always push out a parkrun, however rough you feel.  136 or whatever parkruns down the line I can vouch for that!  I’ve run parkrun come what may, in sickness and in health, in times of adversity as well as times of joy.  Granted,  it’s not always been pretty, but it’s always happened whatever pitiful physical or mental state I’ve been in at the start line.  Maybe it is mind over matter after all.  I need to build my distances, I reckon as long as I’m slow (and that’s a given) I can do that…

I know if I commit to running with others, be that parkrun or anything else, I will turn out.  I also know that if I am serious about building up to marathon distances, let alone even attempting to hold back the tide of middle-aged spread, I need to get back to into running regularly as well as more strategically.  Harsh, but true. So it was dear reader, realising that I hadn’t actually committed to volunteering at Graves junior this sunday, plus my post run high, which seemingly you get even if you havent delivered the most auspicious of runs, and the fact that I was still just in time for the deadline for registering in advance for Sunday’s run I decided  that was it.  I was in.

So you see, that’s the power of running in general and running with supportive friends and groups in particular.  Having done a run, I realised yes, I’m slower than I was, but it isn’t irretrievable. The post-run high and cheery running buddies made me remember what I was missing, and that was enough to shunt me into entering another running challenge.  Possibly back on track.  My running confidence might be fragile, but it is not irretrievable.

In conclusion, and at risk of stating the blindingly obvious, what I’ve re-learnt this week in relation to recovering my running mojo is this:

• Of course my running gets worse if I stop running for ages, that’s not being crap that’s not having trained, to overcome this, I should try some running, just crack on and give it a go
• If I share my running demons, other nice people will help me tackle them, because (who knew) I’m not the only person in the entire world ever to have such a complicated relationship with this running malarkey, so best just crack on and give it a go
• Over thinking for me is unhelpful, best just crack on and give it a go
• Weirdly, it is true, you never regret a run, ever.  Not even the horrible ones, so best just crack on and give it a go
• Really and truly, nobody remotely cares how well or how badly I run, as long as I am not a risk to others or myself, best just give it a go
• Signing up for events does help me focus the mind, making public those entries makes it harder to bottle it and pull out later on, so best just sign up and then give it a go
• It’s fun to be challenged, pushing for harder/ longer routes is worth a shot, if you don’t try you’ll never know, worst case scenario of DNF is a lot more appealing than DNS so see if you can surprise yourself,  just give it a go
• Committing to running with others works for me, conscientious if not keen, find a running buddy, agree a venue, time whatever and jointly just give it a go
• Running in the rain is a laugh, just give it a go.

So dear reader, shall we, you and me both.  Just give it a go?

That’s what I’m doing anyway, which is why I have against my better judgement entered the long route for the Autumn Dark and White series at Carsington water this weekend.  I’m not sure it’s the best of my ideas, especially now I realise it isn’t ‘around 9 miles’ but more like 10.5 – but you know what, fear of missing out is way worse.  It’ll be fine, or not, but it will be an adventure. I’m just going to give it a go.  And if it rains, the adventure will be all the greater.

Bring it on.

I will admit I do really hope that ‘The Dark and The White‘ isn’t in fact the name of a forthcoming low-budget snuff horror film location call, because it does sound like it might be.  Oh crap.  Nothing ventured nothing gained anyone?

anyone?  😦

UPDATE: Did it, guess what it was fine and dandy.  You can read about my Dark and White Autumn Series 1 Carsington Water trail running adventure here. But I wouldn’t click on it if I were you. It’ll take ages to wade through.  It’ll make you late for your run.

Running, not singing in the rain. Back to base at Sheffield Hallam parkrun. Definitely autumn now…

Digested read:  made it out to parkrun, not my most enthusiastic running outing, but I like to think I showed willing.  Then post parkrun breakfast and running endorphins did their thing and now who knows what running horrors I may have unwittingly signed up  to for 2018?

I’ve been a bit of a lard-arse since the 12.12 if truth be told.  Tourism at Bushy parkrun last week was my first run in weeks, and then last weekend it was back to my home patch at Sheffield Hallam parkrun.  I was present more in body than in mind, some might have applied the word ‘begrudgingly’ to my demeanour and I’d have to concede they would have done so fairly, but in my defence it was a wet one, and being physically present is at least a start.  I’m still lapping my other self in a parallel (possibly more comfy cosy) universe, who rolled over when the alarm went off and stayed in bed.  They also got to listen to Saturday Live, can’t remember when I last got to do that…  What might have been eh, sigh.

By way of illustration, Here is the parkrun assembly of 9th September (thanks George Carman). As a fun rainy day activity, why not have a sit down and squint at the photo and see how many gritted teeth you can count and how many waterproofs there are in evidence.  The results are an indication of how much fun was expected to unfold. Clue, the higher those numbers, the lower the fun quotient.  You can disregard the people in shorts, there’s always a few, and they are statistical outliers which might compromise your findings.  It is a great testament to the cult lure of parkrun that I’ll even turn out for it in the rain.  How did that happen?

I would have happily run the whole thing in my pink coat were it not that I live in mortal fear of being seen by my cheetah buddy who (rightly) always wrestles me out of what she considers to be excess clothing if I appear to be sporting too many layers pre-run.  Heaven help me should she catche me waivering at the start in my duffel coat.  Honestly, the fantasies I’ve had about being allowed to run in a parka in our inclement weather – and I don’t even own one, but it’s just too high risk… She wasn’t even there today, but her eyes are everywhere, she’d find out, it’s not worth it.  Others had great running gear options,  I could only look on in envy and admiration, loving this powder blue offering, wonder if I could smuggle that through my next kit inspection?

As you can tell, I wasn’t feeling the lurve in advance to be honest, but I did stomp down and as always je ne regrette rien.  The first truism is that running with others does really help to motivate you. I most definitely wouldn’t spontaneously have heave hoed out of bed and gone for a run in the pouring rain on a Saturday morning if it was just down to me.  Knowing that others will have turned out too, and they might be a breakfast buddy or at least some good anecdotes around to be harvested is a powerful incentive to get down to Endcliffe park. It’s only about an hour out in the rain tops.  That’s probably not going to hurt.  Running in the rain can even be fun if you surrender to it, well, so goes the theory.  Personally I think it depends.  If you are interested, I do have extensive (unsubstantiated) theories on this topic, but one criteria is I don’t mind at all getting wet once I’m running, it can be exciting and invigorating – but I really hate starting out in a downpour.  It feels wrong. Puddle splashing, that’s fun, but best out on the moors as that’s also what fell shoes were made for, puddle splashing on tarmac, not so much.  I probably should draw up a chart someday if there’s enough interest.  Lucy’s acceptability of inclement weather in which to run scale. That trips of the tongue nicely does it not?  I wonder if I could get some made up in time for the Christmas market.  The gift for the runner who has everything apart from friends able to choose winterval presents with care.  It could be a goer.  There must be loads of people like that.

Back to parkrun.  It was so inspiring.  In general it always it, but on this day there was extra cause for amazement at the tenacity of others.   There were the cardiac athletes out in force to mark a fellow parkrunners 250th milestone, who discovered Sheffield Hallam parkrun post a heart-attack six years ago. Two hundred and fiftieth parkrun people, that’s pretty good!  Also, a runner who always has a smile, which is more than I do when I’m running.  Go cardiac runners!  The outfits are pretty cool too, maybe not ones you’d proactively want to qualify for, but you get my drift.

Then there were the hi-viz heroes having a lovely time (not) standing around in the pouring rain, sheltering hopelessly behind the rubbish bins as they waited for runners to do their stuff.  If it is true that running in the rain just makes you even more hard-core in your endeavours, it’s truer in spade loads for volunteers.  I love them all.  Congratulations to our special centenarian volunteer today.  Yay.  That’s quite some service to parkrun over the years.  Volunteering is (mostly) fun, even if granted on this occassion the body language of some in the photo screams more ‘community service conscript’  than ‘enthusiastic parkrun marshal’ but that is why they need our approval and adulation more than ever.  Don’t forget to thank them as you speed by.  A wave will do if you are too breathless to speak.  Thank you for turning out hi-viz heroes. You are stars!

By the way, there was a bit of a shortage of hi-viz heroes today, if you haven’t volunteered before have a go – email or get in touch with the run team via facebook maybe.  They will love you for it, you will get adulation from runners and a lot of laughs on the day too.  Go on you know you want to…

There was the joy on the faces of the other runners, though possibly a bit less of the euphoria of running expressed on my own grumpy visage.  I wasn’t going to put this shot up as I do have some sharing limits – although granted the boundaries of these may not always be clear –  and then I thought, since it does indeed accurately reflect exactly how much fun I was having at the time, and exactly how much effort I was willing to put in to get around too, maybe it will help motivate me bizarrely. I mean I still did it. With very bad grace apparently, but I did it nevertheless!  It shows parkrun is inclusive.  The camera never lies, unfortunately.  I am barely moving, no wonder it felt like a slow one…

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The thing is, although I didn’t enjoy that parkrun at all at the time, my body protested the whole way round.   As with childbirth I imagine, once it’s all over, you completely forget the indignity and pain of the whole thing. I was perked up immensely by the presence of parkrunners proffering cake and carbs in various forms by way of milestone celebrations as soon as I was spat out the finish funnel.

That, and hearing about the stories and adventures of others including the VI runner also on a 50th milestone run in the rain,  and I couldn’t help but just feel privileged to be part of this extraordinary collective enterprise that is parkrun.  I do declare, it is hard to remember a time pre-parkrun these days, in all seriousness I think it has a cultural significance that is hard to explain or quantify.  My entire social circle seems to rotate around parkrun, and that’s my way in to new places too, no weekend away would be complete without clocking up a new or nearest parkrun venue.  Who’d have thought it?   As if to reinforce the point pre this run I met a woman in the loo (outside the cubicle, we weren’t sharing) who was checking out the local parkrun pre attending a university open day with one of her offspring.  Quite right too.  I’ve noticed a local estate agent (ELR) has taken to describing houses in terms of their parkrun proximity to Endcliffe park in the following terms:

Nethergreen offers a diverse lifestyle: weekends and evenings can be spent in any number of restaurants, wine bars and pubs or perhaps reading a book in the excellent local café is preferred … Perhaps instead a stroll through the picturesque Bingham Park which acts as the gateway to Porter Clough and the stunning surrounding countryside is more your thing, or for the more fitness minded individuals even one of the various exercise classes on offer in Endcliffe Park including the popular Saturday morning park run may fit the bill.

Mind you, can’t help but notice this particular estate agent didn’t get the memo about how to write parkrun properly #aowalc – All one word, all lower case. It’s parkrun. Not Parkrun, ParkRun, Park Run as the parkrun tourist jargon buster makes explicit.  I would tell them, but I’m too chuffed about being labelled as a ‘fitness-minded individual’ to want to rock that particular boat.  Little must P S-H have anticipated how his project would grow to become an influencing factor for potential house buyers but hey, those estate agents have a point. Realistically, how far away from your nearest parkrun fix would be acceptable to you if you were seeking to relocate?  Exactly.  I rest my case.

Then, also at the end, I found despite my initial fears, there were actually potential post-parkrun breakfast buddies on hand. One thing led to another.  We were soon ensconced in a cafe, sharing nostalgic running anecdotes, romanticising training runs out on the hills, bashing through heather and breathing in the views.  The misery of a wet and cold parkrun long forgotten. Worse yet, we had bigger collective running memories to distort.

Wasn’t Dig Deep 12.12 fun?  Wasn’t the training awesome?  Wouldn’t it be great to do it all again?  How amazing if we did the ultra?  Imagine that!  Do you think we could do an ultra?  Maybe we could if we trained. Shall we train? We could just recce it – use it as a way to explore the peaks?  Well if we recce the route, we might as well run it? It’s only an intro ultra, just a teensy bit more than a marathon and loads of first timers do that! If we don’t try, we’ll never know. …  So it went on. Post running euhporia you see. They call it that, but I am starting to wonder if it’s just a form of temporary psychosis brought about by post-running oxygen deficiency, like people get at altitude.  We should just be grateful hypothermia didn’t set in too, or we’d have started taking our clothes off. We could have found ourselves block entering the naked running international series, and the photos from that would be really bad!  Though on the plus side, such an approach would surely put an end to chafing injuries…  I don’t know where they pin their numbers though.

In any event, the upshot is that I have a terrible feeling I may have inadvertantly entered some sort of impossible-to-extract-myself-from pact to aim for entering the intro ultra in the Peaks next year.   Eek.  I mean I’d love to have a crack at it, but really, is it wise?  It’s far enough away that I can choose to deny it for a while at least, but sooner or later I’m going to have to buckle down, and set out some sort of training plan, otherwise there is zero chance of making it so.  Wouldn’t want to disappoint.  Gotta have a plan, or it’ll never happen.  I’d like to have done it, but that post-run euphoria will only come about if I train and enter.  Scary stuff.  After some toing and froing, I think I’m more in that not. My running buddy (12.12 graduate from this year too) and I are also scheming to drag other into the frame too. The more the merrier.  Sometimes just the act of committing is enough to start a veritable tide of ‘what the hellers’ and very welcome they are too.  We can indeed ‘make it so’ or die trying.

The thing is, everything running-related I’ve ever done has seemed impossible to me until I’ve done it. Of course on the one hand it’s ludicrous to even think of such a challenge when I could barely get around 3 miles on a wet saturday morning,  on the other. Well, you won’t know if you don’t try.  The 12.12 was impossible the day before as well as the day after too to be fair, but it still happened.  Apparently, and amazingly.   However, it wont happen unless I get off my arse and put in some miles and some training.  Curses.  It’s hard this running malarkey.  But worth it in the end.  Meantime, if I’m going to get the training in, I’ve got to learn to embrace running in the rain.

Not sure I’ll be able to multi-task and sing as well as run in the rain. I can’t talk and run, let alone sing!  Probably a blessing for everyone around me.

So how about you?  Are you going to keep on embracing parkrun and set a Spring goal too.  Oh go on.  The more the merrier, you wouldn’t want to miss out would you? That really is a terrible thing, way worse than having to make yourself go for a training run when it’s cold and dark and wet.  Truly.  🙂  If you don’t fancy a running goal, how about a volunteering one.  2018 could bring new opportunities to us all.

Aah go on.. channel you inner Mrs Doyle, you know you want to!

For all my parkrun related posts see here – scroll down for older entries.

For Sheffield Hallam parkrun seventh birthday post see here.

For all Sheffield Hallam parkrun posts see here scroll down for older entries.

Back to Bushy parkrun, stag do and all. Plus, I officially have the X factor. Good to know.

Digested read:  went to Bushy parkrun. It was great.  I got awarded the x-factor.  There were some amazing stags around.  Plus I got to see the famous Sandy Lane super-marshal in action for myself.  Result!  Also, debut outing for new trail shoes. Hurrah.

Every time I journey down south, I think maybe this time I’ll try a different venue for a bit of parkrun tourism, but the lure of Bushy parkrun is too strong to resist.  Rude not to, when I’m so near.  Plus they have the best marshals ever.  Then I think, I’ll go, but I won’t do a blog post, because what more is there to add to my previous sycophantic tributes? And then I go, and there is always more to add, because new mysteries reveal themselves if you but choose to look for them.  Also, it’s my blog, my rules.  Reading is not compulsory.  Continue at your own risk.

So this was back on the 2nd September 2017, a fine Autumnal day.  I got to the park early, and it really is breathtakingly beautiful.  It’s not a natural environment, but in context it is a sort of wilderness, and it is remarkable that even in this busy part of greater London you can find a bit of solitude and sanctuary.  At the risk of sounding more than usually pretentious it does have a dreamlike quality in the mist. The deer are lovely and plentiful, the parakeets squawk and swoop through the trees. Crows stomp about.  And what it with those mahoooooosive fish.  They are like creatures from a fantasy world.  However jaded you might feel about your running, a sojourn to the parkrun mecca that is Bushy parkrun is sure to restore your mojo.  Look at what you’ll encounter, probably:

and that’s just walking to the start line.

Generally speaking parkruns everywhere have the feel of a flash mob.  You know, arrive 30 minutes ahead and there’s seemingly no-one there but by 8.45 a stream of people start to swarm on the epicentre of the event, apparently from nowhere, as if drawn by an invisible force like in Close Encounters of the Third Kind but with less of a musical back-track in the form of the five-tone motif to accompany them as they converge at ground zero.  Bushy parkrun is slightly different because it’s just on such a vast scale.  It is like a full on logistical festival set up operation, with a mass of hi-viz heroes marching about with purpose in evidence as you arrive.  The construction of the finish tunnel alone is worthy of note.  I can get tangled trying to just mark out a few feet of funnel for Graves junior parkrun, here you can but look on in wonder as the volunteers labour to work their double funnel magic.  It is a thing of wonder.

Unfortunately, inevitably with an event that has grown this big, you will get the occasional alpha male, strutting their stuff and disrupting the proceedings, completley unwilling to acknowledge the needs of other park users, let alone defer to them. Whilst this might seem annoying, sometimes you just have to roll with it, and recognise the greater presence.  Be honest, you’d move your finish funnel to accommodate this guy too wouldn’t you?  You don’t need to have read the warning signs to appreciate this is not a beast to be messed with!

I’m used to seeing the deer in Bushy park, but they are still extraordinary every time.  They are habituated to people being around, so seemingly completely unconcerned by the comings and goings of parkrunners and other park users. However, you should not confuse their nonchalance with tameness. They are not to be messed with and require a respectful berth.  I can relate to that. Like marshals who prefer not to be hugged, just give them some personal space and there’ll be no awkwardness or near death experiences you have to untangle yourself from in the aftermarth of your Bushy park ramblings.  You have been warned.  And lest you think I jest, I once inadvertently got close to a young fawn hiding in bracken and had to back off whilst pursued by a herd of angry hinds.  It was way scarier than it sounds.  They are very protective of their young, and not averse to taking decisive collective action to remedy any perceived wrongs.  Bambi is not a documentary I’m telling you, and you don’t want to know about the tooth fairy either….

In any event, or more specifically at this one, the team had to improvise a new funnel route to avoid the deer which was chomping acorns and not in a mood to be moved on. And to be frank, why should he?  parkrun may feel long-established but it’s a child conceived and given life in 2004, so barely a teenager. The deer on the other hand have been in Bushy park since around 1529, that gives them a tenure of nearly five hundred years – half a millenium – a bit of deference is only fair.  I’m not in favour of honouring all establishment creations by default incidentally, but this one, it’s no-brainer.  So, the hi-viz heroes here have to think on their feet and improvise under pressure like the most taxing of corporate team building activities you’ve ever imagined.  No really.  They are up to it though, they are awesome they can do anything.  Multi-taskers too, because they work their magic and smile too!

Whilst they were doing anything, I ambled about.  I had my precautionary pee, and watched people doing various warm up routines and marshals heading off to marshal points or mustering first timers for their briefing.  What a place for an absolute debut at parkrun eh?  You know they have a ticker tape and glitter gun at the end of the finish funnel every time right? It’s quite something to behold. All biodegradable so as not to damage the park obviously, but impressive all the same.

As 9.00 a.m. came round there was the Run Director’s briefing, they have a loud-haler to help with this and even speakers, which are held aloft by high-viz wearing disciples of parkrun.  At times, it does feel like I imagine an evangelical rally would.   I am a parkrun believer, but have to concede it may appear to have some cult like tendencies when viewed from the outside. The wide-eyed intensity of the converted parkrunner is evident wherever you look, everyone is seemingly unconditionally euphoric at just being here together. Me too.  There is periodic clapping and whooping as parkrun milestones are celebrated.  Unnerving to the uninitiated but joyful to those of us already enfolded by parkrun lurve.  You just want to share the joy. Everyone should do this!

There was still scope for some comedic element at the RD briefing though, which is always most pleasing.  Two incidents spring to mind on this occasion.  Firstly, the overheard conversation as we were mustering on the start line.  I paraphrase, but it was along the lines of ‘it’s not that I mind being overtaken by Mo Farah per se, it’s just that I was on my bike at the time!’  Made me laugh anyway.  I’ve never seen Mo in action here, but he does train regularly in Bushy park apparently, he’s probably running too fast for me to focus on him as he speeds by.  Then there was the phone call received by the RD on his ‘event phone’ – which is a bit like the bat phone only a mobile I suppose – mid briefing.  He paused his briefing to take the call, it was THAT important.  Turned out, some recalcitrant runner had apparently dropped his/her barcode en route to the start.  They had to do the walk of shame to collect it from the RD before we could start.  Still, a walk of shame is but a small price to pay to be reunited with your barcode.  No barcode, no result, no exceptions.  Even if it was recorded on strava later, without a barcode and time that parkrun didn’t happen. FACT.  It disappears into the abyss of ‘unknowns’ never to be restored.  I think that might also be where single socks end up.  The single socks that aren’t removed by RSPCA inspectors that is.  It did look a bit like a lizard to be fair, but I’d have been mortified as well…

So then, eventually, we were off.  I was towards the back. I haven’t done a lot of running lately, and I’d decided in advance this was going to be a leisurely yomp with photo stops.  As indeed it was. I snapped some marshals on the way, it’s quite freeing not to worry at all about speed and just consciously soak it all up.

There were also some participants of note.  Bushy parkrun seems to have quite a high quotient of Visually Impaired runners who take part with guides. Different techniques of communication seem to operate.  But it is poetry in motion as team work.  I wonder how long it takes to build those partnerships.

Other notable participants included the milestone runners.  One brave soul was galloping round in possession of a balloon. This is game on two counts in my opinion. Firstly, because running with a helium balloon is way harder than you think, and secondly, because non-parkrunners and new-parkrunners will wish you a happy birthday, which is fine if you are over fifty, but less so if you are decades under.  I know this, because I have seen traumatised parkrunners in Sheffield expressing disbelief that their post parkrun demeanour was so aging as to put twenty years on them when well-meaning passers-by have wished them ‘happy birthday’ assuming the balloon is for something as trivial as that rather than as massive as the point at which you claim your milestone tee.  Can’t lie though, I find that funny.  Nice balloon choice though.  Respect.

The high point for me though was coming round the corner to the Sandy Lane gate marshaling point.  Here was stationed parkrun super-marshal my mum!  Resplendent in hi-viz, with a neighbour buddy alongside.  It was really fun to see them both.   Also, to hear the little chorus of greetings for her as parkrunners sped by. ‘Morning Elisabeth‘s echoed around.  It was glorious 🙂 .

I lingered a while, making the rookie error of hugging a non-hugging bystander, but hey, you live and learn. It was an ambush hug anyway, all over before he even realised what was happening. We spoke later, I apologised.  It’s sorted.  Sorry though, but a bit of feedback, you need to work on your hostile body language to avoid future unsolicited tactile encounters, but I’ll wash off.  You will survive.  There’s even a song track on that theme I think – check out your old vinyls, you’ll know it when you see it.

Then onward again, and to the finish funnel.  Here though, I had a new first.  Oh. My. God.  I was only chosen of all the runners assembled on the day (and that was 1316 according to the run stats, with a further 59 volunteers) as the person present most in possession of the X-factor!  No really, they gave me a placard (well smallish sign) especially so everyone would know (as if it wasn’t immediately obvious!  Pah). It was like being given a big kiss – in a good way, not like creepy sexual assault.  It made me very happy indeed.

Pretty awesome eh?

I had to surrender it eventually though, all good things I suppose…

I also am now in possession of some of the secrets of the double funnel, but it’s sort of a rite of passage to discover these for yourself.  So I’m not saying.

I bimbled through the funnel, chit chatting to other finishers. It was lovely.  Then we were spat out the other end to a team of token women who again were doing sterling work to keep the queues moving.

Everything about this parkrun is on an epic scale – check out their token sorting system.  I’m sure they had a time and motion expert in to advise on that one.

There was a table laden with cakes and champagne to celebrate some special milestones – there were a couple doing their 250th for starters. There was a first timer nearby who asked me if they always have champagne at the end. I like to think they probably do.  Stands to reason with that many runners, there is always surely something worthy of a sparkling celebration coming round.  I’m surprised they haven’t sorted out a system to have the prosecco permanently on tap.  Bet there are event planners amongst the Bushy parkrunners who could sort that. Chocolate fountain too, and maybe a decent latter – though there is the cafe for that of course I suppose.

It felt like a mini-bereavement walking away from all that good will.  I lingered a bit at the finish, cheering in some coming in behind me, before wending my way back out of the park.

Even heading homeward, there were more sights to see, the returning marshals, purposefully marching as only marshals on a mission will.

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I also took great delight in watching what were in reality probably BMF (British Military Fitness) people being put through their paces, but who I like to think were fellow parkrunners doing a supervised finger search for a misplaced barcode.  That’s the parkrun spirit in evidence, looking out for each other, even when it is at back-breaking personal cost!  Looks like that guy in the middle might have found it actually.  Yay!  High five to him next time you see him out and about!

So just a pony left to remark upon, and some ducks. Gotta love a duck.  Spoiler alert, I don’t think that was an actual police horse.

And suddenly that was it.  parkrun done and dusted for another week. Oh, and I got to debut in my new trail shoes!  Maybe they are what clinched me getting the x-factor?  I’ll never know.  I do know though, that despite being Teddington born and bred, I must now have morphed into a proper Sheffielder.  ‘But why? How do you know?’ I hear you cry.  Well, because I subsequently was talking trail running shoes with a fellow runner from these southern parts, as you do, and they were talking about preferring to run off-road locally. And I said ‘but where can you do that?’ and they looked at me like I’d lost the plot or something (which in fairness I often have, albeit not on this particular occasion) and said ‘in Bushy park.’  With a slight incredulity in their intonation.  And the thing is, I realised I have at some point recalibrated my definition of off-road, as I have my definition of ‘hill’ since moving to Sheffield.  Off road to me now means bog and gritstone and heather bashing, not just absence of traffic.  Bushy park is beautiful beyond measure, but fairly firm under foot as a running circuit.  Trail perhaps, ‘proper’ off road, I’m not sure I’d categorise it that way myself.  Gorgeous though, and a worthy destination for a special parkrun pilgrimage.  There’s even a monthly Bushy junior parkrun now I think, so pick your weekend carefully and it could be a full on family affair where appropriate. First Sunday of every month at 10:00am according to their website.  That’s a break from the norm, but hey people, this is Bushy parkrun remember, they wrote the rule book, they can do as they please!

Here are my new shiny shoes.  I think I like them. They are nice and roomy for my wide and be-bunioned feet, with good grip. Not a massive amount of cushioning, which was noticeable on these hard compacted trails but no regrets.  Innov 8 parkclaws since you were asking.  And no, I didn’t take this photo by accident.  Honestly, what some non-runners will say eh!

So thanks again Bushy parkrun people for your fab hospitality.  It was a blast.  I have treasured memories to tide me over ’til next time.  Happy running in general and parkrunning in particular ’til then.  🙂

 Yay!

For all my parkrun blog posts see here – you’ll need to scroll down beyond this one to get to the others.

For all my Bushy parkrun blog posts see here – scroll through for the historic ones.  Enjoy, or not, reading is not compulsory.