Just back from a recovery run. Physical and emotional placating necessary. Took a battering last night, so in some attempt to redeem myself, a trot to The Mill was planned. I had company for once, a chap who I latched onto along the top path, we chatted for a bit, and then the scarecrows appeared. I remember that it's
Wilmslow Scarecrow Festival again, a fun event where many of the towns shops and businesses get creative. I counted 5 by The Mill. Another 195 to find and name!
In my last post, I wrote about letting go of the race you want and getting on with the race you're having. Last night at the Boars Head Hill Race, I crashed and burned...big time. With over 7 miles and 1300 feet of climb, some of it on hands and knees, it's tricky to pick a pace or have a strategy...I find! This was the 25th running of the event, based I think, from the pub itself. It's a no nonsense affair, no flashy signs or route markings. In fact there is no route. Just 4 check points to pass.
Really, there are only a few points where you have real choice of a route to take, one of these proving to be my undoing. My plan was to set off steady. 4 miles of uphill was not the calling for a fast start. Nope, I settled close to the back and indeed took it steady. But as we entered
Lyme Park, I was definitely aware that what ever energy I was saving, it had yet to join the party. Around the Cage, I had a feeling I was in trouble, but obviously ignored that and pursued my plan.
Next came the first real route decision. Long story short, I zagged, while most zigged. I chased the promise of stealing time without recognising the penalty of the crime. A short cut, but I was ill equipped to make it count. Fail! I visited the darkest corners of my mind during my period in the wilderness. Eventually, I reappeared on the main track, some distance behind those I was ready to pass earlier. Exceptionally disappointing! However, I dug real deep and set chase. My plan of starting near the back...I was real close now. Brilliant!
Nonetheless, I took 4 club placings on the way down and just managed to hold my head high across the finish. Not where I should have been. On the plus side, there was sunshine, rain, wind, panoramic views, stampeding deer and a good pub. A detour on the way home and comfort eating of the highest order. Very necessary. No running around for me until Sunday now. The small matter of
The Welsh Castles Relay. I have been given a Mountain Stage,
stage 11. And what do I want for this race...merely to survive!
