Last race report of the year

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Sorry, there are no pictures on this one, but Lynne was running... not taking pictures, might have to get used to that in the next year... unless I manage to work out how to run and shoot at the same time... Instead, you can have a link to my Garmin track

The Map

Its been a while since I did a race report, mainly because I haven't been racing since September/October. (For various reasons including, but not limited to, minor injuries to toes, heels, and other less important running parts, not being in the right place at the right time, and generally there not being a whole lot of races in the area to jump in on).
However, the last race of the year, the Peak "O" trial is just in our back garden, starting from the Grouse Inn, just up the hill, and organised by the indefatigable Des of Wormstones and Chunal race route fame. The new thing about this race is that Lynne was also running it, and has just finished her report which is on her blog here.

We got up to the Grouse in plenty of time, registered and stood around for a bit. I realised that I hadn't brought full body cover, so jumped in the car for a quick journey home to pick up some trousers.... and also a whistle that I had neglected to switch from one bumbag to the other, and straight back up the hill again. Once again ensconced in the pub, Lynne was chatting with Andy from Pennine, and admiring his rather impressive scar on his knee- caused by falling off a bike onto a metal gridded bridge - not a pretty sight - think bone, and we generally chatted with a number of people who wandered in.
Good to see Nick (baba) there, I'm sure he has something on his blog, so I'll link to that one too, Julien, Mark Ollerenshaw, Ian, Carl and Beryl were there from Glossopdale, also great to see our wandering companion Carl Bedson back from Africa and Dave, and Rory who I haven't seen in ages. And of course Andy A turned up pretty much as he was due to start. Perfect timing. (or not, depending on your perspective).

It was an Orienteering/ timetrial format, so a number of people got their maps and left in 2 minute intervals. There were 2 routes, Long Score, with 7 checkpoints and Short Score, with 5, missing out the 2 checkpoints furthest South on the Long Score.
I lined up at 1022, got the map and had the 2 minute mantadory map looking time, deciding the best direction to take, attack points and general information before heading off into the countryside. All too soon we were told GO! and we ran off up the road. I had had enough time to take in the general gist of the map, what was going to be up and down, the direction of the wind, and how that was going to affect the direction of travel (not too much fun running into the wind in the second half of the race), and what it would be like at the end. (either a slight downward run, or an uphill slog) I decided on the uphill slog at the end. Why not? Everyone else was going to be tired at that point, and maybe I could use that to my advantage if it came to a "sprint" finish.

Off to Monks road and then up and over into access land to get to the first checkpoint, there were a lot of people milling around making unsuccessful forays into places where the dibber might have been, and a few running around like headless chickens, while others seemingly stood around waiting for others to work out where it was. I wandered around for a short while, looking for the obvious, and while doing that, Nick, who started out 2 mins after me, caught up. Damn.
Another minute of idiocy - I blatently hadn't got my attack points sorted out in the slightest, I orientated myself and where the point was most likely to be, over a fence, and pretty much straight on to it. That took far too long.
Next stop, Lantern Pike, I know my way there from various races, and also a bit of Mountain Biking in the area, so I hammered away, taking care not to overdo the pace, watching Nick become further and further away - he's got a bit good recently. As I got most of the way up to the top of the hill, he came bounding down past me, but I thought I had a better line from there to the next Check point, we'll have to see how it goes. Although in Orienteering you shouldn't really compare yourself to someone else, it was nice to get to the top of the hill before another couple of people who started climbing it before me. Clip the dibber (by now I had decided that I REALLY couldnt be bothered to take the map out of the plastic I had brought with me when clipping, too much faff taking off gloves and trying to get it back in the right way round etc.) so I just clipped it straight through the plastic. Boom.
Off on a slightly different line to Nick, and within the next couple of km I had gained a fair amount of time and distance on him, passing another runner, and getting to the next point in Rowarth before 2 others that I recognised from earlier on in the race.

We had a little bit of trouble finding the dibber at the pub, it wasn't exactly where it was meant to be- round the corner and down the way a bit, but after a brief look, all was fine and we dibbed in. Nick shot off, and I doggedly carried on. From here to the next point was a part of the Coombs tor race, and also I had run a portion of this in the Rowarth O event back in the summer, so navigation wasn't too much of an issue. Up the hill and over for a decent few km, pulling back a couple of other runners, and seeing a couple of navigational mistakes by others which helped me pull more time back. Over to the plantation and I passed Ian from Glossopdale in his BRIGHT luminous top. He was running into the sun and didn't see me.
Clipped the point, over the fence and along the top of Cown Edge rocks, Nick was disappearing from view, and the wind was buffetting strongly from the West - thankfully blowing us runners away from the edge, not towards. Along and down, down, down, the next point was in a Quarry, and I figured going all the way down, and in from the road. I noted a couple of runners heading off toward the top of the quarry, wondered what they were doing, and, in the best O spirit, I thought "ignore the others, stick to the plan". Ran to the bottom and a local bloke, washing his car (or some such thing) commented that you couldn't get into the quarry that way, you need to go back up the track and in over the wall...

Argh.

Back up the hill, find a small divot in the wall, through and into the quarry. The people I was catching up with, all done, been and gone. Dammit. Nothing to do but run down into the quarry, clip, up and out.
Next- choices... do I go straight to the road and up it, Monks Road, cycled up that... its a bit damn steep. Or, up the path I've just come from, and through the path at the top. The path wins out, and as I churn up the path, overtaking 2 who caught up with me, I catch sight of Carl, storming down the path- impressive considering he appeared to be wearing road shoes!
Up the hill, retracing steps to the top, with the wind blowing in my right ear... the buff got taken off my arm and pulled firmly down over my ears - a welcome relief from potential earache... then, at the top a guy in a bright orange top is gains on me quite significantly. I paused on the crest as I decide that the original line to the next control that I had in mind - a direct bash following fence lines, probably isn't going to be as expedient as going down the hill a little way and using the path across to the Nab and he takes the opportunity to run ahead.
Down to the path, and overtaking the same guy as he stops to check his map. Down past the farm, and a choice of going left or right around the trees. I go left, and overtake another person, and then a delightful horrendously steep descent down the top part of the Nab over rough and broken ground with all kinds of craziness. Just my kind of terrain. I shot down to the control, dibbed my bit of paper and back off up the hill. From here, its just a reverse Wormstones race route home, I'll only need the map for dibbing. The guy ahead of me is walking. My legs are burning, but, he is walking. That means, if I run, I can catch him up. Right, faster feet, and run. Up the hill, I can see the optimal line across to the next gate, he goes too high, still plodding away, I break off, still maintaining my stride (if you can call it a stride), and over to the gate. I don't stop to look back, I know that there are now at least 3 in relatively close pursuit.

Up and up, over the top and I can see the Grouse. It's on the other side of a not inconsiderable valley that I have to go down and up to finish. Still, I need that final check point before I can consider that. Below me I see another runner, contouring around, I have the altitude advantage and use it well, charging down the hill to the corner where the checkpoint is. Hang on, am I in the right place? I look at the shape of the hill, and realise that I've come down just a bit too early, run along the wall, ah, here it is, the hill on the other side drops away almost like a precipice, over the fence, and there is a runner coming up behind. So this is going to be the final run off then. I dib, and launch down the ridiculously steep hill, 3 steps, slide, fall, slide on my bum, up again, and repeat until at the bottom. Not even mudclaws were gripping on part of that descent, but no time to think of that now, up and across the river, and up the other side.
The hill was over in a surprisingly short time, though I have no idea what was going on behind me, up, through a gate, again up, and through a gate to the road, and the final 400metres against the wind, traffic inches from my feet, and up to the pub.

Lynne with her winnings

Finish in 1:46:58 by my watch. 16.93km.

Soup, rolls, cake, scones and drinks were laid on by the Grouse, and very much appreciated by all who ran, there was some good sharing of knowledge around open fires, and great conversation. Congrats to Nick who came in Second, and Mark Ollerenshaw who was Third by the smallest of margins. Lynne did herself well and won the Ladies Short Score event, so we at least have a bottle of wine to celebrate with.
Thanks again to Des who organised the whole thing, and to Gordon who printed the maps and was a route advisor - or some such thing.
A great turn out for a last race of the year, good to see you all out.

Lantern Pike Fell Race

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Well. I didn't enjoy that!

Mainly, it has to be said because my running style doesn't seem to work with a race like that, it was hard, hard work, and it wasn't the hills that did for me.
So what happened?

This particular version of a Fell race up Lantern pike is run on the first day of the Hayfield Sheepdog trials and show. We got there in plenty of time, thanks to a lift with one of my fellow triplers from last week, John S, and wandered around the show for a while. Lots of good stuff to see and do. The Chainsaw carver was particularly good, as was the eagle and vulture display, I didn't get to see the pig racing, which was a little disappointing.
I suspect that I might still have the residual miles in my legs from last weeks 18 miler, which is quite a good excuse, however, not the best reason.

The Kids race

There was a great turnout from Pennine, Lantern Pike was a counter for their championship, and a decider for the year, Glossopdale had a good lot out as well, as it is a counter for the weekend championship (I didn't realise this for a while, as I'm not in contention for anything at all having joined the club more than halfway through the race calendar).

The weather was somewhat changeable throughout the day. The morning had been lovely, but on the way over there was quite a terrific downpour. Then the sun came out, clouds were piling up everywhere around the place, threatening to, but not quite actually raining. Proper sunshine and showers kind of weather.

Warming up, (I'm the one stretching, not running)

We lined ourselves up ready for the off, Stevie K ready to head on out at the front to try and get his points in the Pennine championship, unfortunately Dan Chan wasn't running because of an unfortunate footballing incident the day before. Lots of banter and excuses were being thrown around the crowd - there were about 200 odd people ready to start, and all of a sudden GO! I'm pretty certain that everyone was a bit surprised by the suddenness of the departure, and there was a mad scramble, elbows everywhere, mud flying and heels kicking all over the place. Within about 200 metres it had all calmed down a bit, and I was somewhere near the front, but my legs were complaining somewhat.

I could see the blond head of Ba-ba heading off down the field in proper fast cross-country style, followed by Mark O and Stevie K and a gaggle of others, and my legs said good-bye to them, I was struggling. Already. Not a good sign.

Down the hill to the river and past Lynne, whom I didn't see as I was too busy trying not to fall over in a slithering sliding muddy mess, and down to the road. Across the road and up the hill, on tarmac. The Plod began. From now, the legs continued their slow decline, my lungs didn't feel like they were working, and people came past.

Mud tastic - but in the sun

John H was up ahead, and although he wasn't disappearing away, he certainly wasn't getting any closer. Up the hill, a guy from Altringham was alternately walking and running and walking and running, I shuffled up to him, he ran away for 5 steps, then walked, I caught up, he ran on again. It was almost comedic apart from the fact we were both too knackered to laugh. And this is before we've even gone 2 km.

Up the hill, Chris strides past on his long legs looking fresh - oh dear, I'm just losing ground now.
The only person I'm keeping up with is Andy - with whom I did the 15 trigs with. We swap around a bit, then Charlie goes past us as if we are standing still. I COULD go faster, but that would blow out all my reserves of energy and within 300 metres I'd be collapsed in a heap and further back than now, I just have to keep going.

Flipping heck. Maybe I should just see this one as a bit of a training run, I'm certainly not being competitive. We pass Tom taking pictures and a wildly enthusiastic Des, who is marshaling, and finally come to a slight downhill section where Andy and I overtake about 3-4 people and catch back up with Chris, but then it flattens out AGAIN, and the precious places we took are taken back again as our straight, flat speed is out gunned by everyone else. Onto tarmac, and more people overtake, 1st lady goes past me, a Dark Peaker, and there is nothing I can do to respond, or even think about responding.
Through a field, road, then a stile, Chris is ahead of me and making excellent ground on those ahead of him, on a short ascent he makes up 4 places, swiftly followed by the 1st lady.

More road, over a cattle grid and an ascent up the road, onto a track, losing places, past a group of walkers, Andy is in front of me now, and that Altringham chap who runs and walks, and we swing up onto the ascent to Lantern Pike. Everyone is walking. The sun is still out, but rain is threatening.
Up the steep part, a sharp right and a runnable bit to the top of the hill. I eventually overtake the Altringham guy and Andy, heading up to the top, and there is Tom taking pictures again.
Over the top and down, at last a bit that I can enjoy, slightly technical muddy and slippy down hill, I stretch away from Andy, over take a couple of people, and follow someone who is evidently just as happy as I am about the fact its now a bit more techy. The rain starts pouring in earnest.
He gets away from me for a bit, and I see Chris and the Dark Peak lady battling it out ahead, too far to catch? Maybe.

Again, back past the still wildly enthusiastic (if slightly damp) Des, and down the hill again, the rain comes down harder and the guy in front begins to flag. I keep it nice and paced, this is the fun part. Down and right, onto more tarmac, round a couple of corners and I overtake him on the tarmac. There is another person now between me and Chris, and the next part is a steep steep tarmac downhill section, I let it all go and just let the legs do their thing. Hit the ground hard, get grip, keep going. The water is pouring down the road, but the friction of my feet in the shoes warms my feet up. I stay a distance behind the guy, but as we go down the hill he tires, and I catch him, and pass. To the bottom, I'm getting closer to Chris and the Dark Peaker, we have 400 metres left, I look at my watch, not long to go before 40 mins is up. I know Chris ideally wants a sub-40 min time.

Coming in at the end

We come up onto the road and cross it, and they are about 30 metres ahead of me, I shout at Chris that its 38 mins and to get a wiggle on if he wants that time. He shouts back that he's got a stitch, and the Dark Peak lady seems to surge in front of him. Now its all muddy field uphill to the end. We go down and around, and then past the muddy stream that we went through at the beginning, I nearly catch Chris, but he accelerates away up the hill, past the Dark Peaker and away. I contour around behind her, and if this last part is uphill, I'm a gonner. We come out of the field, and its a flat sprint all the way home.

Stretch out, and go. Not a hope of catching Chris, but I pass the Dark Peak lady and come in at 40:20, 33rd.
The rain descends in anger as we mingle at the end, a growing number of muddy, shattered runners, standing/lying/sitting in a downpour in the middle of a field.

Andy comes in very soon after me, and Charlie not long after that. John H had a long and very tiring race, commenting that he probably won't do the triple next year. We both had the same experience of just having nothing in our legs.

There was lots of places for road runners to overtake, but not many techy bits for fell runners to excel at. I'm still fine with the downhill bits, but I need to work on flat speed and uphills. I say that all the time, but now the racing season is over, I might actually be able to work on my weaknesses a bit.

Well done to Mark O for being first Glossopdale home in 6th (I think), and well done to all those that ran in the rain, hail, thunder and lightning. I didn't see the last 3, but apparently it was all happening up there!

yes, that is quite an angle on the hill...

The sun then came out and we chilled out at the fair for a bit before adjourning to Sikobes house for a rather splendifourus end of racing season Glossopdale BBQ. Thanks for hosting, Sikobe, a great time was had by all, even the long suffering Ian who ended up cooking (apparently for the first time in a long time).

Ian, doing what he does best. And cooking.

Thanks to the organisers and marshals for making the race safe and organised, I found it hard, but it shows me what I need to practice to get better. Thank you.

A story of 3 races. Coombs Tor, Padfield Scamper and the Coal Sack race

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A day with 2 fell races is always going to present a choice, unless they are close enough to each other to get from one to the other in time for the second one to start.
This will normally involve a bit of pre-planning and a car.
What if the races are on the same day, a decent amount of time between them, and a runnable distance from each other? What then.

Numbering up for Coombs

Well.
We started off the day picking up Sikobe (whose idea this entire folly it was) and John S and wended our way out to Rowarth for the start of Coombs tor race. The first time this race has been run, organised by Goyt Valley Stranglers. There were a few of us around who were doing both races, but fewer of us that were going to do both, and the run between them.
We dropped off the bags of stuff we were going to take from one race to the other, and warmed up a bit. There was quite a good Glossopdale turnout for the race, which is always good, a nice social scene. I don't know if we outnumbered all the other clubs, but I wouldn't be surprised. It was good to see Nick Barber of Pennine at the race, on his way back up north to his new job- he wasn't going to stop off at Padfield after, though, mores the shame.

route checking

Sikobe decided that anyone running all 3 sections of the day should all be given a token of our dedication to the cause and brought chillies fresh from his allotment- to be kept until the end of the races and then swapped for a "prize". hmmm. In all there were 5 of us from Glossopdale who were fool enough to do it, Me, John S, John H, Julien and Sikobe. There were also 2 other guys from Retford AC who thought they would join in the fun.

We lined up for starting a bit early, and hung around for quite a bit. The start was delayed by a horsebox loading a horse just around the corner, and time ticked away... we needed a timely start to ensure that we could get down to Padfield in time for the 2nd race. oooh. 15 mins went by and we still didn't start. Eventually we did, about 20 mins late, and there was a full blown dash down the hill (led by our own Carl Bedson, striding away like a mad thing at the front) until we hit a tiny, slippery footpath which spread things out a bit. I hung on to Julien, who took the first opportunity he had to whip his Glossopdale top off, complaining of the "heat".

Elaine and Claire from Pennine warming up

The start (and eventual end)

There were a few guys in front of me, but not a whole lot. The problem here was do I go all out, and run like crazy to get a decent result in this race and damn the second, or do I chill out on both races and the run between? Hmmm. Well, I can't let Julien get too far ahead of me, simply  because he is doing both races and I didn't really want to be too far behind him at the end of either race. Up and over the hill, down the other side and over some footpaths. Truth to tell there wasn't much in terms of an epic battle going on, I was just trying to keep Julien in sight, and there were 2 others between us who were swapping places quite a lot.
As expected, up the hills I was dropping back, and down the hills I was gaining, while the flat sections were a kind of stalemate, with one of the other guys being quite strong through the flats. Going down the only slippery grassy part of the race, Julien was a good 40 yards ahead and I managed to close up a little, but up the next part, there was no way that I was making up any time at all. I noticed a bit of a pain in the back of my left calf. Was it cramp? No, it didn't feel like cramp. A sting? A bite? as I ran, it felt more like a bite. Ah, dammit. Looking down, nope, nothing there. Oh well, just get on an ignore it as best I can.

We got to the top and there was a fair amount of undulation going on where I made nothing on any of them, and they ended up as more of a trio competing against each other. Down, and a minor mistake made because of a slightly misplaced marshal. I saw this from about 50 metres back and was able to make up a little distance, on them. Down, over a stile, left and onto a road that went down and up. Julien doesn't like road, so I made a little back on the trio ahead.

We must be 3/4 of the way around by now, my legs are aching a bit. Its not like I've been hammering around, but I certainly haven't been dawdling. I'm almost in a realm of my own, with 3 ahead and no-one else around me. By this time I'm thinking about how many people must be in front of me. Ohh. about 10. That makes me 10th. ish. I've not really been properly top 10 ever, so that's pretty damn good. I can see 9,8 and 7 in front of me, between 20 and 50 metres away, so that's not all that bad. We'll go with that.

Thanks for the photo Geoff

Up and right, and then, what? another hill? I didn't realise there was another up. Julien gets overhauled by both runners, and I'm slowly catching up. I recognise the area as I've biked around here before. It dawns on me that we will be going down quite a slippy technical descent at the end of the race, brilliant, perfect for catching people up. I keep the pace and we go on. And on. and on. I'm SURE the turning is up here somewhere, can't let them get too far ahead. Dig a little deeper, and I'm starting to feel it a lot more.
Then. I hear breathing behind me. Is that breathing? Or is it my imagination?
Not sure, the turning is coming up, doesn't matter, pretend it is breathing, and pretend its John H and it will make you go faster. Better the imagination than nothing there at all.
Cut right, out of the corner of my eye I see a blue top.
It IS John. Crikey. He was no-where just now. Better the devil behind you than imagination!
I head down the trail, I know this bit. Flat and fast on a mountain bike, getting more technical as you go down, and then a bit rocky and nasty through some trees until you come out on a tarmacked road.
I pass Julien easily with him saying "I thought it was you behind me", 200 metres further, just getting into the technical rocky stuff I pass the next guy on the left, brain off, and down into the trees, fast gaining on the guy in 7th. Out at the bottom I'm a pace behind him, and there are maybe 200 metres left. I follow him down for about 10 of them and he begins to try and accelerate down the hill. We started half way up this hill and it was the bottom that Carl had run crazily down at the beginning of the race. I knew exactly when to kick. Just as we passed the "start line" with 100 metres to go, bang, left him for dead, sprinting in to the line in 7th place, 1st Glossopdale. Not bad at all. But a tad tired. This might not bode quite so well for the rest of the day.
John H and Julien came in pretty much hot on my heels, but were 9th and 10th respectively.
We stood around for a while, gasping, and trying to look composed. It didn't really work.
Had there been a team prize we would have got it, but I don't think there was. Ah well.

All too soon, Sikobe and John S had come in and it was going on midday, time to head on out, the Padfield race starts at 1315. We set on out and within about 150 metres I was thinking "this might have been a bad idea". Up and out of Rowarth, I followed Julien, as this wasn't really a race, it was a transit, but with a specific time that we had to be in Padfield. Jules knows his stuff, so I'll keep with him. Over a few stiles, my Garmin kept turning itself off, so I really don't have a perfect route of where we went, but its close enough.

transit

A long long hill up on a road, then eventually onto a field, up and over to Monks road, across it and over to the Nab. A delightful run, taking in the views, at a relaxed pace. Julien and I out front with the others a way back. At points, my left calf twinged a bit, but there was nothing serious or significant about it. I also managed to run through a thistle and lodge a huge thorn in the top of my shoe which constantly, on every step, embedded itself further into the top of my foot. Ouch. I'll have to take that out before we start the next race.

Transit over the Nab

Over the Nab, and down the Herod Farm race route, then through Glossop in a direction that I have never gone before, following Julien's nose, and listening to stories of how it used to be before this that and the other was built. He has a fascinating knowledge of the place and would be brilliant to get drunk with, but as we went up the hill towards Padfield all I wanted was for him to stop running! My legs were not happy and I was considerably tired, getting into the place where I really didn't want to be. Tired and achy and not really in a position to head up another hill.

Me and Jules coming in

Over the hill and down into Padfield. Thank goodness for that. Its 1pm, the race starts in 15 mins, and we had just about got there in time, Lynne and Andrea were there (taxi drivers from the morning), as were 2 worried wives from Retford AC. No, they weren't with us, yes, they were with the other guys, yes they were fine last time we saw them, no, we have no idea exactly where they are or when they will turn up, but it probably won't be long.

John S

John H

I wander around and see a few faces from this mornings run who have driven over to here from Rowarth. Again, there is a good Glossopdale turnout, with more faces who weren't there this morning. I won't be getting top 10 here then! StevieK from Pennine is running, I try to psyche him out with the mud on my shorts, but it doesn't seem to work. Chris Jackson is looking happy because Jules and I look pretty tired, and John H still hasn't arrived yet...

Sikobe

5 mins goes by. Then 10, and John S turns up. Then John H. Eventually, 2 mins before we are due to start, Sikobe rocks up. I have no idea what happened to the Retford guys, I presume they turned up and are alive because one of the posted on the Forum.

Number swap with Bray

All to soon the Gun went and we were off.
I didn't even make an attempt at being near the front for the off, and jogged along mid pack. This was going to be long and quite hard. Down, then up. The beginning of a lot of up. Not steep, not technical, just long and steady. Into the first field and I get overtaken by a client saying "yknow, its your wives' massages that make me run this fast". I catch him at the next stile and he says "I didn't mean to be presumptuous of course, wife, partner...." I'm nearly too knackered to reply, and I can't remember the retort.

A gaggle of Glossopdalers

Onward and upward, across a road and along a flat bit and I'm accosted from behind, its John H, stumbling along in much the same state as me. Jules has gone off ahead of us and there is no way we are going to catch him. Up the hill, and another voice, "ah, you two must be doing the double and the run, glad about that, there's no way I'd catch you normally!"
Well, at least we are making someones day.

John S back marking

Looking comfy at the start. (thanks for the pic Ian)

That hill went on forever. Just grinding away. My calf is beginning to hurt a bit more and I'm wondering if I've bitten off more than I can chew. The thorn in my shoe is still there and making life a little more uncomfortable every time I take a step. So many times I wanted to stop, but if you walk, its just going to take longer to get around the course. Eventually after about 20 years of running it flattened out a bit, and John managed to find some wind from somewhere and went off ahead. No way was I going to respond. This was pretty much about survival now.
Grinding it out, we overtook 2 people, and 2 others over took us. Up to the top and the turn around, there were 2 people between me and John, and Claire from Pennine (who won the Ladies prize in the morning at Rowarth- but failed to run between the 2, mind you, it was her Birthday as well. Happy Birthday Claire!) was catching me up. My legs felt like lead, but now it was all, or at least mostly, downhill. But it wasn't fun technical stuff, it was undulating bits and pieces, which is a lot easier to run on, and hence I have a lower average speed on it in comparison to other people. I was losing out and losing places all the time. Down the hill. Claire overtakes me, and in the next 700 metres overtakes the next two and is challenging John for his place. We go through a field, and down a rocky gully where I close all of them down, overtake 2 of them and am snapping at the heels of John and Claire.
Then it went up again, I was nearly on my knees. Up, over, I had to walk a couple of paces before I got a grip and carried on with the shuffle. Overtaken again, but only once, and then down onto the path again. I can't keep the speed on the flat and I'm overtaken again.

My sprint finish

I know this is the last mile or so, but there is nothing left at all. Across the road and down through the field. I'm sure I can hear footsteps behind me, and I hang on. Down through the field, into the trees and out again, feet slapping on the road, and there is an acceleration from behind me. This is no more than 40 metres from the finish. I'm not having that.

Quite tired.

Stretch out, ignore the pain, ignore the issues in my legs, and reach for the line, I come in fast and ahead of the guy challenging for the place. A triumph at the end of the pain.
I came in about 30th ish.
Lynne was there to greet me and I stumbled around for a while. John H looked a mess, as did Julien, and I daresay I did as well. Brilliant. What a day. John S and Sikobe eventually came in somewhere right at the back of the field- but not last. (just).

Lynne, Caroline and I wandered around the show for a bit and somehow we ended up in the Peels for a pint. It was the sitting down that really made me go there. John S and Sikobe joined us, and then hunger overtook any desire to sit down and we went back for Hog Roast, to find John H wandering around in a minor daze. Filling up with food (and the inevitable chilli that we had been carrying around with us all day, jeeeeeez it was HOT) we started to think about ANOTHER race. Sikobe had been talking about the Coal Sack Race for the past 2 weeks. I thought it was a sack race like when you get in a sack and jump down the road.
No.
You pick up a 25kg sack of coal and run(!) up a 150m hill. That's it.

Brilliant, that sounds like a marvellous idea, especially in the state we're in. Jules had already gone home, and was going to come back for the coal sack race as well. (He was a winner of the Coal Sack race in 2005 and (I think) was keen to prove his total superiority over all of us).
We wandered around, had a scone, and found somewhere to sit down. Wandered to the hill, looked at it, thought this is a bad idea, and wandered back.

Result of the chillies. No, they weren't hot at all Sikobe.

The race starts at 5pm, after literally everything else has been packed up and everyone else has gone home. Odd, considering its a pretty good event to watch, but then I'm sure the organisers have their reasons.

We signed up, got numbers, Jules stood around giving out advice on how to hold the sack and that the first 20 metres are "easy" and then it gets hard. I suspect the rest of us were thinking... it ALL looks hard.

nervous at the start line

Lynne also signed up for the Ladies race, only 2 competitors, the other was a record holder from a number of years ago. They only had 10kg sacks to carry. Lynne has been wandering around with a 35 or 40kg sack at the end of her training sessions at S&P, and picked it up as if it wasn't there... She was going to find this one easy.

There was a certain amount of waiting around, and then we started. 3 at a time, you ran with whoever was at the start line and picked up a sack. Julien and Tom Jackson were in the first lot to go, and set a blistering pace. I decided to get it over with, and stepped up for the 2nd run. Lynne immediately stepped up beside me (its the same distance just a different weight, so guys and girls ran together. Torsten from Glossop MRT came up next to me. Great, this is going to be fun.

Lynne trouncing me quite significantly

Celebrations

Hoiking the bag up was unsurprisingly awkward, keeping it there wasn't too bad, and the gun went. Lynne accelerated away. Not really a surprise there either, Torsten and I dragging away behind. Up and up, legs, already heavy from about 18 miles of running getting heavier at every step. Lynne blasting out ahead with all the women shouting "yay! do it for the girls!" (I can almost hear Lynne's thoughts of "I'm doing this for me, if you want to do it for the girls, go and pick up a sack you lazy sods")

John H and bag

Torsten comes level with me at about half way and I'm hanging on for dear life, I have power for maybe a 5 metre push at the end, just don't go to early and it will be fine. Go too early and you'll be on your knees.
We are neck and neck until the last 5 metres, I push and beat him by a small amount, throwing the sack down on the pile at the end. Well, that'll be the days racing over then.

Sikobe and John S down the hill

I sit down on the hill and FINALLY remember to pull the thorn out of my shoe. Sweet relief. Sikobe, John S and John H come up, the Johns both looking broken, but they pull through and get to the top. The day is ended with the current and 4 years running winner sprinting up the hill in less than 30 second, but not quite managing to break his record.

Lynne and her prize

Lynne won herself a trophy which now sits on the mantelpiece (I've run about 13 races this year, and the most I've got is a bit of paper from Andy Howie saying he owes me a prize for being 3rd bloke in the May Queen Races, she runs one race and gets a trophy... ah well).
We all got a can of beer for taking part, and at the end, the organisers had obviously got wind of us 5 doing the treble (or even quadruple if you count the transition run) and we got an extra can of beer each. A long and tortuous way of earning your calories, but within about 2 mins of starting on our way home, Julien was talking excitedly about next year, and how we could make it "more interesting".

I finally found out it was a thorn lodged in my calf that was causing the pain throughout all the races, nothing muscular at all. Which is good. I wore a pair of Inov8 roclites all the way through the day and didn't take them off at all. No blisters, no pains, but I wonder if a pair of sock gaiter things might have stopped the thorn in the foot issue...
Thanks to Sikobe for coming up with the idea, to all the race organisers of all 3 races, John H, John S and Julien for coming along on the whole thing as well, and Lynne and Andrea for taxiing us out there in the first place. I don't think running the first leg would have been entirely intelligent... but, then, there is always next year.

Oh, results.
Julien came 11th, 19th and 7th(ish) total of 37(ish)
John H came 10th, 26th(ish) and 15th, total of 51(ish)
I came 7th, 30th and 10th, total of 47(ish)
Sikobe came 64th, 3rd last and 13th, total of quite a lot
John S came 72nd, 2nd last and 14th, total of quite a lot

Jules, Me, John H, Sikobe and John S

Coombs Tor results are definite, the rest are approximate. But we all had a good day out. And that's all that matters.

Coombs Tor and Padfield Plum Fair Scamper

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In view of comments about the wordiness of my blogs I have decided to cut back.

Drove to Rowarth.
Ran Coombs Tor. Came 7th.
Ran from Rowarth to Padfield.
Ran Padfield Plum Fair Scamper. Came 30ish.
Had a beer.
Had a Mettricks Pork Roast Sandwich.
Had a scone.
Did the Coal sack race. Got beaten by Lynne.
Came home.

Fairly fatigued.

Shelf Moor Race report

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Wow. I'm quite fatigued.

Shelf Moor is a locally run race, organised by Glossopdale fellrunners, and presided over by Gordon- and a very well run race it was too. I had a minor role in providing kit checks at the start of the race (random ones, not EVERYONE got checked). The minimum requirement for the race was a windproof top and bottom layer because of an accident that occurred last year, the runner in question cooled down very quickly because of lack of outer wear.
As far as I could see, everyone had taken on board the warnings that anyone without the covering would be DQ'd and I didn't have to take anyones number down. Which was good.

The race map, elevation profile and kit requirements

Lynne and I got over to the scout hut quite early- considering it was about 500 yards from the house, it wasn't too much of a chore to get there, where I registered, and helped lug in the massage tables for any poor and ailing runners in the run-up to, and indeed, aftermath of the race. Lynne was going to be doing the hard work of massaging, while I was out doing the "fun" stuff of running up a hill, and then massaging at the end.

Slowly but surely the runners filtered in, with one or two taking advantage of the free Sports Massage (with donations to Glossop Mountain Rescue, of course. The morning was a little overcast, with a minor threat of rain, but nothing more. Lack of safety pins at the start meant I had to raid the stash of pins in the ash tray of the car- stored for a moment such as that! I now have no pins in the car, so need to start amassing them once more.
I wandered up to the start- checking a few peoples kit on the way, and very soon it was time to start. To be honest, I didn't really feel like I had warmed up properly, and I certainly didn't finish my stretches to keep the psoas and iliacus/diaphragm pain at bay, but that was my own fault and I hoped it wouldn't slow me down too much. The field was looking quite strong for this race, as Julien noted. Not only was Jack Ross and Gwyn around, but a team Inov8 runner was also about, and Dave Taylor from DP. This was looking like it might be a fast off. A short speech from Gordon saying thanks to everyone for obeying the kit rules, and without too much ado, we were off.

The beginning of the course is long and flat(ish). It goes along the bridleway up from Mossy Lea and on the way up to doctors gate. One word for it, fast. Before we had gone 300 yrds Simon Bailey, Jack and Gwyn were shooting off into the distance with the rest of us strung out behind like the debris trail of a comet. I kept in contact with Julien up the path, not wanting to burn out too much, knowing the climb that was coming. Having said that, the "flat" bridleway is anything but, providing a nice constant uphill challenge before the race really gets going.
There was a little harrying for places as we went along the path, but it was mostly settled in my bit of the race. It was nice to see some of the other Harriers out marshaling, so I said my hellos as we went through the gates helpfully held open by them. We streamed right, down toward the river, where a small divergence in the path occurs. Julien went high, and I've run this route before, following him. This gains us some ground as others drop lower to the river on rockier terrain, and we stay on a good trod. Nice route taking. It gains us precious seconds on the guys who took the lower path. Julien already has his top off- and it is really starting to feel warm and a bit muggy as we jump over a ditch, say hi to Carl as he marshals the bottom of the climb, and turn left up the hill toward James Thorn.

I did this part of the route last week with Matt and Rob when they were up from London and was quite comfortably knocking stuffing out of it as I ran uphill, leaving them for dust. (or mud, really, considering the weather). The beginning of the climb was ok, I managed to stay with Jules as we climbed, he slowed considerably as the gradient got harder, and I figured I'd sit on his heels and hold on, see what happened. To be honest, there isn't all that much on the hill that isn't runnable, but as you get higher, the more you just want to stop and walk. At the first steep section, we did just that and walked. One of the guys who we passed by taking the trod stormed up through, and by this time, my legs were starting to feel a bit tired. The gradient flattened out and I managed to start running again without too much trouble, but Julien was beginning to pull away. The hill swung up again, and we were reduced to walking- this is where it started going wrong I think. Just not enough in the legs.

Julien and the other guy began to sneak out of reach, and I had nothing to answer them with. plodding away, I was running, but I'm not sure that anyone would have called it running had they seen it. Up over the spine of the hill, to the stile. Over it (quite beautifully I must hasten to add), and up on to the Lancaster wreck site where Beryl was marshaling. I asked if she had a cup of coffee for me, the reply was no, but she did have a kick up the butt for me instead.

Smiling for 1/200th of a second on James Thorn. After that it was back to the grind. Photo credit to ShaunP. Let me know if you want it removed.

So I trawled on upward. Lactic raging in the legs, and all but wanting to sit down and not move for a month. I know how Matt was feeling last week when he said his calfs hurt and I sniggered a bit. I wasn't sniggering now, I was gasping for air. The vest comes off and is stuffed down the waistband of the bumbag. now, to the top, and then a slight dip across some peat bog and then again, UP to the trig point.
By this time we are really spaced out, Jules has a massive jump on me and is miles away, there is someone else just up ahead that I am attempting to keep pace with, but other than that, the main concern is the army of heavy breathing runners that appear to be closing in from behind. I stagger off across the top of the hill keeping to the very well flagged course looking at the floor quite a lot as I'm fatigued, and that is the time that I most often kick the floor and end up tumbling- which, although it doesn't generally hurt, does tend to slow me down.
I follow this runner across and over, can't remember if I overtook him, I think I did, as I remember coming up to the trig with someone else in front and again, the army of heavy breathers behind. The final ascent to the trig was horrible, and I ended up having to walk again, disappointing, but very necessary and someone overtook me. I noticed he had a pair of X-talon 190s on... lighter and grippier than my roclite 268, so I was a bit concerned that he would be rather handy on the descent. No time to worry about niceties of kit at this stage, I had a pressing need to get more oxygen in my lungs.
We crossed the gap to the trig, with runners going in the opposite direction- its Julien, already passed the trig. That's the last I'm going to see of him then.
Up to the trig and I hear someone shouting encouragement at me, and at Chris. He must be pretty close behind then. If he hasn't got me by now, theres no way hes going to get me.

Around the trig point- photo Angrybloke2000

We turn around the trig and its flat across peat bog. I know that this is the high point and everything from here on is downhill, (give or take), and it is very very well flagged as well. Gathering pace as I get my breath back I haul in the guy with the X-talons on. So he isn't as good on the peat as I suspected he might be. Within a minute I am almost at the point where I'm being held up by him, we are weaving a bit as the trod isn't just a single defined path, sometimes I make a good decision which brings me closer, sometimes he makes a slightly better one, time to go, and I make the move. Stretching out a bit over the bog, I overtake him, and am a bit concerned that he is going to come back. No such thing. Soon I am off by myself on the peat moors, and apart from the flags and the marshals I might as well be on my own.
Very soon I see just how far ahead of me the next runners are. Crikey- that's got to be at least, I dunno, 300 metres. Just keep it up. I go over the moor, and it just keeps on going. I know Yellowslacks is in a bit, but am astonished that the trod keeps going. And going. A little bit concerned now as I'm not sure how much energy I have left, I finally see Andy come into view, and the sharp descent into the stream, and back up out again. Now its down to Dog rock and Yellowslacks. Not my favourite bit of running.

There is a lot of sticky up rock and debris all over the place, which makes it not the greatest ground cover for fast running. I keep at it, heart hammering away, and bizarrely enough I see a runner in front of me, he must be tiring. I go slightly faster, but not wanting to burn out, keep it sensible. This is a long section, and as much as you want it to end, it just keeps going. I pass a few walkers, by now I must be a real sight, no top, knackered, feeling a bit ill from the exertion and generally the worse for wear. Sandra is at Dog rock and I'm catching the guy ahead of me, but I'm really concerned about everything that I CAN'T hear behind. Where are they all? Is there someone making a sneak attack? Don't look back.

Not looking quite so comfy on the descent Photo- Geoff

We go down the hill, me chasing this guy, still a way ahead. He stops to do up a shoe lace, and is up again, 40 yards ahead. Ah, I didn't need that kind of advantage, I was catching him anyway. Still, it makes it easier. 500 yards later, he's down again, tying it up, again. I feel like stopping and giving him a head start chance so that I can actually catch him fair and square, but realise that if I did that, I'd get caught by the guys behind me. So I pass him thinking... you really need to tie those up properly this time.

On and on, down and down. Past a couple more people with cameras, over the stile, down, is this guy catching me? I'm really hurting and dreading the final 300 metres down the bridleway. No one in front of me, over the last stile and its down Lightside. I'm getting a stitch and I can't go as fast as I want. My roclites seemed to be giving me enough grip, but I was bumbling down it like a newbie. Fatigue was beginning to take its toll. I've done this hill a few times as a hill rep place, and I always feel like hell when descending- today was no different. Down, through the gate and slam, it closes. I plunge down the path, waiting to hear a report from the gate as someone else comes through. I hear nothing, that's good.
Second gate- onto the bridleway, Slam. This is the final part, the home stretch, the place where the English Championships were decided last year. I was not going to get overtaken here, despite the over-riding feeling that I really really wanted to walk. No idea who is behind me, or by how far, that's not an option.

That last 300 metres down the bridleway went on for a lifetime. Legs pumping acid, lungs burning, stitch getting worse by the step, just a case of needing to finish. Last few yards and I "sprint" to the end, coming in at 51:42, 12th place. The next guy was at 52:23, so it was all in my head.
To be honest, at the end, its not a matter of you versus him, its you versus the clock, which is why I never look back. Imagination is more motivating than someone 40 metres up the track.

Finish. Feel sick. Apparently looking quite grey. Handshakes and all that kind of stuff and then a jump down and into the river, following Jules and his dog Brae, soaking the calfs and taking away some of the accumulated metabolic waste. More runners finish, and join us in the river, Jules tells us "not to worry" about the toxic leak just up river... as ever, not entirely sure whether to take him seriously or not. On balance, probably not. Gwyn comes over looks at everyone, then at his brand new shoes which appear to be not the worse for wear despite running over a peat bog, and takes them off before wandering into the river...

After standing around for a while cooling off, I head back to the hut to change into other shoes, and get massaging. There were a few who wanted some cool down treatment, which we were happy to oblige, I even met SBRT a fellow blogger and runner- nice to have met you sir- You'll have to re-introduce yourself next time though as I was still a little dazed from the run at that point!
Lynne took a few bookings from sore runners, and had a cracking time treating spectators and the like as I was out running.

Treating at the end

Well done to Gwyn for 3rd despite being a bit knackered from training too much. (I know what its like just moving to Glossop... you see hills and go run in them... and then realise you have to race as well), Jules for the V50 prize, and Gwyn, Mark and Jules for the team prize. Always good to get that at your home race.
Thanks to Gordon for the organisation, and to all the Glossopdaleans who were marshaling, and the people who I have nicked photos off. As I mentioned, Lynne was massaging all race and so wasn't out there with her camera.

What a fantastically knackering race. The fast start, the horrific hill (which I am now going to have to practice), fantastic moor crossing and a fast, potentially slippy descent. Its that last dash for the line that really takes it out of you though. Wow.
It might be amusing to do that race with a descent down Shelf, and an ascent up to Dog rock. That might be fun.
Who's up for that?!


(oh and if anyone else has any other photos that I can blag, please drop me a line- Chris, I tried to get a generic one of yours off facebook, but I can't get it...technophobe alert!)
(and apologies for the length, once I start writing I don't seem to be able to stop)

Barrel Inn Fell Race

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The route

Last of the Midweek Championship Counters for Glossopdale. 1st and 2nd has been decided already, and John Hewitt and I are the only 2 in contention for 3rd place. All he needs to do is come one place behind me, and he comes 3rd. I have to be either first or second Glossopdale home. Gwyn is running, so first is pretty much out of the window, and knowing John, its going to be a hard run for second.

My plan was simply to beat John, and see how far back he came. Barrel Inn is about 10km long, and doesn't have too much in the way of crazy steep climbs- which is where I've managed to beat John before. Nor had he been racing at the weekend, so he was fresh.
And I heard that he had new shoes.
Damn.
I'm very happy he has new shoes, but not so happy that this is the race he is going to debut them.
Anyhow.

The playground

Lynne and I got over to Eyam quite early on. It was her Birthday so we had some food and had a lovely day out and all that kind of malarky. Just after getting to the car park and heading out for a bit of a recce of the route, Beryl and Carl came jogging across the parking lot, clutching a map of the route as well, and we made it a bit of a group recce, taking in the beginning, the end, and the adventure playground (which was by far the best bit), noting where all the stiles and slippery bits were. (on the route, not the playground. 
We went over to the start and registration, registered early and had a chat about the route with the organiser, who mentioned that yes there was a lap of the cricket pitch at the beginning. And at the end.
Great. Well at least we know.

After chilling out for a while, cars began to gather, people arrived and there was soon quite a full field turning up. Charlie arrived with Gwyn, Tom and John, who was sporting a new pair of Mudclaw 333's. By this time I had realised that I didn't actually have my new grippy roclites in the car. Nope. I had picked up my old dodgy ones with no grip and a broken lace retainer. Oh dear, this could be fun. A bit of pre-race banter followed, with mentions of Bear-traps and the like.
It was quite chilly at the start, and Lynne had already gone off up to somewhere to take photos, so we stood around getting quite chilly - except John, resplendent in his hat. Very soon the organiser said a few words about the course and that someone would be blowing a whistle to start us off.
Peep.
That was it, we were off.
I love the random nature of starts in fell races, you never really quite know what's going to happen.

Chris leading us up the first hill

140 of us raced across the field and around the cricket pitch, and then hit the hill. I could see John out of the corner of my eye and kept him in close contact.
My basic race strategy (yep, I actually had a strategy this time), was to keep in contact with John all the way around, but get over every stile in front of him. That would give me a good 5-7 metre jump on him each time we went over one, and by the time he caught me up, there would (hopefully) be another stile to get the jump on him again. Then at the end, sprint for the line and see what happened. OK, this wouldn't get me 3rd in the championship, but I would get the victory for the day.
John, being the fighter that he is wasn't going to settle for one place behind me, he wanted to beat me, I was pretty sure he would go out hard, and continue in that vein all the way around, beating me into submission every step of the way, and in the process, taking much of the sting out of my final dash for the line. It was going to be tough.

Top of the first hill after the first dig

Up the hill, Chris was up in front of us, he's good on hills is Chris. He can't but help it with legs that long. I was behind John all the way up the climb, on tarmac to begin with, then up a track that winds up the hill, hard pack and rocky underfoot, slightly unstable, but generally fine. It went on for a while, round a couple of steeper bends, and then up to the top, I put in the first dig and stretched out in front of John as we passed Lynne and Carl at the top of the climb, putting a good few metres between us. We were about to go on road as well, which would see him close the gap - and he did, but I was over the stile first.
Bang, immediately I was up with Chris for the undulating field with John a ways behind. Perfect. Chris was saying that he'd gone off way too fast, too early and that he was just going to go backward from that point on, I'd have loved to have had a conversation, but I knew John was coming... neck and neck, he gained on me... there's a stile coming, speed up, and over it in front, left, up a track.
That little boost from getting over the stile was good, by the time we got to the top of the rise, again, we were neck and neck, and we matched each other all the way down the next bit of slope. Sometimes he slipped ahead, but I pulled him back. It was beginning to hurt a bit now. A relentless pace up the hill, then down, I knew I was hurting, but surely, surely he was hurting too? Whatever pace he can sustain, I can as well.

Round the corner, John was first, onto a track, I think there were other runners there, but honestly, I have no idea. A bit of a left hander, and I'm still trailing a little. Back onto the road down to Barrel Inn, the namesake of the race and he is in front all the way. Thanks to the team outside the pub who were ready to hand out drinks, I felt very rude for not picking any up, but did have a slightly more pressing matter on my mind.
Round the corner of the pub and down a short tarmacked hill, I thought I would try a bit of psychological warfare and pushed out ahead of John by a stride or two, then fell back, and then did it again, and fell back. Ha Ha! I'm going to completely dominate this now.

No.

The track turns into a rutted nightmare of a track going uphill, and all of a sudden I'm flagging. John is probably about to give me a bit of a masterclass in how to keep going at the same pace for a fair amount of time longer than I am able to sustain. Up the hill, (well, slope actually), we are behind someone else, and I know that if John can push past, then I'm done for. Keep breathing and turning over the pace, I stick to his coat tails and we come up and to a stile. Of 4 runners, I am the last one to the stile. As we go over, none of my technique helps and we come down equal lengths apart. Then they all seem to accelerate away from me. You have got to be kidding me. Why can't I keep up with them? I try striding out, it doesn't work. We hit another stile, which slows them down enough for me to just get behind them again.
Once more the trail is flat, and they accelerate away, at the next stile there is enough of a gap for them to be a unit of 3 with me trailing some way behind.
There are 2 lovely ladies by the stile, marshaling, so I do my utmost to vault over with as much style, speed and panache as possible, and am off in hot pursuit. Down the hill, but the guys in front are way in front now. 20, 25 metres? I can hear breathing behind me.
I can't believe that I'm not able to keep up with John. I've been whupped good and proper. I try to work out if my legs are just cruising, if there is anyway that I can make the run faster. I'm sure they are cruising, but the more I try, the more they go at the same speed, and the further ahead the 3 in front of me get. I've been given a bit of a lesson.
But its not over yet.

Down and down and down we go, (not all that steep, mind, just a nice gradient that everyone else apparently can run faster than me), and at the bottom a sharp right and up the hill. You can see who is behind you and how far. An idea pops into my head that if John sees just how far behind I am, he might relax and slow down a little. No idea if this works or not, but I hit the bottom, sharp right and the grip on my dodgy old messed up roclites fail and I sprawl on the floor at the feet of the marshall. Great. And there is someone else catching me up. Right, up and at 'em then. Beyond and ahead of me, the line of people up the hill stretches out. John and his battle with 2 others is going on 30 metres up the hill from me, I just need to plug away and hope that I can close the gap somehow, hoping that at some point over the last few Kms I can overtake.
Up the hill, breathing, breathing, concentrate on people in front, keep going, ignore the pain, ignore the effort, keep going up. The hill throws a bit of a kick at us and I notice that John has been left by the others, and is now a lot closer to me. That speedy section must have taken a bit more out of him than I thought. Keep going. He's walking. Brilliant, I keep up the pace and come right up behind with about 30 metres of the steep section still to go. If I keep running all the way up, will I have the pace to stay in front, or will I have worn myself out too much?

I go for the steady option and power walk behind him until just before the top, when I pull out the stops and power on over the crest ahead of him. Nice. All that I thought was lost, is now back in hand. Just need to keep running, not the easiest of tasks and my feet feel tired of hitting the floor, my legs feel like they are wired to a car battery and its all I can do to fall forward while keeping them moving. John can't be feeling all that much better as I can hear him behind, but he can't overtake.
This field is going on for a long time.
I stretch out, but pretty much stay at the same speed. I know there is another stile coming up and I try to keep breathing at a normal(ish) rate (for running like an idiot), to trick myself into believing that I'm fine, hoping that this gives the impression that I'm fine. He's still just behind me, and I see the stile, a rush for it, as I think he now knows my plan, and is intent on getting there first. My line takes me there perfectly. One, and then very quickly another. Bang, and into the sloping field down to the road. Still in front, I'm hammering away, hoping against hope that he doesn't have the legs to overtake, after this field is a km on road, and that's not going to be fun, he's certainly going to be faster there, limit the damage, stay in front here, let him overtake on the road, and then through the trees, its steep, gather yourself there, catch your breath as you go down through the trees and take him at the end. Good plan.
Burst for the stile at the end of the field, again, just about holding him off, explode over the wall and onto the tarmac and run crazy down the road.

As expected, John slowly overhauls me. I fight back, but, keeping to the plan, I let him get a little ahead, but only by a stride. Round the corner, and my lungs are burning out. This is really really hurting now. Thankfully none of the diaphragmatic pain of races gone by, just sheer lung bursting, lactic acid inducing, leg lagging pain.
Down into the depths of the wood, this is going to be slippy, and I can see John is going a little gingerly, despite his new crazy sticky shoes, I'm skipping down over the roots quite happily, gaining my breath on every step down, he, seemingly concentrating hard, me just going with it. I was about to make some smart remark about his shoes and that I bet he's glad he has them on instead of his old ones with no grip when all of a sudden he bashed off right, following some small trail going down into the bottom of the river gully- the path continued straight on... "uh... John, its this way..." I said as I continued down ... He'd just quite literally run himself off the road. No longer following anyone, I stretched my legs out, not far to go now, just keep running. I suspected that he had extricated himself from the gully/ditch that he ran into and was now storming down through the woods as fast as possible to make up for the time he had lost with this minor route choice issue.
Panic, run like a lunatic.

I could hear big heavy footsteps behind me, keep going. Ripping down the hill, it was quite difficult to stop for the sharp right turn, where I caught a glimpse of a shirt behind me that wasn't Glossopdale. That's good, but no time to relax in the slightest. What can I concentrate on? 2 runners ahead, get them. Along a small and slippery single track through the trees, down and over a stream, left, and the runner in front of me over takes the one in front of him. Aha. I sense another scalp. We come out of the trees and the one that was overtaken has slowed dramatically. I see that he is also wearing Mudclaws, but nothing else. He could have been wearing a gorilla suit and I wouldn't have noticed. Weird how your mind works.
Up a short slope, through a gate, and the final killer uphill section. I overtake the guy with Mudclaws on, and have a mild panic that John is right behind me. I cannot look back, I cannot stop, I cannot do anything except run for the line. It must be about 600 metres away now. Up, up, and then a sharp left and down the hill.
ARGH
Steps. Who puts steps in a hill?! My legs don't work like normal, so instead of thrashing down them at a rate of knots, I mince down them a step at a time, probably looking for all the world like a man who needs a stick. Through the gate, which swings shut with a BANG and into the last downhill field. I go under 2 trees and am 10 metres away when the gate shuts again with another BANG. Whoever it is is about 10 metres behind me. Is it John? Can't be, but keep going, just in case. Through the stile at the bottom, which is one of those Pinch Stiles- the marshal says "you can sprint all the way home from here!" to which I reply "yeah, right" and go down past the blackberries, onto a track, sharp right at the bottom, I hear breathing behind me, and I know its just up here, past the playground and around the cricket field.

At the end, showing my number

Carl is there saying something about my position, I have no idea what it was, and I dig in, just that little bit more. No-one is going to overtake me from here. Up the slope and a tight left onto the cricket field. I cannot quite keep this pace to the end, I slow up just a touch for a few strides to catch my breath, and let whoever it is catch up by a few metres, Lynne is shouting at me from the other side of the field, and I cruise for another 10 metres. Right. Bottom of the field, no idea of what time this is, or position, but no-one is taking it from me, and a kick which, from the photos seem to suggest that whoever was behind me was never near me at any point.
Home. In 12th place. I look at my Garmin, but its shut down, great, the hardest race of my year and the stupid thing hasn't recorded it. It worked for 5 mins and then switched off of its own accord.
Ah well, I beat John.
Even in the hardest part of the race when he was 30-40 metres ahead, I thought about slowing down, giving into the pain, and letting him shoot off into the distance, but I kept on running, believing that I might be able to shut him down at some point. Had I not done that I would not have been able to capitalise on the mistake he made. Never give up, no matter how much you think you can't make it, there is always a chance that something is going to go your way. It did.

Well done to Gwyn, who won this one, I'd love to read his experiences of the race, but it would probably read "ran fast. beat everyone". I was 2nd Glossopdale home, John was 3rd, but the 4th guy, Tom was only 7 seconds behind him... had it been the other way around the club would have to start writing new rules about club championships. Never mind. I won the battle this time, but not the war.

Gwyn receiving his prize

Y'know, I feel somewhat cheated that John went the wrong way, that we didn't get to battle it out right to the very end, but such is the nature of fell racing. I don't think I've ever actually pushed that hard in a race before, I haven't had the motivation, or maybe, I've just subconsciously not wanted to hurt that much. Now I've done it though, I know it can be done. It never gets less painful. You just get faster. 
Next year is another year, but between now and then, there are a fair few weekend races. Longer, tougher, worse weather, lots of room for improvement.
Can't wait.