A nice cup of tea makes it stop hurting by onthefloor04

Anyway a hardcore of the mighty Woodstock Harriers gave the weather gods a sound thrashing yesterday defeating their evil machinations and sending a hardy team out to Cirencester for round four of the Oxford Mail league.

For me it was the anniversary of my joining the club 6 years ago (well, five full years and this is the start of my 6^th) I’d had a pretty relaxed week training wise after a good 18 miler the week before which I was pleased with but two rest days had included a day in London with my charity runners at the VLM meet the experts day.

Annoyingly the snow that had blanketed Oxfordshire wasn’t so bad once we got past Burford, but I quite understood anyone using discretion as the better part of valour. It did sadly mean that the team was somewhat depleted, BUT we did have a team which is more than could be said for some of the other teams.
We had slipped to the relegation zone going into this race after the Tea Boy’s two wins had been taken away from us as the powers that be had decided he couldn’t count as he had changed his first claim club after the deadline. (Ridiculously he can count next season, as do any of the other runners running as 2^nd claimers, even the other clubs think it is rather silly).

The snow seemed like it might do us a favour however as City’s team seemed even worse off than we were. They were currently 51 points ahead of us but that was gettable with a good result.

By the time the men’s race was set to start the top layer of snow had turned to melt water whilst staying hard and frozen underneath so it was an odd mix of very wet yet very hard underfoot with little mud to grip, thankfully just enough to take a spike.

A half-a*sed warm up and we were away into the slush and freezing water. By 50 yards into the race I was in the top 10, by 100 yards I’d regained my senses and had dropped back to the 40^th place mark.
Cirnecester consists of 3 laps of a pretty scenic, mostly wooded course with 3 climbs of increasing toughness on each lap.
in the past I’ve finished the first lap wondering how the hell I’d ever manage another 2 laps, so this time I was canny and took my time.

By the time we entered the woods for the first time I’d already dropped back to 5^th Harrier and there I was to stay, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to have to work for my place.

The slow downhill descent took us to the lowest point of the course where we were confronted by a tight right-hander, usually something I’d deal with easily (I like technical courses) this time however the hard icy ground made cornering treacherous and I overshot the corner by quite a way dropping a couple of places in the process.
The following quarter of a mile or so was just as tough underfoot, as the ground had been reduced to just a narrow footpath through the otherwise rutted, ankle-breaking, frozen ground. Practically impossible to overtake and just as hard to be stuck behind someone if you wanted to overtake as moving to either side would have meant negotiating the frozen ruts.

The hills were taken with far more care than usual. Downhills are usually where I make ground on opponents at Cirencester but I wanted to feel out the surface before jamming my feet down on any lumps or bumps that I thought would give only to find they were rock hard and vicious, this in turn meant that I was probably quite rested by the time I completed the first lap. Previous years I’ve questioned whether I could even complete another two laps of the same, so obviously I wasn’t running at full tilt. That fact was further proved as BigBob came up onto my shoulder as we approached the woods for the second time. He’d thrashed me soundly at the county race a month earlier but I’d beaten him in the previous two races and had no intention of letting him beat me today so settled in on his heels as we dropped down to the bone-snapping moguls again.

The narrow path with the frozen ruts to each side meant that I had a choice to make. Sit in on BigBob’s heels or take the lead and risk overtaking on the horridness. However with a lap worth of experience of the terrain I fancied my chances and frankly I hate running off peoples shoulders so gave a little kick and overtook. Not much just enough to get ahead and be able to see where I was putting my feet.
To my surprise BigBob motioned me through and encouraged me to take it on! I wasn’t going to be asked twice. If he felt tired enough to not challenge me at this point then I wasn’t going to give him the opportunity to chase me down and legged it into the hills.
The easy first lap had left me with plenty of energy left at the halfway point as I hit the hills for the second time. This time round the runners had softened the ground and I felt confident enough to trust my hooves to support me on the downhill’s and was able to attack them in my more normal style closing the gap on a few more places and getting back level with former team-mate ‘the sweet’ who had been one of the many that had streamed past me on the first lap.

As we climbed the last of the three hills on the second lap I noticed that my legs were still feeling pretty strong and quick…noice…for once, as we started the final lap.
The Sweet pulled me back as we headed for the woods again, keeping me honest as I’d otherwise have eased off, and as we reached the track for the final time it hit me…only three climbs and we’re done. It was time to hit the gas.

Admittedly the gas at the moment isn’t exactly nitro but it is getting a little quicker and all of a sudden I was away and closing on the runners ahead of me. Onto the first hill overtook one, and another as we reached the foot of the downhill, although that was because the chap (skinny lad from City) had overshot his turn at the bottom.
Second hill, keep the cadence short and fast, past another two on the up and extended that gap on the downhill, before finally bracing myself for the final big push, up the ‘big’ hill and into the finishing straight.
Sadly the top of the hill is really a bit of a false summit as you cross a road, followed by a large bank before the finish straight, and that catches me out every time.
As I hit the hill, I still felt good, although I was aware of someone being cheered on just behind me…close behind me.
I hit the top of the hill first but the climb had killed off all my momentum as I negotiated the bank, and as I crested it I was level with the skinny city lad again, if the finish straight was a mile I’d have backed myself all the way sadly it was little more than 200m. Skinny lad kicked, I didn’t have that acceleration (I think City tend to have more track running in their training than we do) and had to let him go.

In the end I finished in 36^th place in a time of 36:08. Not too bad but I’d still like to be a good five places if not more further up the scoresheet.
On the plus side, as a team it was probably our strongest performance of the season, even without the Tea Boy (who was protesting at being excluded from the team scores and was also saving himself for a 24-hour round-trip to Northern Ireland to represent the North of England) taking fourth team on the day and dragging us out of the relegation zone! Result.

The cold weather looks like it is set to hit us again over the weekend so whether I’ll make it to the Bramley 20 on Sunday I don’t know, failing that I seem to have gotten myself and inadvertent place at the Bourton 10k too…maybe I’ll see you at one of those.

Highworth ho, it’s off to work we go, or at least it would be if a hilly half marathon were your job, otherwise it’s off to a hard long tempo run/race in preparation for the new road season.

The Highworth Half is an invitational race held each year for teams only, five people, one of whom must be a lady (as we have no ladies we had to rely on our women instead, god I love that joke).

After last week’s very poor xc race I had been ill for a good deal of the week with what I can only self-diagnose as a chest infection, and right up to the start of the race I was unsure if I’d start the race myself for fear of doing myself any long-term damage. In the end I felt obliged as the (previous) Skip, had had to pull out with a shin problem so I would be expected to be a scoring runner.

So to make sure I didn’t cause myself any chest/lung scarring (which is a real issue if you run with a chest infection, s’true it happened to the Bdub when she ran Blackpool and wasn’t the same for months after)  I decided to run it as a long tempo run, and not get caught up in any darn silly sprint finishes or battles with other teams. I pretty much knew that we didn’t have the personnel to win it, which was a shame as the club at full strength would walk it, so it didn’t matter if I wasn’t 100%.

In previous years I have run well here, in fact I think I came fifth 2 years ago, this year I was already quite a way down on that by the time I hit mile 1.
By mile 2 things started to thin out a bit and I found myself slowly catching then overtaking a small group of very enthusiastic starters who were beginning to be caught out by the hills.
Highworth sits at the top of a hill and surrounded by hills. The course descends fast for the first mile, undulates to mile three before flattening out for the following five or six miles…then it goes up…and up.

So by mile three I’d fallen into pace with a chap from Cirencester and we eased away from the surrounding  melee and began to hunt the guys ahead of us.
I knew a good deal of those runners and knew which ones we were likely to catch, which ones would get away and which ones would fade.
It was quite nice really being able to chat for the next three miles or so. I admitted that I had no intention of going mental and would probably ease off by seven or eight miles.
We realised we probably hadn’t been trying hard enough when we were caught by another runner (Swindon) who pointed out we sounded like we were having a mothers meeting.
I said that we were very nearly in the vet category and could probably count as grandmothers (especially as I’m from Romford) at which Cirencester boy used a phrase I figured I’d never hear from another man, certainly not whilst racing against him “I’m more of a GILF” If you’re not sure what that means Google it…although probably best not to do that at work.

Anyway as the course started to climb at the nine mile mark I made the discretionary move of easing off and allowing my two companions to pull away from me.

By the first of the big climbs I was overtaken by another Swindon runner but none of them really got too far away, despite taking it easy for the last couple of miles, so I was pretty pleased with that, a little more fitness and some good health and I’d be in not too bad a place for early January.

I had to put my foot down over the last mile and the final big climb just to make sure but finished comfortably in 17^th place in a time of 1:22:12 (the course is reckoned to be a touch short but even for 13 miles I was happy with that). Not quite enough for us to win or even manage the podium but fourth team on the day.

Personally I couldn’t have expected any more before the race started and I guess it isn’t a bad place to begin preparations for London and the upcoming road season.

Yes, my once mahogany hard thighs are now at least 85% Quality Street and my once fearsome reputation (sort of) is in tatters after the first race of the season the Oxfordshire County Cross Country Championships.

The week previous had been a pretty high mileage week for me, at least high-mileage compred to the last couple of months totalling just over 50 miles so I kind of expected to be a little tired and admittedly being kept up all night by a crying baby isn’t ideal preparation for any race but even so it wasn’t what I’d envisioned as I packed up the club tent (and remaining miniature heroes) into the car before heading out Sunday morning.

This race was not only the county champs and league race but also my first race as club captain. The Skip had decided that he needed a break after 4-5 years of leading us and the chairman had asked if I’d be willing to take on the role.  Woodstock Harriers is a great club, with a great legacy and some brilliant runners amongst our ranks so I felt quite honoured to be asked and couldn’t really say no.

Injuries, family commitments and holidays had seriously depleted the ladies team whilst the men had been hit by Stevie Free pulling out to spend time with his family before being posted off (RAF) to Kenya and Afghanistan for the next million months so couldn’t really blame him for that whilst the Tea Boy had jumped ship for the big bucks after being headhunted by Bedford and County (Paula Radcliffe’s club don’t you know?) He will continue to run for us as a second claim but a technicality meant he wouldn’t be able to score for us for the rest of the season.

So it would be left to the Skip and me (the new Skip I suppose) to lead from the front and see what we could do over the varied two lap course. Sadly within two hundred metres and the first turn I knew that it wasn’t my day.
My legs were dead and heavy, my feet weren’t feeling the ground and I just felt like I was sinking with every step, rather than the floating gliding sensation you get when you’re on form.

Within two miles I’d dropped right off the pace only sitting in fifth Harrier position (sixth if you counted the Tea Boy running as an individual). By the time the second lap started I’d dropped even further back behind people that I should have been clear and away from.
There isn’t much more to say about the race really, I put my head down and pushed with about a mile and a half remaining and clawed back a few places but they were places I shouldn’t have been down anyway.

Eventually I crossed the line in a frankly disappointing 62^nd place in 39:15 for the 10km course.
The team faired little better only taking bronze in the senior and vets races.
And on top of that I’ve been feeling ropey ever since. Hopefully I’ll be feeling a little better by Sunday as we’ll be taking an invitational team to the Highworth (Half…ish) Marathon to tackle those seven beastly hills in an attempt to win the trophy we last managed a good three years ago.

Addendum
Turns out I’ve been ill ever since the race, so maybe I was already coming down with something. Would make sense I suppose

He sees you when you’re sleeping he knows when you’re awake he knows when you’ve been good or bad so be good for goodness sake.

Yes that’s right – it’s Sebastian Coe we’re talking about. He’s still keeping a look out to see who of you will make the cut for 2012 (Yes, yes I know officially it’s Charles Von Comedy that makes the decision but for comedy purposes and because nobody knows who Charles is we’ll stick with Coe shall we?)

But of course he’ll know if you’ve been stuffing and gorging over Christmas and will ignore you in his plans if you lose the plot (but find the Quality Street) over the holidays.

Look what I’m trying to say is HAPPY CHRISTMAS and a splendiferous New Year from me, the BDub and the Moo, and remember that as you’re stuffing your chops there is a whole new season of running ahead of you, so best get those base miles in now!

And remember if you do eat too much you'll end up with cheeks like these.

I am aware that for this picture alone she's going to put me in a home when i'm old.

S’laters!
The Grinch