Machen Mountain 10k - 31st Aug ‘09
03/09/2009 by Ivan.
Machen Mania - by Niki
“And you go over the top here.” bellowed the Army commander to his squaddies, pointing with a long stick at a cairn on the blown up map at the Army Headquarters, sorry Machen Cricket Club. I tried to peer through the bored looking squaddies at the map, and caught a worrying glimpse of lots of brown lines either side of the cairn. I guess because the race had 10k in its title, I assumed it wouldn’t be tough – ignoring the word Mountain. I didn’t really need to look at the map, as Gill, Dick and Lou – all veterans of the Machen Mountain 10k, just pointed at a gargantuan lump behind me.
“So talk me through the course” I demanded trying to psyche myself into race mode – having spent the preceding part of the bank holiday wafting around, with a heavily negative output to input ratio – i.e. getting heavily acquainted with the sofa and the contents of the fridge. I was feeling as fired up as a nonagenarian on beta blockers.
“You run round this field, then through the town, up a steep hill on the road, then up more of a hill off-road, then through some styles, then contour through the forest for a bit, then up a bit more, then steeply up, before tackling the hill that leads you up a steep incline to the top. Then you run downhill a lot.”
Me: “So, it’s like, up and down then”
Gill: “Yeah”
Me: “So, a fell race then basically”
Gill: “No, well yes, but no, but yes, but”
Random runner from another club: “How does it compare with your Tintern Trot”
Gill: “Oh, about the same”
Me, after random runs off looking relieved: “But, Gill, the Tintern Trot doesn’t have 1000 ft of ascent does it?”
Gill: “Detail, detail…”
Dick, James, Lou, Gill, Andy Stott, Rob Brown, Ian and Becca all arrived about 3 hours early in order to ensure getting a place as they were all too disorganised to enter in advance. The disconcerting aspect of arriving that early to a race is the need to visit the toilet once every 5 minutes until the start – just in case one should be carrying half an ounce more than necessary round the course. This is fine unless the one functioning Ladies toilet happens to lock you in every time you visit and you need to be rescued each time. Andy’s Godmother was fortunate enough to be discovered trapped in this less than salubrious environment by Gill and was freed before the start. I believe she is currently doing well in therapy.
And so to the start. Ian’s American girlfriend Becca, just over for the weekend and the Machen Mountain 10k, was taking no chances with the British weather and wore a warm pair of gloves the whole way round. As it was I believe the first race she had entered in Britain, Ian kindly ran round with her all the way – men take note on Ian’s lessons in gallant behaviour. Very impressive and will win you lots of favours – but you need to put away your pride and any notions of a PB. Becca reported enjoying it enormously. This is laudable – however, Ian after she’s done a couple more races, you do need to explain to her that enjoyment is absolutely not the point. Anyway, she did very well, and good effort coming all that way for a 10k.
Lou went off like a rocket and I tried to keep up with her for about the first 30 seconds before I realised I would be revisiting my bank holiday excess quite rapidly if I tried to stay with her. The race was very much as described by Gill. After a mile or two, we came across a style and two very officious looking marshalls told us not to race the styles – but to form an orderly queue. Lou, a student of AC’s off-road courses was having none of this queuing nonsense, and nonchalantly trotted past about 5 blokes to volt over the gate adjacent to the style. I admired her attitude, but felt far too British to follow suit, so I stayed mute, and took my place behind about 10 runners all being infuriatingly slow and ponderous. Approximately 15 minutes later, I crossed the style, and by this time, felt so pumped up with aggression and rage that I managed to actually run up most of the rest of the hill to the cairn.
On crossing another style close to the top, a woman was just ahead of me. We did the British thing of “no, you go first”, “no, you, please” “no, no really, you first”. I subsequently found out she was the first Female Vet 40 who won a trophy and a tenner and beat me by 38 seconds. If I’d have known that at the time, I would have rugby-tackled her to the ground, found a couple of burly Army marshals, made them sit on her for 39 seconds, and run like hell to the finish.
The downhill was great – fast, and with lots of interest – down a steep hillside, followed by down through the forest, followed by fast, downhill on the road. You get the picture – a lot of down. The horrid bit for me was the last lap of the field at the end – by then, mentally you felt like it should be all over – and it just felt like an unpleasant slog when your legs were completely trashed by the descent. Still, I was elated to finish, and (almost retrospectively) really enjoyed the whole event. It’s a really fantastic little race – it’s local, low-key, inexpensive, we all received a lovely t-shirt, and the course and scenery were inspiring.
Gill won first Female Vet 50 prize, and Dick won first Male Vet 60 prize. Well done them!!! Also, I won’t hold it against Sharon Woods for being first FV40 – but next time, I’m not waiting at no style!
Harriers Results were as follows:
47.30 Mark Harvey
51.55 Andy Stott
53.17 James Blore
53.20 Matt Creed
56.27 Niki
59.05 Dick
59.33 Gill
59.54 Lou
68.05 Rob Brown
71.26 Ian and Becca
The End.
