2 Castles 10k Run: Bring Me My BROWN Shorts

This 10k race fills up insanely quickly. It’s basically the London Marathon of rural Warwickshire. Loads of people want in and get really stroppy when they don’t and announce that they didn’t want to do it anyway and bang on about there being other 10ks ... 

And it IS a lovely race. It starts at Warwick Castle in Warwick and finishes at Kenilworth Castle … in Kenilworth. So no getting lost in this race. Basically you go to the named town, find the massive castle and run to the next massive castle.

It’s 99% lanes and it’s closed roads which is lovely but it’s in June and there is NO SHADE. It’s also a bit bumpy. It’s certainly not a PB course so if you get a personal best time here you’ve clearly been wearing your concrete trainers at the other events.

FLATLAY! (Although decided to wear my ASICS RoadHawk FF in the end instead of my ASICS Gel-DS)

For a very local race starting at 0900, I had to leave the house at 0645. Which just seems wrong. There is no way I can get to the proper coffee saturation point unless I get up at 0300. And I’m not doing that for a 10k. Unless it’s a REALLY interesting one and there’s lava and a REALLY good goody bag at the end. I just have to accept that I’m going to be grumpy and half-awake until about 3k into the run.

Someone who is also a nightmare unless caffeinated is my training buddy and lift to the start, Rich, who is a miserable bastard without coffee. How his wife has not beaten him to death in the morning I do not know. Unless she refuses to speak to him unless he's had at least two cups of coffee. Luckily he’d had coffee this morning.

It was a 20 minute walk to where the race starts. The organisers are a bit mean and don’t allow into the castle the quick way but make you walk about around the perimeter of the grounds before you can get in. Luckily I know the area so we parked up at St Nicks and then walked up to the castle. At which point, we promptly got lost. I don’t know how I got lost when I could see the castle the whole time but it got to a point when I was debating with Rich whether it was feasible to climb over walls to get to the race start and whether it counted as a warmup or not. Clearly I should have been doing an obstacle run rather than a road 10k and Rich should have been in some sort of debating club as I lost the argument and the chance to climb a wall and was made sulkily to walk back the right way and circle around the castle to get to the start. At least we were having a really good warm up with all this walking.

Also if I shout “I know the way!” I probably don’t and should be ignored.

As we walked in we were confronted by arrows to 2 different starts: WCAA league and runners. No idea what WCAA was (apart from the noise an attacking parrot makes) so went in the ‘Runners’ arrow direction. 

On the way, we spotted a fellow Rugby Tri club member, James who appeared to have coordinated kit beforehand with Rich. They were wearing a matching set but I wasn’t sure which one was Tweedledee and which was Tweedledum though and didn’t like to ask.

Last time I’d run this event, loos had been a nightmare. I’d queued for 45 minutes and missed everyone getting into the start pens and was so far back from the start line I could practically see the start of next years event. THIS year, loo queues weren’t too bad at all which was lucky as I had a horrific stomach upset and DID NOT want to be THAT runner. I have enough weird nicknames without ALSO being known as Shitty McShit Pants

After my visit to the plastic cubes of poo, we had a wander around the sections of the castle which were open. An official let us down to WCAA area (completely ‘attacking-parrot-free’) and as I spotted the local running club shirts and my own club vests – Northbrook, I realised that I was indeed a WCAA runner whatever that was. Oh well. I had had a 50% chance of getting it right. 

Had a natter with the Northbrookers and had a group photo taken with the most dramatic background ever. It looked as though we were waiting for the Quidditch to start.

Pic taken on my phone byAngela Hands

We were called to line up at the start and as usual I had been distracted by chatting and lined up miles back from the start line. Oh well … it didn’t matter and it wasn’t as if I was going for a time this year. Quite frankly, the way my stomach had been I would be lucky to avoid getting a new nickname. I lined up with the other runners and wished I’d worn my brown shorts.

My Garmin lost the GPS signal as the start pens are in a winding tiny lane with high walls fringed with rhododendrons and covered over with tree branches. There was no view of the sky and it was like trying to get a signal in a well. 

I had decided that I wasn’t going to check the watch for pace, I was simply going to run at ‘slightly uncomfortable pace’ whatever that was. I decided to enjoy the route and see how many Northbrook shirts I could find. The starburst tops are easy to spot and there were lots of us. Ok. Northbrook shirts. This could be today’s game to get me through the miles. I’d started a long way back from the start which helped as there should be lots of people to find in front of me. 

The sun was out and it was pretty warm. It was shaping up to be a lovely June day and with no shade, I was relieved that the race had started at 0900 rather than any later when it would be decidedly toasty.

The first 3km absolutely flew past. I was running at a nice pace and could keep this up for a while ... which probably meant I was running too slowly. But I was having a nice time and passing more runners than were passing me. Granted … some of them were in fancy dress and appeared to be walking but I was definitely counting them. Ah … an old man in a deckchair in his garden cheering the runners on. Yep. I was counting him too.

I didn’t realise I’d got so used to long distances as I’d barely warmed up by the time I got to 7km and then there were only 3km to go … I was still enjoying it at the point but I’d started remembering why I ran longer distances. There were snacks, chats and walking up hills … ah hills. I’d forgotten The Hill. This hill which is clearly a minor blip on any day other than race day but on today it was quite mountainous, especially when going at a pace usually reserved for catching disappearing ice cream trucks and oh-shit-the-cat’s-got-out. 

But I made it. And I was still smiling. And by the time I got to the top, I’d reached the houses. And where the houses ended, the castle began. So I was practically finished,

Wasn’t I?

Bloody hell. I forgot they made us run through the car park, over the drawbridge and through the castle grounds.

I can SEE the castle, can’t I stop now? 

No apparently not. And we’re going to make you run uphill for the last bit too,

OH GOODY. <uses ALL THE SARCASM in the world>

And over the finish line and done.

And I didn’t even need to wear my brown shorts.

TLDR; didn’t throw up, didn’t cry on the hills, didn’t shit self and didn’t need a swim and bike first! Hooray!

Coventry Way 40: Sulks & Rabbits High on Pick'n'Mix

A day of decisions … it was forecast to be very hot so I had to be sensible with the weight of my race vest.

So I decided to pack as light as possible, forgoing even the hand sanitiser (ergo absolutely no al fresco poos) but decided to be safe with food. So packed my my body weight in snacks. Normal Sarah decision making model right there.

THIS is why I'm not allowed to take the run photos ...

I had a couple of speedy friends racing the event so thought I’d run with them for as long as possible before I was dropped. The conversation would make the miles go past quicker and they could chat and I could listen while I was trying to breathe and not die at the pace they were making me go. I hadn't seen Richie or Mike for ages and they'd both had some exciting adventures recently on the Bob Graham Round and I wanted to hear all about it.

We met at the pub early at 8:30am so we could go off with the relay teams and use them as pacers. (This is one of the beauties of this race – it starts AND ends at the pub so somewhere to park up and a pint at the end while cheering everyone else in). We considered starting earlier but although we wouldn't get the hot sunshine we might also miss the opening times for some of the later checkpoints and I wasn’t going to miss my chance at scoffing chewy crisps and melted winegums. Thank you VERY MUCH. That's about 80% of the reason I race ultras right there.

We had a chilled out start while getting our kit and shoes on and we stood around and admired Mike’s solar powered shower, compared race packs and discussed the benefits of elastic lacing. (Nice and bouncy but frays in case you were wondering) … and then realised the relay teams were nowhere to be seen. They’d already left while we’d been discussing snacks.

The Coventry Way has staggered start times which means you can start at any time between 5:30am and 10am which is good for chronic procrastinators like me, but bad if you're planning on catching other teams or trying to race a buddy. It means that when you see other runners, you never know when they started their race so it can turn into a bit of a mind game. “Are they in front of me? Behind me? In a relay? Are they planning on trampling me then looting my pack for snacks?”

We decided that we'd admired the solar shower enough and got a move on to register quickly inside the Queen's Head and at 8:31am we were pegging it down the pub steps in an attempt to catch sight of the relay runners.

Me, Richie, Mike

The race starts with a steep set of steps and then up a sharp grassy field. You get no time to warm up before you're pelting uphill with your heart hammering, feeling as though your lungs are about to come up your throat before you come into the churchyard of St Laurence in Meriden. One of the benefits of this event though is that it's mainly through fields and trails which means there are multiple kissing gates, stiles and other things to climb through / over and around. While this might not initially sound like a benefit, it IS because it means you get to have a sneaky breather every couple of minutes. If you can't visualise it, imagine a running track, covered in grass and with hurdles every 100 metres … but instead of jumping the hurdles you have to climb laboriously over them, while carrying your bodyweight in pick'n'mix, 2 litres of water and assorted other bits and pieces which seemed absolutely crucial the night before when you packed your race vest.

On the plus side, the more snacks you eat, the less weight you have to carry.

I was enjoying running with Richie and Mike who were brilliant, entertaining company. Mike had recently completed the Bob Graham round in a bit over 23 hours and Richie had been Snack Monitor and pacer for sections. It sounded like an amazing adventure – if absolutely insane – and the miles flew past in a whirl of conversation about lonely peaks and howling winds. Very strange in the hot April day.

We caught up the Kenilworth relay ladies and had a brief chatter – they were running really strongly and I saw my friend Cath from Northbrook who was running the Coventry Way as training for the Lakeland 50 later in the year. I love this about this event – every mile brings more familiar faces. It's definitely a bonus to have such a great run so local to home.

Richie had been suffering with an injury and while he was speediest short distance runner between us, he wasn't enjoying the run or the faster paced miles along the Kenilworth Greenway. He dropped back at CP1 to grab a refill of his water and then caught us up a bit further along the road but dropped back again. I was a bit concerned about leaving him but Mike reassured me that he'd discussed this with Richie before the event and they'd agreed to run together as long as Richie wasn't too sore. Better to slow down than aggravate an injury. Slow down and eat all the snacks today, go on to run another day. Or something.

Mike was going for the Kenilworth Runners Coventry Way record which was 6:40 so we were aiming to stay below 10min/miles which would bring us in just below it. This sounds a very easy pace, but the terrain is deceptively tough and with over 80 stiles and kissing gates, there was the additional time spent climbing these, checking our numbers into the volunteers and refilling our water bladders which would eat into our margin of time. We decided to run between 8-9 min/miles to try and give us some leeway for when the heat rose.

There was a diversion after the greenway so rather than our usual climb up the rather awful Knowle Hill at Kenilworth, we had to follow the main road while leaping into the hedge to avoid the traffic every now and then. This would miss out the golf course as there was a tournament on and it was felt a bunch of scruffy runners might lower the tone and get in the way of the balls.

The temperatures were really rising now and it was already the hottest day of 2017. People were shedding layers and looking like very garish lycra clad mummies, with race kit wrapped around their waists and shoulders. I was feeling very smug about remembering the sun cream despite it only being April. Mind, it was the ONLY thing I was being smug about. I'd dropped my pick'n'mix somewhere and had visions of hyperactive bunnies bouncing around deliriously happy in a sugar haze. I was overheating and grumpy.

I saw my husband about mile 13. He was looking even grumpier than me. Although it was probably only his usual running face. He isn't really THAT keen on running. I probably shouldn't have entered him into a 40 mile race, really. He DEFINITELY wasn’t looking happy. I passed him and turned around to ask if he was ok. He said “NO!” and then told me to go on. In a REALLY cross voice and waved the route map at me. I did what I was told for once.

A lot of the fields were ploughed but it wasn't nice soft earth, it was lumpy, high ridges which were solid dirt and hard as tarmac and which would turn your ankle if you didn't pay enough attention. I picked my way across, conscious that Mike was really moving on and I'd have to keep the pace up or I'd be running on my own. I couldn't ask him to slow down for me and jeopardise his shot at the club record.

We came up to Ryton-on-Dunsmore which gave us a bit of road to run on. I liked this bit – it reminded me of my 35th birthday which I'd decided to celebrate by running 35 miles on the CoventryWay but it was 40 miles and it was December and cold. But hell. We did it. And because it was December we got mulled wine when we finally made it back to the pub.

We crossed the road and ran a few miles down the A45 with cars and lorries zipping past, marvelling at these ragtag runners, sweating and burning in the sunshine. Over the hill and towards Brinklow and the Roman Fort. I love this bit. Yes it's uphill and I MAY have used the ultra rules and walked this bit. Y'know … if a marble rolls down it, then I'M not running up it. Any excuse for a walk and a snack! Spotted Lee in her red and white Massey top and had a quick chat then over the fort and back down towards Brinklow and CP4 …

...which had completely disappeared.

OK. Which sod has stolen the checkpoint? We spent a bit of time wandering around aimlessly before giving in and asking a dog walker for directions. The CP had been moved to a hut tucked away in a far corner of the field (bonus mileage apparently) so got ourselves moving towards it and through the door. I needed to fill up my water bladder so Mike grabbed some snacks and went and I agreed to chase him down. One of my run club buddies, Jo was in front of me for the queue for the cola. Cheeky cow pinched the last bit of cola. She totally owes me a drink next time I see her at the pub.

Sprinted out of the CP and caught Mike up on the trail out towards Nettle Hill Bridge. I was having a tough time now and actively looking forward to the stiles as it gave me a chance to slow up a bit and take a bit of a breather while I waited to climb it. What awful irony. Me who loves a run but hates any kind of cross training …

I lost Mike around mile 27 on the canal section. My least favourite bit. Several miles of unshaded, bumpy, muddy path which all looked EXACTLY THE SAME. I stopped to tie a shoelace and Mike was going on ahead. I was going to call to ask him to wait … but couldn't. It had always been the agreement that the club record was the priority.

So now here I was. On the equivalent of an outdoor treadmill. Not even a canal boat to break up the monotony. Got a proper grump on … and started walking. Then started sulking. I decided I was too hot, too grumpy, I'd lost my pick'n'mix so I was going to drop out at the next checkpoint. Stupid running. Stupid stiles. Stupid rabbits eating my pick'n'mix sweets.

I got to the next checkpoint. Which was in a field. In the middle of nowhere. With no cider OR snacks.

Screw dropping out here. I'd drop out at the NEXT checkpoint.

I started running. I wanted to be able to drop out as soon as possible after all. Then ground to another sulky halt at a massive lumpy ploughed field. I'd swear the ridges were as high as my knees. Well I am a bit short. I passed the time by grumbling with another runner who was also enjoying the field as much as I was. Apparently the farmer had ploughed it 2 weeks before the event. ON PURPOSE. Stupid farmers. Stupid fields. Stupid running.

I remembered the next bit so had a bit of a trot. Then the next bit. Oh ok. Well THIS bit isn't too bad. And there's a duck. I like ducks.

Me and Roy from Rugby Tri

I decided to carry on for a bit. There was a checkpoint a bit further on and it would be a shame to miss out on the chewy crisps and curling sandwiches. Saw a couple of runners who were undecided about the route so gave them directions and decided to run with them for a bit. Had a chat for a while completely not knowing that I was running with Roy who I'd been talking to on Facebook about the event – a fellow Rugby Tri member. He was running with Eddie who he'd met up with during the event and they'd teamed up as they were both running about the same pace. Ran into CP5 with Eddie and Roy and saw Amy – a really good ultrarunner who has done more 100 milers than I've run parkruns. She always looks so cheerful and is one of the most laid back people I know. She probably wouldn't even fight me for the sweets at a checkpoint.

Me and Amy at CP

We ran on out of CP5, through the roads of Bedworth and on towards Stream Junction. More miles in the fields now and I was extremely careful to avoid the stump at mile 33 which I seem to kick EVERY DAMN TIME I run this route. Very pleased to say I managed to knock THAT tradition on the head this year. Who knows, I may come through this season with toenails intact. Nah … it wouldn't be marathon training unless I had at least one toenail banging around in my sock at the end of a long run.

We saw Anne-Marie in this section – she is one of the smiliest people I know – even at mile 35 of a long run. We stopped for a quick photo and then ran on to find more trails.

Me and Anne-Marie

Roy and I left Eddie a few miles before CP6. He was having a really tough time, having trained in the damp and cold of English springtime and was struggling with a knee injury. He told us to go on and we promised we would wait at the end and spring him a pint of cold beer. Roy and I ran on, up a PLOUGHED FIELD. It seems that my 2nd wind comes around mile 35 of an ultra. There wasn't even any swearing about farmers this time.

Roy was doing amazingly well. This was his first ultra and even at mile 35, he was running and chatting away quite happily. I wondered whether he was on some sort of drugs. And if so why he wasn't sharing them.

Saw Amy again and we kept leap frogging in the race. Nice to see a friendly face. Not so nice when she kept overtaking me. I'd have sulked but she'd just too nice. Still wasn't going to share any of my sweeties with her though.

Roy and I ran through Corley Moor, soaring on our 'Almost-The-End-Of-A-Long-Run' enthusiasm and and checked in at the last checkpoint by the pub. THE PUB. Where families were sitting around in the sunshine and drinking beer. COLD COLD BEER.

Dammit running. I could be sitting there enjoying cold beer if it wasn't for you. Stupid running.

The last mile of the run is all downhill and it's such bliss to be on road. And going downhill. Well … it is for the first half a mile. After that your legs remind you that they've been carrying you for quite some time and they'd quite like a nice rest now if it's all the same with you. And then you remember that the run is over distance and it's over 40 miles and you STILL can't see the pub at the end.

And then the Queen's Head comes into view. And the food tent.

And then it's all over.

One of the best things about this race as Mike reminded me, is that it starts and ends at the pub so no matter how hellish your day is, you know you can finish it with a pint in a chair.

In fact it was a pretty decent day. I got a suntan, a pint, a couple of new friends and was 1st lady and 5th overall and got new Northbrook ladies Cov Way record :)

Me and Jo. Still friends even if she got the last of the cola ...

Plus I was TOTALLY counting this 40 mile race as 2 x 20 mile runs for London Marathon in 2 weeks.

TOTALLY counts, right?

Me and Eddie. Got my pint!

Sad to say that Mike missed his club record by ONE minute. But next year my money's on him smashing it.

More info about the event: Coventry Way
Strava link: Strava 

Northbrook Awards Night: There was BLING

I went along to an awards night at my club. It was brilliant. We got fed with curry, got to laugh at lots of pics of club members doing ‘Race Faces’ on the big projector and got to see what everyone looked like out of lycra. Apart from one or two enthusiastic club members who took the theme of ‘N’ rather too seriously ... 

I went as a nacho by the way. I made a hat. I don’t have a pic, sorry. 

But the highlight of my night, apart from the opportunity to wear a hat with cheesy dip on it was this:

Am practising my Gollum "My precioussss" face ...

I was a bit excited as you can tell from the photo. I may not have let go of it yet. They may have to prise it from my hands to give it to the next winner next year. It’s alllll mine. My preciousssss.

I’m expecting a call any minute to say they’ve made a mistake and would like it back to give to the proper person. 

I’ve duct taped it to my body. Just in case. 

Cross Country Hatred: Earthworms, Mountains & AWESOME Spectating

Rain is pelting down and our feet are sinking into the already sodden grass. Huddled in the Club tent, we try to stop the worms getting into our bags. Actual wriggly worms. And as we’re all wearing spiked running shoes, it’s going to be worm-kebab time when we start running on the mushy grass. Poor Jim. 

Northbrook post-race legs. Spoiler: We all survived.

However it’s not all earthworm-death and torrential rain, I get some good news too. 

The race is 4 miles long, not the 5 miles I’d thought. So just once around the fields, a bit of a trot up a hill and then a cup of coffee. It’s sounding pretty good. Apart from the rain. And the worms. And the having-to-run.  

There had better be cake afterwards. 

Waiting until the last minute due to the downpour, I miss my warm-up. I’ll be fine. I’m sure I’ll be fine. It has to be better to warm up on the run, than be out in that freezing rain? In fact, running in that would be more likely to be a ‘cool down’ rather than a ‘warm up, right’? Huddling in a nice warm tent is much more sensible, I tell myself. I ignore the little voice that tells me ‘You realise you’re talking crap, right?’

It’s time.

The girls all pour out of the tiny Northbrook gazebo like clowns out of a tiny car. The men’s race is half an hour later so they’re staying in the warm and dry. I don’t blame them. I’d stay in the tent too. If someone removed the worms for me that is.  

It’s nice though at the start. Despite the rain. There is a sea of green and gold sunburst vests. The feeling of camaraderie makes me forget, just for a moment, that very soon I’ll be running around a field, covered in mud and feeling like hell. 

The girls at the front in their tiny pants and crop tops, bend forward for a good start, the ones in the middle including me, try to coordinate our starts so we don’t get mown down by the over-enthusiastic girls behind us. The girls at the back put on their best ‘mowing down the girls in front’ faces. We all look serious and dedicated and as though our very lives depend on getting a good start.

Then the gun goes off and the entire crowd of ladies do a very girly “Oooh!”. It would have been highly amusing if I wasn’t running for my life, trying to avoid being trampled into the mud by the girls behind me wearing spiked shoes. 

The whole field rushes past me. Like the WHOLE field. Did I miss some sort of energy drink given out at the start? Maybe there’s something really special at the end? Maybe they’re giving out free trainers to the first 50 finishers or something. Or maybe it’s just the thought of finishing quickly and being able to stop running through ankle deep mud. 

I try to run a bit faster but my legs aren’t having any of it.

Picture by the lovely Sarah McNaney

I try to think of excuses. My legs are tired from bike ride yesterday. My spikes aren’t spiky enough. Maybe I’m ill. (Tries a fake cough). Maybe they’re all going too fast and then I can overtake them all at the end. I didn’t warm up because it’s raining. Also I’m not wearing clothes that make me look as though I’ve forgotten my PE kit and am being made to run in my pants and vest. Everyone knows that crop top and pants are the best thing to race cross country in ...  

Ah crap. I’m just going to have to get on with it. *Puff, pant.* This SUCKS.

How can I enjoy trail running, but not cross country? Maybe it’s the spikes. I must be allergic to spiky shoes. That’s it. That must be what’s slowing me down so much as well. Stupid spikes. 

This course is fairly flat, although I am slightly suspicious of the fact that we are running towards Beacon Hill. Beacon Hill which has its own name and is so stupidly steep we have run hill repeats up it. And it has a freaking massive beacon up the top. I can remember Lord of the Rings. You remember that MASSIVE mountain the hobbits had to run up to light the beacon? It was EXACTLY like that. But without the hobbits. 

But I overtook a few people going up the hill. Ha ha! I thought. My hill reps here in the past have helped! I am like Queen of the Hill! I bounded up the hill, wearing my imaginary crown shooting scornful looks at everyone else. I am WINNING at running up hills! 

But the girls I was overtaking? They knew something I didn’t know. They knew we had to go up Beacon Hill TWICE. 

The second time? I wasn’t overtaking anyone. Queen of the Hill? More like Over the Hill. I plodded up, doing what can only be calling ‘running’ by the generous minded. 

I dragged myself around the field, mud up my legs, earthworm murder under my shoes and despair in my heart. Why are the miles taking so long to go? I check my Garmin ... how can I ONLY have gone that far? I’ve got MILES to go before I finish. 

Run ... Run ... Run ... 

I check my Garmin again. 0.06miles have gone past since I last checked it. Oh this is rubbish. At this rate I’ll be here ALL day. AND there isn’t even a medal at the end. There had better be cake or I’m going to be REALLY grumpy. GrumpIER. 

Then the ground disappears.

There’s a ditch. A massive ditch. Filled with mud. The taller women in front are jumping it. Some are landing in it. This doesn’t bode well for a vertically-challenged girl like me. I summon up my best gazelle-like leap and throw my arms out at the same time, pushing the girl over next to me. 

Whoops.

I land on the other side of the ditch and a quick glance shows me, that luckily my accidental push-ee made it over too. Phew. I probably wouldn’t have waded back in to save her but I WOULD have shouted an apology. I’m thoughtful like that. 

Picture by the lovely Sarah McNaney

Run up the hill and back onto the trails and there’s slippery mud everywhere. It’s like ice skating, but dirtier. My spikes are thoroughly clogged up and I can’t claim the grace of Bambi-on-Ice but I manage Bog-Monster-Emerging-From-Toilet. It’s carnage, people are slipping all over the place, my legs are skating around but I manage to avoid the one thing I’m most scared of in cross-country ... stepping on my own foot in spiked shoes. I don’t even get trodden on by anyone else’s spiked shoes.

Am obviously over-achiever. 

We emerge from the slippery mud and back onto the grass and leaves of the playing fields. We circle the field. This is promising. This is towards the finish! ... And past the finish. 

Stupid cross country. 

And guess what. Just to top off the muddy, mucky horror, we get a 2^nd go at the ditch jump. 

2 goals: Don’t fall in. Don’t fall in. 

I can’t quite manage my gazelle-leap of before, making do with a cat-startled-by-hoover jump but am grateful not to have ended up in the dirt soup. I’m on the last muddy, grassy bit now, just one more corner and it’s the final straight. It’s not been my race and my legs – and heart – just haven’t enjoyed it.

But it’s nearly done and ... hang on! The girl I’ve been leapfrogging with the whole time has just put on a burst of speed to try and overtake me in a sprint finish! Can’t have that! My legs, thoroughly unimpressed at the whole cross country thing, decide that they DO have something left and whisk me along to the finish chute ... a hair ahead. I hope it’s not ditch-jump-pushed-girl or she is going to beat me to DEATH with the finish token at this final injustice. 

Northbrook ladies. I'm on the far right. (Pic source unknown)

I am relieved to be finished, but am disappointed with how I’ve done. I UNDERSTAND that I can’t be good at things I haven’t trained for. But I don’t have to LIKE it. 

I’ve trained for ultras this year. This involves running really, really slowly, eating snacks and by staying entertained by bushes. And not murdering chickens. I can’t expect to go from that to running like a mud-crazy-cheetah in spiky shoes. They’re opposite things but with running.

Like expecting to be good at bobsleigh because you’ve practised sitting.

I know I can’t EXPECT to be good. But I want to be. Dammit, Running Gods!!! (Howled)

So I take my sulky self and my over-expectations-of-cross-country-running over to spectate the mens’ race. Now this is where cross country makes up for all previous ills. This made up for the rain. This made up for the earthworms. This even made up for running up Massive-Stupid-Mountain-Beacon-Hill twice.

It was carnage.

There were men falling over in the ditch. There were men sliding into the ditch on their bottoms. There was even one poor man who lost his shoe in the ditch.

In fact, I felt so sorry for him, I videoed it. And I definitely don’t watch it when I’m sad just to laugh at this poor man and his hopeless eyes as he searches or his missing shoe.

Cross country running to watch this?

TOTALLY WORTH IT. 

Trotting out the Excuses and Exploding Bladders: 2 Castles Race

This race promised a lot. There were blue skies, warm sunshine and no PB pressures. I’d met up with my running club, Northbrook AC and we’d posed for a photo with the castle in background. We looked confident and slick and like serious athletes and quite different to the devoted cake-aholics we actually are.

Northbrook AC (Pic taken from here)

The start of the 2 Castles race was on the ancient cobblestones in the courtyard of Warwick Castle and it was the most beautiful setting for a race start. Or it would have been if there wasn’t a massive great loo queue stretching across half of it.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t matter how old the cobblestones are or how beautiful the castle is if the one thought repeating through your mind is “Bloody hurry up, Person-In-The-Portaloo. I am in danger of dampening my lycra.” And hopping from leg to leg like you’re starring in some strange crouchy aerobics class video. But with gurning.

I was standing in the longest toilet queue since the London Marathon and worryingly, at the end of this gargantuan line were only 5 portaloos, huddled together as though supporting each against this influx of incontinent runners. Maybe they were ALL occupied by people with extremely nervous tummies or the organisers had forgotten to unlock them as the queue didn’t seem to be getting any shorter.

There are many benefits of being a girl – pretty shoes, being able to chick blokes to finishing lines, being first to leave sinking shops - but I was conscious that this was a queue of females only. The chaps were looking at the length of the queue, weighing up the wait and strolling casually off to find a secluded spot to water the gardens. I imagined families walking round the castle later on in the day wondering why the whole area smelled faintly of urine. “Maybe it’s to simulate the smells of the olden days, Tarquin. So clever these historians ...”

It was a few minutes to 9am and although Bladder Alert had moved from orange to red, in terms of actual space, I estimated I’d moved approximately 10ft despite being in the queue 20 minutes. Unless I was prepared to ignore the starters horn, wait for my turn in the plastic cube of poo and then sprint to catch up the rest of the runners then I needed to find my place in the starting pen. I desperately accepted that I’d have to find a bushy hedge along the first mile of the route. I know I wasn’t going for a PB, but I was pretty sure that wouldn’t do my race time any good. I’d be the only person finishing the race with wet trainers on a hot day, leaves in my hair and with a really good negative split.

I had no choice – it was time to get into the start pen. I dropped out of the queue and prepared for a really uncomfortable race. Possibly with hopping until I spotted a nice bushy bush. At least I’d remembered my hayfever tablet. Sneezing could be really bad right about now. My trainers could do with a wash but preferably not in urine.

I saw Lozza and Helen briefly in the courtyard of Warwick Castle on my way to the pen. Helen mentioned later that I looked “a bit peed off”. Nope. If the portaloo queue had moved quicker and I’d peed off, I’d have looked a LOT happier.

However, my look of panic and distinctive gurn was spotted by some club mates and they gave me the best news possible ... there were some deserted toilets in a far part of the castle. I lurched off as fast as my crossed legs would carry me. Empty loos ... and loo roll. It was a race loo dream.

By the time I got to the race pens, I discovered that they weren’t pens as such but a mass, a huddled mass of people all squished into a tiny high walled lane overshadowed by trees so we couldn’t see the sunshine and blue skies we knew were there. I spotted a couple of club friends, Linda and Chris and we chatted the time away until the start of the race. We were a bit too far back for our race times, but we were wearing timing chips on our shoes and I wasn’t going for a PB so it was a lovely relaxed start to a race. Best of all I no longer needed the loo. Life was good.

Not needing a wee = happy (pic source Tim Nunan)

The starting horn blew and everyone applauded and a few moments later we all began to move forwards in anticipation. The first section was all downhill. A lovely downhill, through the castle gates, over a roundabout past some pretty houses and through the town of Warwick before heading out onto the lanes. Pretty scenery, the sun was shining, I longer needed the loo ... all was good, right?

Pre-excuses … (pic source Tim Nunan)

Yep. You would have thought so ... no PB pressures, no bladder pressures, just a nice run in the sunshine. Instead I started trotting out the excuses ...

1/ Everyone had told me this wasn’t a PB course ... so why should I bother running quickly. In fact, why am I running? Why don’t I just stop and walk? It got to the point (at about 5.5km in) where I decided I was actually going to drop out and walk. Then I realised that it was a point to point race, I was already halfway done and I HAD TO KEEP GOING IF I WANTED TO CATCH THE COACH HOME. Yep. I kept running simply because walking was slower. Can everyone say “Lazy cow”??

2/ Apparently at mile 3 there was a MASSIVE HILL and at mile 6 a MASSIVE HILL... And everyone knows Warwickshire is practically mountainous. (Cough, cough, pancake-flat, cough) Besides, it’s absolutely physically impossible to get a PB of any sort if there’s a hill anywhere near where I’m running. Right? Even if I just see one on the horizon.

3/ I’d had a dodgy tummy last night. I don’t want to aggravate the Poo Fairy by running too fast. This never happened. My tummy was fine. I’m not even convinced the Poo Fairy even exists.

4/ It was too hot ... EVERYONE knows your legs fall off if you try to run when it’s too sunny.

5/ I’d already run a 10k PB recently ... I don’t want to be greedy and try and get another one, do I?

6/ I had a marathon in a week – I was conveniently forgetting the 10k PB I’d run the week before London marathon.

7/ I’d started too far back so the course was congested ... it was on roads ... not tightropes. I could overtake if I needed to.

8/ I’d damaged myself due to waiting for a portaloo ... Obviously a bladder rupture was imminent. I didn’t want to run too fast and explode all over everyone.

There we are ... I’d set myself up to fail ... so it wouldn’t matter if I did. What a tit.

It was a lovely course, starting at Warwick Castle and ending in the grounds of Kenilworth Castle. The route weaved through the lanes and villages and the roads were dry and easy to run on. Also because I’d started a little way back, I was seeing more Northbrook club members than usual as I was moving through the crowd rather than staying with the same group of runners. I kept an eye out for my Hampton Magna running buddy but the distinctive orange vest didn’t materialise on the horizon. It was a warm day on a very slightly undulating course and I should have been enjoying the scenery, the running and the sunshine but instead I was going over and over my running excuses in my head.

The expected MASSIVE HILLS didn’t materialise ... the course was undulating but not hilly. It was warm but the organisers had planned well and set up an additional 2 water stations. I’d started a little way back but as it was chip timed, this wasn’t a problem and, needless to say, the massive bladder explosion didn’t happen, people didn’t get drenched with urine and exploded body parts and I didn’t have to get scooped up off the road with a spoon and buried in a shoebox.

Also unsurprisingly I didn’t get a PB. But I’m blaming this entirely on the bloke who PUSHED ME OUT OF THE WAY ON HIS SPRINT TO THE FINISH LINE (What happened to MANNERS Mr.Stampy?) and not at all on the fact that I didn’t pace myself properly and didn’t run at the speed I needed to get one. Yep. Completely his fault.

I also don’t believe in the Poo Fairy.

(Disappears under steaming heap of manure that miraculously appears from nowhere)

A bit of crazy golf post-race. Best way to stop The Sulks.

Results

19^th lady / 1345

258^th /3490

Garmin Info here