Running

Hoofstones Fell Race – a dip into navigation.

The morning starts as it always does, with an alarm piercing through the blanket of sleep in which I am so comfortably wrapped. My feet slide out from under the covers and onto the cold wooden floorboards, the draft sucking air from the gaps in the wood and around my toes. Poorly coordinated hands clasp around my face, prodding and stretching at the recently dormant features. Roused, but not awake, habit takes over as my legs walk me into the shower – the warm water comes as a reasonable consolation from departing the duvet. Timings are key here. I’ve gone to bed too late, and thus set my alarm as late as possible, maximizing my hours in slumber but leaving little room for error in the morning. Ping the coffee machine into action, wearily stretch my legs into my longs, throw some dry gear in a bag, stumble into the kitchen to pile toast and coffee down my gullet, brush my pegs and then straight out the door. I’m properly late. The hour I usually permit myself to register and warm up has become 20 minutes according to the sat nav, and the tractor in front on the road isn’t helping. The adrenaline accrued from the drive will have to count as a warm up.
Diving into the pub, kit is checked, entry form is scribbled down at record speed, and I’m back out to the car with five minutes spare to try and get some blood flowing.
The high valley walls around the pub are dusted with snow, the black rock juts through ominously. The sky is grey and promises little visibility – optimum conditions for a navigational event. The runners huddle together in our starting pen, a record breaking 77 starters for the race. We’re reminded that this is a test of map reading and way finding, and our outer boundaries are defined. Most importantly that hitting the road on the return will result in disqualification.
And off we go. The first two miles are a winding uphill track that takes you up to the aforementioned boundary road, and onto the moor. I set off slowly, half sensible conservatism; half I’d rather be in bed-ism. Breaking out of the valley as height is gained, the winter wonderland is revealed. A thick and even two inches of snow covers all in sight, with only the emergent dark mud of the trail disrupting the clean white canvas. I’m already cursing my trail shoes as usual – their design lacks the pronounced lugs needed for grip. Snow has already packed itself into all the cervices of the sole anyway – it’s a perfectly flat marriage of rubber and ice now. I tell myself that I would be bounding ahead, if it weren’t for my substandard footwear, but it’d take more than some rubber studs to break me from my docile plodding. Once we’re over the road, we’re officially in navigation mode – which just means that you still follow the person in front, but just with a bit less certainty. Heading up to the first outward checkpoint, I notice that we’ve just opted for a path with too few footprints. The quick turn around causes the usual traffic jam of runners and the day’s first micro meeting begins. A momentary head scratch and map glance leads to a pointed hand, several nods, and the restarting of the precession as we form a snake of runners lumbering over the stile and onto the correct path. I spot Bill behind me, but before I’ve had a chance to say hello, he’s nipped on a cheeky contour and taken about 10 places – always keep your eye on the ball! This tactical manoeuvre helps to rouse some kind of competitive spirit, and I commit myself to catching him up. I pass over the checkpoint and stamp my race number with the device, only after cursing the artisanal precision those in front seem to be applying to the task.
I catch Bill on the next climb and say hello. He drops back and I’m about to offer to wait for him, but once again he’s taken a different line.
“Do you know something we don’t, Bill?” I shout over the fence. I can’t quite remember his reply, but I do remember thinking that I’d rather follow the footprints than break trail over the snow covered heather, regardless of racing line.
Not long after, the trig and it’s guarding marshal appear from the clag. I voice my relief and thanks to the race official – thinking you’re in the right place, and knowing you’re in the right place are quite different sensations after all.
From here, everything went a little awry. Or perhaps, the accumulated laziness of my navigation finally caught up. The decision to simply follow the person in front bore its fruit as our small pocket of runners realised we no longer had a path to follow. A glance at my compass shows that we’re heading directly south, rather than south-east as we should be, and if we continue straight, we’ll hit the road and gain nothing but a disqualification. Announced to our small formation, there is further head nodding and our course is rightly adjusted. Fortunately, we are not alone in our adjustments, as we converge with several other factions to once again form a big snake of runners. The way-making errors, put caution into everyone’s pace. The chill starts to set in as the intensity lowers below the point needed to maintain temperature. I hobble past a few runners in an effort to warm up but trying to overtake on the snow-laden heather provides too frustrating. I go knee deep into icy bog holes that seem to appear from nowhere. And just as the grey cloud descends upon my spirit, a little red flag appears from the mist to lift it. We’ve overshot the checkpoint, but only just, and a quick sprint up the hill takes us to the snow-covered marshal. As we head back down, I manage to redirect a group headed straight for the road and an inevitable disqualification – it seems unfair to knowingly let people run themselves out the race that close to the finish. Sufficiently cheered by the regaining of the route, it’s just a nip over the road and down the flagged course to the finish. Even a couple falls don’t dampen the spirits too much as my shoes lose all traction on the slush and mud. The surrounding path turns from white to green as we descend back into the valley, the snow turning to rain. Pulling round the last corner, I spot the finishing pen – it’s not at the pub like I thought! One final push to the pen, and it’s all smiles and handshakes. I trundle back down to the car, shedding my soaked and mud-covered gear, relishing in the dry clothes I packed.
Back in the pub it’s chips and soups all round. The small inn packed to the brim with chatting runners, all sharing their versions of the day’s mishaps and successes.
I really bloody enjoyed it, even if my map reading wasn’t as studious as it should have been. A big thanks to the organisers and marshals who braved the cold to facilitate our daft hobby.
And finally, my proper fell shoes have just arrived in the post!

2 Attachments

46minute 10km loop round Hampstead Heath today - 115m of elevation. It hurt. Trying to get to be able to do it at 4:20km pace so still a way to go

^ good work! keep it up.

The Southern XC champs are over at Hampstead Heath on Saturday. I'm imagining it will be a bit of a mudfest by 2.50pm.

I went for a run in the snow last night, Adidas Bostons not the best choice, gripwise. Much sliding doing intervals in the local park, but only one person rolling around in the snow from falling

Chilly morning school running club. Usual organiser away so I was deputising, which meant I tended to be at the front rather than my usual job as tail end charlie.

Cue legs being ripped off by one speedy Y5 who decided she wanted to do a ~1km stretch at 4:45/km pace. I'm definitely awake now.

I'm sure I've asked before, but I'll ask again:
commuting running shoes, for 10 k of london's roads and the option of nipping through the woods on the way home. I would like to nip through the woods/over burgess park as it's nice to see some greenery eh?
Currently running in decathlon flats at 5-10k.

Comes down to cost really, and comparing the cost to the alternatives (train, cycling, etc).

I get about 800km out a pair of Saucony Jazz before the shock absorbing is all but gone, at that point they're retired to casual duties. (I don't notice the lack of shock absorbing as time goes by, but notice the difference straight away when moving to a newer pair.)

£60 (in frequent sales, usually ~£100 RRP) for a pair of shoes that would only last for 70 commutes sounds like a lot, but that's about £1/commute compared to £3 for the train (cycling is considerably cheaper than both). That's how I justify it anyway.

With some wood action I personally go for a trail shoe like Saucony Peregrine, but they're less comfy for pavements (I extended my commute to a involve 8km of trails and 13km of pavement and I definitely felt it in my ankles/feet afterwards, more than just from running a HM into work).

#sauconybuyer

I have no qualms about spending on trainers.....
Unless they're Adidas.

I only chug the Saucony cock because that's the pair I was sold when I first got back into running and went to a proper running shop for a proper fit (treadmill, running outside on the pavement, etc). Since then I've ordered online or, sometimes, gone back to that shop to reward their initial help.

A good running shop should be able to listen to your requirements, watch you run, and then give you a bunch of recommendations.

A bad running shop will do the same but then try and fob you off with whatever stock they're currently trying to get shot of.

Might want to ask for recommendations for good running shops in your area.

The Running shop at the end of my road is having a closing down sale, might get something bargainous there?

Yeah. I should pop down there. I might try Saturday post parkrun.

Managed the first long run of 2019, 16 miles, 3500ft on the local trails. I wanted to recce the Wadsworth Trog but just couldn’t get out of bed after working the late shift, so didn’t have time.
A beautiful day tho, super frosty and the mud was frozen rock hard. Amazing winter skies before the head torch came out.
Also did it on an empty stomach, scoffing two gels as I went and felt surprisingly good for it. Either way, I feel a lot more relaxed about trying to run 20 miles/3500ft in a fortnight.

Anyone on here tried salomon running shoes? Ive been told i need more shock absorption than my nike zooms provide and the missus has spotted a salomon offer she liked the look of for herself so im debating getting their trainers.

Plenty fell runners use S-lab or speedcross. The former is highly praised but expensive, the latter less highly praised but less expensive. So you get what you pay for, perhaps?

Signed up for a parkrun after my shift tonight was cancelled, gonna see if I can finally go sub 20 tomorrow morning (unlikely!).

Track tonight, 8x800 inspired by this article apparently.

https://www.athleticsweekly.com/featured/my-killer-session-liz-mccolgan-42183/

😬🤢🤮

The Speedcross I got via this thread have been ace and I'm still using day to day well beyond their running life. One of the lace locks doesn't now but they stay on my feet still.

Is anyone running the southerns tomorrow?

Yep. Caught a child related cold last night, so expectations are low. I might even drive and sit in my warm car until the last minute.

Good luck if you're running

I'm not running. I didn't enter as I thought I would have a two week old child.

Hoping to be there supporting though. We'll give you a cheer.

A bit late notice but you can run under my name of you like. I didn't expect to have a fractured foot when I entered, or to be ten days into a massively lingering cold. Bah! It's almost cleared up and I think I might venture to the gym tomorrow.
Oh, and an appointment with the fracture clinic on Tuesday. Hopefully some sort of rehab plan will emerge!

Was all excited for a parkrun this morning, went and helped a mate flag a race route last night and felt awful. Woke up this morning with mega doms in my glutes - turns out the bit of strength work i did earlier in the day was more aggressive than I thought (and judging by the resulting doms, much needed).

It wasn't too muddy at Parliament Hill today, but I wasn't in the mode for a race.

Not too sure of my position, but I took 63 minutes to get round and didn't enjoy much of it!

I think I saw you running across the top of the hill, in full tracksuit, with about ten minutes until the start.

It was fun watching the massed start.

grey trousers, spikes, vest, t-shirt, hoodie and coat with gloves?

that may have been me.

My brand new 15mm spike cut my finger when I took the trousers off, but didn't bleed until I started running.

Raynauds 1, doubleo 0

Yes. I remember thinking that the lad running across the field had no chance of making the start. Then I realised he had already got his spikes on. And then I thought it was you.

I'm no runner but just signed up for a 16 mile trail run in June. Glencoe. 3000 feet of ascent. Should be fun :)