Northern 6-stage Road Relays - Ethiad Stadium - 23rd September 2016
This day was supposed to be very different. I'd pencilled it in a long time ago.
My son was running in the English Schools Fell Running Championships at Sedburgh School. I would drop him off at his school then drive alittle into the Dales and park the car. Me and the Mrs would cycle a loop through some of the challenging b-roads around Dent, watch his race, then loop back in time to pick him up early evening. If the weather was good it had the makings of a classic.
Sedburgh is one of those British peculiarities: a small rural settlement dominated by an Independent school. It's nestled in the Howgills: an underated and quiet range of hills inbetween The Dales and The Lakes. The village is surrounded by imposing fells from every side. The school has it's own tweed. It's the perfect location and I thought it would be a good do. I was envisaging roaring fires in the chaplain's rooms and swan sandwiches.
But the senior men's team was short. So I ended-up packing the boy off in the coach and running around a car park near the centre of Manchester.
Somebody who knew about modern, top-flight football could very-well have written an interesting peice about my day-out at Sport City. It may have included details concerning the contrast of millionaire footballers dazzling the enthrawled crowds versus the dogged toil of working men from Keighley grinding out a respectable pace over 3.5 miles when the crowds were absent.
But my interest and knoweldge of the subject waned many moons ago.
Part of my motivation for doing running events used to be to inspire my son. The Bombay marathon, The Three Peaks. Big races on big stages partly done to show that life is about grasping the nettle, setting your sights high and testing yourself.
But somewhere along the way there takes place a switch in polarity and you end up being the one inspired. He's such an intelligent and courageous young man.
Despite a bad chest he ran well in the race. His age group team won the title and he even managed to turn on the afterburners in the final few meters to pick off another place and stir the crowd. A summary of events was 'phoned-in as I sat in the cafe, next to the indoor track, waiting to get ready for my run.
So what do you do when your legs are in Manchester and your heart is in Sedburgh? Well, it turns out you run as hard as you can and with an immense amount of pride. And you enjoy the day for what it is. The Northerns was a great event and there was a great team atmosphere. And whilst there were no wild hills looming over us, and no gowns blustering in the wind, there was a heady mix of what has been referred to as 'the ephemeral spirit of amateurism'. Which in this day-and-age, even in post-industrial Manchester, in the shadows of The Ethiad Stadium, is a breath of fresh air.
