Blackdown Beauty

The Blackdown Beauty is a new event, "dreamed" up by Honiton Running Club which has five pubs, a cream tea, 18 miles of scenic off road running, including boggy bits....sound familiar? The only thing missing is the sea.



And they're off

We gathered at the Holman Clavel pub at Culmhead for a very civilised 11.45am start, each clutching our beautifully prepared map and instructions and prepared to search out the elusive white drawing pins which were marking the route. A small but eager group of Axe Valley Runners charged off in the lead through the woodland section which began our adventure. The path was steep, wet and stony, requiring careful navigation. It wasn't long before the leading hares missed a sharp right turn and Martin and I found ourselves in pole position on route to the first pub, the Queens Arms at Pitminster. Scenting the beer, we stepped up our leisurely pace to pretty much race pace in our eagerness to beat the queue of thirsty runners and were greeted by the landlady as we charged over the threshold with "Ah, the first runners are here!". A nice pint of Doom Bar was enjoyed whilst the other runners filtered in.


The first pint - always the best

We knew it wasn't a race but the alcohol hadn't yet blunted our competitive edge so we set off ahead of our fellow drinkers (runners?) with a trio of Dorset Doddlers, heading towards the Merry Harriers at Forches Corner. After a few fields of sociable running, including one encounter with a rather lively bull, Martin and I decided it was time to shake off the company lest they get to the bar before us. As most of the route involved a steady uphill climb, with some steep bits thrown in, it was quite hard work, but we were rewarded by an empty lane behind us. The last part of the route was through some lovely woodland and by the time we reached the top, fortunately, we had worked up quite a thirst. We were relaxing nonchalantly in the beer garden with a rather decent pint of Proper Job by the time the Doddlers and Axe Valley runners caught us up.


The second pint

After a brief interlude I managed to persuade Martin that he could wait until pub number three, the Half Moon at Clayhidon before having another drink and we set off again, this time unaccompanied. This stretch was a bit more complicated involving a very faintly defined path through some rather boggy bits and an interesting climb over a high wall into a field of pigs. At least it had the advantage of being flat and we were able to make good time, despite a rather shocking experience with what turned out to be an electric fence. We thought we may have been overtaken because there was clearly a short cut which could be taken by remaining on the road, but once again we found ourselves first at the bar, and just as we took refuge under the awning in the beer garden with a pint of Yellow Hammer, the skies opened and the first rain of the day came down. We could be forgiven for feeling a bit smug that we were under cover whilst our fellow runners were getting rather wet, but of course we felt no such thing and were more than glad when they began to arrive, even though the Doddlers came from the wrong direction due to some faulty navigation.


The third (and for some, fourth) pint

Martin decided that he needed to sample a pint of the local scrumpy and as the next stop was the cream tea, hence no urgency, we let the Doddlers leave ahead of us. We had a sneaking suspicion that they weren't really drinkers anyway........We finally set off, and on this stretch my intrepid map reader made his first mistake and we missed a left turn and added a half mile or so to what was already the longest leg of the run. By the time we had retraced our steps we were behind the AVR foursome and they were much too fast for us to keep up with. We also encountered an unhappy landowner on this section who was patrolling the footpath which crossed her land verbally attacking innocent runners. I fear I may have wound her up a bit (it's OK I had my Yeovil Town shirt on at this point so can't be accused of bringing MNRC into disrepute) and then left Martin trying to calm her down whilst I went in hot pursuit of AVR. I think she must have had an exhausting afternoon by the time everyone had passed her by.....

Soon we saw the welcome signpost directing us to Pear Tree Cottage at Stapley, and OK, they didn't have any beer but they did serve rather decent cream teas. A debate ensued about whether they were Somerset or Devon cream teas (jam on top) but no one could remember which was which and who cares anyway, either way they were seriously good!


Too much cream can seriously damage your ability to drink beer

We were lagging well behind now, but as with the cream teas, it didn't seem very important any more. For some reason my memory of the fifth leg is rather vague, I do remember a field with an awful lot of pigs in it, which we ran all the way around before we found the correct way out of - which seemed to upset the pigs a bit. In no time at all we were at the York Inn, Churchingford, where Martin managed to effortlessly down a pint of Summer Lightening. I confess to being a lightweight, the cream tea had gone straight to my head and I could only manage a half. I'm seriously ashamed of myself, I will do better next year.


The fourth or fifth pint?

All that remained was On Inn, another lovely stretch which involved Otterhead lakes and a field of extremely lively bullocks who were somewhat mystified by Martin's antics (as was I!) before a short section of road and the welcome sight of the Holman Clavel.

This was a great day out, full marks to Honiton for setting out a lovely route and excellent pubs and also negotiating an excellent meal deal at the final pub - fish and chips for a fiver. The only thing which could have been slightly better was the weather, but the running, the company and the beer were all top class and we will definitely be putting the date in our diary for next year.

Some more photos can be seen at: http://www.freewebs.com/maidennewtonrunningclub/apps/photos/album?albumid=6565929

Charmouth Challenge

Well done to everyone at the Charmouth Challenge on Saturday 4th July. Well done to Martin who I believe ran a PB on the course finishing 24th, but with a strong field in his age category he was only 4th MV50. Also well done for finding a free parking space in a side street – the credit crunch must be biting when 80p parking fee is out of reach!! Well done to the Ironman who cycled a prodigious distance to and from the race (perhaps he was also trying to avoid parking charges.) Well done Lin who was a close second in her age group, unfortunately only one prize per category. Well done Lesley who behaved impeccably resisting the temptation to bring the club into disrepute when two walkers wilfully strolled slowly two abreast in front of her on the narrow bridge near the finish. Well done Charlie who managed to change gender and appear as fourth male team member – see provisional results. Well done Andy who looked comfortable as he finished. Well done Dave C who at last had a slightly off day, allowing me a rare victory over him. Finally well done the organisers who were rewarded with a record entry.

Man v Horse

First words from Lesley: “I beat a Horse”!!!! Not just one, not two, but eight of the great hairy beasts, and they all had a complete set of legs! Careful consultation with race officials had me believing the horses would be tucked up in their stables by the time I limped over the line.

Here follows a rather more lengthy account from Richard of our weekend in Wales:

Saturday 13th June saw the Westgates at Llanwrtyd Wells for the 30th Man V Horse Marathon. I’ve been aware of this race for years but have never been tempted – I’m not keen on horses and it sounded a bit gimmicky; also at 22 miles it’s not a marathon. However Lesley seems to have taken control of our running diary and it was with considerable trepidation I found myself entered. Training has not gone too well this year and I had a week off work recently with a chest infection. My last long run was the Exe to Axe in April, where I recorded my first DNF, while Lesley finished fairly comfortably.

So on Friday, after a hectic day at work, and emergency plumbing work at home, we set off for Wales. Unfortunately for us Oasis were playing at the Millennium and the queues for the tolls stretched back for miles. At one point we though we would be too late for the free pasta party. With the M4 behind us things looked up and the scenery improved. However as I entered a roundabout an old fella in a beaten up old red car came flying down the road on my left, straight onto the roundabout, skimming past the front of my car like a meteor. Lesley, who had been looking at pigeons or something, looked up and screamed as the meteor threatened to extinguish two English life forms. She was so shaken she couldn’t speak for about five minutes, not a bad thing really – well done Taff!

Shame we were a bit pushed for time and we had to rush along the really scenic B4519 Upper Chapel to Garth road, through the Sennybridge Training area (military), trying to avoid suicidal sheep. By coincidence this is also the weekend of the Welsh Castles Relay and this road is part of the route with a finish at Drovers Arms and a start at the conservation centre. (Really thought you’d want to know that)!!

Arrived safely at the B&B and walked about 40ft to the hotel/pub for the pasta party. I opted for the vegetable chilli with rice, naan bread and baguette. Unfortunately the chilli was unbelievably spicy and I had to have extra rice to stop it burning my mouth. A bit of Guinness for good measure, an early night and I was ready for racing. Fit or not I had a race plan that would get me round in one piece and keep ahead of Lesley. I planned to run 30 minutes then walk 5 minutes, with a worst-case target time of 4 hours. On the day I stuck to this and had further walking bits when it was too steep, and even flat bits when I felt too tired and it worked as you will find out.

Racing always gets the adrenaline going and entering a race for the first time is even more exiting. Man v Horse is quite special as it is the largest horse race in the country – bigger than the Grand National! There are quite a few runners as well, some of whom opt to compete in a team of three as a relay run.

One of the best things about staying in B&B is the cooked breakfast; so on Saturday morning we were up early and ready to order by 7.30. Bearing in mind the race started at 11am I prudently decided not to eat too much. Having polished off a bowl of fresh fruit and yoghurt I nibbled at a round of toast and marmalade. I cut the cooked breakfast down to sausage, bacon, tomato, mushrooms and baked beans washed down with a pot of black coffee. And just to finish off, another round of toast and fruit juice. It was a shame to miss the egg and fried bread but us runners have to make some sacrifices!

After breakfast we lounged about. The start was 20 feet from our front porch, so we were very relaxed. Lesley went off to see the horses as they paraded through the square to their assembly point, while I wondered why my shorts felt a bit tight.

I know I should have listened to the pre-race briefing especially as there were going to be over 40 horses charging through the countryside sometimes in very close proximity to the runners, call me difficult, but I just wanted to keep moving, warming up and stretching. All too soon we were off; well the front runners were. I decided to start off in very last place. In fact you can see my yellow and black running vest and headband behind everyone on YouTube. It was a good, gentle start on road and I went past Lesley after four minutes. I prayed that this was the last time I would see her before the finish. We were soon climbing and I was sweating badly in the hot sun. Groups of runners became walkers, why the hell do they have to walk three abreast yakking!? A very minor gripe because it soon thinned out and everyone could run comfortably at their own pace.

From now on the exact sequence of events is very mixed and blurred; I try and recall but the memory cells get confused with the Exmoor Stagger, the Quantock Beast, the Haytor Heller, the Mendip Muddle and especially Race the Train. With about 3000ft of climbing it’s quite challenging and you get some unique views as parts of the route go over private land. In fact Man v Horse has just about everything you could wish for except a pebble beach! I do remember that before too long we were up on some lovely open moor which was in fact a bog. I am proud to admit that in over 20 years of racing I have at last lost a shoe in a bog! It was a bit embarrassing as I had just finished one of my 5-minute recovery walks and had gone back past a whole row of runners when my left foot sank very deep in the mud and came out shoe-less!

The feel good factor of this race must have rubbed off on me as I actually found myself talking to other runners! There were even moments to talk to passing horse riders! Now anyone who knows me, knows how I am about as wary of horses as I am of dogs (one of my SWRR colleagues was kicked in the chest by a horse while out on the road and was injured for some time). However at Man v Horse the riders were very professional and the horses seemed at perfect ease with lots of runners about. It was about 40 minutes into the race that the riders and runners converged. I must say it was quite a sight – horses are quite large beasts close up and the sound of their hooves pounding the track was quite memorable. Imagine some of the steep gullies at Haytor and you get some idea of the kind of terrain that these beasts had to scramble up and down. These points were often the most narrow and yet there seemed to be no conflict between horse or runner. Horses passed literally within inches but somehow everything was OK. I must admit it felt good when I went past a few horses – some of which didn’t seem to go very fast downhill.

The relay changeover points, where there were crowds of noisy supporters, also acted as check points where individual runners handed in safety tags. The cheering definitely gave a boost and I was tempted to try and keep up with a “fresh” relay runner. However common sense kicked in and I kept to sensible pace with the five-minute walk recoveries. On one very narrow muddy path I heard horses bearing down on me at speed and with nowhere to go I just had to stop and turn sideways to let them past - they definitely weren’t stopping! Towards the end even the gentle undulations seemed like steep hills and walking and talking became order of the day. I could see I was well within my target of four hours and just wanted to finish in one piece. A few hundred yards from the finish there was the river crossing. I swear the River Irfon was at least 30 ft wide at this point and I thought I’d take it at a canter. Within seconds I was flat on my face underwater. Sitting up I felt a bit foolish and someone called out “I bet you meant to do that”. So I just sat there and started washing some of the mud off my legs! Lesley said the water was quite deep and came up to her shorts, but that’s not saying much. The rocks in the riverbed were covered in slime making it extremely “slippy”. Dave C would have had his health & safety clipboard out suggesting a less hazardous route using the nearby bridge. Having narrowly avoided being washed away in the torrent it was on to the finish paddock where a large, cheering crowd encouraged me to a show-off careering sprint to the line.

Fantastic. A few stretches then in to the tent for the free refreshments. After about half an hour Lesley finished looking fresh as a daisy, but she did have two small muddy spots on her vest! After relaxing in the sun for a while I started to feel very uncomfortable in the gut region and just made it to a toilet as last night’s hot, spicy vegetable chilli exploded – talk about ring burn. Feeling relieved we decided to make our way back to the B&B. However true to form my stomach now started feeling unsettled and I soon had another view of my recently eaten tomato sandwich.

The race went in a big circle finishing at the Victoria Wells Mountain Centre, about a mile outside the town. This centre has motel chalets and a swimming pool set in the countryside. Back at the B&B it was time to wash and rest then out for an early fish, chips, peas and salad pub meal with some more Guinness. To round the day off I thought we would have an early night but Lesley had other ideas. Towards the finish she saw what appeared to be a new handkerchief at the road side – waste not, want not – so we retraced about three miles of the route to retrieve this snot rag. We had a leisurely stroll across the bridge near where I had fallen earlier, and also saw donkeys in the mountain centre.

Well my loyal, patient but probably fast-dwindling band of bloggers I will hasten on and conclude our Man v Horse weekend. Sunday dawned with a shock. I had put on suntan lotion after donning my running vest – big mistake – the fierce sun had burned me through my vest leaving strap marks in reverse. Soon cheered up with a full breakfast and then a short journey back to the scenic road in the military training area. Lesley resumed her role as SWRR groupie following the Welsh Castles Relay. We parked up at the red-kite centre, and by chance met up with some familiar faces from Bitton Road Runners, including Ross who casually mentioned he was off soon to compete in the Austrian Ironman!! Shortly afterwards, oh joy of joy, the mighty SWRR club chairman then honoured me with his fingerprint in my Vaseline jar! He was optimistic mood as our A team were currently leading the vet section after day one. We saw leg 15 start, dashed back to see the finish of leg 14 at the Drovers arms, and then followed the leg 15 runners to Brecon, where we saw some great finishing including Andy Jones who was 5th. We also then saw some finishers at the end of leg 16.

You might think this was enough activity for a couple of old gits like us, but no, Lesley took us to the middle of nowhere, paid an extortionate £4 parking fee (why can’t outgoing motorists pass their tickets to incomers), and went to seek the largest cave mouth in Wales. This led on to a demanding trek with hundreds of steps, cut in steep gorges to see four famous waterfalls. The most impressive had a large curtain of water, with a narrow ledge which allowed you to walk behind the water. Then we went home.

For the record I finished in 3:31:24 and of 397 Riders, Runners and Relay Teams I was 201st. I beat 13 of the 40 Riders and 32 of the 103 Relay Teams. I was 116th out of 255 who ran the whole course.

Lesley finished in 4:00:38, beating 8 Riders and 12 Relay Teams. She was 180th of 255.

PS There’s a big money prize if a runner beats the first horse. Apparently a runner was first over the line but the organisers make a time allowance for the compulsory horse veterinary stop, and this pushed first man back to fourth. It seems this is always how it works but this info wasn’t included in the race pack.

PPS Llanwrtyd Wells is also home of the World Bog-Snorkelling championship and hosts other great events like a tribute festival to Screaming Lord Sutch.

Run in the Wild 10k

Race report by Dave Carnell

Sunday the 7th June saw the inaugural running of the ‘Run in the Wild’ race at Cricket St Thomas in Somerset.

Generally bright and ambient weather on the day helped ensure this was a well attended event and would have meant perfect conditions had it not rained heavily overnight. I’m afraid it was, as they say, “a bit slippy underfoot”, which was not entirely to this particular runners taste. Some might call me fussy but, hey, I can’t help liking it a bit grippier.

The start of the race was also a touch dastardly, being as it was right next to the Black Swan Pub (running away was always going to be hard) and then going immediately into a protracted climb to probably the highest point on the course – cruel indeed!

This affront to sensible running was only softened by the downhill sweep that followed this section and enabled this moaning narrator to regain lost ground on some fellow runners.

In fact, this theme of up and down, was true for most of the course, which although very scenic proved quite challenging. So much so that it delivered quite a close race between runners with different styles and fitness. So much so that I spent the last mile or so in a tight race with Richard W, with neither of us realising that we were in danger of being hauled in by Lin and Martin L who were in hot pursuit.

Happily for me the last kilometre to the finish was all down hill and I think Richard assumed I would be able to get ahead so didn’t contest the position with too much enthusiasm. Much to the good as I was knackered and the tank was well and truly dry.

All in all, a good race and one to recommend for the future.

Ninesprings

Maiden newton runners were out in force for this 9K event held by YTRRC in the Ninesprings park. a total of 7 MNR's line up for the start on what was a very warn morning, Di & Mike, Charlie, Andrew (full member after paying his sub to day), new boy Richard and the old timers Dave C and me.
After a race brief by Mr Chaffy explaining all the hazards we could come across on this two lap off road course which took for ever (big mistake giving him a microphone). Dave and I took off to close to the front and spent the first K trying to second guess each other race plan, having done this race last year I had a slight advantage over Dave knowing what was to come. I was planning to stick close and run at Dave's pace, but as with all my race plans they go out the window as soon as I cross the start line. taking advantage of Dave slowing on the second hill heading up towards the A37 for the first time I pulled away from him, being told by the Marshall on the road junction I was in 10 place I push on even more, gain a couple more places heading back in to the park. still worrying that Dave was going to come pass me at any time One lap over and heading back to the hills for the second time. At the top of the first climb I had glance back to see 3 runners a little way back, but none were in Crewkerne vests. that should have been the time to ease off, but with the thought of finishing in the first ten seem to push me on. the last 500metre's are all down hill, with one last look to ensure I was not going to be beaten to the finish line I managed to Sprint to finish in 8 place.

Collecting a well need drink I wait to cheer the rest of Team MNR over the finish line. I was soon joined by Dave, unfortunately I have forgotten the order of the next 2 was it Richard or Mick not sure, but then came Charlie Spencer looking like she had been for a stroll in the park, not a 9K race. She was followed by new member Andy and then Di, all back safe in just over the hour.

Dave and I were still hanging around when the results were announced (no we weren't hopping for a category award), not really listening to what was being said (Sorry Martin) we heard MNR being mentioned. Charlie Spencer had won first vet45, knowing the rest had left I collected the award for her (the only way I will ever collect one). unknown to me a Friend of a Friend of Charlies sister was at the event. several text messages later and Charlie was on the hunt for her well earned trophy (which involved a trip back to Yeovil), by this time it was being transported back to MN by push bike. Winner and trophy were reunited by the end of the afternoon.
Come on lets see if we can get in to double figures at race before the end of the year (not until after Martin has played his Joker)

Johnny Kipps Run 2009

Here are some words about the JK from the victorious Dave C.

After the miserable conditions for last weekend’s Wessex Relay, the bright morning supplied by the weather gods for the running of the Johnny Kipps was glorious. This, together with the dry and distinctly non-slippy state of the black stuff to which this route sticks, was just about perfect.

I had arrived early, an hour before the start with the idea of having a bit of a walk and jog to try and loosen up as I’d been feeling the effects from the previous weekend’s torture right up to the intervening Wednesday. Till then I’d been shambling about doing impressions of a rusty seized up robot, so my plan now was simply to have a fun run.

With about 20 minutes to go, I wandered back to the start to find it was still a lonely place with nobody else around. I was just thinking that either I’d got the wrong day, or I was going to have an incredibly easy race, when hordes of other runners started to arrive. So many, in fact, that it could have been a record turn out and included a number of very welcome participants from other clubs (Crewkerne, Yeovil, Southwest RR and The Kennel Club) foolishly lured to the venue by cunning tales of glory and biscuits.

At the start, this field of a dozen valiant souls set off at a modest pace with Chairman Phil and Martin Le Quick leading out. Listening in to their banter, I perceived I was causing some confusion by not adhering to tradition and haring off at a wholly unsustainable pace – darn it, now I had to make some kind of show.

After I pulled past the leading pair I could hear them behind counting out the gap and goading me to make more of an effort. Trying not to be distracted I didn’t look back but was sure I could hear them pounding along behind all the way to the top of the climb to the first turn where Jackie E was kindly staffing a water station.

I was very surprised not to have been caught by this time and once over the brow of the hill I decided to try a final burst of speed on the start of the downhill leg to give my pursuers what I imagined would be one last test before they inevitably overtook me.

This is when it got a little surreal. While down hill is my favourite and suits me better than some, on this occasion the gravitational assisted boost went well to begin with and then it just kept going and going and going, pretty much all the way to the finish – absolute magic!

Whatever I’d eaten or whatever I’d done to charge the batteries, I wish I knew as this felt like my best ever run. I was over the moon last year but this definitely took the biscuit.

Wessex Ridgeway Relay

What is it about Maiden Newton runners and early starts, I don't recall anything in the Chairman's job description that said you shall always do the first leg of any relay event. I am not a stranger to getting up early but 5.45am on a Sunday is a bit of a shock to the system, but then trying to convince Jackie that she had volunteered to take Dave & myself to the start so she needed to get up was the first of many challenges during the day.
6.15 am (spot on time) we arrived in Maiden Newton to find my Dave wandering the streets looking like he had been out all night. On getting in the car he started to list all his current ailments (which sounded like a list of reasons why he was going to slow me down). Again spot on time we arrived at the start (over the Wiltshire border without our passports). Up until this point it had been dry but as the race brief started so did the rain. After a count down from five all 20 runners went off at a stupidly fast pace as if they were doing a 5K, except the one that managed to drop his baton within the first 5mtrs (Yes me). After a short road section we turned on to a track taking us uphill on to open high ground, just right to feel the full force of what was now driving rain. The hill had slowed quite a few of our fellow runners down letting us gain a few places. Having not run this leg before I was completely dependent on Dave knowing the way, which he did. Not one hesitation over the whole first leg and no sign of the ailments he had been suffering from. As with the rest of the ridgeway it takes you though some wonderful countryside (would have been much better with out the rain).
Leg two which we had both run before has two of the toughest hills on the route. We had both tried to put them to the back of our minds during the first leg, but to our surprise we caught and overtook several other runners early in the leg. All was going well, then Dave started showing signs of an illness he had not mentioned - he started strange mumblings of "is this the way to Okeford Beacon, is this the way to Okeford Beacon" as I was putting all my effort in to keeping up with him I did not manage to question his actions which passed by the time we had reached the top of the first climb. After a fast descent towards Shilingstone followed by a few less than well maintained gates, we were faced with the steep climb to Okeford Beacon. As much as we tried not to our paces dropped to a walk, as I was trying to justify this by saying no one would run all the way up we were passed by a Wimbourne runner who wasn't even breaking into a sweat.
At the top knowing we were close to the change over the pace quickened (again I was being dragged along by this poor unfit runner). Once again spot on time for the change over, knowing our only escape from Okeford Beacon was Charlie's car (and he was not holding any keys). I was reluctant to release the baton before shouting "where are the keys?" as he started to disappear along the track I heard "in the ignition" - panic over.
Knowing there are plenty of other runners ready to recall their experience of the rest of the event I will leave it here, except tosay well done to all the rest of the MN runners who made this a great day out. I do have a little information on leg 12 but I am sure it will come out in the report of 11 & 12.


Legs 3 & 4 by Charlie

I didn’t need the snooze button on my alarm clock as the rain lashing against the window kept me from going back to sleep. Miraculously however it cleared up as Mike and I drove to the start of Leg 3 and eyed up the competition. Mike got chatting with a local (always a bad idea) out walking his dog who unlike us finely-honed athletes had obviously been on the cooking sherry as he questioned our (sorry Mike, that should be ‘my’) ability to run 10 miles.

Minutes later the silver singlets of Messrs. England & Webb came into view and we carried out what I thought was a pretty slick handover although Phil kept a firm grip of the baton until I had revealed the whereabouts of the car keys. Fortunately we had reccied the route so knew what to expect and where to go and Mike set off with me in pursuit. He kindly invited me to say if he was going too fast but didn’t realise that for the first ten minutes of any physical effort I am unable to communicate in anything other than sign language, and, not having eyes in the back of his head, took my silence to mean all was well.

As my heart rate settled down (which coincided with a gentle downhill bit) we got into our stride and admired the beautiful views over the vale to our right. Our pace was spot on at all the mile markers and the first section went well as we both recalled our first forays into running when going a mile was challenging enough. The going was not too bad until we got to about half way on Leg 3 when a river bed was un-leapable and wet shoes and socks ensued.

A few other teams overtook us but as I pointed out to Mike they were only doing one leg each, so it didn’t really count. At the handover we charged on through and on to Dorset Gap where it was a bit slippery and the paths difficult to get traction on. The ploughed fields were luckily not too sticky and before we knew it we were on the last long uphill just past the Plush road, and onto the springy turf of the ridge. Some of those who had overtaken me on the last hill had judged their effort well and were disappearing into the distance; another, however, was catchable and we set about reeling him in. Dodging teenagers with rucksacks on their Duke of Edinburgh scheme and pelting down the final treacherously slippery slope we caught him to cross the line on equal terms. Thanks to Mike for waiting and for holding open all the gates! It just shows what effect race conditions have as we did it ten minutes quicker than the recce run.


Legs 5 and 6 by Jackie (with Dave’s contributions in blue)

I woke up to the sound of rain lashing against the window and could see how windy it was. I immediately thought of poor Dave and Phil who would already be out there. (She’s right, we were already out there in the driving rain, but luckily we were cheered along by my strategy of singing, to the tune of ‘Amarillo’, ‘through the wind and rain, is this the way to Okeford Beacon’.) My altruistic thoughts quickly turned closer to home; in a couple of hours Amanda and I would be out there too!

By 11am though, the weather had calmed down somewhat to our great (but short lived) relief. After lightening the load behind the barn a couple of times, we took receipt of our batons from Mike and Charlie (not the Spencers) and set off up one of the many killer hills on these legs. The first leg went pretty well, in fact we were so fast that our ‘support crew’ were caught on the hop at Batcombe and didn’t manage to get our drinks out. As well as them arriving sooner than I expected, I was also thrown by the fact that some of the other runners never arrived, thanks to their dubious tactic of not running the extra half mile or so to the changeover. We got onto the flat straight stretch on top of the Ridgeway and it started to drizzle. Amanda said the fateful words “well, at least it’s not as bad as Dave and Phil had earlier”, when the heavens opened and the gales started. You wouldn’t have sent a dog out in it. There was no respite from the weather because we were on top of the hill, so it was heads down and get on with it. Amanda still claims the rain bruised her forehead.

At the end of the track Dave was waiting, but we were unable to move our hands to receive drinks. Matty and I thought we would run a little way to meet them, but we got soaked in no time; it must have been the one day of the year when there was a southerly wind, so it blew in their faces all the way. By this time my fingers looked like frozen chipolatas curled round that baton.

The rain and wind abated and the last bit, down the hill to Sydling was quite pleasant, if a little slippery. We managed to run all the way, until the final very steep hill out of Sydling to the A37; the handover point. Our Chairman came down the hill to encourage us on, so we managed to put on a last jog to the finish. We were elated. We’re told we did our leg (10.6 miles) in 1 hour 53 minutes.

Posted by Lesley

The day started with the usual pre-race nerves for me – “would we be there on time”, “would we have time to get the cars to the pre-arranged drop-off points”. And of course we had plenty of time to spare as the wind howled and the rain lashed down on the appropriately named Heartbreak Hill. However we must have done something right as it stopped raining soon after we started, although the next 11 plus miles seemed head on into the wind. A nice gentle downhill start to make up for the lack of warming up and the first of many appearances of our support crew as Lin, Martin, Phil, Dave and Richard were there to cheer us on through Maiden Newton. I hadn’t recce’d this bit so I was more than happy to follow Charlie as she set a fair pace through familiar territory. Then a long slog up a lane to somewhere. When Richard was recceing his bit the week before I was most envious of his tales of beautiful bluebell woods, so I was pleased that our leg also had some.

Some more fields – many more appearances from the supporters to open gates, point the way and offer encouragement (at the end of a sharp stick if Phil could find one). We now found ourselves on Leg 8, which I had managed to recce on my own, without getting lost, the week before. Confidence levels were rising as I recognised familiar gates, fields etc. There were certainly plenty of these in this section and although Richard and Dave had sensibly headed for the start of their leg, the other trio were still there. I’m sure Charlie won’t mind me saying the going was now getting tough as we’d been running for over one and a half hours by now.

As we approached the last field Lin cheered us on with the news that the runner in front was only a minute ahead (from three minutes a while back). However with only half a mile of road to the finish, and even a 100-yard sprint from Charlie we were unable to catch her, although she did look half dead when we saw her at the finish. We saw Richard and Dave running up and down and waiting for the batons as if it was an Olympic final, but we still didn’t manage a smooth handover. I sank gratefully into the car, and after some refreshment began the difficult bit. How to drive and navigate in unfamiliar lanes with a map in a polypocket on my lap, or mostly on the floor.


Richard’s bit

Dave and I had recce’d 95% of our two legs the previous weekend in excellent weather enjoying the views. On the day it was heads down and watch your footing. Sod’s law that within sight of the changeover I managed to go slightly wrong on the bit we hadn’t recce’d, (much to the amusement of club members). But fortunately we soon corrected ourselves as a runner close behind took the correct path.

Dave, my colleague and mighty holder of the Johnny Kipps Trophy 2008, had a cunning plan to get me going. It might seem like a small thing, but one of my pet hates is the alleged word “slippy”. Knowing this, every time there was the smallest worm-cast or rain droplets on blades of grass he called out in a health and safety style voice – “watch out Richard bit of a slippy hazard here”. Bugger the other teams, I was determined at some point to get ahead of Dave!

However all went well and we waited at gates for each other in true team spirit. In fact the whole event seemed to be run in a good spirit as a rival team member stopped and held a gate for us! In spite of Dave’s concerns about the SLIPPERY conditions, only two injuries were sustained; the first a stinging nettle got me during my second bush stop (pre-race) and the second when Lin walloped me round the head when I told her where I had been keeping our baton.



A brief view from a knackered runner (aka Dave Carnell)

LEG 9 MINTERN'S HILL TO SHEEPWASH LANE
Eye wateringly beautiful when checked out the previous weekend, but on race day in dull, dank and gusty conditions it was just hilly, slippy, more hilly, more slippy, yet more hilly and even more slippy with one tiny glorious stretch of the black stuff just before the start of leg 10.

LEG 10 SHEEPWASH LANE TO VENN CHAPEL
Slightly less slippy than the previous leg but the climb up to Pilsden was steeper than anything else and to add insult to injury the route goes down and then back up again – what kind of sadist thought that one up!
A little off route detour at the end was made in a deliberate effort to help a struggling competitor to feel rewarded by regaining the position he had lost to the speedy MNR duo.


.............And you all know I don't do brief! Legs 11 and 12 by Lin

A boozy and extremely late night is definitely not the best preparation for a race, but at least we had all day to recover - or so we thought. Actually leaping in and out of the car, opening all those gates, heckling and encouraging was absolutely exhausting. And finally we got to run.
A lovely fast downhill start swooping past the team who had cheekily taken a shortcut in full view of all spectators, to get ahead of Dave and Richard right at the finish of their two legs, and then the first of the gruelling climbs began. I was not filled with confidence when Martin started making remarks like "it's through that gate.....I think" right from the start! At least climbing the hills gave us a chance to anxiously check behind us - no sign of the two Wimborne teams who were hot on our heels.
As we began the climb up to the road crossing at Lambert's castle, the welcome and unexpected sight of another runner ahead lent speed to our weary legs. He didn't even put up a fight, just muttered "well done" as he plodded up the hill. The first leg flew past and in no time at all we were heading for the changeover point, which we reached in exactly 47 minutes - clearly a bit faster than Phil was expecting as we caught him in the car park with his shorts around his ankles and his shoes in knots! Having decided to run the last leg with us he wasn't exactly well prepared!!
The last leg started with a stretch of downhill road running and as Phil caught us up we turned into the fields for some more welcome downhill. The next clear memory is of seeing two more runners ahead of us and gradually reeling them in. We finally caught them at the A35 road crossing, after which Martin went down the other side like a seasoned fell runner with Phil and I floundering in his wake. We hurtled along muddy, slippery woodland paths trying to shake our pursuers off - they were clearly map reading as they went - and I knew Martin wanted to get out of their sight so that they had to revert to their maps instead of following us. Finally we drew clear of them, by which time I was in need of an oxygen tent, and Up Lyme was drawing ever nearer. One exciting gallop through a field of frisky cows who wanted to challenge our speed and we were so close to the finish that we relaxed our guard, took a wrong turning and made a scenic loop around the wrong side of the village, including climbing a lovely steep hill completely unnecessarily. A small domestic ensued - well he said he knew the way and he could have told me I was going the wrong way instead of just following me!
It was fantastic to see almost the whole of Team Maiden Newton x 2 at the end cheering us in, what a great team effort and a fantastic day out - despite the weather (which was positively balmy compared with 2006!).
Who would have thought a couple of years ago that we would have two teams competing in a 100km race?

London Marathon 2009

Race Report by Charlie Bladon

Graciously favoured with Maiden Newton Running Club’s guaranteed place in the 2009 Flora London Marathon, my preparations started in mid-November with an increase in mileage to build up to a carefully crafted 16 week training plan beginning in early January. Clearly the people who write these schedules know what they are doing as it started with a rest day to get over the endless Christmas parties. Pretty soon though it got into the swing of things with ‘hill sessions’ (as if it wasn’t hilly enough around here), ‘threshold work’ (everything seemed to be at above my pain threshold), ‘long runs’ (did what they say on the tin) and ‘fartlek’ (a Swedish invention, involving pain again). Many cold mornings later the long-awaited taper period finally arrived, involving two weeks of drastically reduced mileage from a peak of about 45 a week, and much increased fuel – i.e. food – intake. Just as I was getting into the swing of it race day arrived.

Clearly word had got out about my superb preparation as defending champion and three time winner Martin Lel from Kenya withdrew the night before, obviously quaking in his shoes. I too was nervous as I made my way to the start, which resembled a massive music festival with runners converging on Blackheath from all directions. It took five minutes to cross the start line and already the sun had burnt off the early morning mist and it was obviously going to be very hot. Described once by my tactful tailor as someone who might prefer ‘a more generous fit’ I soon realised I was going to find it hard work, but the people of London were out in force all the way around, ten deep in places, to lend their very vocal support. In addition there was superb marshalling and water points every mile or so, and energy drinks every four miles. They put on extra drinks as it was so hot.

Much of the race (I use that word loosely) passed in a blur. The area around Cutty Sark (7 miles) was a disappointment – very narrow and everyone slowing to a walk, but Tower Bridge (12.5 miles) lived up to expectations and as it was practically the half way point was symbolic in several ways. Canary Wharf (17-18 miles) was impressive too and was the first time I had seen the area at close hand. I knew from the route map that after 20 miles it was a fairly straight run all the way to the finish along the river and by the time I passed that mile marker I was beginning to tire. However I was buoyed up as I overheard two of my fellow athletes, thin as beanpoles, and clearly experienced runners, telling each other how they hated the final six miles of marathons as they represented such pain. Just what I wanted to hear!

After about 22 miles Big Ben appeared in the distance, and stayed there for what seemed like an unsportingly long time – if anything it seemed to get further away, not nearer. Finally, the Palace of Westminster was reached, then Parliament Square and Birdcage Walk, by which point any pretence of reaching my target time had long since evaporated in the heat and I just wanted to finish. It was an almost surreal experience rounding the corner by Buckingham Palace and seeing the finish line, as I had on the television many times, and seeing myself on the big television screen. Sadly by that point the BBC had long since stopped transmitting and the following two hour Eastenders omnibus was almost finished, so no chance of being spotted live on air. Fortunately the official photographs were there to capture a redness of face hitherto believed impossible by medical experts.

The finish was a relief but the helpers magnificent. Pre race literature had advised keeping walking for a little and as the nearest open tube station was two miles away, that is what I did. By the time I arrived back at my lodgings in Kew an hour later I had to be helped up from my seat on the tube by an old lady as my legs had seized up, which remained the case for three days, during which time I entered next year’s race, so I suppose I must have enjoyed it!

Thank you to everyone at MNRC for their invaluable support and for subtly increasing the distances run every weekend – yes I did notice. Thank you also to everyone who sponsored me helping to raise over £2,000 for the Dorset and Somerset Air Ambulance – it’s not too late! www.justgiving.com/charliebladon

Arlington Court Canter

Whilst Charlie faced the ordeal of pounding the streets of London with the masses, Martin and I headed south west to canter round the leafy lanes of North Devon. The Arlington Court Canter (which I last did in 2003) is usually a 10k but in this, its 13th anniversary year, an extra loop had been included to bring the distance up to.........13k.

The gardens and grounds of the National Trust property, Arlington Court, make a stunning backdrop to this, almost entirely off road run. The race is started by the estate coachman, authentically attired, blowing his impressive coaching horn (or whatever they call them).

The start was a bit of a cavalry charge down the narrow manicured paths of the garden, but soon turned off into the parkland where there was plenty of room for the field to spread out. A loop round the bottom of the field where we had parked followed and then we headed out of the grounds and down a wide path into the woods. At the bottom we ran alongside a small lake and were then directed onto the “new” part of the course, which the organiser had kindly warned us was “vertical”!! Actually it wasn’t too bad as the path did zig-zag but it was still quite an impressive climb until we finally emerged from the trees to cross a couple of fields and then drop back down, almost precisely to the point by the lake where we had been diverted.

The remainder of the race followed the usual course, parts of which I remembered from previous visits, although there seemed to be a lot more uphill than I recalled. Most of the tracks were through woodland, although we did pass through a few fields en route too. We were expecting the race to be about 8 miles or slightly more, but as I neared what I thought from memory was the final stage of the race I still only had just over 6 miles on the Garmin. I was finding the whole race a bit of a struggle, we don’t do many short races these days and I had got a bit carried away at the start galloping madly in pursuit of Martin (who managed to disappear from my view before we even left the grounds!).

I finally made it to the top of the last hill and back into the grounds of Arlington Court for the finish along pleasant paths through the garden, swerving madly to miss meandering tourists who were clearly a bit bewildered to be confronted with rather a lot of sweaty runners. I managed a bit of a sprint for the line to finish in 59.51, total distance according to the Garmin 7.4 miles. I was quite pleased with that until I discovered that Martin had managed to beat me by just over 5 minutes! Despite this he had only managed 3rd Vet 50 in what was a very competitive field – the first V55 was actually fifth overall.

As for me, I literally aged 10 years overnight. On Saturday I was a happy Vet 35 but Sunday saw me on day 1 of being a V45. I can’t believe I’m that old!! No comments from the gallery please! I celebrated my birthday by picking up the first V45 prize, but actually having finished 4th lady overall I also beat the first V35 and first V40 which made me feel a lot better (but still very old!).

And Martin said: Not much more I can add really. There were easter eggs handed out at the finish which was nice, if a little incongruous. Alex chose to pass up the fun run in favour of doing his homework in the car, and didn't emerge till after the race was over to help me dispose of my easter egg.

Axe to Exe and back the hard way

The Exe to Axe is as scenic and challenging an event as you might expect. The first challenge being to get to the finish at 8:30AM to catch the bus to the start. Usually I rely on the organisational skills of my better half, but she was stricken with a mystery virus, and I was on my own, mate. Fortunately I made it with a few minutes to spare, and was able to save at least a fiver by parking on the seafront and not in the council carpark. The double decker bus provided a scenic drive to Exmouth's Foxhole cafe from whose carpark the race was to start at 10:00am. This gave ample time for the usual formalities as well as exchanging excuses in advance with the Westgates whose even lengthier report follows mine.

The first few miles were fast and undulating rather than hilly, and I was well-placed in contention with some local age-group rivals, as shown in this photo taken at Budleigh Salterton.

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But when the first real hill coming out of Ladram Bay was enough to force me to a walk I knew that I would really struggle with the much tougher hills to come in the second half of the course. Passing through Sidmouth on a welcome flat section I had lost ground, and lost even more on each of the series of brutal hills that followed. It was fun in a way though. One strange event happened on the way down into Branscombe I passed a rather portly couple whose female component, perhaps annoyed at having to keep to the side of the track for fear of being bowled over, yelled out to me as I passed, "you've gone the wrong way you prat!" Charming! I made a swift and dignified escape, wondering for a moment if I had somehow missed a subtlety of the route, but knowing that area well from numerous Grizzly races, I knew that I was on a route to the checkpoint. This I think is the point at which both Richard W, and Martin Chaffey dropped out, and I don't blame them for not wanting to continue up the steepest part of the course to the clifftop between Branscombe and Beer. The hill at Beer was nothing by comparison, and I soon negotiated it and descended to the sea-front at Seaton and the finish amid throngs enjoying the sun. Unfortunately it wasn't quite hot enough for any thongs...

I had a brief traditional dip in the sea, but it was too cold to stay in for long, and I waited around only long enough to see fellow Yeovil member Pete Jakeman finish before returning to Dorset.

And now Lesley takes up the story.

Richard's pre-race preparations consisted of spending most of the day rendering the sides of the pond with cement. However this was preceded with other totally unnecessary jobs like cleaning out the fireplace so he didn't even start until midday. He then worked all day without a break, until I finally convinced him at 6pm that with only 5 or 6 sides done, he wasn't going to be finished before dark, not to mention washing up and eating after. I was torn between thinking if he doesn't do it then I get longer in bed as he can drive me straight to Exmouth, and not wanting to waste the race entry. So it was the early start and the last minute dash to find a parking spot on the seafront to avoid the car park fee.
Race went well for me at the start, plenty of company and remembered to conserve some energy. Spotted the approach to the 1st/4th trig, and eventually a mad dash down the grassy slope into Sidmouth. Although this meant I had overtaken all the people I had been following and I hoped I'd be able to find my way out of Sidmouth and back onto the coastal path. In the end it was actually well sign-posted.

Hard work on the next section up and down all those steps, and more memories of the 4 trigs race as I passed the next trig. Runners were getting very sparse by now, but made it to Branscombe without getting too badly lost (broken signpost + walker with map). There I was met by the unfortunate sight of Richard laid out on the ground next to the drinks station. He was done in. Had a brief discussion about how to retrieve him, he didn't think he could walk to the finish but thought he could make it to Beer Car Park.

So I decided to push on to the finish and go back and pick him up. That's when my problems started. "follow the coastal path signs" they said. So with no directions and no runners ahead I set off, and followed the CP sign all the way along the cliff path until it met the path that comes up from the shingle beach with the top of the cliff towering above. Getting seriously tired by now, but kept trudging upwards until nearly at the top when i met some walkers who said "all the other runners came over the top, you've done it the hard way". You can imagine how I felt. I must have lost a lot of time as even at my exhausted crawl I was still passing slower runners. it was only the fact that the finish was literally in sight that kept me going.

Even at the last half mile there was an arrow that was halfway between straight on and right and I was standing and staring at it in my confused state until a walker pointed me in the direction of the road. I was so glad to see the finish line, and yes, it was rather sudden. Next I went to the lorry to collect the bags and only Richard's was there. Panic until someone told me they'd taken the rest to the finish line. I felt like I did after the London Marathon, when I had to make it from the finish line to the meeting place weighed down with bags etc. Car seemed to be miles along the seafront. The spare key set off the alarm - twice, so I didn't dare go to the boot to get the food out. What I didn't realise in my confused state that the proper car key was in the kitbag. Then I couldn't get the key to start the car and was contemplating calling out the AA. But I didn't have a mobile phone, so with both hands, gritted teeth and desperation I finally got it to turn. Made it to Beer Car Park and found Richard still laid out on the ground. He was too sick to drive, or give directions so spent some time driving around in circles before getting on the road home. I was eventually overcome by hunger so we stopped for food and Richard had recovered sufficiently by then to insist on driving the rest of the way.

It was the same as the marathon sickness but it's the first time it has struck after so few miles. I didn't have a watch so asked the time from the next finisher, who replied 2:12. Realised that she meant the time of day, so she'll be disappointed to be 2 minutes slower. I was happy with anything under 4:20 after talking to people on the coach. Not sure how much time I lost, but I was ahead of a Westbury Harrier after leaving Sidmouth. And there was a Sidmouth runner not far ahead.

Not sure I'd want to do it again, Felt as tired yesterday evening as I did after Dartmoor.

Tiptoeing past the tulips at the 25th Teignbridge Ten

Sunday 29th March saw the Westgates running the 25th Teignbridge Ten. Sometimes it really hits home how lucky we are; a beautiful sunny spring morning managed to transform what some might regard as a boring looped road race past quarries and houses into a cheerful canter, passing trees laden with blossom and ringing with birdsong.

Having not trained for 8 days I decided to start off in last place and just run within myself enjoying the event. The first three miles I went past lots of runners before I saw John Perratt ahead. Caught him up by mile 4 and ran with him for a while, exchanging places over the next few miles. I think I averaged about 7.5 min/mile to mile 8 then feeling slightly guilty about not trying hard enough finished on two 7-minute miles.

So a wonderful day, friendly marshals, good organisation, facilities etc. as a bonus Lesley picked up a prize for 2nd FV50 and myself one as 6th member of the 2nd male team (SWRR). Lesley thinks she might put the winnings towards a pair of spikes for the track!

Club Champion graces the Arena

Wednesday 18th March saw the Westgates at the last race in the Exeter Winter 3K series. Excellent organisation by Pete Ferlie of Ironbridge Runner brings together a junior one-mile race followed by the 3K which is split into five separate races graded to your predicted finish time. The event takes place on the floodlit track at Exeter Arena, the spiritual home of the mighty SWRR. Turning up to register can be a bit confusing for the uninitiated because Wednesday night is also SWRR club night and with over 100 of the aforementioned runners milling around before dispersing for their evening road-running sessions it can be a bit noisy.

Talking of the uninitiated, Lesley bravely decided to make her 3K debut. Terrified at getting the pace wrong and finishing last, she opted for group E, the slowest group. She couldn’t have picked a more perfect spring evening, no breeze and clear cool air. This race was considerably shorter than anything she had done before and she was worried that it would be over before she had even warmed up!

During the junior mile race we did many warm up laps together and she insisted that she always raced carrying a drinks bottle. I think this was pushing eccentricity to an extreme with a real possibility of bringing Maiden Newton into disrepute so I confiscated her bottle. The call went out for the group to make their way over to the start. I went one way and Lesley the other. She insisted the start was where the lap counter and timekeepers were and dug her stubborn heels in. However the irrefutable logic that a 3K race over 7.5 laps couldn’t possibly start and finish on the same line eventually persuaded her to follow me to the far side of the track. It was getting a bit cooler now and I had to really insist she keep moving to keep warm; unfortunately she knew three of the runners in the group and wanted to stand chatting.

The runners lined up and on a signal were off. A sharp cry of “wait for me” broke the night air and the race was stopped. No, it wasn’t Lesley but another lady, a bit slow getting her jacket off. (Lucky for her the race was restarted and she won the series over-60 prize). I suppose technically it wasn’t a false start – a real rarity for a 3K – rather a restart. Lesley set off near the rear of the group of 14. There were seven youngsters under 15, two ladies over 60, two men over 50, 2 ladies over 50 and the winner – a lady over 45.

Lesley soon started moving through the field and was looking quite comfortable. She probably ran further than the rest, as for a couple of laps she seemed to be in lanes 2, 3 or even 4 as she went wide overtaking runners. With a lap to go she was still in second position but the lady ahead kept a clear lead. In fact Lesley needed some encouragement to push on, as a young Honiton lad wasn’t far behind. With some effort she held on to second place in 13:46.

I was seeded in race C – predicted time of 12.00. Things went to plan; I started at the back, nice and steady for a lap then moving up a bit. I finished in 11:58, ninth out of 22, very happy. Mike will be interested to note that John Perratt did 12:25 and won the first male over 70 for the series. Full results are on the Ironbridge Runner website. Lesley says never again but I bet she will.

Street Winter 5k Series

A short race so a correspondingly short race report. Martin and I drove to Street on Wednesday evening for the sixth and final race in the series.

The Street series is less well supported than the Summer series at Yeovilton but it’s great fun charging round the streets of Street – five times – and we have done them all this year. We approached the final one with some trepidation having survived 20 miles of bogs, beach and cliffs at the Grizzly just three days earlier.

The start of this race is terrifying – the road is quite narrow, it’s downhill, it has speed bumps and everyone is trying to get to the first corner as quickly as possible to avoid getting stuck as the path narrows. Consequently it’s a mad charge with no room to see where you are putting your feet and I’m always grateful to survive it unscathed.

We obviously didn’t try hard enough at the Grizzly because we both had a good race, Martin clocked an excellent 18.18 and I ran my best time for the Series – 20.47. Alternatively it could be that we are finally returning to some semblance of fitness.

The main reason for this race report is to advertise what a superstar Maiden Newton Running Club has in its midst – Martin came home as first Vet 50 in 5 out of 6 of the races, which obviously also meant that he won the vet 50 prize for the overall series. Not only that, he finished in a fantastic 7th place overall in this final race. I’m so proud of him!

The next challenge will be at Yeovilton and the first race of the summer series is at 7.15pm on Wednesday 8th April when hopefully some other Maiden Newton runners will take up the challenge.

Dalwood Three Hills

Sunday 22nd February saw the Westgates and the Lascelles at the Dalwood 3 Hills. Any race organised by Axe Valley with hills in the title should ring alarm bells for any wimps looking for a fast flat race. Considering the hundreds of races Lin and Martin have entered it was a surprise to learn they were Dalwood virgins, but by the end of the day they had left their mark.

Axe Valley like to make you work for your money. A stamped addressed envelope rewards you with race number only – no directions or parking info etc. Dalwood is a very small community nestling in at the bottom of a valley and some navigational skill is needed if you want to get to the start in good time. I’m not sure who, but someone decided the competitors’ car park wasn’t good enough and decided to park a small red car on a narrow corner about quarter of a mile along the course. The Yeovil Town Road Runner sticker in the rear window offers some clue to the culprit.

It really was a perfect February morning; above average temperatures, little breeze and enough sun to warrant donning the shades. The start seemed friendly, informal and relaxed, however near the front line were five SWRRs who were obviously looking to do well. Lin and Martin were just ahead on my left and Lesley was lurking somewhere behind. (Making my way towards the back, chatting and completely oblivious to the starting gun). There might well be Three Hills, of note, but there seemed very little flat. From the start we climbed, passing the aforementioned small red car and then followed a friendly marshal’s directions onto a track. This race was well marshalled and I loved some of the characters. Some of them were traditional race-supporters with helpful children at water stations. Others seemed to be local farmers or landowners who just stood like scarecrows making no movement or eye contact with passing runners. They were obviously happy to be there to help, but probably thought all runners were mad and had their minds on crop production or the price of lamb.

Within five minutes Martin went past; he seemed very focused and didn’t say anything; I didn’t look behind but expected Mrs Lascelles to be in close proximity. The first four miles are a loop that brings the runners back past the start and the village hall, but not the small red car. I remember running across grassy fields, then hills, then stony tracks. Lesley remembers trampling frogspawn in flooded tracks. Others remarked that she has an evil grin as she walks over lower life forms. Talking of which I remember going through five miles at 40:45 and thinking that wasn’t too bad. I then clocked an 11 minute-mile and came back to earth. I had a target and was losing it. My target had involved me doing a series of 10-mile very hilly training runs. It had also involved me abstaining from alcohol for FIVE whole days. Given my high-pressure executive lifestyle, this took some commitment.

At about 6 miles I heard male and female voices behind me. How can anyone run and maintain a conversion on such a hilly course? Soon they glided past, but on a steep and stony downhill I blundered past them and stayed ahead for another mile. I didn’t have the strength to push on and once again they passed me, finishing 30 seconds ahead; the female being the 1st Lady. The last hill brings the runners to an exposed grassy hump overlooking the village down in the valley. From now on it is steeply downhill, only to be slowed by a field with a very boggy/watery corner. The final sprint to the finish along the Corry Brook gives spectators a good photo opportunity. Not quite the same as wildebeast floundering through crocodile infested waters, but there was a small bank to climb and there could have been giant rats. A very enjoyable run.

Congrats to Mrs Lascelles who got 2nd Ladyand to Martin who finished "fresh as a daisy" some 7 minutes ahead of me. I came home with a PW and Lesley with shoes full of mushy frogspawn. Note from Lesley: I achieved my own personal target which was to beat Bev and Jo. Last year Bev left me standing on the final downhill, and Jo crashed past me on the final sprint across the river. This year the cunning plan was to get a bit ahead earlier on and maintain the gap. However it was all guess work as I never saw them after the first quarter mile.

“Off Road Shoes Required” – The Inca Trail 15th February 2009

Race Report by Jackie Webb

Well it said it all really, but quite frankly wellies or even diving gear would have been more appropriate. I tried not to look at the photos of the flooded course displayed in the club house and concentrated on getting the timing of my place in the loo queue right.

We were slightly dismayed when, during our pre-race pep talk we were told that due to flooding the course had been changed and was now about 8 miles (rather than the advertised 7) and if this runner was anything like the one I live with, I suspected that the “about” meant more like 9. “Don’t worry Jack” Amanda whispered “One potato two potato” (Amanda’s new secret weapon when it comes to pacing herself during races). We were also warned that there were still some fairly deep flooded stretches that were deeper than they looked (they looked pretty deep) and lots of mud.

Well, Michael Rosen’s ‘We’re Going on a Bear Hunt’ soon came to mind, with thick oozy mud and of course we couldn’t go over it or under it, we had to go through it. We set off slipping and sliding like Torville and Dean on acid. After a very long stretch of mud, we had about a mile of flat straight track; nice easy running we thought. We then came to a big puddle which we easily skirted around but soon wondered why we had bothered keeping our feet dry. We had to run through water that easily came over my knees, so once we were running in it, we got absolutely soaked. This stretch went on for about 80 yards. I then encountered a new problem. My trousers started falling down with the weight of the water. It’s not very dignified hitching yourself up every few feet.

After the water, came more mud and then a nice bit of clean road. At this stage we started to see the leaders heading back and were both impressed at how friendly and encouraging both the runners and marshals were. Climbing the promised ‘Machu Pichu’ was pretty tough but I managed to run some of it especially when I heard the shake of a sweet tin at the top. Running down was great. I careered down at quite a speed and could see a marshall in the distance but couldn’t make out what she was saying until the words “slow down it’s very slippery” seemed a bit redundant. I managed to keep my balance and then embarked on the return leg; more mud, that water again and finally “one potato two potato” to the finish.

We finished 56th and 57th out of 70, which we were pleased with as they all seemed lithe and lovely club runners. We did it in 1 hour 27minutes and I’m still not sure now how far it was. I heard it was 8.13 miles from one runner. I would definitely recommend this run. Amanda and I both enjoyed it and feel more confident about the Wessex Ridgeway. At least we managed to keep our running shoes. Dave told me one early finisher crossed the line in his socks. Perhaps he didn’t feel he could keep the flippers on for the final stretch.

Four Trigs

Martin and I headed down to Sidmouth last Sunday in the lovely spring-like sunshine for our third running of the Four Trigs. Following the frantic recce-ing expeditions of 2007 and 2008 we were extremely complaisant this year and had not been near the route. This is a self navigating run of the four trig points surrounding Sidmouth – and to make it more interesting it is run in opposite directions each year. This year the route was anti-clockwise, my personal favourite, as it gets the killer hills between Sidmouth and Branscombe out of the way early on whilst there is still some life left in the legs.

The run starts at the Yacht Club in Sidmouth and follows the coast path past Salcombe and Westonmouth to reach the first trig point on Branscome cliff. This is the easy bit (from a navigational point of view!). The route then heads inland through Weston and past the donkey sanctuary at Salcombe. At this point it became apparent that two runners who clearly had no idea of the route were using us as guides. This didn’t bother me too much, but when Martin started pretending that he couldn’t remember the way, I realised that it was upsetting him and thought it was probably time to stop chatting to one of them and try to lose them!

We crossed the main coast road and headed into the woods to emerge near Harcombe with our irritating posse still on our heels. The second trig is definitely the hardest to find – it nestles in a knoll of scrubby woodland with no discernible path, so we plunged into the woods, clawing our way up the steep hillside and managed to briefly shake off our pursuers. Emerging a few minutes later, arms and legs badly scratched, we legged it out of the woods trying to reach a cunning short cut before our companions came back into view.

A steep descent through the woods, out into the fields and we headed down to the road crossing at Sidbury. At this point Martin noticed that a girl who had been ahead of us was now several hundred yards behind – together with several other runners who had obviously also had problems locating the second trig – and unfortunately the duo who had been following us.

After the road crossing there is a long, muddy bridle path leading uphill which is quite easy to follow, although it resembles running along a riverbed for most of its route. My female rival had caught us up by this point and was clearly quite happy to discard her map and join our guided tour group. We tried to lag behind but the slower we went the slower they went too. Our cunning plan was that there was plenty of scope for getting lost in the woods leading to the third trig.
Unfortunately we had not counted on another local runner, who clearly knew the route as well as we did, catching us up and, obviously a far more sporting type than us, being quite happy to point everyone in the right direction. Three of our “group” including female runner began to forge ahead with him but we didn’t give up hope of shaking off some of the slower members of our entourage later on.

Once past the third trig there is a long, steep descent before another road crossing and a very tricky section where you have to leave the safety of the East Devon Way behind and indulge in some serious mountain climbing through thick woods whilst hoping that you are heading in the right direction. It was on this descent that Martin decided we would shake off our pursuers, so as not to give them any hint of our cunning short cut through said woods.

The first part of the plan went well and we bombed down the field at breakneck speed. Unfortunately the second part of the plan didn’t work quite so well – we definitely took the most direct route through the woods, but the cliff face we had to scale slowed us down a fair bit!

We crossed the road (again!) and knew that we were finally on the homeward stretch - another long, steady climb up and then a mile or so of nice easy running on flat paths through the woods – and we were on our own now, no sign of anyone either in front or behind.

The fourth trig – High Peak – is out and back and it is so hard turning away from the finish after 14 miles or so and running west towards Budleigh instead of east back to the delights of the Yacht Club. There are two routes up to the trig point and Martin decided to take the second one whilst I opted for the first. When I reached the trig there was no sign of him, so I went back down the other way assuming that he had been and gone and was proving the point that his way was quicker by not waiting for me.

As I headed back towards Sidmouth and climbed the final hill there was no sign of him, either in front or behind. I did have a small twinge of guilt that he was lying in the woods with a badly twisted ankle or had approached the trig a tad too enthusiastically and plunged straight over the cliff, but I managed to quash it and continued to push on to the finish. Halfway down Peak Hill, with the blissful sight of Sidmouth ahead of me, he suddenly appeared from a side gate and ruefully admitted to having made “a bit of a navigational error “ resulting in more bramble clearance and some impressive scratches. I managed not to look too smug as we enjoyed the final run along the promenade, trying not to scare the old age pensioners and Sunday strollers with our battered, bloody rush through their midst.

We finished in 2.55.10 – some seven minutes slower than our 2007 circuit, but as this was by far the hardest run we’ve done since last July we were both pleased to have broken the 3 hour mark. We celebrated with our annual dip in the sea , which was a bit on the chilly side and then retired to the Yacht Club for well earned pasties, cakes and coffees, all included in the modest £5 entry fee.

This is one of our favourite runs – low key, friendly, stunning countryside and great fun – and it’s fast becoming an annual “must do” event. Apart from anything else a great warm up for the Grizzly which is now looming dangerously close!



Running through Salcombe Regis

Slaying The Dragon

Race Report by Dave Carnell

Sunday the 8th February saw the first running of the ‘Slay the Dragon’ race at Hinton St George in Somerset. Given the prevailing weather conditions this could have been called ‘Prancing on Ice’, but sensibly the organisers reduced the roundly 10K race to a more modest circa 5 miler, in order to avoid actually running on the worst bits.

After a jolly 1 mile walk (mostly downhill – real shame we couldn’t run this bit!) to the revised start point, the mixed field of over 70 runner types and foolish villagers lured into participating in the collective madness, all set off across a meadow covered in virgin snow.

The route then took us down muddy footpaths, alongside small streams, along quiet country lanes, across more snowy farm land and then temptingly close to the Dinnington Docks PH (rumoured to be well worth a visit). Temptation resisted, the final test and distinct sting in the tail was the steep ascent up the scarp face of the hill behind Hinton, the top of which led us to the improvised finish at the western end of the village.

All that remained was to then jog back the ½ mile or so to the village hall (a gentle down hill that would otherwise have provided good sport for the sprinter types), where the start and finish had originally been planned to be and where now a generous supply of cakes and warm refreshments awaited the returning competitors.

Despite the appalling weather beforehand and the treacherously icy conditions on the lanes leading to the village, this was a well attended event taking a scenic and varied route – one to recommend for the future.

Saturday Stratton Snow Session

The turnout for our latest social run was a bit down on the last. The weather and treacherous conditions underfoot must have had something to do with it. However the four who made it to the Saxon Arms on Saturday...

(plus the one taking the picture) were rewarded with an interesting and scenic 10 miles, courtesy of Mother Nature. The trails were mostly softening snow interspersed with skating rink, frozen ice-cubes and mud. High point was a romp downhill across a snowy field where we raced a couple of deer who got confused and almost let us catch them.

I'll let the pictures speak for themselves, mostly, and save me a bit of typing.

View from the top of the first hill at New Barn Centre.

Half-way point at Maiden Castle,

Where a friendly passer-by took one of all four of us.

Follow me!

Nearly there, It's all downhill from here, promise.

With a brief stop for a bit of steeplechase


and a look at the scenery.

There's Stratton below us.

Fulfords Five

Sunday 1st February saw the Westgates at our first Fulfords Five mile road race at Exmouth. The course does 2 loops through the town with legs along the seafront. Weather was bitingly cold with a nasty east wind, but general opinion was that last year’s conditions were worse with stronger winds sand-blasting the competitors! So with comparatively good conditions I elected to wear shorts, but thank God I wasn’t running further than five miles!

Not much to say about this race really; facilities and organisation ticked all the right boxes and there was plenty of plod about to control the traffic. Not being too fit I aimed for 35 minutes or under so my 34:26was OK. Very pleased and relieved that my age-graded percentage time was just a point or two above Lesley’s! Looking at the provisional results it seems that SWRR did a clean sweep of the major prizes. First man finished at 5:05min/mile pace, which at about 84% is quite high class. Us lesser mortals plodded round, but it was enjoyable, and it’s always good to try a different event.

Some words from Lesley: I was going to moan about how cold it was, but given what we’ve had today, we were really lucky again. I still wore my woolly hat, along with the usual coat, gloves and wrist-warmers. The only concession to it being a race was to wear knee-length shorts instead of leggings.And I was still cold at the finish, in 40:33, which was age-graded at 69%.

Brass Monkeys at the Blackmore Vale Half Marathon

Lin and I arrived well in time for this one, having heard of the limited changing facilities which is code for "not enough toilets". We needed to pick our numbers up and joined a queue outside what we took to be headquarters, but which turned out to be the men's limited changing facility, or bog. The gathered throng took great delight in setting us straight about this fact, and pointed across the street to the village hall into which, red-faced (from the cold of course), we took several minutes to squeeze, and ignoring the queues for the not-so limited women's facilities we navigated to where we claimed our numbers.

We then quickly returned to the car and quickly shut the doors against the elements ( mostly Nitrogen and Oxygen) to gird our loins (and most other parts) for our ordeal race. It was a bit nippy (ok, bloody freezing) with a brisk easterly wind, perfect weather for a day indoors race but along with nearly 600 hundred shivering (fool)hardy masochists athletes we lined up at the start of the Blackmore Vale Half Marathon at 11:00 am on Sunday. The start was in the football field with about 60 yards before a narrow gate which forced me to start off faster than I would like, but going down the steep hill I was still well behind the Maiden Newton duo of Phil England and Dave Webb.

The course, which is all on road,led its winding and undulating route through Holway, and then turned right towards Glanvilles Wooton. The forecast had been of south-easterly winds, but it seemed to be coming from in front, mainly, regardless of the direction I was running at the time. I was following my cunning plan of running only in the lee of another runner (preferably several) to avoid the worst of the biting wind.

This worked quite well, especially when I caught up with the tall figure of Dave Webb who I shadowed for a while until he noticed I was there. We chatted for a while, and reeled in Phil and then Nigel Johns.

Dave and I pressed on towards the 6 mile point which was at the top of a long hill where the route joins a larger road and turns into what was definitely the teeth of the wind. I took advantage of the opportunity to tag onto a runner who overtook us quickly at this point, and running as closely as I dared behind him, I was able to catch up with a fellow Yeovil runner, Steve Sparks, who, being a useful sized chap, I trailed for a couple of miles before he spotted me and I was forced to press on and pass him.

By now I was feeling the strain, but the expectation of being caught by Dave W, combined with the desire to get in out of the cold wind kept me pushing as fast as I could through the village of Pulham, then FINALLY turning west with the wind now helping slightly, I passed the 10, 11 and 12 mile markers and made a sharp right turn up towards Bishop's caundle and the last mile.

This was not fun as it was back into the wind and up a short, sharp hill where I gritted my teeth (for more traction in the icy conditions) and narrowly resisted the temptation to walk. It was probably the sight and support of Steve and Donna and Harvey ( thanks guys!) which kept me going to the top and gave me some impetus as the hill turned from up to slightly down. This was lucky, because at the bottom I looked back and I saw Dave looming against the skyline, obviously gaining on me. I put on as much of a spurt as I could, and ground out a painful ascent of the next and final hill before turning into the field at the top and a 60-yard dash to the finish in 1:31:05. It was just above my optimistic target time of "anything under 1:30", but I was still pleased with it, given the conditions, it was still under 7 minute mile pace. I was also pleased with the boring white T-shirt which would not normally excite me, but it now represented Warmth!

Dave finished almost immediately after, and then Nigel, as I jogged back down the hill hoping to meet Lin as soon as possible. Not just because I missed her, and wanted her to be doing well, but also because I didn't want to have to go far down, and then have to run back up, the brutal finishing hill. Phil passed, and a couple of Yeovil runners then, I was relieved and proud to see Lin, round the next to last bend and forging up and around to the finish in 1:37:50-ish. This was a very good result given the lack of training recently and although it was no-where near her PB, it bodes well for the future.

After a brief chat with Phil and Dave C, Lin and I agreed that we were both too cold and tired to want to do anything other than beetle off back home to the warmth enjoyed by more unadventurous sensible folks.

Many thanks to the Blackmore Vale Lions for organising the race. They did it well, and special thanks to the marshalls- out in force, in the cold, with water stations almost every mile, although I was too cold to drink a thing.

The results should be available here http://www.bvlions.co.uk/pdf%20files/Half%20Marathon%20Result%202009.pdf