13/01/2010 by Ivan.

07/01/2010 by Lou.

Cross country at Bryn Bach is now definitely cancelled but Dick has organised an off road speed session at Piercefield Park on Saturday 9^th Jan.  Meet at the Leisure Centre at 9.30 a.m.

Saturday afternoon the Kymin Fell Race will be on – starts Monmouth Boys School ( by Lidl ) 2p.m.

There will be a session tonight (Thursday 7^th Jan ) – Dick is checking some of the route – it will undoubtedly be slippery and we may have to adapt the route as we go.  The leisure centre is currently open.

Happy sledging in the sunshine.

Posted in Cross Country, Fell Running, Races, Club News | 1 Comment »

28/11/2009 by Dick.

The Stott clan, Sue Ashton, Liz Francis and James Blore came away from the 2009 Welsh Championships presentations today after the Blorenge race with plenty of trophies and vouchers.

Gill S walked off with both the Welsh and South Wales series first prizes in her age group, with Sue close behind in both. Liz was third in her category in the S Wales. Andy S picked up the M50 2nd prize for S Wales, while Matt S and James were first and second in the U23 category.

In this afternoon’s Winter Hill Race up the Blorenge, Paul Murrin and Matt were 4th and 5th, with (as far as I know) Sue first in her age group.

Posted in Fell Running | 1 Comment »

06/11/2009 by Niki.

Having recced this fell race with both Andy C and Ian (consecutively), it would be most inappropriate and politically incorrect for me to observe here that Andy hadn’t a clue where he was going, and that Ian’s nav was faultless.  So, when it came to deciding who to share a lift with to the start, it was a no-brainer.  Also, there’s the small matter of Andy refusing any lifts from anyone – obviously in uber-psyched racing “don’t talk to me, I’m far too serious an athlete to be distracted by a silly girl” mindset.

We arrived at the start to see many a familiar face – including, most notably, that of Marianne.  Good, I thought – excellent to have such fine female Harrier talent at this event.  OK then, what I really thought was “right, that’s any vague hope of glory out the window, unless I have a sex change, an injection of steroids, and locate a time portal to propel me back to my mid-20’s – all in the next 15 minutes”.  Marianne purported to have a hangover, which may have made her 1% less completely awesome than normal – but she still put on a fantastic performance to be first female Harrier by many minutes.  Clearly, she didn’t drink enough.

Lou arrived with her brood in tow, and decided to cheer the Harriers on, which as well as being hugely motivational and very sweet (especially the cheers of Ceri and Polly), proved to be a most useful navigational aid – more about that later.

It was a delight as always to see Esther’s smiling face, and we did a brief warm up together, before reality dawned.  Behind Esther’s cheery, laid back demeanour lies a woman of cast iron.  Her steely determination, fortitude and ruthlessness on the hill make Genghis Khan look like a blancmange.  Having just about recovered from the Herculean effort of trying to keep up with Es on the Black Mountains fell race some months ago, the mental scars were still lingering.  As I cast around to see if there were any LV80s I could swap my warm up routine with, runners began to mass at the start.  We passed Andy C running towards us.  No eye contact, no verbal contact, a vague raise of the hand in acknowledgement.  Inexplicably, Andy’s ultra-focused pre-race preparation put Esther and I in a fit of giggles.

“So Ian, what’s your race strategy then?” I nonchalantly enquired.

“It’s to go as fast as I can uphill, and as fast as I can downhill” he replied.

“That’s really uncanny Ian.  That was my strategy too.  Golly, we must have some amazing brain-linked chemistry synch vibe going on”.

“Whatever” replied Ian.

It was good to see the indefatigable, indestructible, irrepressible Gill Stott on the start line (and her lovely hubby), pointing her broken arm defiantly towards the summit of Sugarloaf. I believe she said she would trot round with Rob Brown, and he foolishly believed her…  a woman of fortitude to rival Esther’s.

It was also great to see Sue and Gerry there – more OMM survivors returning to the Welsh hills the weekend after for more pain and misery.

At the start we were told there would be no prizes for any winners, just spot prizes.  That reduced the pressure to just trying and beat as many of your mates as possible for the hell of it. 

The Start – well, this was steep up, and if one was feeling particularly super-human, deranged, inadvisably ambitious and masochistic (most of Chepstow Harriers), one could run up it.  The ideal would have been to attempt to do this all the way up, but the harsh reality of a finite lung capacity, a middle-aged body and depleted oxygen to the legs soon made this fantasy, just that.  I am sure the uber-quick boys such as Steve Caldwell and Matthew Lawson managed to achieve this.

Having decided that the OMM was just a load of old tussocks, it felt good to be running on something resembling a path – and even better to watch the warped course planner struggle up the steep hillside on Sugarloaf.  It would have been even better to show him a clean pair of heels, but he was going well (damn him).  All that Ommmmm chanting and eschewing frivolous chat at the start must have paid off.

Ian shot off like a scalded cat - maybe it had something to do with my worrying (to him) comment about us having our brains linked.  It was to prove an ill-advised tactic though because I overtook him after about 10 minutes. 

Esther and I had a titanic battle throughout the entire race.  We solved this ‘having an identical pace’ problem at the Black Mountains by running round together, but that was a 17 mile very tough race where our mutual support was extremely helpful to get round, and this was just 5 miles – we couldn’t do the girlie thing of coming in together hand in hand at the finish line again.  Not without a lot of p*ss taking from Andy C anyway.  We would have to fight to the death.  I was convinced just about all of the way round that this battle would be won by Esther as I have the mental resolve of your average hibernating hamster – I can barely focus for a 20 yard sprint finish yet alone a 5 mile fell race.  Esther obviously used this to her advantage by encouraging me to look at the view.  This I did thinking “ooh, look at those lovely trees, and those glorious autumnal colours, and is that Pen Carig y wotsit I can see over there in the Black Mountains – rather than thinking “you must run this woman into the ground at all costs”.  I don’t really like being uber-competitive with my friends, because, well, they are my friends, and it seems like unseemly behaviour.

After feeling on the verge of a quadruple heart bypass several times, I found myself standing on the summit of Sugarloaf.  Only I didn’t find myself in a stationary position.  That’s the problem with fell races – you completely and utterly slaughter yourself to get to the top, but because it’s uphill and you aren’t really moving very fast at all, you know that you have to really, really slaughter yourself completely and utterly on the descent to make up for all that wussy walking you did on the way up.  The result is that you beast yourself up, and you beast yourself down, and there is absolutely no point whatsoever in a short fell race where you will not be absolutely beasting yourself into a pulp – unless you’re not trying hard enough, which is just pathetic and you should be ashamed of yourself, and take up basket weaving.

Anyway, where was I – ah yes, the top of Sugarloaf.  Esther was ahead of me at this point, and that was to continue for some of the descent, until I sensed a slight easing in her stride and went for an overtaking manoeuvre.  My descent strategy was simple.  To take my brain out and move as fast as possible.  The first part was not difficult for me as it comprises fluff and air, but the second part was more difficult.  I was beginning to tire, and Esther was closing in for the kill.  I now have empathy for wildebeests. 

There was a bit of ascent in the descent, which I thought was unnecessarily harsh.  I managed to overtake one woman around this point, before we started descending again.    On the descent I was uncertain of the correct path to take, and then I heard this tremendous cacophony of “Niki, Niki” coming from the lovely Summers’ children and Lou reverberating around the mountains.  “Ah, that’ll be the correct route then” I thought, and hurled myself towards them at alarming speed.  What I didn’t know at the time was that the woman just behind me that I’d just overtaken was also called Niki, so she must have been impressed by this new fan base.

“You’re 3^rd woman” bellowed Lou, encouragingly.  That spurred me on the finish in this position.  I’m not sure how I managed to cross the finish line without throwing up, but it was immensely pleasing to stop.  Es was just seconds behind me.  My lungs are so trashed I haven’t stopped coughing since and am convinced I have bronchitis at the very least.

Great event – I’ll be back next year.

Congratulations to everyone who took part, especially first lady – Marianne.

Posted in Fell Running | 2 Comments »

06/11/2009 by Ivan.

The Originall Mountain Marathon (OMM) this year took part in Wales, it turned out to be practically on our doorstep just up the road in the Elan Valley.  A number of Harriers took part this year, and following a bit of recovery time we now have a few reports of experiences!   Although reading the reports might give the impression that everyone had a miserable time…. you will generally find that at the end of the report just about everyone is already planning which is the next Mountain Marathon they are going to do next !     So if any of the reports inspire any of you to give it a go, just speak to any of these any you’re bound to find a willing partner!!

If you want to look at the maps and courses they can be found on www.theomm.com , find your way to the results section and you’ll find a link something called ‘routegadget’ - using this you can view courses, and also view the routes that teams took.

A huge thanks to the organisers and the planners.

C Course

Vanessa & Matthew Lawson

Late start on the Saturday meant a sleep in a bed rather than a tent on Friday night, so who was complaining? Get the boys up, do breakfast, then pack the car and wave bye bye as Granny had very generously agreed to babysit for two days (she had been booked a year in advance for the event). Seth had a slight temperature so a bit of Calpol and mummy and daddy were off!

Drove up to Builth Wells with Esther and hunky Bill (not my description, but I do agree…just ask Niki and Gill). On the way up Es showed her totally relaxed attitude to the tough weekend ahead by providing veterinary consultancy services from her pink iPhone. Next time I’ll charge her rent for using my car as an office.

Got to Builth Wells, register, and get on a coach which would take us to the start. We were on the last one. It was by now raining quite a bit. Ivan was on our coach too and he informed us that the weather would definitely improve. His optimism was laudable, although I wasn’t convinced. He did however turn out to be right as by the time we actually got to the start there was quite a bit of blue sky visible. On the way to the start we passed a sign in true Andy Creber style informing us that the tussocks we were walking on were ‘not tussocks!’. How right he was…

Got into our ‘pen’ only to be told by the starting marshal that we were a minute early. We held back, but then I checked and he’d read the wrong line! We quickly resumed our position in the start queue, got handed our huge maps, and set off. Es and hunky Bill had set off 3 minutes before us and were totally out of sight already.

There was a big up, then a big long flat, Andy had told M that if there was a path going roughly the right way we should take it, so we followed a lovely sheep track for ages, found the checkpoint then dropped down to a reservoir. Checkpoint 2 in the bag. At this point there was a slight disagreement about the route to checkpoint 3, M agreed to follow my route choice (which turned out to be pretty much my only contribution to the weekend’s navigation, but I was proud of it). Run run run! To the road, run on the road, run everything, M was cracking the whip big time. At the next long drag he took my rucksack and I hung on for dear life as he carried both rucksacks and navigated. I can’t imagine he could see his feet, and he did comment that he was having to work quite hard (as he was carrying the best part of 12kg, I am pleased that he had to work hard!). Overtook loads of teams, overheard someone say ‘is that cheating?’. No it isn’t, keep running.

After this my memory is a bit sketchy, except that I was made to run for hours and hours. I fell in a bog up to mid-thigh, cried, and still I had to run. The tussocks were not too bad as the 3000 people who had started before us had made a lovely motorway through them, so I had to run. Run run run…eventually we got to the camp, queued for the download of the results, and discovered to our delight we were in the chasing start, as we’d finished within an hour of the leaders in sub 4 hours. 14^th overnight. Great!

Found the other Chepstow Harriers as Andy had put a sign up so we could all camp together, discovered that Es and hunky Bill had been less than 6 minutes quicker, and we were pleased. And I was so tired. The prospect of doing the whole thing again was not inspiring.

M pitched tent and did all the cooking, whilst all I could manage was to get in the tent and put on all the clothes I had brought. 5 layers, and I was still cold. Ate vast quantities of food, couscous (Stevie C’s special recipe, yum, except it’s better on a nice plate rather than in a cut-up plastic milk container). Oh well. Loads of chocolate, crisps, honey roasted nuts, you get the picture…I had eaten very little during the day and drank nothing. I had to run, no time for food/drink. I would suffer later.

Had lots of drink (being dehydrated), went to bed by 7pm, then at 10pm there was an urgent need for the loo. In my view, this is the fundamental problem with camping – when you need to go, you have to leave your nice tent and brave the elements. It was howling out there. There was NO WAY I was going out in it. That cut-up milk container came in very handy…

I think I might have slept for 45-50 minutes in the night, the wind blowing straight at my face through the pathetically thin mesh of the tent, I was freezing, the space blanket succeeded in trapping enough condensation to soak my 1 season sleeping bag, and I had a generally rubbish night’s sleep. Was relieved to get up, although then I remembered I had to do a few hours’ running before I could get home to a bath. This was a bit of a low point, the first one of many that day.

Got to the start, were off up a mountain, and I was so tired…The first 4 checkpoints were a real struggle as I could not get motivated to run, the tussocks seemed 6ft tall and the bogs as deep as the ocean. I did wonder at one point whether it would be possible to sink and disappear, and what would M do then? How would he get me out? Would the rucksack rise to the surface (it was so light today, I was carrying a sleeping bag and a fleece, it could not possibly have sunk in the bog). All these were not positive thoughts. Low point number 2 (or probably 5 by now).

Suddenly we saw people! We were not alone! After 2 hours of lone slogging in the lunar landscape, there was life out there! The short score people were out in force and we were on the path they had created! A new lease of life, I could run a bit! Then we bumped into the pair that started 2 mins after us, and the race was on! There was no way these two would beat us to the finish. From checkpoint 5 I ran. Run run run. Keep up, keep up, run, run, run! Ovetake overtake! The poor people on the short score ambling down the final descent didn’t know what had hit them as I threw myself down the hillside shouting ‘out of the way please!’ and they parted like the Red Sea waters. They were walking side by side, for goodness’ sake, obstructing the path, and I wasn’t taking any prisoners no more. Run run run run run… finish…

The cheerful face of Andy C was there (two hours earlier and I would have wiped that smile off his face with a carefully aimed punch, but now everything was great, and I could stop running). Tea, squash, coach back to Builth Wells, download, food, car, home. Got home just before 5 to discover Seth was in bed and Reuben having a bath (A bit early?) It turns out that Granny knew the clocks were changing, but at Casa Lawson they changed the wrong way, so everything was 2 hours out…

The evening was rounded off with pudding at Es’ with Stevie C, Gill, Andy and hunky Bill.

Overall result: finished 29^th, so quite a drop on day 2 from 14^th. I learned a lot about myself that weekend, about not being phased by chasing starts, about keeping going as there was a lot left in the tank at the end, and also about finding another MM partner who I can keep up with even when they are carrying all the kit…Niki has agreed to do the Saunders next year and I am really looking forward to it. Andy C complained that I had stolen his partner, but he can have M instead. It’s a bit like wife swap.

Sue & Gerry Ashton

Sue :

Not one to celebrate my achievements but I was very proud of my feat of finishing the OMM. I was so exhausted that I had to be dragged over the finish line by my sister in law, who was a finish marshal.
I have been dreaming of tussocks and women eating bogs ever since.
Looking at the results today I find Gerry and I were second vets team on the C class when the vets’ handicap was applied. So the problem was not my running too slow but Gerry running too fast.
Still not sure what I thought of the weekend. I enjoyed the bus ride and the red Kites at the start; I am still waiting for time to mellow the rest.

Gerry :

The tussocks were evil, as were the bog holes.
The weather was windy and showery and colder than I expected.
Legs still aching, blisters still raw but satisfied nonetheless.

Esther Barret & Bill

From the moment we signed up to the C class at this year’s OMM the pressure was on…with the ever lovely Andy C turning up the heat with his finishing predictions. However, one advantage of working away from Chepstow over the summer was that any training could be done in secret…The week of the OMM arrived, and with it dire predictions for the weather. Would this help or hinder us? Arch rivals M and V kindly offered us a lift up to the Elan Valley, but made it clear that there was no guarantee of a lift back again should we be so rude as to finish ahead of them. While Ste and Andy S purchased all the available tents on the OMM website for careful pre-race analysis and selection, I listened in horror as (hunky) Bill proudly told me that he had washed our racing tent with biological detergent (something to do with eating minestrone soup from the groundsheet during the Rab…) Surely that would mean it was no longer waterproof?? (Hunky) Bill was confident that all would be fine - and to prove it he suspended the tent from 4 corners, poured on water to create a large puddle and left it for the day to see if it leaked. I wasn’t convinced…The night before the race, Ste was still carefully weighing kit, selecting tents and preparing the magic racing meals. Bemused by my slightly haphazard approach to nutrition (a few Jelly babies, some gels, and one packet of peanuts… or should that be two? Oh yes, and a manky old energy bar to serve as the emergency rations), Ste agreed to prepare us the winning formula meals. I’m not sure he’d have been so kind if we’d been competing in the same class… So Saturday morning arrived and we set off… then returned because Bill and I needed a waterproof case for our OS map (you never know when the additional info on the OS might come in handy). M offered the loan of one of their carefully preserved plastic covers (must remember to give it back), and, having just said the difficult goodbyes to Reuben and Seth, Vanessa had to creep back in to collect it. Sorry Vanessa! Then we were off properly… all was going fine, until we failed the first navigational test in following the signs for the public loos on the way to Builth Wells… and then failed the second navigational test in going the wrong way at the roundabout by the showground…. and then got lost between the car park and registration… But we made it, and finally found ourselves in the sheep pen (bus stop) with alarmingly little time to spare. Baaaaa……From the coach, the scenery was beautiful. Getting out in the blustery rain and having to yomp miles up to the start was less beautiful. But we were there with plenty of time to spare. Waterproofs on or off? We needed to be as anonymous as possible in order to avoid being seen by M and V who were starting hot on our heels. After one false start (we got the time wrong), we were jigging around nervously on the start line. Ivan appeared next to us, ready to race the B class. And then we were off. Racing away from the start line… must put as much distance between us and M and V as possible… From there the day is a bit of a blur, during which the only constant sight was Bill’s heels. Head down, keep up. The first 3 check points went well, good running, no sight of M and V. Then we encountered the bogs and the queues. I’m not sure what was worse - being sucked deep into the bog, with cramping calves screaming at the effort needed to get out, or being stuck behind ambling day trippers, forced to take to the tussocks to make any headway. The tussocks it was. Eventually, inevitably, the tussocks got their own back and I went over on my ankle, forced to stop, swearing, while Bill disappeared over the horizon. A helpful pair (I think they were gloating competitors) called him back. After a few minutes hopping, I could take weight on it, and we were off again. Nearly at the finish…a lovely descent… a narrow bridge…(on which, bizarrely, Ste was standing, and had to be duly pushed out of the way - we were in a hurry, after all)… but then up again - what was that about? and then finally a descent into the overnight campsite. Cold, wet, but home for the night.We found Niki and Rick and a sign to the ‘Chepstow Harriers camping quarters’, and I guess Bill must have put the tent up while I shivered and complained about my sore foot. M and V arrived - too soon. We had raced our hearts out and only had 6 minutes on them. The good news was that we were 1st mixed pair… with M and V a close 2nd. The race was definitely still on… A large packet of Walker’s Sensations and the amazing Caldwell meal and life was feeling a lot better. The balloon bed was inflated (sorry about the pops and squeals!) and the sleeping quarters established. We both had a warm and comfortable night (unlike our competitors), and it was a struggle to get up and ready for the chasing start.Day 2 was probably harder, but the views were awesome and it was good to be closer to the front of field, away from the crocodile. Bill was in his navigational element, racing off over the tussocks while I stumbled along blindly in his wake. We hit a low point half way through - we were both knackered, and I had force fed Bill so many sweets he was sick. At each check point, we met up with a pair of Ironman triathletes - they were running faster, but further, and so we were able to keep up with them, finally overtaking them towards the end as they navigated themselves into oblivion. Andy C materialised from nowhere, looking very pleased with himself (what had he been up to?). He assured us that we were undoubtedly winning (!), and that M and V were nowhere to be seen. Thus encouraged, we took to the final descent… the energy definitely running out as we flogged ourselves along the endless track to the finish. It was over, we were first mixed pair, and suddenly we forgot the bogs, the queues, the tussocks….. and we loved it. Until the next time…

Posted in Fell Running, Races | No Comments »

04/11/2009 by Ivan.

Report by Sue

Saturday was forecast as the last day of the barbecue autumn and it lived up to its promise. The conditions were ideal for running up and down Sugar Loaf and I am sure the view from the top was spectacular if only I had had time to stop and look at it. Chepstow Harriers were out in force about 20 runners out of a field of 100. There were the dyed-in-the-wool fell runners and some converts.
The start is up a steep lane which, as the angle relents gets rougher. This first section, if taken too fast can have a bad effect on the rest of your race. Once into the event there are three strategies: Push, Push and Push!
There were a few battles raging in the event. James needed a good result to guarantee series victory. His big rival, Matthew knew that a good result might still mean victory. We await the results to see who is the Champion.
Niki and Esther battled it out for the second Chepstow lady spot – Marianne having already secured the first place by a large margin. This was a good fight with Esther leading for most of the climb and a real chase on the descent.
Paul Murrin was the first Chepstow runner to finish – next year, if he can do all the races…
At the finish it seemed most of the harriers had good runs – it was that type of course on the day.
Thanks to the Crown pub for the buffet, and selling the beer. It’s not every landlord who is happy with 100 smelly runners taking over his bar. Thanks also to the organisers and marshals.

The Fell series results will be posted as soon as we get the official race results and do our spreadsheet magic.
Remember the presentation event on November 22nd – everybody welcome.

Posted in Fell Running, Races | No Comments »

05/10/2009 by Ivan.

http://www.chepstowharriers.org.uk/events.htm 

The above is a link to the Fell Series results after the Black Mountains race. There was a good turnout, but the Black Mountains is a tough event. Chepstow took the team prize and also had the dubious honour of the team with the most retrials. In the spirit of the event we gave all of those a few consolation points – all that effort is worth something!

Black Mountains race report on the Blog by Niki (includes link to photos)

Gerry’s Report

With only the Sugar Loaf race left there is still the chance for positions to change, and for more of you to get your name on the roll of honour, joining the 38 harriers who have competed.

Look out for the Presentation, to take place at the Ashton residence in Monmouth, together with a training run and nibbles.

For more information please contact Sue or Gerry Ashton.

For the official Black Mountains results, see http://www.wfra.org.uk/ and search for the results from there.

Posted in Fell Running, Races | No Comments »

27/09/2009 by Ivan.

On the journey to Llanbedr with Lou and Mark, Lou interrupts my riveting tale about what I had to eat and drink the night before.

“Right, both of you – as neither of you have recced this route, I’m going to talk you through the course, so you won’t get lost. You go along the flat in the village for a bit, and then uphill on the road, and then uphill on the hill, then when you get to the first proper hill, you go uphill, and then a bit of down, and then up the really really big hill, and along a ridge, then down to a stream, then through the woods – with a bit of uphill and some downhill, followed by the last hill”

“OK, Lou – you lost me at the village. I think my strategy will be to follow someone in front who knows where they’re going. Hopefully that’s everyone doing the race except for me, and er. Mark”

15 minutes before the race, I was surprised, alarmed but somehow reassured by the sight of Vanessa and Matthew eating bagels. I was also told by Vanessa that this had been preceded by a big piece of chocolate cake before they left home. I had imagined the Lawson pre-race breakfast regime would be one of 6 am alarms with scientifically weighted out porridge, followed by a food tapering programme until the start of the race. So mesmerised was I by this unexpected spectacle of cavalier bagel eating, that I temporarily forgot my reserve and asked if I could pinch one. They were very tasty. Also, I was to find out later, this bagel eating strategy was to pay dividends to the Lawson family.

Sue Ashton kindly took our £5 for the race entry whilst informing us that this was exceptional value for money as we got a lot of miles for our fiver.

Lots of Harriers were standing around earnestly pouring over maps. I tried to pick out the ones that most looked like they knew where they were going. My strategy would be to hang on to their shirt-tails until they got too fast, or too slow, and then I would attach myself like a limpet to some other human compass.

There was a truly impressive number of Harriers – both male and female turning up for this event. I believe the vast majority had either done the race before, or recced it more times than Vanessa had birthday cakes presented to her on Saturday. I was quite worried at one point over the last two weeks that Dick had developed a severe case of obsessive compulsive Black Mountain reccying disorder. However, as we will discover later, this OCRD was to bear fruits for Dick. It was certainly to prove more fruitful than those in denial that a peak at the map beforehand might be beneficial.

At the start I had to reach for my sunglasses – nothing to do with the sun – just to shade my eyes from Gareth Jones’ dazzling attire of United Jack shorts and fluorescent Kanadia trail shoes.

Although conditions were remarkably clement for the time of year – clear skies and temperatures in the 20’s – Gill Stott was taking no chances. Her 60 litre rucksack complete with overnight bivvi stove, 5 season sleeping bag, 20 day expedition rations and a 4 man tent did appear to be weighing her down slightly – but not dampening her irrepressible spirit and good humour. It was canny training for the OMM and as she beat her husband, she now has proved herself worthy of carrying all their kit for the OMM. Bit of an own goal there Gill.

So, the race. Well, it was long and hilly. Actually, it was very long, and very hilly. I think there were 3 big hills in it, but my maths isn’t good so there could have been more, but there definitely weren’t less. There were lots of little hills as well, and lots of downhill – but I can’t recall too much flat – other than a couple of superb ridge runs. The scenery was truly stunning – unsurprisingly comprising more hills – near hills and far hills, trees, woods (more about those later), valleys – and all bathed in an abundance of glorious sunshine. The only downside of the glorious sunshine was that it was hot. Fortunately I’d had the foresight to ask Mark if I could pinch his water bottle about 5 minutes before the start of the race. I hadn’t even considered water – being a novice to this fell running game I assumed there would be water stations. A couple of well placed streams provided the essential rehydration substance . However, I still arrived at the finish with my head and mouth feeling like I’d spent a month in the desert with nothing to drink but a crate of red wine.

The beginning of the race was as Lou had described – up basically, with a bit more up and a lot more up after that. Just when you were convinced you must be at the top of Mount Everest or at least Pen Cerrig-calch, you would realise you had reached a false summit and the true summit lay tantalisingly in the distance. After Pen Cerrig-calch had been bagged, there was a brief period of running on something which resembled a path. I had Andy Blackmore firmly in my sights here. Esther and I followed him for a good 15 minutes or so. He looked strong, he looked confident, more to the point, he looked like he knew where he was going. I tucked in behind him looking forward to a nice 15 mile navigational free run in his slipstream. Suddenly, he sat down. “I’m just having a little rest” he said. “But you can’t! “ I thought “you are our guiding navigational beacon of hope”. He didn’t look like he was about to do anything more strenuous than open up his sandwiches. Despondent Esther and I trudged on – negotiating a bracken forest to arrive at our first stream.
It was after this point that the false summits really came into their own. The bracken infested vertical climb up to the summit of Pen y Relentless Slog Gadair Fawr proved to be quite a sociable occasion. As Esther and I seemed to have given up competing with each other because basically we were going at the same pace, we had a nice chat and caught up on events in each other’s lives for the last 6 months. Despite the convivial chat, we managed to catch up with Luke and Mark. This is the first (and I am sure the last) time I have ever encountered Luke and Mark half way through a race. I worried for one minute I was back in the Amsterdam coffee shop hell suffering the hallucinogenic effects of dodgy dope cake.

“You’re in a race. Stop talking”. Bellowed Luke, seconded by Mark. We ignored them and continued toiling and chatting until we reached the summit. On the knee wrecking descent we caught up with Andy Stott and Andy Hughes. It occurred to me at this point that we have an excess of Andy’s in the club, but just at that moment – when breath was in short supply, it was good economisation to utter “Hello Andy’s”. We arrived at the second stream like 4 rabid, slathering beasts – all desperately taking in as much water as possible before the steep slog up the other side of the valley. Hand over hand on the fence wire, we hauled ourselves up the grassy bank.

At the top we had the cheery (and it turns out incorrect) news from James (our budding economist – who needs to try harder at numbers) that Esther and I were 3rd and 4th lady – in fact, we were 4th and 5th at that point. At the prize giving I noticed that none of the leading 3 ladies looked like men – which can sometimes be the case in these competitions – so it was just a case of sloppy accounting on James’ part. Anyway, other than that, he did a great job and it was lovely to see his smiling (or was it grimacing?) face – he did mention that he was cold, but that problem could easily be solved if he just ate a bit more. I should have mentioned that the Lawsons had a surplus of cakes and bagels for general consumption.

This was the point at which the long awaited “nice ridge walk” I had been promised, arrived. It was indeed very lovely. I worried a bit that I was finding it a bit too lovely. I did quite a bit of looking around and admiring the scenery and commenting to Esther about its loveliness. I realised that perhaps I shouldn’t be focusing on scenery and enjoyment, and be getting down to the gritty business of having a knarly, hard, unpleasant time – i.e. I should have been running a bit faster. Esther said her energy levels were dipping and that she was having a gel, and would I like one. I declined on the grounds that I didn’t want to deprive her of a gel she might need later on. About 5 minutes later, the effects of this ‘rocket fuel’ propelled her down the hillside like a chamois in sight of its prey. It’s prey was a red speck in the distance – a fellow competitor – i.e. someone in front who knew where they were going. She tore through bracken and brambles with the agility of a gazelle leaving the poor fat knacker (me) trailing and flailing around in her wake. Only one thing for it I thought. “Er, Est – could I have one of those gel things please?” She very generously gave me her last gel.

We were now entering the woods – without a fellow competitor in sight. Oh dear – I thought – not a good place to be when I haven’t a clue where we’re going, and Esther has only done this race once before. However, it all began well – we followed the red and white tapes diligently, until, well, we couldn’t see any more. We had been running about 10 minutes up some random forest track before I realised Esther had stopped to consult her map and compass. Oh dear – I thought – not a good sign.

“I think we are going the wrong way” Est announced “we’re heading North West when we should be heading South West”.

“Oh, that’s a shame. It looks like there’s a clearing a bit further on – and then we can, you know, see stuff, and maybe we can get back on track”

“No, Niki – we are going completely in the wrong direction. We need to turn back and get on the right path”

I reluctantly had to concede that Esther had a point. It did not make any sense to continue in the wrong direction just because it was nice and sunny ahead and we would be out of the woods. We headed back into the thick of the woods, despondent that our brains hadn’t saved our legs. Esther continued to navigate us out of the forest and back on the right track – I have no idea how she managed it – other than genius, cunning and brilliance.

“I recognise this track” she said euphorically. It was then only 15-20 minutes or so to the top of the last hill and checkpost, where we began to forget our navigational crisis and focus on our imminent death by thirst crisis. Orange juice and lemonade was voted our No. 1 fantasy drink. Est politely begged the marshal for water, and he offered us the remaining dribble of his carbonated water. The end was now firmly in sight. Sue Ashton was taking photographs on the final descent and told us that Dick and Vanessa were in front. It was at this point we realised that our navigational error had cost us dear, but then, that’s what fell racing is all about – you can be the fastest person in the world – but you need to be running in the right direction. Vanessa was a worthy No. 1 Female Chepstow Harrier to cross the finish line – in 4th position. It was her birthday too so what better birthday present could she have had. Well done Vanessa – and thanks for the bagel!

On the very final descent, past all the Essex Scouts on a hill walk, I thought I saw Dick ahead. This spurred me on – the competitive spirit kicking in (eventually after 16 miles) and I hammered down the trail, only to reach the bottom and discover two things 1) it wasn’t Dick, 2) I finally understood what people meant when they talked about their legs turning to rubber. I thought it was highly probable that my legs would collapse underneath me – which would have given me a nice rest, but sadly they didn’t – so Est and I slogged up the final small uphill bit to the finish line and as we’d agreed half way round – crossed it together. Upon crossing the line she said “So, it’s b*ll*cks that you don’t need to recce it then”.

Lou was next female Harrier in, looking as fresh as a daisy, but having had some foot trouble along the way. Gill was another to arrive beaming from ear to ear – complete with her OMM training pack and glow that we all get when we beat our male partners!

Colin mysteriously appeared quite some time after the prize presentation. I believe he had got lost, found himself outside a pub (funny that) in some random village which wasn’t Llanbedr, persuaded some locals to take pity on him and give him a lift to the finish. And he’d recced it!

Our leading 3 men won the Team Prize – Paul Murrin, Matthew and Steve Caldwell – all having had really excellent runs. Dick won 1st MV60 prize, and Gareth won 2nd MV60 prize. A fantastic effort by our men. However, I think it was also a fantastic effort by Chepstow Harriers women – but no team prize or Vets prizes were awarded for any women – presumably due to the small number of women taking part. But we’re not bitter – much.

The event was rounded off perfectly by Lou and Gill driving 10 drunk blokes from Kent to Crickhowell. They were on a walking and beer-drinking weekend, and were halfway through the day’s walk when they found the pub in Llanbedr and remained there until they’d given up any ideas of walking over the next hill to Crickhowell – and had resigned themselves to getting a taxi when they could no longer stand. They were certainly very lively and entertaining, and Lou and Gill generously spared them the taxi fare by shuttling them back to their hotel.

A massive thank you for Lou for a fantastic post Black Mountains party in the evening to celebrate Vanessa’s birthday. The pasties and puddings were awesome. A perfect finish to a perfect day.

Photo by Alastair Tye, more here http://picasaweb.google.com/alastair.tye/BlackMountains#

Photo by Sue, more at http://picasaweb.google.com/gerry.ashton/BlackMountainsFellRace2009?feat=email#

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25/09/2009 by Ivan.

A week is a long time when climbing a volcano, especially one that can bite back. I found this out when caught in its sulphur cloud at the crater’s edge, lucky for me, my mountain guide ‘Franko’ had his wits about him.

I had excellent company for the week and would recommend this holiday to anyone who would like a change from running up Sugar Loaf.

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20/09/2009 by Ivan.

Date for your diary :

Sue & Gerry are organising the presentation of the awards for the fell series as a social / training gathering at their house in monmouth on 22^nd November. There will be a choice of runs on offer and some food to follow. It is open to all club members. One of the runs will be a recce of the Kymin winter fell race route. The other a flat riverside run.

More details will follow.

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