CapTen, 2022

This time last year I was off games, courtesy of my Achilles tendon. The lovely Mrs S was hugely enthusiastic about the event, and after a brisk early start we found ourselves at Seatown on a sunny September morning, along with Becky and Alice. 

This race was advertised as being a wee bit hilly.

Super-charged for the hills

The first mile was more or less all uphill to Thorncombe Beacon. I tried to get into a sensible rhythm and felt OK. Parts of this section of the course were familiar from the Bridport half five years ago. Down to Eype, and then back up Thorncombe, walking, hands on thighs. As I approached the top I was getting very close to a guy ahead (who I later found out was Paul), but he pulled away as we went downhill. And a few minutes later a younger bloke (Joe) overtook me.

Running back through Seatown: Beauty...

...and Beast

The three of us ran an interesting race between us. I arrived at the top of Golden Cap just behind Paul but ahead of Joe. The ascent wasn't too steep, but the shallow steps broke your pace and made running almost impossible. Joe overtook me going downhill, and I went past him and then Paul climbing up Chardown Hill. Four hills under the belt, one to go, and I was starting to tire.

There was a steep road heading down to the A35 at Morcombelake. I missed the sign pointing sharp right and as I ploughed on downhill heard Paul yelling. He took a neat turn, and I laboured up the steep track behind him. The three of us continued in formation. The final hill was a steep-ish grass field. Paul and Joe walked, and I walked too... it was hard. It went on and on, and as I reached turned left onto the forest track they pulled ahead. 

I knew it was all downhill to the finish, but I had nothing left to keep up. Passing a carpark, I'd lost sight of them could see no signs. 'Which way did they go?' I yelled at the daytrippers. It was longer than I expected to the finish, and it was hard to keep at full pressure with no one in sight ahead or behind.

I finished in 1:33:52 in 9th place, Paul having convincingly beaten me to the M55 spot. Here are my stats.

And Becky is first lady

A fantastic race, and a great day out. I'm looking forward to doing this again with a bit more hill fitness in my legs.

Woodchester Park, 2022

This time last year I wasn't running, thanks to my Achilles injury. I cycled around the hills and valleys around Stroud, at the edge of the Cotswolds, while Mrs S ran it. She finished bursting with enthusiasm about the friendly organisation and the spectacular course.

So here we were, a year later, back at Woodchester Park after an early start and a 2-hour drive. The skies were dark, and it felt as though heavy rain could arrive at any minute. But as we made our way to the start line, the clouds started to break up, and by the time we started it was a warm, sunny morning.

I knew that the course was broadly downhill on the way out and uphill on the return, albeit with a few extra hills thrown in. And the first 3k were indeed mostly downhill, on loose limestone track. After a few minutes I found myself in second place, wondering whether I had set off too quickly. Then a sharp turn uphill, and a sudden change of rhythm. I felt someone slowly approaching me, and then drawing level. We ran together for a while and then we were heading back downhill and I pulled away.

Don't worry, the race director had told us, there are plenty of signs on the course so you'll be fine. But there weren't, not really. The three of us at the front encountered a gate, and questioned whether this was right before shrugging and carrying on. There was another gate a bit further on, but thankfully a bloke in hi-vis within view, and we were OK. That 'oh no, have I gone wrong' feeling really is awful.

Back to the race. My challenger overtook me and shifted ahead. He was looking strong. But he quite suddenly pulled up at a water station above halfway around, at the very lowest point of the course, and I really thought he was a goner.

He wasn't. Soon enough he came charging past me on a long climb, and was soon way ahead. I was now on my own. I felt strong, but I was working hard. At about 10k the course veered right, and I realised that we were heading back up the steep section. But doing it in reverse was much harder; there was a long, straight section of track that was fearfully steep. I managed to heave my way up, keeping to some kind of a run but wondering whether walking might be more effective.

Onto the final climb, and I was looking at my watch. I had the time of 56:40 etched in my mind as the M55 record, set in 2015. When I saw the steps leading out of the valley, I knew that I could beat this. I pushed like mad up the track to the finish line and arrived in 54:58.

I was ecstatic! After a lie-down on the grass, I said congratulations to the first two in. Number two, who had beaten me so decisively, looked rather, erm, middle-aged. I asked him what age category he was. 'I'm 57' he replied. Bugger! The first time I've beaten a record in a proper race and it was for nought. 

What a wonderful, challenging, friendly event. The lovely Mrs S had been spot-on. Great fun.

Buscot Park 10k, 2022

This was a new venue for us. Buscot Park is an impressive stately pile and estate near Faringdon in Oxfordshire, where the local rotary club stage an annual 5k and 10k race day. After a minor hamstring injury, this was my first race for about ten weeks, and my first as an M55.

As I've said before, Rotary races are invariably low-key, charming and rather delightful. But you can't afford to be too precious or exacting about the race details. After setting off, I found myself at the rear of 7 front-runners who quickly pulled away. After about a km we had two anticlockwise loops. By 3km I had pulled into third place, and from there it was fairly clear that I wasn't going to catch the guys ahead, and that I wasn't going to be challenged. So from then on I was on my own, but feeling OK about my pace. On the second lap I started lapping folk, with plenty of cheerful greetings.

At the end of the second lap, I had a reasonably clear expectation of what was going to happen - keep going at the T-junction, coming off the laps, to run the final section. But the two elderly chaps at the junction were pointing left. 'Second lap! I'm on my second lap!' I shouted, but still they pointed me left. OK, I thought, there must be a right turn ahead which will take me to the finish. But I had a bad feeling. I kept going until it was obvious I was in the wrong place. I kept my pace until my watch beeped 10km, and I turned around and jogged back to the start, wailing my frustration at the marshals as I passed them.

In my ignoble career of getting lost at races, this was a new twist. I soon got over my mini-sulk; it was a lovely course, and a lovely day, and I'd clocked up another configuration on the Stileman-gets-lost roulette table. Here's the Garmin record: Garmin Connect.