The darling month of May

The Harrogate District Summer Race League  commenced on 1st May at Ilkley and Otley AC threw down a strong marker by getting all 10 counters home in the top 33 places.  The results are here.  

On a personal note - whey hey hey yeah!  I gave it absolutely 100% welly and the injury  was no concern whatsoever.  Hard running times ahead.  

The 'after party' (ah there's an expression that conjures memories) was at Ilkley Rugby Club's new clubhouse which is a superb purpose built facility, and it got me wondering - why don't we have something comparable, perhaps with a track?    

On Friday 11th May I supported Ian Haigh on leg 2 of his successful BGR.  We departed Threlkeld just after 10:30pm in chilly conditions with a could base at around 800 metres, but all things considered I think that the weather was quite forgiving.  There's a great deal to be said for doing leg 1 in the dark and having only three summits to locate.  Ian must have lost half an hour on his schedule (after been up by the same amount of time at the first cross-over) simply because of the light and a few navigational challenges in the clag from Raise to Dollywagon.  Viz was totally knackered coming off Seat Sandal and I had to waive goodbye to Ian on the hillside as I tended to the beast.  Is his age starting to catch up with him?  Anyway, well done Ian.  It was an absolute privilege to have supported you and a thrill to have spent a night out on the fells.  One of our conversations focused on our favourite tarn - what's yours?  I think I've settled on Codale, but for wild camping it had to be Sprinkling Tarn.    

That weekend was spent camping at Rydal Hall, where a good few of my club mates acquitted themselves well on the Fairfield Horseshoe.  I was feeling the strain after limited sleep and a night on the fells and so I jogged round the course as a spectator, thereby cramming in two visits to the summit in fewer than 12 hours.  The whole lot was capped off nicely by a 35 mile cycle out to Coniston on Sunday morning where we caught the Fred Whitton Sportive setting off.  

  

Come 15th May and we were back in action.  This time in Thirsk.  The results are here.  Richmond and Zetland lead us by less than two points.  Nail biting.  

One of the pleasures of having some running experience to my credit is that I know how to pace myself so I was gratified not to have been overtaken at all in this race, and even staved off a final mile attack by Derek McCreadie, seen behind me in the picture.  My nemesis, 'Slick', was 26 seconds up on me and looking strong.  Almost unable to be caught, this time.      

Summer began in earnest on 22nd May with clear skies and burningly intense sunshine.  Temperatures soared in to the high twenties Celcius and I thought it would be a sound plan to reconnoitre leg 4 of the BGR, via the Scafell Massif.  Dip stick.    


My alarm hollered at 5am and I was leaving the NT car park in Seatoller by 8am.  As the video below illustrates, this was mammoth undertaking - 22 miles and almost 10,000ft of assent in the hottest part of the day.  If I had succeeded in pulling off Kirk Fell to Dale Head I reckon it would have been about 12,500 feet of climbing, a third of a BGR.  Unfortunately I bailed out at the Black Sail Pass and headed up the Windy Gap to Green Gable and off the fells via Base Brown.    

Despite a concerted effort to remain hydrated I ended up frazzled.  The almost total absence of wind and lack of sweat resistant sunscreen ensured that I was over heated, dehydrated, exhausted and scorched.  There's no doubt in my mind that I can complete a BGR, but Yewbarrow ruined me and I was left bereft of hope for 2012.  On reflection there were two problems, the heat and my speed.  I went off far too quickly when I should have kept an eye on the pace, and I haven't learnt my lesson from the club training weekend on leg 1 in March.  When it comes to low temperatures and rain the effect can be ameliorated with clothing.  When it comes to blazing sun you're toast, or at least that's how I react.  Others thrive in such conditions, however, I think it no coincidence that almost all of my best times have been set in the colder months.     

Come the final day of May I was ready to compete in the third race in the Harrogate League, hosted by Dragons in Yeadon.  The course is familiar as I live close to Spring Woods, through which it loops.  Two days earlier I had done a steady run under the tree canopy and struggled greatly in the relentless heat, but temperatures had returned to normal, for Orkney.  
I started off conservatively, bewildered by the speed at wish the thronging crowd had bolted off.  Initially I felt that it was going to have to be a slow run for me, especially because I was set to support Brian Goodison on leg 1 of his BGR attempt the next evening.  Remaining comfortable was my focus for the first couple of miles as I leisurely passed those whose enthusiasm had got the better of them at the off.       

On the return section through the woods I was in my element. The muddy trails were a pleasure, the climbs were effortless and my work rate stayed restrained.  But why was I closing down everyone in front of me without straining?  These people were my standard, some better.  It made no sense.  Suddenly I dared to believe that what I was experiencing was fell conditioning.  I'm strong, fit, uninjured and inured to suffering.  By the time I was sitting on the shoulder of my nemesis, 'Slick', I was ready to race.  


Never overtake unless you properly intend to drop the man in front, anything else is half-hearted and puts you at risk of later humiliation.  So I reminded myself when I courteously greeted him with the words "Hi Nick" as I coasted past.  It wasn't my intention to convey the conceited impression that I was relaxed and taking it easy, but with those two words I had forcibly thrown down the gauntlet, and Slick picked it up.  For the final mile and a half there were only two people in the whole race.  By now I must have past over thirty people and was continuing to push through.  We hit the tarmac of the final mile long uphill section with the long evening shadow of my challenger running to my left hand side.  When I turned the final corner the push was on for a committed drive for the line, and as the above finishing photograph demonstrates, I wasn't going to be caught.                


The results are here.  Nick was 4 fleeting seconds behind me, and I'm sure is already planning to exact his revenge on 21st June.  He kindly flattered me by telling me how he had been trying catch me.  I had never doubted that for a moment. 

This month's stats were 247 miles, ascending 31,384 feet in 39 hours 23 minutes.

Onwards and upwards?