I have been to more pack runs; we’re at a new venue this month, the Queens, at Cliviger (our one annual foray into Lancashire); I went up Ingleborough one day, on my way home from meeting someone in Kendal; I’ve had meetings with race organisers in my role as a FRA race liaison officer; and, in that role, I attended the Hebden Bridge Fell race.
That was a lovely evening and a well organised and much enjoyed race; I’m sorry now that I did not run it (though that would have prevented me observing the finish funnel). Not only was it a good race; there were no vet 70s, so I would have been in line for a prize.
So I thought at Otley, as I was the only vet 70 in the list of pre entries. But it was not to be; my club mate and nemesis turned up on the night, and, as always, was well ahead of me.
I see Thomas Chippendale was born at Otley. The town has an impressive clock.
It also has a food bank.
The first couple of miles are on a pavement beside a busy road; then you cross the Wharfe and get onto quieter roads and after a while the climbing starts and fairly quickly I slow to a walk. (I originally typed – slow to a halt. Pretty close). Not good. But it was hot, and I was slow. I found it hard. Eventually I was 311th out of 367.
Sometimes I was walking as fast as others were running; once I even overtook a runner in this manner. Don’t know what it does to his psychology – but it cheers me up.
I didn’t actually pass all that many competitors; and a lot of those whom I did pass then got past me in the last half mile. And I even found the final circuit of the cricket pitch hard, and I got overtaken there. Ah well. It’s a nice enough race, I’ve got some Club championship points in the bag, there was beer and cakes at the finish, and the Club’s next race is on the fells.
Actually that is true – but it’s in Wales, a monumental British Championship race, and I won’t be going.
The one after is a new race, here in Tod, which I will be doing and which I am looking forward to. Also a fell race. It starts and finishes at the Castle.