27th March: Getting triggy with it.

 

The end of lockdown is nigh and its dusk is now beginning to settle with hopefully a full diary of races looming just over the horizon ready to be lit by the rays of a new dawn. As rose tinted as this view may be, its sadly still just in the realms of wishful thinking rather than reality. The last year bar a couple of merciful exceptions for me in October and early December saw races replaced by virtual facsimiles of the real thing and the  ingenuity of personal challenges.

Rather than letting my stamina slip I’ve been meandering around cracking-out the miles locally, however mundanity has been taking over and I’ve found myself just going round and round the same places time after time almost going through the motions over the various routes you can run back and forth.

On these many galavants around my local area, several times I’d passed 4 different trig points and it got me thinking… Hitting the maps I did a bit of a search to find out if there were any more nearby to be ‘bagged’ on a run. It turned out there were 7 accessible trig points to my village and even better it was essentially possible to run a circuit between them all!

Ok at the risk of losing most of you already, I realise those who are uninitiated to the delights of ‘trig points’, or the practice of trig bagging’, are wondering what in the yellow rubbery arse I am waffling on about… Well…

In Britain we had 6,500 triangulation (trig) points made of an identical concrete obelisk design built from 1935 to 1962 by the Ordnance Survey, of which it is believed around 5,500 still remain standing. Their designed purpose was to provide the Ordnance Survey with a method of making an accurate measurement of height for the topography of the whole of Britain. The process of calculation was done via triangulation (hence their name), meaning from every trig point when they were built, you should be able to view at least two others. This measurement process though was laborious as it could only be carried out via line of site using a theodolite between the points and therefore could only be undertaken in clear weather from the grand total of 30,000 selected locations required!

Nowadays, with the steady march of technology and the advent of lasers, the Ordnance Survey can perform the same function provided by these 6,500 pillars from a mere 110 points dotted over the country. As a result, accuracy from the survey ending in 1962 has improved from a margin of error of 20m from one end of Britain to the other, to a mere 3mm error today!

What we now have with these trig points is an obsolete relic of a time gone by. Redundant and functionally useless they remain lonely and largely unloved abandoned to the elements. When you say ‘trig point’, the image most people have of them is a concrete obelisk standing a lonesome sentinel on the crest of a hill visible as a spec on the horizon from miles away, their grey concrete slab sides yellowing and greening as they become encrusted in lichen, algae and moss and baring the scars of the lashings of the wind and rain of nearly a century for the oldest ones. Thing is, this view is not quite what they all are. For every trig point that is up high, you will need another down low to be able to achieve triangulation, so there’s plenty all over the country to be found in random spots at lower level.

Consulting the map and the trig bagging websites, I realised as well as these 4 I knew of, there were others out there that are accessible, as well as one that was not (it sits in fenced-off land in the middle of a private estate), so in a circle from my village a notional ring of 7 is formed.

Plotting a route between them over trails came out at 37 miles, which was certainly a ‘doable’ distance for me, so my challenge was set: run them all as a oner!

The planned route

Rather than just diving straight in, for my longer weekend runs and being able to squeeze some different routes out of the process, I went forth and recce’d the 3 points I had never visited before to ensure they were in fact accessible and how they could best be approached. Also having never run between these individual points I did so where I was unsure of the routes, so when the day came I could essentially be on auto-pilot rather than continually faffing around by looking at a map on my phone.

Once I was sure of the various turn points, access points and the route in general, it was time to choose a date. I went for the last Saturday in March. I could have chosen the Sunday, but with the clocks changing for British Summer Time at 2am on the Sunday I’d be losing an hour’s sleep and couldn’t be arsed with doing a very long run on top of that.

I had been prepared for poor weather and to go run it in the rain, however by a stroke of good fortune the meteorological gods were smiling on me and come the day it was forecast for a sunny start before clouding over and mercifully no rain.

Having controlled as many of he unknowns as possible, the most important choice for the day was my daps. I had a bit of a dilemma as my comfy pair of trainers have 900 miles on them and are approaching imminent death with virtually zero grip left on the sole and the uppers barely hanging together. My pair with decent grip on them are uncomfortable for running on hard surfaces for an extended period through having minimal cushioning, plus the uppers are through in a couple of places, so safe to say I had doubts either pair would survive a 37 miler in one go, regardless of both their pros & cons. This left me with only one alternative and that’s the pair I use for summer trails. Fortunately they are comfy but the tread on them is not brilliant so I knew they’d be sketchy as hell on the muddy parts, however they would be comfy on the harder packed trails which I knew would be the majority of the route as well as any stretches of tarmac. With the weather being largely dry through March fortunately the trails have started to dry-out and harden so I knew I’d just have to suck it up buttercup on the muddy stretches.

This adventure was to be entirely self sufficient, so to help me along the way I had my light running pack with a 2L bladder in it, food in the pouches and a first aid kit, camera & phone and most importantly: Spud snacks to fuel my companion on the adventure. I decided against taking a waterproof as the forecast was free from rain with wind not too bad and temperature good for the time of year. Instead I opted for a long sleeve merino base layer to keep me warmer and hoped the forecast would be accurate, or if not it would provide an incentive to run faster!

Packed & ready.

8am arrived and I was out the door in the glorious morning sunshine shackled to a very excited Spud the trail hound. Escaping the village northwards at around 2 miles in I happened to bump into a different running buddy in the form of Steffen who had accompanied me on my final recce the previous week and I had nearly broken in the process by pushing him a bit harder than he would have liked for pace! He was on his way back from a morning 10k at his own pace having reached the turn, and he wished us luck with our endeavour.

Hitting the water meadow.

Crossing the water meadows and a chalk stream we were soon at the first trig point of the day in the hamlet of Hartley Wespall. This one sits in the middle of a field with a Cold War nuclear fallout shelter/ observation post about 20 metres further into the field from it. When I got closer I could see someone had left a painted stone with a wonderful sentiment on top of it for someone to find!

The second leg was going to be the one with the most running between two points. I had to travel from Hartley Wespall to the flats at Blackbushe. Traversing a WWII tank testing ground at Hazeley Heath, a location where captured Axis tanks were evaluated and tested to destruction, then over the mix of single-track pine woodland and gravel quarry roads at Warren Heath until I eventually found myself at Blackbushe and the only mile or so of the whole run I was not looking forward to.

The church at Hartley Wespall

The second trig point was hidden in the verge on the south side of the A30. You cannot see it from the road and unfortunately there’s no footpath along the side it is on and the other side is just as bad being a narrow verge and chain link fence separating the road from Blackbushe airfield, or RAF Hartford Bridge as it was originally known.

Dipley Mill

RAF Hartford Bridge was pretty unique in that it was built straddling a main national transport artery at the time, the A30 being the main route from London to the South West of England. The runway was on the north side of the road and to the south was to be found the hangars for the base. When planes needed to taxi to the runway then the A30 had to be physically closed at both ends to allow them to cross the road - you can imagine the sight of a couple of squadrons of American made Boston medium bombers snaking their way Indian-file across the road to take off on raids over mainland Europe, much to the annoyance of any drivers out and about using their petrol rations!

Surviving the alpaca-lypse on the way to Blackbushe.

Nothing remains of the old hangars and other associated buildings south of the A30 as the site is now given-over to sand and gravel extraction. The only thing of note there these days is the trig point we were visiting!

Running along an uneven grass verge with traffic approaching at 70mph isn’t fun at the best of times by yourself, let alone being roped to an idiot spanner. Spud as much as he is a fantastic running buddy has zero road-sense, so has to be kept on an extremely tight lead in such situations in case he decides to try and make friends with a passing car… As such I had to make my way along the narrow grass verge which had drainage ditches cut into it from the road every 20m or so. One hand was holding Spud’s long line almost at his harness and pulling him tightly to heel, the other hand had my phone in it as I tracked my progress in real time towards the blue triangle with a dot on it on the OS map so as not to overshoot it, as the last thing I wanted to do was to double-back on myself along this verge!

2/7 alongside the A30 at Blackbushe.

Mercifully I found it with zero bother, so taking a pic of the trig it was a case of carrying along the A30 for another mile till we could leave it and join the north westerly edge of Hawley Woods. Skirting the edge of Gibraltar Barracks, the basic training barracks for recruits into the Royal Engineers.

Hawley Woods has been continually used by the army since shorty before WWII. Now Gibraltar Barracks sits on its Westerly edge, whereas before this the now long demolished Gillemont Barracks stood on its southerly tip hosting the Canadian Infantry regiment of ‘Les Fusiliers Mont-Royal’ during the Second World War and afterwards the Paras and the Royal Engineers until it was demolished as obsolete in favour of the new Gibraltar Barracks. The woods also contains its own rough landing strip that was used by the Special Operations Executive in the war to transport agents in and out of France.

As we followed the trail parallel to the barracks’ fence, just along from the quarters I noticed out of the corner of my eye on the other side of the fence a small shape moving towards us, before it ran past and stood just below the warning sign on the fence. During the previous week we had heard the announcement on the new that there was to be wholesale military cut backs and down-sizing, but I had never thought they'd be this drastic or immediate in effect as just along from the ’Guard Dogs on Patrol’ sign was this diminutive Boston Terrier woofing at Spud!

Skirting the edge of the airfield in the woods we crossed an oft-used film location, last seen in the previous Jurassic World movie and climbed the mound to trig point #3.

3/7 in Hawley Woods.

From here it was a mile of downhill before 10k of flat running as we left Hawley Woods behind via the lake within (another film location from ‘Sahara’), crossed Minley Road in the shadow of Minley Manor (yet another film location from Stardust) that was formerly used as the officers’ quarters for Gibraltar Barracks until about 10 years ago.

Minley Manor (from on another run).

From Minley we crossed over the M3 motorway and skirted Fleet Pond, before a 100m or so stretch along the Basingstoke Canal tow-path had us scrambling up and embankment and onto more army land.

The 4th trig point is located on a hillock on the edge of the army’s high-speed off-road driving range. During the week this area is out of bounds to non military personnel because of the vehicles hooning around it at speed through the mud and puddles, however at the weekend its open to us civvies and fair game for a visit (although its always advisable to check in advance if it is)… The problem though with the area being semi-secure to stop unwanted weekday interlopers, access is only really from a few select points, none of which were anywhere near my direction of approach and my ideal route across the site. A stroke of luck for me on this foray was found on my recce with an emergency access gate located with not too far a diversion from a straight line route. This gate is always locked and designed to not be easily climbable but there’s enough of a gap to squeeze around the side of it if you’re svelte enough, or if you’re a fat bastard like me, then you can get on your back and slide under it! Back on my feet and I was soon at the trig point and overlooking the end of Farnborough’s runway, the long and storied home of British aviation and the locale of the first powered flight in Britain.

4/7 overlooking Farnborough airfield.

Stopping for pics I realised my energy levels had properly crashed again through poor time & fuelling management, so the journey across the driving range to the ascent of Beacon Hill was spent as a walk/ run with me scoffing an energy bar.

Over the heathland of the driving course with the gorse in its vibrant yellow full flower, skirting Tweseldown race course on our right we crossed to Beacon Hill. Immediately below the climb to trig point #5 was a small lake, so it seemed the right thing to do to let Spud off his lead and go for a swim as he loves to take a dip as often as he can when out and about - it also helped to get any mud accumulated by him so far off his coat!

Hitting the trig point was near as dammit bang-on marathon distance. I’d made this in a time I was happy with and by the pillar I sat down on a handy tree stump for something more to eat, a bit of a rest and for Spud to have some sausage and cheese to keep his energy levels up - something he thoroughly enjoyed.

5/7 on Beacon Hill

Spuddy snacks!

Beacon Hill and its surrounding area is pillbox central - pillboxes being small defensive fortifications from the the second world war built as a line intended to steer any advancing army away from them and if they chose to confront them, to hopefully occupy and hold-up the advance for a short while.

One of the many pillboxes (taken on another run)

Passing plenty of them we made our way through the woodland before our descent towards the village of Crondall commenced with Spud perfecting his stile hurdling as we bog trotted from squidgy field to squidgy field. Crossing one we passed some curious miniature donkeys before we hit the outskirts of Crondall and a golf course.

Traversing the edge of the golf course in the rough we came across the sight of a recently deceased young badger, probably one of last year’s brood. Trying to hold a very curious Spud back I was able to get a close enough look at it to see there were no visible signs of damage to it from a vehicle impact. It jut looked like it was lying there asleep. My arse this was natural causes though, the poor fecker’s demise was most likely down to being poisoned by the golf wankers, what with it right on the edge of the course and badgers being notorious diggers for food and carving-up fairways and greens as a consequence.

Through Crondall we hit open farmland as we approached the penultimate trig point. I could see it as a tiny spec on the top of the hill from a few miles away as we left the village. The weather had clouded over now the afternoon was upon us and the wind was picking-up, but not enough to drown the sound of skylarks on the wing and occasional squawks of ‘posh chickens’ (pheasants). Some of the fields had been planted with crops of rape seed and the first of the plants were beginning to bloom… Only a couple of weeks and they will be a sea of vibrant yellow flowers glowing at you from afar and they bring hayfever sufferers to tears.

First of the flowering rape.

On the summit by trig point #6 it was a bit blustery. From here you have the best view of the day, a proper 360 degree panorama (its only really possible to see a proper vista from points #4 & #6) and with moody clouded skies it made the long slog to see it worthwhile. The view you have in part is over the runway at RAF Odiham, an airbase that has been in use since the mid 30s. Bizarrely during the war, even though it was a front-line airfield it was never bombed by the Luftwaffe, all the more surprising when the village that it takes its name from was attacked as well as other surrounding villages. It turned-out there was a reason and that was Hermann Goering had ordered the base was to remain untouched as his plan was for it to become the headquarters for Luftwaffe operations post invasion. By all accounts this form of ‘non molestation order’ remained in place throughout the war.

6/7 with the best views of the day.

Just off from the crest of the hill and the trig point in the direction of the runway there are some small ring shaped earthworks. It would seem a bizarre place to have these on such a small-scale - essentially what remains of a couple of ring ditches, however I remembered from Blackbushe when I was growing up something similar over there, with mounds of flint stones still present in ring shapes and a metal pivot point still in the centre:  these were the locations of the anti aircraft batteries. So here on the side of a hill just shy of the top overlooking the runway at RAF Odiham, I suspect it was a site of one of their defensive anti aircraft guns!

Anti Aircraft gun emplacement.

Earthworks that look like it was for an anti aircraft gun.

Feeding Spud the last of his snacks we made our way down and northwards towards the final trig point of the day on the other flank of RAF Odiham. Originally a fighter base in WWII these days it is the base for the Chinook heavy lift helicopters and they are a daily sight and very distinctive sound in the area.

To get to #7 we had to go through the periphery of the base’s complex, picking our way through its married quarters and passing the main gate’s guardian: a restored wokka wokka airframe.

The Chinook guarding the main gate of the airbase.

Across the road from the entrance to the base and we were at our final destination, the world’s worst trig point! They may have been constructed with a clear line of sight but this one now sits hidden in the middle of a thicket with zero visibility of anything, a reminder of the advance of time and how quickly nature rightfully reclaims from man what we put on the planet.

7/7 in the thicket.

From here it was just a couple of miles home and a well-earned chance to put our feet up... I’d promised to make home-made burgers for dinner so I had this properly on my mind, especially as I’d forgotten to eat properly all day! Over the 38 miles I’d only eaten 2 energy bars, a pack of jelly and slurped 4 gels, mostly through forgetting to have something to eat rather than on purpose so it is hardly surprising my energy levels crashed a few times!.. When you look at it, with Spud managing to eat his way through half a Matteson sausage and half a block of cheese, I think he had more than I did. The reality is it was just my stupidity that caused this by not keeping a proper eye on the time to ensure I had something at regular intervals as I was carrying far more food than I consumed!

One tired spanner!

Pure post run filth!

Despite my performance dropping off a cliff after the marathon distance, I made it around the circuit in the time I anticipated with no apparent ill effects beyond the fatigue related, which was a bonus and Spud was not harrumphing either despite his extended ‘walkies’! Did I enjoy it? As a different day out on my feet then yes, even if just for taking-in the sights and sounds of the local area and noticing the changes in wildlife habitats as we went. Noticing the change every few miles makes you realise how lucky we are in Britain to be spoilt by such variety. Will I repeat it though? Probably not! I’d be more likely to do so if I were to skip the ‘bagging’ of the Blackbushe trig and instead just skirt around the northern side of the airfield on the trails there. Running along an ‘A’ road facing oncoming traffic at 70mph is not anywhere near approaching fun at any time even if the verge hadn’t been a continual trip hazard. Having gone to that trig point the once and it offering no view at all, I certainly don’t ever feel the need to go again.

After an almost unpunctuated year of virtual races and localised running challenges that have seen me 'confined to barracks' so-as-to-speak, there's a race for me coming-up a couple of weeks after Easter: the Endurancelife Sussex marathon. The date has been bumped back by a month from its normal place in the calendar to fall inside the Covid reopening of society, so hopefully this guarantees it will be a bit warmer and will look a little bit different in the fresh blooms of spring that will have well and truly sprung by then. To say I'm looking forward to it is an understatement and hopefully doing this little local adventure will help have me in decent nick to toe the start line.

 

Eat pies.
Drink beer.
Run far.

13th September: Endurancelife Exmoor, the return of some prodigious fun!

 To riff off Eminem:

Guess what's back, back again
Racing's back, tell a friend
Guess what's back, guess what's back?
Guess what's back, guess what's back?
Guess what's back, guess what's back?
Guess what's back?

RACES ARE BACK!.. Although in a very limited different way to what we knew before the plague descended upon us.

Last week Endurancelife held their rescheduled Classic Quarter ultra down in Cornwall, their first ‘Covid secure’ event and yesterday saw their rearranged coastal trail races over on the coastal trails of Exmoor.

Loads of members of the running community have rightly doubted the wisdom of holding any form or organised event involving mass participation - I can see where they are coming from and I was intrigued as to how the organisers would cope with the social distancing regulations which are now the norm in every aspect of our daily lives within a race environment.

In a way Endurancelife were able to play to their strengths from the get-go. The biggest one being their race locations: always on trail and for the most part remote, so you are well away from town centres and for the most part people in general!.. Plus there is their experience of well over a decade of successfully putting on multi-distance race-days

The event base today was in the middle of nowhere in a cliff-top field, which runners were not supposed to really access beyond bag dropping. The toilet block had been moved from its normal location of the base into the parking field the other side of the road and to use them you were required to hand sanitise beforehand.

The event briefing had been done online, race numbers had been sent in the post with Endurancelife moving to an RFID timing chip set-up from their traditional system of ‘dibbers’ so as to remove more potential points of human contact. You are allocated a start time before the race based on your submitted estimate of a finish time so everyone is streamed from fastest to slowest which reduces the chance of overtaking. Whilst awaiting your start time the instructions are to remain in your vehicle (or away from the starting zone if you don’t have one), until 5 minutes before your slot.

As you approach the start you queue on a line of crosses spaced 2m apart until you reach the front and are unleashed onto the course having been told some reminders of the new course rules by the marshals: use the hand sanitiser that is now part of your compulsory kit before you open any gate, no headphones to be worn at ANY time and no ‘drafting’ of fellow runners - if you must overtake then you do so as soon as you are able and distance yourself from your fellow runner once passed, with no contact supposed to happen between competitors unless they are in their own ‘bubble’ together already… We’ll come across the aid stations later!

Driving down the night before the race, a few miles from where I was going to park for the night I had a massive shock when a Red Deer stag, crowned with a mahoosive set of antlers decided to jump out of the roadside hedge right in front of me as I approached doing about 50, nearly making me resemble a fucked-up wild west-country version of Boss Hogg in his motor! Fortunately he saw me coming, thought better of making contact with the van and becoming my hood ornament and jumped straight back into the hedge! Heart still pounding a few minutes later I parked as close to the event base as I could and hunkered down for the night.

The view from the van!

Waking to a view over the Bristol Channel to Swansea and breakfasting on black coffee and LSS’s excellent patented granola I busied myself readying for the start. I ‘hailed the prophet’ one final time and walked the short distance to the start queue to be unleashed upon the course. Being fat and slow, I had been given a start time at the back of the marathon field, which was half an hour earlier than the normal start time, so at least I’d be home half an hour earlier than I would have been if it was a ‘normal’ race day regardless of how I perform.

The marathon course was a figure of eight with the easterly loop about 2/3 the distance to 1/3 on the westerly and much to the Pet Shop Boys’ & the Village People’s chagrin, we go east from the off. This first loop takes you along the coastal path past a christian retreat, with its eery sight of a trio of giant cliff-top crucifixes, to the village of Lynton and a trip inland to the beautiful National Trust property at Watersmeet and the cascading river flowing through it.

Running back up on to the coastal path I was on autopilot following the familiar route from years past… However where the aid station normally is, there was nothing to be found, so I plodded on as I normally do. Soon though it was obvious I had missed a sign for the turn to the first aid station as I now found people heading towards me! Like a salmon heading upstream I moseyed my way in the direction they were coming from and saw the aid station around the corner through a churchyard, having neither gained nor lost distance.

As I ran through the graveyard in sight of the station, passing through its ornate wrought iron gate, one of the adjusting straps on my race pack snagged on a spiked part of the decorative iron work and all of a sudden I found myself swinging horizontally through the air before crashing into the ground in an undignified mess, my strap still on the spike but the webbing on my pack now torn off at the bottom of the shoulder strap… Picking myself up from the floor and detaching myself from the gate I made my way the final few metres to the aid station where I had to effect an emergency pack repair with a couple of safety pins to be able to wear it and carry on!

The aid stations at Endurancelife events have always been minimalist as they have consistently made a major point about people running with the highest degree of self sufficiency. They still had their normal fare of biscuits, jellies and crisps, however rather than just being able to dip into a tub as before, now they were in individually sealed in packs as provided from their manufacturer, with bananas sitting whole rather than halved.

 

Gone were the manually operated water bowsers of the past, with the water going into your own cup, bottle or bladder (Endurancelife has been ‘cup free’ for years). What was in its place was an ingenious foot-pump system for you to dispense water for yourself in a hands-free manner.

Those manning the aid stations were maintaining distance at all time and ready to step-in should emergencies arise fully PPE’d up of course!

As the morning progressed, the temperature rose with broken sunshine for most of the day, fortunately large swathes of the course are in shade under trees or on the cliffs which naturally shield you from the direct rays of the sun, that said the temperature and humidity was creeping up the whole time, though fortunately a gentle breeze took most of the heat away once up high or in the open. Normally when this is run in early April, if you have the misfortune of it being on the first proper ‘hot’ day of the year when the sun is out and the mercury nudges the early twenties, it is sheer unadulterated hell for all as nobody has been able to acclimate to such weather - at least now at the end of summer we are now used to being out and about in a bit of heat.

 

Back out on to the course and there was the stunning couple of miles of steady descent in to Lynmouth, before the evil of the switch-backed climb to the top of the cliffs once more as Joe and Joanne Public queue for a trip up the climb on the funicular railway rather than doing what us idiots do!

 

Once atop it was a jaunt though the 'Valley of the Rocks’ and a close encounter of the goat kind - they roam wild in those parts but are so well camouflaged you tend to smell them rather than see them, however I did catch sight of one of the horny beasts!

 

The goat was not the only diversion as the monotonous hum of engines could be heard and I noticed approaching down below in the sea was a jetski race chasing along the coast with about 20 riders flat out bouncing across the chop of the waves. It must have been an endurance based race as they disappeared eastwards then a couple of hours later reappeared from the north before heading west.

Soon the first loop was coming to an end. Rounding the headland just as the descent was about to start I found myself up close and at eye level with a Peregrine Falcon out hunting, scanning the cliff and the vegetation far below for some scran. Descending through a waterfall along the way and cooling off in its stream, the valley floor was found and another slog from sea level to cliff summit commenced as the westerly loop began in earnest.

One of the major differences of running this course as summer wanes and autumn rises, rather than from winter into springtime when it is normally held, is you get to appreciate how lush and green some parts are now rather than the dull or barren sight you are used to, offering you a whole new perspective on an otherwise familiar sight. The most marked change was seen when crossing the moor on the westerly loop: I revelled in the contrast between the dull sables of the winter’s moor being replaced by an effervescent riot of purple heather and yellow gorse all round… And I saw plenty of it as there was an enforced last-minute route change that led us across the moor’s breadth rather than cutting over the summit with a trip to the summit cairn.

 

When I had hit 19 miles, shortly before the penultimate aid station, the wheels properly came off and I was flagging - breathing out of my arse and utterly cream crackered. The marathon course has the small matter of around 1.75 miles of vertical ascent over its length, which after doing the majority bar the final 2 climbs had me realising how out of condition I was for tackling ascents, especially in this concentration! The last serious amount of ‘vert’ I did in a race, or really in general, was back in February at Endurancelife's South Devon marathon and over in Brecon the week after… Just before everything went in to lockdown and all racing shuddered to an instant halt.

Not mushroom on the coastal path.

Since lock-down kicked-in I’ve been running yes, but running around where I live which is pancake by comparison! I’ve been out and done plenty of miles in the interim, but with regards to prep for hardcore trail races, these miles have been ‘junk’ miles: miles for the sake of just being out there ticking over, rather than specifically targeted miles for training towards the required terrain… Boy did I feel this now, mind you plenty would be in the same boat today and I doubt anyone was complaining as we were all just happy to be out here doing what we love.

 

Reaching the aid station I took some time to regain my equilibrium by sitting on the grassy slope equally warmed by the sun and cooled by the breeze whilst munching a banana and taking in the view over the undulating cliffs and the calm sea below. You certainly don’t get aid stations with views like this in any town centre race… Well you don’t get any there full stop at the present time!

Chilling at the aid station.

Semi refreshed I plodded onwards knowing that it was only a matter of grinding everything out to a finish: head down and slog it out. Soon I was at the final aid station - placed with just 2.5 miles to go because you have an evil 2 miles of climbing over that distance and gritted my teeth, girded my loins, pulled up my big-boy pants and just ground it out to the finish, both exhausted and relieved.

 

All things considered I felt this first race experience in a time of Covid worked well. A great deal of thought has gone into this by Endurancelife to minimise the impact of the virus on the race-day experience. They have adapted to overcome in a successful manner that really did not diminish the event for me, what with being a back of the pack plodder and used to being out there on my todd with no company for hours at a time, although the lack of the mass start is a bit of a shame, but needs must and all that.

 

The above point though does form part of the one major notable change, which I know is also a big concern for the organisers. Taking away the race briefing and the mass start as part of the necessary changes it has to an extent sucked the buzz, the hubbub, the atmosphere you get from the interaction of a crowd of excitable people out of the event as a by-product of everyone having to be forcibly kept apart! The thing is this will be the same EVERYWHERE you go for races from now on and is a trade-off we will all have to get used to if we wish to carry on racing. Races will become less of a shared communal experience and more of a solo show. Endurancelife have proved they have found a workable formula to hold events as Covid secure as can be that a lot of other event organisers will no-doubt be paying attention to and probably incorporating the same into their own ones, as most people will come to the same conclusions when facing an identical problem. One thing they are finding problematic though on the logistics side, is the issue of permissions from landowners and councils for access. With how things are changing daily and sometimes hourly, even whilst in constant contact with the relevant people and organisations there are and will be last minute route changes, sometimes at the eleventh hour, as permissions are withdrawn. This just adds to the headache of organising an event but at least with plenty of plan b’s, c’s and probably d’s in place the inconvenience will be overcome in a seamless manner for those out running.

Bring on the next (Covid secure) race!

Eat pies.
Drink beer.
Run far.