October 2018 - Race Reports
Saturday 20th October - Colwyn bay Cross country
On another Sunny Autumn day we sped north into the land of sheep and hills. Colwyn bay is a venue I had never had the pleasure of visiting on the Cross country calender and was looking forward to the trip.
A sneak preview of the profile by the race referee Bernie to Sally and myself said it was going to be lumpy. It seemed to have slipped both our minds when a rally of the troops were called, oops.
Parking at a local leisure centre we followed the signs to the fields where the race was to take part, this involved lugging the gazebo and kit up hill through a narrow path and housing estate. Knackered before we started.
The view as we entered the field told us everything we needed to know about the task ahead. Up and more up.
The course was a small lap and a big lap. Small lap consisted of the first two fields where you ran across and then up to the top of a hill on an extreme camber. Ok if you had one leg 6 inches shorter than the other maybe?
The big lap was across the fields but then down a path (pretty much single file) and then out onto the hill. This was so steep most were walking and to be honest they were nearly as quick as the ones running it. This part was more fell running than XC to be honest.
Once that was cracked it was through a kissing gate and a small wood. Trip hazards at a PLENTY here as Ceri Crabbe found out. A left turn and up again we went. Eventually a gap appeared and another kissing gate. Through and over the fields to a stile. Once clear it out over and down the fields to the finish point.
Well that was the ladies race done, men had one small and two big laps to contend with 😊
A tough course where all WRR members found it hard but loved the challenge set. Plenty of sprint finishes to keep their spot or even gain one or two. Best sprint finish was definitely Mark Goodridge and his battle with a Welsh athlete ( Mark is welsh himself if you didn’t know ).
Flap jacks and cakes were supplied by Hannah Turner and Sam Hall-Davies and much appreciated at the race debriefs.
Thanks to supporters, Sally and her clipboard, Susan and her Camera and Attia with the cheering. You are much appreciated.
As we were at the coast it only felt right to have fish and chips by the seaside and so we did. Best moment of the day seeing us lined up on the front shoving down the carbs before the seagulls had their chance to mug us of the food.
Final act was to have a dip in the sea with Sue Goodall and Christine Symms, another it had to be done moment. I actually think this helped in my recovery from the endeavours of the day.
Onwards and upwards to the next event in November at Wrexham where hopefully we will have the same if not more warriors representing the club.
Submitted by Stephen Gill
On another Sunny Autumn day we sped north into the land of sheep and hills. Colwyn bay is a venue I had never had the pleasure of visiting on the Cross country calender and was looking forward to the trip.
A sneak preview of the profile by the race referee Bernie to Sally and myself said it was going to be lumpy. It seemed to have slipped both our minds when a rally of the troops were called, oops.
Parking at a local leisure centre we followed the signs to the fields where the race was to take part, this involved lugging the gazebo and kit up hill through a narrow path and housing estate. Knackered before we started.
The view as we entered the field told us everything we needed to know about the task ahead. Up and more up.
The course was a small lap and a big lap. Small lap consisted of the first two fields where you ran across and then up to the top of a hill on an extreme camber. Ok if you had one leg 6 inches shorter than the other maybe?
The big lap was across the fields but then down a path (pretty much single file) and then out onto the hill. This was so steep most were walking and to be honest they were nearly as quick as the ones running it. This part was more fell running than XC to be honest.
Once that was cracked it was through a kissing gate and a small wood. Trip hazards at a PLENTY here as Ceri Crabbe found out. A left turn and up again we went. Eventually a gap appeared and another kissing gate. Through and over the fields to a stile. Once clear it out over and down the fields to the finish point.
Well that was the ladies race done, men had one small and two big laps to contend with 😊
A tough course where all WRR members found it hard but loved the challenge set. Plenty of sprint finishes to keep their spot or even gain one or two. Best sprint finish was definitely Mark Goodridge and his battle with a Welsh athlete ( Mark is welsh himself if you didn’t know ).
Flap jacks and cakes were supplied by Hannah Turner and Sam Hall-Davies and much appreciated at the race debriefs.
Thanks to supporters, Sally and her clipboard, Susan and her Camera and Attia with the cheering. You are much appreciated.
As we were at the coast it only felt right to have fish and chips by the seaside and so we did. Best moment of the day seeing us lined up on the front shoving down the carbs before the seagulls had their chance to mug us of the food.
Final act was to have a dip in the sea with Sue Goodall and Christine Symms, another it had to be done moment. I actually think this helped in my recovery from the endeavours of the day.
Onwards and upwards to the next event in November at Wrexham where hopefully we will have the same if not more warriors representing the club.
Submitted by Stephen Gill
Birmingham Half Marathon
So what can we say about the 2018 Birmingham Half Marathon other than, it was wet! It was incredibly wet! Imagine the wettest you have been and then discard the thought because you were not this wet! The walk to the kit buses was a completely wasted affair of trying to stay dry just for a few extra minutes and this was followed by 20 minutes of huddling under a building entrance that was basically a wind tunnel and therefore 10 degrees colder than the outside world!
Lining up on the start was at least an entertaining affair of 200 people wondering what the hell they were doing and Rob, Elaine and I were very pleased to spot Ceri who saved the day by taking a very last minute soggy team photo! And off we went...one of the most enjoyable sections was the first half mile which included a run through the underpass underneath 5 ways island. Every few minutes a new section of runners took advantage of the echo with a chorus of “Oggy Oggy Oggy”... which turned into a slightly more apt “Soggy Soggy Soggy”!
Turning left to head out towards The Priory we hit “The Hill” except for the first time this year, luckily heading down! It would be a killer going the other way after 11 miles! Several families had pushed speakers up to the front doors so we were well entertained on the route to Cannon Hill Park. Into the park I tried to tell myself it was just another park run but without the Cannon Hill Parkrun Hill finish...I was bolstered by the Wrekin top running ahead of me and forced a little spurt to catch up with Warren where we had a very British moment of discussing the glorious weather we were. Out of the park and heading through the car park I encountered my mother shouting very loudly from her dry spot under the entrance to The MAC, heading out to the Edgebaston Cricket Ground I spent some time trying to visualise where we were in the course map because I’d told myself earlier that once I was at the cricket ground I was well into the first half...I stomped through some of the biggest puddles which caused a moment of freezing cold in the general foot and ankle area, however it occurred to me that there was little point in avoiding them given that 10 seconds later the water in my shoes was heated to body temperature and I was no longer conscious that my foot was any wetter than the rest of me (which of course if wasn’t)! And so we had reached the section where the poor sods at 5 miles watch the jammy buggers at 10 miles streaming past them with no sympathy that they are 5 miles behind!
Heading up Pershore Road towards Stirchley and Selly Park I kept my mind on the goal of the halfway point. I noted that the line of runners heading the other way disappeared and then reappeared around their 8 miles mark. I knew that, as I had hit 7 miles, I did not have far to go before the inevitable change of direction and I told myself that I would then be heading in the direction of that 10 mile flag that seemed so far away a couple of miles back. The change of direction happened...only it wasn’t a hand-break turn on the 180...it was a right hand turn up the steepest hill of the entire race! Luckily the crowds knew we needed a push up there and they were out in force with tubs full of jelly babies and making a lot of noise! I also rationalised that I was nearly at 7.5 miles and I had seen 8 miles on the flat road behind me so this hill couldn’t possible last too long! And it didn’t, better still it turned into a glorious steep downhill on the other side. Swinging round to the left we were back on the Pershore Road and heading for 8 miles, I passed Rob who was shortly to be in for the treat of the incline. I then found out that, as I noted previously, we disappeared off between 8&9 seemingly for yet another uphill/downhill side road, just for good measure! There was a little girl, probably 8yrs, standing on the corner and every 20 seconds she yelled “you’re nearly at the 9mile flag”...I love that girl!!! Round the corner and there is was!! 9 miles!
I was back on the straight and looking for that 10 mile flag and trying to spare a thought for the 5 milers on the other side of the road. I reminded myself that at 10 miles, there is only about 5km left to go, and anyone can run a 5km so I was basically done! Not to be, between 10&11 I hit my wall! I’ve experienced worse but dear god I wondered whether a little sit down might be out of the question! I must have looked pretty shocking too because I got a lot of encouragement from people in the crowd through that point! 10 miles came and went and I could see the brown signs pointing us towards the ICC...nearly there!! Except apparently we weren’t taking the direct route along the Bristol Road, oh no, we were going on a tour of Digbeth! Digbeth?? Dear Lord! So 11 down and literally pushing for the 12, the good thing about Digbeth is that it’s full of corners so the next mile was a nice maze of small runs to the next corner...just get to the next corner...and then the next corner...and one more...at 12 miles I told myself that by the time I’d given myself a talking to about 1 more mile it would be less than a mile! I actually enjoyed the last mile, I picked up my pace just a touch and tried announcing very excitedly to the woman looking very strained beside me that I could see the top of the Bull Ring!! She didn’t care! Signs for Moor Street appeared and we went sweeping round the Selfridges building...I think that’s supposed to be an iconic landmark to peak your interest in the last 0.4 miles but all I could think was “when did they install this bloody great hill in front of Moor Street Station??!” That was tough!
My friend was cheering me on at the top of the hill and she said she’d been watching people almost stop at the bottom with total horror all over the poor knackered faces!! I was on 13 miles, I was basically there and then I saw it, my least favourite thing ever....a sign that said
“200 metres to go”...what?? That’s a really long way on the tele! How is it not not over?! Longest 200 metres of my life and finally over that wonderful line! What followed was a tragic mess of shivering, blue fingers, the longest walk in history back to Colmore Row and a very panicked straight jacket style fight with my soggy WRR hoodie which did not want to come off me! But it’s over! And I have a PB of 1:50:19 and I’m thrilled! The idea of doing double that in London is going to have to be put to one side for a little while!
Submitted by Hannah Turner
So what can we say about the 2018 Birmingham Half Marathon other than, it was wet! It was incredibly wet! Imagine the wettest you have been and then discard the thought because you were not this wet! The walk to the kit buses was a completely wasted affair of trying to stay dry just for a few extra minutes and this was followed by 20 minutes of huddling under a building entrance that was basically a wind tunnel and therefore 10 degrees colder than the outside world!
Lining up on the start was at least an entertaining affair of 200 people wondering what the hell they were doing and Rob, Elaine and I were very pleased to spot Ceri who saved the day by taking a very last minute soggy team photo! And off we went...one of the most enjoyable sections was the first half mile which included a run through the underpass underneath 5 ways island. Every few minutes a new section of runners took advantage of the echo with a chorus of “Oggy Oggy Oggy”... which turned into a slightly more apt “Soggy Soggy Soggy”!
Turning left to head out towards The Priory we hit “The Hill” except for the first time this year, luckily heading down! It would be a killer going the other way after 11 miles! Several families had pushed speakers up to the front doors so we were well entertained on the route to Cannon Hill Park. Into the park I tried to tell myself it was just another park run but without the Cannon Hill Parkrun Hill finish...I was bolstered by the Wrekin top running ahead of me and forced a little spurt to catch up with Warren where we had a very British moment of discussing the glorious weather we were. Out of the park and heading through the car park I encountered my mother shouting very loudly from her dry spot under the entrance to The MAC, heading out to the Edgebaston Cricket Ground I spent some time trying to visualise where we were in the course map because I’d told myself earlier that once I was at the cricket ground I was well into the first half...I stomped through some of the biggest puddles which caused a moment of freezing cold in the general foot and ankle area, however it occurred to me that there was little point in avoiding them given that 10 seconds later the water in my shoes was heated to body temperature and I was no longer conscious that my foot was any wetter than the rest of me (which of course if wasn’t)! And so we had reached the section where the poor sods at 5 miles watch the jammy buggers at 10 miles streaming past them with no sympathy that they are 5 miles behind!
Heading up Pershore Road towards Stirchley and Selly Park I kept my mind on the goal of the halfway point. I noted that the line of runners heading the other way disappeared and then reappeared around their 8 miles mark. I knew that, as I had hit 7 miles, I did not have far to go before the inevitable change of direction and I told myself that I would then be heading in the direction of that 10 mile flag that seemed so far away a couple of miles back. The change of direction happened...only it wasn’t a hand-break turn on the 180...it was a right hand turn up the steepest hill of the entire race! Luckily the crowds knew we needed a push up there and they were out in force with tubs full of jelly babies and making a lot of noise! I also rationalised that I was nearly at 7.5 miles and I had seen 8 miles on the flat road behind me so this hill couldn’t possible last too long! And it didn’t, better still it turned into a glorious steep downhill on the other side. Swinging round to the left we were back on the Pershore Road and heading for 8 miles, I passed Rob who was shortly to be in for the treat of the incline. I then found out that, as I noted previously, we disappeared off between 8&9 seemingly for yet another uphill/downhill side road, just for good measure! There was a little girl, probably 8yrs, standing on the corner and every 20 seconds she yelled “you’re nearly at the 9mile flag”...I love that girl!!! Round the corner and there is was!! 9 miles!
I was back on the straight and looking for that 10 mile flag and trying to spare a thought for the 5 milers on the other side of the road. I reminded myself that at 10 miles, there is only about 5km left to go, and anyone can run a 5km so I was basically done! Not to be, between 10&11 I hit my wall! I’ve experienced worse but dear god I wondered whether a little sit down might be out of the question! I must have looked pretty shocking too because I got a lot of encouragement from people in the crowd through that point! 10 miles came and went and I could see the brown signs pointing us towards the ICC...nearly there!! Except apparently we weren’t taking the direct route along the Bristol Road, oh no, we were going on a tour of Digbeth! Digbeth?? Dear Lord! So 11 down and literally pushing for the 12, the good thing about Digbeth is that it’s full of corners so the next mile was a nice maze of small runs to the next corner...just get to the next corner...and then the next corner...and one more...at 12 miles I told myself that by the time I’d given myself a talking to about 1 more mile it would be less than a mile! I actually enjoyed the last mile, I picked up my pace just a touch and tried announcing very excitedly to the woman looking very strained beside me that I could see the top of the Bull Ring!! She didn’t care! Signs for Moor Street appeared and we went sweeping round the Selfridges building...I think that’s supposed to be an iconic landmark to peak your interest in the last 0.4 miles but all I could think was “when did they install this bloody great hill in front of Moor Street Station??!” That was tough!
My friend was cheering me on at the top of the hill and she said she’d been watching people almost stop at the bottom with total horror all over the poor knackered faces!! I was on 13 miles, I was basically there and then I saw it, my least favourite thing ever....a sign that said
“200 metres to go”...what?? That’s a really long way on the tele! How is it not not over?! Longest 200 metres of my life and finally over that wonderful line! What followed was a tragic mess of shivering, blue fingers, the longest walk in history back to Colmore Row and a very panicked straight jacket style fight with my soggy WRR hoodie which did not want to come off me! But it’s over! And I have a PB of 1:50:19 and I’m thrilled! The idea of doing double that in London is going to have to be put to one side for a little while!
Submitted by Hannah Turner
Colombo Half Marathon (Sri Lanka) - Episode 1
In order to set the scene for this race report I need to backtrack a bit. Ten years ago I was working in Oman where many of my colleagues were from India and Sri Lanka. One of them, with whom I worked closely and had remained in contact, had often asked me to visit his native Sri Lanka. In the wake of the Carillion collapse he was expecting to be made redundant by this summer and return home to retire. I can’t take holiday until October due to work, so when I did an internet search for races in Sri Lanka and discovered that the one and only half marathon in Sri Lanka was on October 7 in Colombo, where my friend has an apartment, I felt this was a sign that we should finally make the vague promises to visit a reality.
The first sign that logistics might be a challenge was after I registered online. I received an email confirming my entry, but informing me 1) that I must present myself to a specific counter at Colombo airport on arrival, 2) that I should report to the sports ministry (no address) the day before the race in order to pay the race fee and collect bib and 3) that in order to run I needed to present a specific signed medical form and certificate and ECG print out, both dated within the two weeks prior to the event (one of those weeks I already knew I was working abroad, and I was leaving the U.K. 3 days before the race so that didn’t leave much of a window).
Several conversations with a local GP surgery later, and after deliberations about the ethics of potentially faking the medical certificate, I decided to play it straight and cough up the not inconsiderable fee for a private medical and ECG, though I was warned that the U.K. GP would probably not sign the declaration “cleared to run”. My plan B involved getting a medical in Sri Lanka the day of my arrival, where I hoped there would be less sensitivity to the wording in the certificate. In the event, I learned from a British runner living in Colombo that some doctors there also refused to sign the declaration but word got out on WhatsApp running groups about a certain clinic which was happy to sign so the local expats headed there and paid about £2.50 for their certificate.
Happily my GP did sign the form and dutifully filled in the completely irrelevant information such as my eyesight test results and whether my appearance was “normal”. I took multiple copies, packed my Camelbak, mosquito spray and a couple of gels and was ready for the trip.
Arrival in Colombo after two flights and a transfer in Dubai was somewhat marred by Mark’s suitcase failing to arrive. That’s a whole different story, also a slightly traumatic one but with an eventual successful reunion with the case some 28 hours or so later. So with only one suitcase between us, we eventually locate the desk to which I am supposed to report upon arrival. Great, my name appears on a list! Unfortunately the person who has custody of the list has no idea what he is supposed to tell me or do with the list. The default request is always “passport please”. Having confirmed that the name on his list matched my passport he was stumped, so phoned a friend. Several animated conversations later and nobody was any the wiser, so they gave me a telephone number to call later.
Later that day, after the shock of two hours in Colombo’s traffic, my Sri Lankan friend called the number and established that we needed to go to the sports ministry between 9 and 4 on the Saturday to register, which I already knew.
Having lived out of the country for many years whilst working in Oman, my friend is also terrified of driving in Colombo so on the Saturday morning, poor Mark still wearing the clothes he travelled in two days previously, we set off with my friend’s son as chauffeur to locate registration. Arriving at the ministry, there was nobody there, but we did find someone who knew where the registration was - just down the street and round the corner. We were 15 mins early and the first to arrive, along with the Brit living locally who I mentioned earlier.
Registration initially looked promising, with dozens of volunteers in matching race shirts, signs for the four different distances, separated by gender, and a cashier where fees were to be paid. (The fee for the half was USD 25 for foreigners, 500 rupees (£2.25) for locals. Locals got no medal, certificate or t-shirt.) However, no fee could be paid until my medical forms had been checked. Not just checked for completeness, but every runner running the half or full needed to actually see the doctor. Who was having his morning tea and would arrive soon. He did arrive at the promises time but the generator providing power to the medical tent failed so he went away again.
I was almost at the front of the queue, with the person behind me standing uncomfortably close, waiting to see the not-yet-present doctor, when the heavens opened and the crowd of waiting runners surged into the medical tent and my place was lost. I was the only female in sight other than the couple of nurses setting up an ECG station. I realised that if I didn’t stand up for myself now I could literally be there all day, and we still had the missing suitcase challenge to overcome. So I stuck to the Brit and Dane at the front of the scrum like glue and eventually when power was restored and the doctor returned, I was third in the queue, with upwards of 50 runners crammed centimetres behind me in a small tent as I took my place at the single chair next to the doctor.
He passed a cursory glance over my medical form but did look at the ECG, asked a few questions about how many races I had run and whether I had any medical problems, then stamped and signed my forms. Stamping and signing is very important in Sri Lanka. The more the better. And stapling.
Now free to register, I paid my fee, confirmed what size shirt I would like (small... that’s relevant later...) and then finally my medical forms were examined for the all-important stamp and exchanged for not one, but two bib numbers. Made of some kind of net-like plastic mesh, at least they would not disintegrate in the rain. Needless to say there was no timing chip attached to the numbers. I guess having a number on your back as well helps the traffic identify that you’re a runner.
Job done, it was time for operation retrieve suitcase and to rest and carb up with amazing Sri Lankan curries and rice ahead of a 6am race start the next day.
To be continued....
Submitted by Amanda Ellis
In order to set the scene for this race report I need to backtrack a bit. Ten years ago I was working in Oman where many of my colleagues were from India and Sri Lanka. One of them, with whom I worked closely and had remained in contact, had often asked me to visit his native Sri Lanka. In the wake of the Carillion collapse he was expecting to be made redundant by this summer and return home to retire. I can’t take holiday until October due to work, so when I did an internet search for races in Sri Lanka and discovered that the one and only half marathon in Sri Lanka was on October 7 in Colombo, where my friend has an apartment, I felt this was a sign that we should finally make the vague promises to visit a reality.
The first sign that logistics might be a challenge was after I registered online. I received an email confirming my entry, but informing me 1) that I must present myself to a specific counter at Colombo airport on arrival, 2) that I should report to the sports ministry (no address) the day before the race in order to pay the race fee and collect bib and 3) that in order to run I needed to present a specific signed medical form and certificate and ECG print out, both dated within the two weeks prior to the event (one of those weeks I already knew I was working abroad, and I was leaving the U.K. 3 days before the race so that didn’t leave much of a window).
Several conversations with a local GP surgery later, and after deliberations about the ethics of potentially faking the medical certificate, I decided to play it straight and cough up the not inconsiderable fee for a private medical and ECG, though I was warned that the U.K. GP would probably not sign the declaration “cleared to run”. My plan B involved getting a medical in Sri Lanka the day of my arrival, where I hoped there would be less sensitivity to the wording in the certificate. In the event, I learned from a British runner living in Colombo that some doctors there also refused to sign the declaration but word got out on WhatsApp running groups about a certain clinic which was happy to sign so the local expats headed there and paid about £2.50 for their certificate.
Happily my GP did sign the form and dutifully filled in the completely irrelevant information such as my eyesight test results and whether my appearance was “normal”. I took multiple copies, packed my Camelbak, mosquito spray and a couple of gels and was ready for the trip.
Arrival in Colombo after two flights and a transfer in Dubai was somewhat marred by Mark’s suitcase failing to arrive. That’s a whole different story, also a slightly traumatic one but with an eventual successful reunion with the case some 28 hours or so later. So with only one suitcase between us, we eventually locate the desk to which I am supposed to report upon arrival. Great, my name appears on a list! Unfortunately the person who has custody of the list has no idea what he is supposed to tell me or do with the list. The default request is always “passport please”. Having confirmed that the name on his list matched my passport he was stumped, so phoned a friend. Several animated conversations later and nobody was any the wiser, so they gave me a telephone number to call later.
Later that day, after the shock of two hours in Colombo’s traffic, my Sri Lankan friend called the number and established that we needed to go to the sports ministry between 9 and 4 on the Saturday to register, which I already knew.
Having lived out of the country for many years whilst working in Oman, my friend is also terrified of driving in Colombo so on the Saturday morning, poor Mark still wearing the clothes he travelled in two days previously, we set off with my friend’s son as chauffeur to locate registration. Arriving at the ministry, there was nobody there, but we did find someone who knew where the registration was - just down the street and round the corner. We were 15 mins early and the first to arrive, along with the Brit living locally who I mentioned earlier.
Registration initially looked promising, with dozens of volunteers in matching race shirts, signs for the four different distances, separated by gender, and a cashier where fees were to be paid. (The fee for the half was USD 25 for foreigners, 500 rupees (£2.25) for locals. Locals got no medal, certificate or t-shirt.) However, no fee could be paid until my medical forms had been checked. Not just checked for completeness, but every runner running the half or full needed to actually see the doctor. Who was having his morning tea and would arrive soon. He did arrive at the promises time but the generator providing power to the medical tent failed so he went away again.
I was almost at the front of the queue, with the person behind me standing uncomfortably close, waiting to see the not-yet-present doctor, when the heavens opened and the crowd of waiting runners surged into the medical tent and my place was lost. I was the only female in sight other than the couple of nurses setting up an ECG station. I realised that if I didn’t stand up for myself now I could literally be there all day, and we still had the missing suitcase challenge to overcome. So I stuck to the Brit and Dane at the front of the scrum like glue and eventually when power was restored and the doctor returned, I was third in the queue, with upwards of 50 runners crammed centimetres behind me in a small tent as I took my place at the single chair next to the doctor.
He passed a cursory glance over my medical form but did look at the ECG, asked a few questions about how many races I had run and whether I had any medical problems, then stamped and signed my forms. Stamping and signing is very important in Sri Lanka. The more the better. And stapling.
Now free to register, I paid my fee, confirmed what size shirt I would like (small... that’s relevant later...) and then finally my medical forms were examined for the all-important stamp and exchanged for not one, but two bib numbers. Made of some kind of net-like plastic mesh, at least they would not disintegrate in the rain. Needless to say there was no timing chip attached to the numbers. I guess having a number on your back as well helps the traffic identify that you’re a runner.
Job done, it was time for operation retrieve suitcase and to rest and carb up with amazing Sri Lankan curries and rice ahead of a 6am race start the next day.
To be continued....
Submitted by Amanda Ellis
Baschurch Cross Country – North wales league – Saturday 6th October
The start of a new season, great days ahead, Love it.
All those thoughts crossed my mind leading up to the day and continued into the day despite it being very wet outside.
This mixed in with the cold mean’t the dilemma of what to wear. Enough about that for now though.
Weather in Telford equaled as above. Weather 25 minutes down the road couldn’t have been anything different could it?
Well it damn well was. Dry and lovely and sunny.
The conditions underfoot were better than last time on the course, gone was the heavy mud that you ran through, gone was the large stream crossing and gone was the corner of the flooded field that you had to wade through.
All together this led to a more attractive race for the beginners that took part in the team’s.
The women team were strong in numbers, lots of graceful ladies trotting around in the mud and tip toeing through the stream.
Julie Spriggs had a large mud stain to show her efforts alongside the sweaty ( sorry I mean’t perspiring ) face.
XC Virgins they are now not.
The mens team lower in numbers but just as full of determination as the ladies.
No falls but same grit especially from Andrew Jennings battling against a slight injury. The ladies was two laps and the men three laps of a near 3k loop.
Colwyn bay next - As a test I will now give a description of the course and lets see who contacts me.
BLOOMING HILLY
Bring it on.
The start of a new season, great days ahead, Love it.
All those thoughts crossed my mind leading up to the day and continued into the day despite it being very wet outside.
This mixed in with the cold mean’t the dilemma of what to wear. Enough about that for now though.
Weather in Telford equaled as above. Weather 25 minutes down the road couldn’t have been anything different could it?
Well it damn well was. Dry and lovely and sunny.
The conditions underfoot were better than last time on the course, gone was the heavy mud that you ran through, gone was the large stream crossing and gone was the corner of the flooded field that you had to wade through.
All together this led to a more attractive race for the beginners that took part in the team’s.
The women team were strong in numbers, lots of graceful ladies trotting around in the mud and tip toeing through the stream.
Julie Spriggs had a large mud stain to show her efforts alongside the sweaty ( sorry I mean’t perspiring ) face.
XC Virgins they are now not.
The mens team lower in numbers but just as full of determination as the ladies.
No falls but same grit especially from Andrew Jennings battling against a slight injury. The ladies was two laps and the men three laps of a near 3k loop.
Colwyn bay next - As a test I will now give a description of the course and lets see who contacts me.
BLOOMING HILLY
Bring it on.