Registration was slick. Claire and I were quickly given our numbers and chip, so we were able to mill around the starting area killing 20 minutes or so until the off.
I found out from a marshal that with this trailesque course there were indeed a couple of potential bottle-necks, but she assured me that the initial circuit of the track would string the competitors out sufficiently so there would be no problem...
Whilst busy milling, I saw EG before he saw me. His trademark bright yellow cap bobbed out through the door on the centre, and I followed him as he weaved his way through the throng.
“Oy Fat Bloke” I shouted from a couple of yards behind. He swung round immediately, a large grin appearing as he turned. We chatted in the sunshine about our supreme lack of fitness and certain toes etc before being called to the start line.
At the gun we shuffled forward for no more than 30 seconds, and on crossing the line he immediately took the inside lane around the track, craftily minimising the distance. I stayed with Claire in lane 6 until the back bend, before wishing her well and pressing on. I was just on his tail as we swung off the track and around the corner into the car-park, and that was when I made my move, sneaking past on the tight right-hander unnoticed. We immediately ground to a halt thougfh as scores of runners attempted to squeeze through a gap just big enough for two. Once through we opened up, and I settled into a comfortable pace whilst dodging tree-roots, slippery leaves and mud.
Hills are not my friend, but I learned that day that they don’t have to be my enemy. I slowly plodded up each one without walking, and on through the golf course (much to the amusement of the Sunday morning players all, it appeared, in buggies).
We reached the first of two water stations just after the 5km marker. I glugged what I could without walking and pressed on, over the M23 and around the corner to face an absolute monster of a climb. 500 yards or so of that incline was bad enough, but the potted path with its vicious sideways slope was tough. We were signposted to keep left as the faster runners ahead were already descending towards us on the right.
At the loop turn I started to think of EG, where he was in the field (I was sure he hadn’t sneaked past me) and whether he was far enough behind for me to see him as I descended the hill. Sure enough I spotted that cap and we drew closer. He must have seen this fat bloke in a
Running Commentary vest surmised it was me. “Alright”, I puffed. “No” re replied - and we passed. We'd just enough for a high-five as we crossed. I was off again, bounding down the slope with renewed vigour in the knowledge that my nemesis was half a mile or so behind me.
I counted the KM’s down and from 7 I knew I then could do it without a walk break. We still did have some hard inclines to negotiate but the knowledge that home was close somehow made it easier. I almost sprinted through the car park and onto the track (well I probably didn’t but that’s what it felt like). This time a clockwise circuit of the track and I really gave it some, crossing the line at full(ish) pelt.
63.39 chip time and I’m delighted. 5 full minutes faster than Almeria on a hilly trail leaves me to believe that my Brighton 10K time will be sub 60 minutes (headwind permitting).
I milled around the finish line waiting for the yellow cap. If I was any good with the camera on my phone you would have had a pic of EG finishing. Instead, you have to contend with the cheesy grin that accompanied his chip removal. (the medals aren’t all his….)
And Claire? Well she struggled again on the back of bugger all training (and a knee strain), but I’m still proud of her for completing a run that many wouldn't have had the balls to even start.
Crawley 10K - err, and stuff
Isn't there a 
