Will try to write a bit more regularly in the build up to a 10th Alto Sil and if all goes well the Aquilianos long route again in June. I’m not in the best of condition and in the words of MLCM we’ll just have to see how it goes.
2018 started, as it often does, with The Morning After fell race in Church Stretton. This was the sixth time I’ve run here so I know it well. It was teeming with rain in Ludlow when I set off but the Stretton Hills emerged from a miraculous gap in the low soggy cloud and you could even see the sun for a while.
The usual place to sign up for the race is the Church Stretton social club. You queue up 15 minutes before the race start, fill out a little form and they give you some safety pins and a number. I like that. This year, however, the social club was closed and as I was looking for an alternative venue a Morris Minor Traveller pulled up. You know, the one with the wooden frame. I hadn’t seen one for years. And it could have been a limousine because out stepped royalty.
Last year I mentioned the G-Men from Croft Ambrey, a trio of over 70s who frequent these races in the Shropshire Hills and beyond. Fell running’s very own Cleggy, Foggy and Compo. The owner of the wonderful vintage car was Double-G Man. Must add that I don’t know the bloke, all I know is that whenever I run these Shropshire fell races he and his mates are always ahead of me. Today would be no different.
We were set off as usual with a minimum of ceremony. I was disappointed to see that on a fairly mild day and for a short race most of the English and Welsh fell runners were wearing mittens. The circuit was wet, muddy and very slippy. Ran a lot of the time high-stepping through the gorse and bracken at the edge of the paths as I couldn’t keep my feet. Prefer a stony or rocky descent to a steep grassy one in these conditions.
There are 3 or 4 climbs, all of them short but punishing. The steepest one comes in the middle of the race immediately after a rapid descent. Momentum takes you upwards for the first few steps and then it’s hands on knees time. For the first part you are surrounded by thorny gorse which inevitably gets into your fingers….ahh, that’s why everybody is wearing gloves! Nearing the top I actually drew alongside Double-G man. He seemed to be struggling with the gradient and had stopped for a fag. Well, it might have been a fag, my glasses were steamed up at the time. Couldn’t bring myself to overtake him for some reason. It may well have been through sheer respect for the fellow. I mean, fantasy scenario in my head has a young double-G man representing team GB in the 1968 Olympics alongside Ron Hill. So instead I gave him a respectful shove and an “after you sir.” With that, a pair of spindly legs disappeared over the brow of the hill, baggy shorts billowing in the wind. I didn’t see him again.
Finished the race in 49:20, a couple of minutes slower than last year. A delicious hot soup with a roll followed and then back to mother’s for a shower! Love these races. These are the races that Glaconman describes and that the Lewes fraternity organize on the South Downs. There is a great sense of community in them in a land where, so I’m told, community doesn’t exist any more. I’m not so sure.
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