Spikes or No Spikes, that is the Question!

After 3 years at Eden Runners, and 3 successful / clarty xc seasons, I wondered what I could give back to the club. So, on a miserable, clarty, muddy run around the bustling metropolis known as Bitts Park, it dawned on me 'hmm XC Ladies Captain', quickly followed by another thought of 'I fancy a new pair of trainers', then 'I think I just swallowed a bluebottle'...

And so it was, at last week's AGM, somewhere between 'the chips are ready' and 'where the hell are my car keys', I was sworn in, ready to take on the challenge of inspiring Eden's womanhood into venturing off the hallowed tarmac of Penrith and into Cumbria's deepest, darkest fields. I had my work cut out, as first race was only days away – Maryport XC. As I hadn't run it before I had no knowledge of the course, but with a good dose of 'you'll all enjoy it' attitude I plugged away on a propaganda campaign the world hasn't seen the likes of since a short moustached Austrian man decided that Germany could do with acquiring a few new countries in the late 1930s...

Task number 1 - how to convince people to go to Maryport. Well, erm, its near Allonby so you can get a decent ice cream, it's got some nice chip shops, and it's handy for Flimby's New Balance shop in case you fancy a new shiny piece of running kit. Then I had to remember, getting to Maryport wasn't the aim of this task, it was to get people there, to glide / huff and puff / swear their way round Netherhall's finest sports fields. It was going to be difficult, not only had those people behind the Lowther 10k decided to stage a much more appealing / friendly / less chance of breaking an ankle type of race the day after Maryport, but also the people behind the National Road Relays put their 'rival' event on on the same day! OK, not going to be a record turnout I thought, but at least its a base to build on.

So, the day of the race came, a late course inspection by the legend of all badly attended Cumbrian Races, the one and only (no Chesney Hawkes sing-a-long required) Noel Hakeman, led us to be informed that the usual course had been abandoned due to some bits being impassable. Ah, a nice flat outing then around the playing fields then. By the time we had registered for the seniors race, the junior races were well under way, Eden vests gallantly doing battle with the other clubs, and doing rather a fab job of it too. Great, no pressure on the seniors to repeat the spectacle then hehehe. In no time, we were ushered to the start line by Noel, exclaiming “is tha ready then eh? Go!”

5 and a bit laps of the course stood before us, the view from the first pack (Eden's contingent had opted to go for the 'hares' pack – the 'bloodhound' group looked way too fast!) was a nice one. As usual, I tried to hold myself back a little, reminding myself 'theres another 4 and a bit laps to go', when out of nowhere, Pigeon Pete came bearing down on me. My first thought 'oh bugger those marathons have knackered up my pace!' so I floored it away. It turned out later on he did it on purpose to keep me on my toes hehehe – nice one Pete! As the laps came and went, John Andrewartha was putting in a stellar performance, streaking off ahead with the signature big grin on his face. Chris Bunker and myself fought it out near the front for a couple of laps, I finally started to pull away and he proclaimed “well done Eck”, I was wheezing like a knackered accordion but managed to splutter out a “well done” in reply. As I rounded the final corner, I spotted the finish in sight, and shuffled my way to the line. Job done, the Eden Three all home and all still smiling. Smiling not because we knew the pain of xc running was over, but because there was cake waiting for us in Herman the Tea (VW) Caddy.

Over at the Eden Tea Caddy, we were greeted by Chris's lovely Eden Runners Cake, complete with green and blue icing. As we merrily stuffed our faces, showing Herman with crumbs, we noticed a couple of CFR and Derwent AC runners who looked rather hungry and ushered them over. Their faces lit up, as thoughts of racing weight and strict diets were abandoned in the blink of an eye. Then, out of nowhere, the Border Reivers, aka Pete and the kids, descended to seize the remains! They have requested for the next race we make a Harriers coloured cake for them – I will have to check with UK Athletics on the procedure for second claim club cakes, as I would hate to breach one of Lord Coe's rulings – heaven forbid! With runners fed and watered, everyone smiling, and the leftover icing packed off with Pete's kids, all that was left to do was to trundle home and plan our next xc outing – Burnley XC on 26^th October. Be there, or be square!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Captain Eck, signing off.

Holly's Marathon Mental Battle

6am: “What the hell is that noise? Oh it’s my alarm. Oh no. It’s Sunday. Oh no. Feel sick. Yep today is the day. This is really happening. It’s not a dream. Oh crap. Get up. Maybe I’ll just stay in bed and pretend I slept through the alarm. No stop being stupid. Get up”

Get dressed. Number on. Socks on. Shoes on. Easy. Now what? Oh yes go and run.

Breakfast time. Toast please breakfast man. 3 slices. Yes lots of jam. Oh and a yogurt. Oh and maybe a banana. Oh and some tea please. Other marathoners talking about their excitement. How are they all so cheerful? It’s not fair. My feeling is currently of impending doom. Working hard not to bring my toast back up. That would not be pleasant for anyone in this room. Right enough of this. Time to go. Text from Dad, brief respite from the nerves.  Horrible realisation that it’s still happening. Grab the bags. Cram into the lift. Out of the lift. Join the group of cheery runners at the reception desk. Feel a bit angry that they are smiling, happy and chatting. Why do I feel so sick. Right time to go. Charing Cross bound.

Outside. Fresh air. Already warm. Phone call from Rich. The walk to Charing Cross passes quickly with chat and laughs. Not thinking about the task ahead. Even managed to crack a smile. Phone call ends with “Good luck, it’s just a jog. What’s the worst that can happen?” begin to think he’s right and it’ll all be fine. That feeling lasts for approximately 3.4 seconds before I feel sick again. Text from my brother, Jeff. Words of positivity as always. “Good Luck. I don’t have time to attend a funeral this week so if you could finish that would be great”. Oh hell fire. “Mum can we go home now please I don’t want to do this” She thinks I’m joking. I’m not.

On the train. Really do feel sick. Can’t deal with people talking about their past experiences. Headphones in. Hood up. 20 minutes of silence in my own little world. Everyone must think I’m really unsociable. Oh well. I think they’d prefer this than if I threw up on them.

Arrive at Blackheath. Follow the masses. Try and encourage mum to run for me. She’s not having any of it. There it is. The blue start. Oh no. It’s happening. An hour and a half before the gun goes. What am I going to do. Stand in the toilet queue for over half an hour. Great. Only an hour to go. So many people. Some look as nervous as me. That’s a good sign. It’s not just me.  Have another banana. 3 bites and it’s passed to mum. Still feel sick. Pre race photos are taken. Mum has made a banner. “HOLLY CARPE DIEM”. Not a clue what that means. Too nervous to care right now. Time to get myself into the blue start. Good luck and hugs from mum and she quickly disappears into the crowds. All alone. Oh crap.

Find my baggage bus. Mill around with others wasting more time before putting the bag on the bus. Ring dad for some more reassurance. “You’ll be fine. You’ll enjoy it” I believe him because he’s dad and he’s always right. Apart from that time he said those cows wouldn’t chase us. He was definitely wrong then. And the time he claimed dark chocolate was nicer than milk chocolate. What a weirdo. More good lucks from dad. He’ll be tracking me online and trying to spot me on the TV. Right. Bag on bus. 40 minutes to go. Stand in another toilet queue. 15 minutes to go. Time to get in my start zone. About 3 miles from the actual line. More time passes. People are beginning to look nervous. A man behind is talking about his knee injury. He’s making excuses early. People start moving forward. Is this it? I’ve not heard a starting gun. Oh yes. This is it. Oh no. Toward the start line we go.

Oh I can see it. A man next to me starts running 100m before the line. Fool. You’ll regret that later on. Here it is. Over the line. Garmin started. Let’s go.

Start slow. Get slower. Yeh I’ll do that. Dodge around people. 1 mile down. That was quick. Glance at the watch. Oh no that wasn’t quick. Need to speed up. Joined by the masses from the Green start. Dodge some more people. Keep moving. Slow down. Don’t get excited you still have a long way to go.

Mile 2. Starting to feel warm. A woman is walking. Oh dear. Manoeuvre round more people. Running alongside the people from the red start now. The jeers have begun. Makes me think of the Poly vs Posh chants back at Uni. Not appropriate to start shouting “Your dad works for my dad” here though. I’ll just keep quiet. Downhill now. Stretch out the legs. Don’t get carried away.

Mile 3. 26.40. Not bad. On track. Keep moving.

Mile 4. Lucozade being handed out. No thanks. Feet sticking to the floor. Lovely.

Mile 7. Way past Cutty Sark before I have even seen it. How did I miss that? One of the big points on the course and I ran round it without realising. What an idiot. Oh well. No time to dwell. Onward.

Mile 9. Towards the docks. Gel wrestled out of its holder round my waist. Tastes horrific. Always does. Force it down. Yes a water station. That’ll wash it down. Little and often that’s what dad said. He knows best.

Mile 10. Why is it so hot? This is stupid. There has to be some shade soon. Going to burn. Should have worn suncream. Why did I not think of that? I wonder where mum is? I wonder if I’ve been on tv yet? I’m so hot. Why am I doing this? Can I go home yet? That woman in front is wearing some awful shoes. Shut up brain. Just run.

Mile 12. Right time to look out for the support crew. On to the bridge. Eden Runners vest on a stick they said. Move over to the left of the road. Keep looking. There it is. Sticking out onto the bridge flying high. See Jeff. Spot a banner “Go Hollers”. Classic Jeff. Cheers mate. Anna and Louie. Screaming. “GO HOLLY GO”. This is great. Massive smile. High 5’s all round. I’ll see them at the finish. Overwhelmed. Feel the need to cry. Get a grip woman. You’re nearly at half way. Come on. Get moving.

Mile 13.1. Half way. The countdown has begun. Just another 13.1 to go. Easy. Simple. Feeling good. The fast men are coming back on the other side of the road. I wish I was up to that point. They are running really fast. I am not. Oh well. Keep moving.

Mile 14. Oh no. I need a wee. This is not good. I drank little and often. Dad said that would work. This was not in the plan. Oh good some toilets. Cut some people up and get across to them. Big queue. Not hanging around. Bladder will have to wait. Just forget about it. Oh look we’re heading towards the docklands. Yes lets have another gel. Feel a bit tired. This will help.

Mile 16. More toilets. Yes no queue. Jump in. 30 seconds lost. Don’t panic. Still 10 miles to go. Don’t get excited. Calm down.

Mile 18. Only 8 to go. Towards Canary Wharf. Twisty streets. Slowing down. Bit of shade. I’m definitely burning. I’m going to have so many freckles. Oh just too hot. Slow down a bit more. Take on more water. Don’t listen to the legs screaming.

Mile 20. 6 to go. Everything hurts. Just walk a bit. No get running. Maybe this is the wall? I think it is. Oh god. Everything really does hurt. My knee hurts. But so does everything else. COME ON. Get moving. It’s 6 miles that’s easy. Remember what Jeff said last time “Only 10k to go, like a walk in the park”. Exactly only 6 miles. Come on. Move. Yes I can do this.

Mile 20.5. I can’t do this. It hurts. It’s too far. I’m too slow. Maybe i’ll just walk. I can do it under 5 hours if I walk the rest of the way. NO get running. Come on its not that bad.

Mile 22. Keep plodding. Come on 4 left. Oh there’s Iwan Thomas off of the TV. He’s walking. I’m running. He was really fast once and I’ve overtaken him. I’m amazing.

Mile 23. Lots of music here. A man shouts from a party truck that i’ve only got 3 miles left. He may be right but it still hurts. HELP. 3 miles. Come on. That’s easy. Have another gel that’s a good idea. That’ll help. Gel in mouth. This one is tasty. Spot an Eden Runners vest on a stick. What? I must be dreaming? Am I genuinely going delirious from the heat? Oh no wait that’s Anna and Jeff. I’m not dreaming. Quick. Shouts of “HOLLY! KEEP GOING!”. “Help me i’m really dying”. Reassuring words from Anna “No you’re not you’re fine. 3 miles to go”. Quick hug. And i’m off. I’m amazing. Keep running. Speed up 3 miles to go.

Mile 24. No don’t do that. That was an error. Slow down again. More Lucozade. Need more energy. Through the tunnel. Eminem is blasting out of speakers. “You’ve only got one shot do not miss your chance to blow, this opportunity comes once in a lifetime” Cheers Eminem mate I needed that boost.

Mile 25. 1 mile to go. Come on you can do this. Not far now. 10 minutes of running left max. Thousands of people screaming. That’s big Ben. Finally managed to locate a landmark after missing all the rest. Come on keep going. Nearly there.

800m to go. Come on this is easy now. That’s only twice round the track on a Monday night. Simple. Power on.

600m to go. Erm what? I’ve ran further than 200m since the last sign. That must be at least a mile.

400m to go. These signs are crap. I have ran about 3 miles since the 800m sign. Can see the palace. It’s getting closer. Come on keep moving. Can’t walk now there are thousands of people watching. Why am I not there yet? HURRY UP.

200m to go. Turn this last corner. Yes there it is. The finish. I’m nearly there. Come on lets sprint. Funny Joke. Just get to the line without crawling. Come on.

That’s it. It’s over. I’ve done it. I’ve really done it. Why am I crying? I have no idea why i’m crying. So is the woman next to me. It’s okay i’m not a complete weirdo. I’ve done it. All that training and pain is over. I’ve just ran a marathon. I am the most amazing person in the world. Keep walking. Don’t sit down you’ll never get back up. Goody bag. Too knackered to look in it. Grab a bottle of lucozade out of it. Carry on shuffling forward. Baggage bus. Naturally about 700 miles away from where I am now. Keep shuffling.

Can I have my bag please Mr bag bus man. Thanks. Right find mum. Pull my phone out the bag. Message from Dad. He’s the proudest man in the world. “You make me so proud whatever time you finish”. More tears. Everyone here is smiling. I’ve got tears running down my face. What is wrong with me. Text from Rich. Cue more tears. Overwhelmed by happiness and dare I say sadness that it’s all over. No don’t be silly I’m glad it’s over.

There she is. Right where she said she would be. My mum. Possibly the greatest woman in the world. Lots of hugs. More tears. She’s telling me to smile. I still can’t stop crying. A few more hugs. It’s time to sit down before my legs give way. This kerb just here looks comfy. Let me sit down. Help me please mum. Stop taking photos. Yes I know I’m burnt. No i’m not hungry yet. Just let me sit and stop crying. Oh here’s Jeff and Anna. More congratulations. More hugs. They are eating. Mum I’m hungry now. Spotted the M&S bag in her hand. Massive bag of crisps. What a brilliant woman. What would I do without her. Let’s just sit here for a while and have a rest. Watch the world go by. Runners being reunited with their families around me. This is amazing. Everyone is so happy. I’m so happy. Hands down the best experience of my life. Right mum lets go. I need more food. Jeff pull me up. Oh my god what is this pain. Is this some kind of joke? I can’t walk. Still beaming from ear to ear. Clutching my medal. Let’s go home now mum. I’m exhausted. Happy. But exhausted. Best day of my life yet. It will take a lot to top this.

And now the aches and pains have disappeared I am ready for the next challenge.

What’s next? I don’t know. Life starts outside of your comfort zone.....

Until next time.  

A Day Trip to Blackpool

"Oh I do like to be beside the seaside.." although I’ve never been in Blackpool at 8.15 on a Sunday morning in my life! The first shock was the 6.30 alarm – if the weather had been anything other than sunny and still I may have rethought my little jaunt to the coast. The second shock was the extortionate car park fee which I was totally unprepared for. I managed to scrape together the £5 then found out the machine didn’t take £2 coins! A kindly soul in the queue whom I got chatting to helped me out with that little quandary thereby contributing to keeping me out of full flight panic mode.

A short jog to the football ground (a good warm-up) to collect my number, then a mad dash to the loo before that queue hit Disneyworld proportions and I was all ready with half an hour to spare. I spent it wisely. A few minutes stretching, but more time spent chatting to the couple that had a 9 month old Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever… I know now I have to go to Norfolk if I want one… So the morning was educational as well as athletic..

I managed to get a "shout out" from the commentator with the microphone at the start for being an Eden Runner (see – doing my bit to promote the club!), then we were all set for the off. It’s the first time I’ve been to a race that had a 10 minute delay at the start due to a late running train.. One for the "experiences" list…

Down a couple of side streets where a few hardy souls had gotten up to cheer all the runners on (or were just getting back to their B+Bs from last night) and out onto the front. Two and a half miles along the road was the first U-turn, just prior to which I saw the welcome face of Mr Dave Peacock, just when I thought I was the only Eden Runner, so that made me feel less lonely! Past the North Pier and onto the Prom where the job of over-taking people began in earnest… (honest!)… The sea was flat calm and there was not much breeze to stir the still cool air. At about Mile 5 I fell in behind a "Portsmouth Jogger" although whether it was his posterior I was transfixed by or the sheer number of energy gel packets he had on his belt bouncing up and down I’m not too sure. Far too many for one man… he could have shared… The other energy gel bar packet of note was the one that the gentleman at Mile 6 stomped on in front of me – showering me with the stuff. I did ask if those gels worked by osmosis too and if I’d get any energy from that… who knows… Could be a whole new line of scientific research there.

I think the final u-turn was about Mile 8 which was a psychological relief, knowing that the countdown was on and that you were at least heading back in the right direction for the end. Going past the Marathon mile markers was a bit disconcerting though, thinking that half of the poor souls on the course would still have to do another loop. Seeing the string of people stretching out along the promenade and the road was impressive though and with about 3 miles to go and heading back into town the vocal support and the clapping members of the public began to increase, just when my resolve was starting to flag a little. Got past my bogey point of 11 ½ miles (The Dent Debacle) and oddly enough felt as though there were some reserves left to be had. My Portsmouth Jogger chaperone I think had peeled off to do the marathon route (so I’ll forgive him for his cornucopia of gel bars) and that almost gave me the incentive to push a bit harder. Why is it though, always the way, that when you think you’re approaching the finish you’re not?? You have that split second moment of thinking "I can see the start / finish line" before its replaced with the galling realisation that you’ve got another 600m to go in the other direction to suffer the humiliation of a "grandstand" finish behind the goalposts in front of an enthusiastic crowd? I resisted the temptation to wave at them… didn’t take much resisting… I think some of them had come to see the football in error…

I reached the table which was devoid of medals "There’s some more of the way!" said the slightly panicked marshall as the queue of folk waiting started to bunch up behind me – there was no way I was leaving that stadium without one – I needed the physical proof of my slog! The goodie bag was quite good too, containing choc-chip cookies, mini malt loaf AND a Mars bar, bottle of water and another plastic water bottle (to add to the growing collection!)

The bonus of the early start was getting home by 1pm to get showered and to get into the sunny back garden to write this. The weather was perfect for running, not too cold and not too hot – indeed it’s the first time this year any leg of mine above the knee has been exposed to the sunlight – the skin is that white I think the sunlight was just reflecting back off it! There was minimal breeze and minimal undulations in the route – I reckon I might even try that one again!

At the time of going to press the toenails are still with me….stubborn devils…

Race Review By Nicola Gaskell

The French Invasion of Lancaster

Against a low tide the French steamed up the River Lune unbeknown to most of the local inhabitants on a calm, quiet and sunny Sunday morning. The French then proceeded to destroy the Lune’s bridges before turning back downstream to reap the bountiful rewards…

Or something like that…

Six Eden Runners ventured out into God’s Own County Palatine of Lancashire to the Lancaster Three Bridges race, and it turned out to be one doozy of a day with an impressive clutch of five (possibly 6 when we get in touch with Larry again!) personal bests, wrested from this flat and fast course!

It is well sited and utilises a lot of cycle-ways and riverside footpaths that afford a slightly scenic setting along with plenty shade – I wasn’t expecting it to be so sunny – so those trees came in handy!

Paul had kindly driven Tanya, Wade and myself down the M6 and the in-flight chatter was such that the journey passed in a jiffy. We met up with Larry Horne (new ER member) and the man of the moment Johnny French before the start, which nearly ended in a hokey-cokey or Auld Lang’s Syne type scenario as we all tried to shake hands at the same time, then after the countdown the green and blue and black sock-ed  blur set off and the rest of the pack followed, as they did for the remainder of the whole 10k – INCLUDING at one point the official race route finder who Johnny passed as he carried his bike up the steps at the bridge – so not only race leader but trail blazer too!

Whether it was the flat course or the sparse pack I did manage to keep the shirts of Wade, Paul and Tanya in view – so that feels like an improvement on my part!

The steps up the bridge were a unique experience for me, and they slowed most of the competitors to a crawl, but fortunately I didn’t heed Wades pre-race ‘advice’ of “because there were trips and falls in the race last year the organisers have requested that everyone does the steps backwards…”

Think of the date folks……

The course was well signed and marshalled throughout, which is just as well as it was on public highways and by-ways there were quite a few cyclists, walkers and Sunday morning anglers to be dodged!  If the low point (well, hardest point, not low) was the steps at the bridge then the hallelujah moment came when two marshalls at the 6 mile point helpfully shouted out the times on their stop watches. It was just the spur that a flagging-pb hunting runner required before the end – the gap through the trees to the Salt Aire running track allowed me to realise that there was not going to be the final 400m dash lap – but that it was barely a 100m sprint to the finish which necessitated dredging up the reserves to get under the post under the 48 minute mark! After I was handed a medal by a slightly confused young lass (child labour? Get Wade on the case!) it was only then when we all swapped notes that it dawned that the day really belonged to Eden. With Johnny storming home at 34.15 – a clear 43 seconds of the next man, Larry at 44.20, Wade at 45.27, Paul 46.31, Tanya 46.47 (10^th lady overall and first female Vet 35 –I have her pink cava in my possession to prove it!) and me bringing up the rear (least said soonest mended..) at 47.57 it is suffice to say we were all a fair bit chuffed with ourselves and made it known by being the chief rabble rousers at the awards ceremony! Johnny and Tanya got to exercise their skills in nonchalance when picking up their loot (too cool by far!) while we cheered and applauded, then apologised to the poor woman we nearly deafened with our exuberance!

Will I be back next year? Course I will… if only to ensure that next time I bound up those flippin steps rather than dragging myself up them cursing.. Everyone needs a nemesis to beat!....

Next (official) stop – Langdale, see you there! :)

The start of things to come?

Is this truly spring now? Only a few weeks ago I was wearing my thermals and handing out ice cold water to equally ice old runners on the Haweswater half, todays foray into the world meant 18 degree temperatures and not a cloud in the sky, short shorts and vests were de rigeur for the inaugural Lorton 10k.

On our arrival the first thing to greet us was the fantastic surrounding views with a stunning blue sky backdrop. Eden shirts kept appearing in ones and twos until there was a nice cohesive little group of us 8 strong  at the start (Christine felt the need to add extra pressure to her day by arriving late and running to and through the start line!).  As this run was an unknown quantity being a new addition to the calendar there were a few uncertainties and discrepancies in each persons understanding of how “undulating” it was going to be. In hindsight I would ban “undulating” from the vocabulary list and just go for honest and simple “bloody hilly”..  Hands were shaken and ‘good lucks’ proffered before the school bell rang (I had to resist the urge to “get in line” at the sound of that), then off we set into our first hill. Well it felt that way anyway. Friendly smiling (amused?) faces of the local residents lined the way and as the huddle thinned out I started to realise that there was little shade in which to hide from the strong sun, coupled with a minimal breeze it became apparent that a PB was not going to be achieved this day! Better then to enjoy the scenery, the roadside flowers, the hills, the lambs in the field, the hills, the blue sky, the hills….. I swear they all went upwards, I thought at one point we were going to just strike out onto the fells above!! Perhaps I exaggerate – perhaps it was the shock of the blessedly good weather and the fact that our winter training thus far has been in the dark, so basically you couldn’t always see what was ahead. In Lorton you could. It was another hill. Ok – maybe I’ve gone over the top with the hill thing (although after the bridge at the turnaround point when faced with yet another beast I did wonder if “over the top” was ever going to be achieved! ….  Right you are – I’ll desist pressing that point…

Reasonably quiet roads meant that there were not too many distractions from traffic and most of the run was unhindered, but the heat was a novelty that soon wore off and at the 7k mark I’ll admit to my resolve wavering just a little, and I struggled to find the reserves for a sprint finish, as the gravel area we crossed prior to the grass field ending almost took me off my feet, but a good crowd at the post spurring people on (I could hear Paul and Wade shouting) helped me to push on – and there was never a sweeter sugary drink passed by a Lorton schoolchild given!

Everyone finished without injury which is always good and after the well needed cups of water the breakdown was as follows. Ruth (who by the way had a great run to finish as second lady overall!) headed off with her clutch of children, Christine likewise wither family, Gill and Shaun had ideas to go shopping in Keswick, while Stuart and Kevin headed out to do the course again!! (gluttons for punishment), Wade eagerly made his way for cake and jacket potato (I still believe he has hollow legs!) while Paul and I hung around in the (vain) hope of a spot prize. Paul did manage to acquire a voucher for some socks – you have to make the most of life’s opportunities!

It was nice for Eden to gain a mention in the thank you speeches (alongside Derwent and Keswick) for adding this race to our championship list and it is a good challenging course, although I reckon next year it will be under snow! Which makes me think, the last blog I wrote was while watching a snow shower prior to Christmas, but today I’m basking on the patio, eating my ice cream, listening to the birds and admiring the emerging  garden, with its new starts, new life and new energy – a good maxim perhaps for the now underway summer championship season – so whichever race you’ve got lined up next  – Go Eden! J (Then write about it afterwards!)

WADE TIDBURY- MY FAVOURITE GAL !

Well, as the song goes: "ooh what a night"! Last night at the ER's Christmas party at the Roundthorn Mr Wade Tidbury was elected ( browbeaten) as our Pantomime dame for the night. The Heaviside girls (with a bit of help) quickly transformed him from a, lets be honest, reasonable looking sort of bloke, into what I can only call the SEXIEST PANTOMIME WIDOW TWANKEY THAT I HAVE EVER SET EYES ON!

You may think I'm exaggerating, but you would know if you had been there. Fromthe pout of his 'rosebud' lips to the tips of his sprout sized nipples ( we know this to be true, as they really were sprouts sellotaped onto his giant boobies (balloons)), he became a real head turner. When he sat on my knee, I was almost overcome with desire( desire for him to get off me actually as hes a heavier lad, sorry lass, than he looks!)

I hope somewhere there will be pictures of this vision of beauty. Forget Botox, nips and tucks, all you need ladies ( and, sadly, gentlemen) is two balloons, some vegetables, bits of decorations, a belt or two! A bit of makeup and lippy and a few willing helpers, to transform you into the 'woman you never kne you were'! It worked for Wade..........

Thanks for the memories lovergirl XX

Windmills and Pies – or – “Wade’s grand adventure”.

Penrith Rugby Club, 8am wet and windy on a Sunday morning, what better way to end the weekend than a trip down south to sunny Ulverston? Well, it would have been an 8am start if Wade had not had to endure the worst the weather could have thrown at Kirkoswald not an hour before and skating vehicles sans driver…Enough to prepare anyone’s heart rate for a 10k run.

So those of us with nothing better to do on a Sunday morning in December (like putting up decorations, buying trees or replacing tiny light bulbs) piled into the new “team bus” (Mike B, Paul S and myself) and discussed what comes naturally – our desired times from the days excursion. Wade had other things on his mind – namely new team colours (I think hot pink was the favourite) combined with a local sponsor.. All suggestions were food orientated, from Cranstons to Greggs and finishing with Town Head Chippy “We eat chips and we’re still in front of you” a good motivator for every other club runner if ever there was one… Even the sights of the wind turbines in full flow alongside the motorway couldn’t distract him from his creative leanings. I think the poor lad is hungry..

Arriving in Ulverston, after a slight detour or two to locate the sports centre, and fabulously early, we met Kevin W, who had taken a more scenic route through the Lakes and was not hampered by the snow.

The wind was always going to be a factor on this flat, almost coastal route – well, after the Krypton Factor experience Paul had in attempting (3 attempts) to get his vest on correctly prior to starting.. yet amazingly the rain held off for the duration of the run. 50m after the start I waved goodbye to Mike’s, Paul’s and Wade’s disappearing backs and attempted to settle into a rhythm while aiming to pick off some of the competition. The competition obviously had other ideas, namely being to finish quicker than me!

Well marshalled through the temporary road works and even into Ulverston Priory grounds (where a glimpse of the Buddhist temple could be had), the route threw up no real surprises or difficult areas and in slightly better weather conditions is definitely a route for PB claiming.

Things were not going too badly until mile 5 when a stitch hit, which I blame for eventually being 12 seconds over my aimed for time, not even a sprint finish (no elbows) could redeem it! Shouted in by Mike, Paul and Wade helped though, and I barely had time to pick up my free xmas pud and turn around before we all then cheered Kevin into the finish, a decent effort by all involved, especially by Mike who had just done 10 miles the previous day (his idea of a good warm up for a 10k?). Charlie Lowther left us all standing, being far too efficient in the scheme of things, but putting an Eden Runner in the top 20.

Some good soup from the Hoad Hill supporters and pudding to take home made a worthwhile trip, home and showered now, and as I write this it’s starting to snow… Lovely… Here’s to Christmas!

Words by Nicola G

BHF Quiz Night - WOW!!!

The much awaited BHF Quiz organised by the Paris Bike Ride team took place last Friday at PRUFC and what a night it turned out to be:

Nearly 100 people and 18 teams took part;
Over £460 was raised which hopefully will be fully matched by our sponsors Barclays Bank;
Over £100 was raised from the raffle alone.

Thanks to everyone who bought tickets and purchased raffle tickets and a special thank you to those people who contributed some fantastic cakes, pottery and booze!

The night started with a mjor headache 'how do we fit everyone in?' the answer was with great difficulty, but we managed - just!

Tony was a first rate quizmaster with endless patience and it finished with 2 eden runner-based teams taking 1st and 2nd (who said runners are thick, certainly not me).

There was some controversy when the answer to what is the French for bicycle was given as le velo rather than bicyclette; this raised the comment from one of the 'Friday Night Girls' "that it was bicyclette when I was at school" which provoked a response from the Saagermeister that "that was a long time ago", which provoked an equally cutting response of "have you looked in the mirrow lately" - all good fun and thanks again.

Dave P

Tick tick tick tick........................boom!

Trial by Stopwatch

Wed 30 March 2011

7pm, somewhere in Northern England. At the warm-up, there was more discussion about food than there was about running. I think that’s natural, as no-one wants to talk about a time trial beforehand. The thought is too painful. We all just want it to be over, no-one cares what time they might get. It’s only 1.75 miles - too far to sprint but too short to relax within.

Debutants Karl Allen, Mark Burns-Cassell and Emily Heaviside should be pleased with their results. Incredibly, Paul Saager achieved his fastest time since records began in Oct 2003, with 11:15. Proof that being a Middlesbrough FC supporter need not be the kiss of death it is generally believed to be, and reward for a winter of diligent training.

And equally incredibly, Gill DSD also achieved a lifetime best with 13:17. Proof that being married to Andy has not led to a fatal tailspin in her running career as some feared.

Perhaps not quite so incredibly, Gill’s husband Andy got down off his chair to surpass his own previous best with 11:55.

Other PBs on the night – well done to Chris & Vicky Boyd, to the up & coming Shaun Graham, to John Nicholson, Steve Patterson, to the dark destroyer Kev Scott, and finally to Angela Watson. Angela capped a good few days after demolishing her 2010 time at Grizedale on Sunday by a full 9 minutes.

There were one or two PWs (no names of course), but all would be able to cite mitigating circumstances I’m sure.

Poignant moment of the evening – Sally Spence decided not to run, having been the only ‘ever-present’ at this club event to date. So her run of 14 consecutive TTs stops there – who can hope to beat that? Instead, she was Chief Name-Taker on the night, and I have to say her written results were easily the neatest I have had to transcribe in living memory. Well done Sally.

Thanks also to Mr Andrew Bell (Starter), Kevin Whitemore (Security), and Dave Peacock (Rabble-Rouser and Chief Heckler). Never have so many owed so much to etc etc...

So, did the winter training work? Or were a lot of people just trying harder this time? You decide.......

BHF London to Paris Bike Ride

In May 2008 soon after the finish of the Golden Globe 5k I suffered toothache or at least I thought  it was toothache; it was in fact a heart attack! I was fortunate and I survived thanks in part to Kevin Whitemore who drove me the short but vital 1/2 mile to the Penrith Emergency unit, after we arrived back at PRUFC car park.

After recovering from the shock of the heart attack I realised from speaking to friends and family, many of whom are in Eden Runners that nobody knew that a pain across the jaw was the sign of an impending heart attack. And this is where the British Heart Foundation comes in, as their literature provides such life saving knowledge as well as providing vital guidance in the debilitating days and weeks following the attack.

I decided therefore that in the run up to my 50th birthday that I would try and raise some money to help ensure in a small way that the BHF can carry on providing their vital charitable work. Enter the London to Paris Bike Ride 300km's over 3 days from the 2nd July!

I was able to form a team of 4 thanks to Wacker, Tony and Julia and the support of a mate Ian (to drive the support vehicle) and my wife Diane (to provide sort out navigation, logistics and fund raising).

In totoal we need to raise £1,000 (£250 each) with all money raised going directly to BHF (all costs are met by us). Our first fund raising event is a Quiz at PRUFC on the 1st April, £6 a ticket from Tony Lowery with pie and pies thrown in (not literally hopefully).

Although there are in effect 4 people undertaking the Bike Ride (with 2 supporters) we will not achieve the most important part the fundraising without your support, I hope that this blog will keep you up to date with our challenges along the way.

If you would like to contribute on our Just Giving page (thanks to Ian Horne and Alan Marshall for generous donations already) you can do so at http://original.justgiving.com/tonylowery2

Thanks
Dave P

DRAGGED OUT BY THE D-S-D

It seems a long time ago that I blogged about the quality chips at Brampton pub, and now winter's here and what do I get? Dragged from my bed at the crack of dawn ( 9 o'clock ) by the DSD and taken down to Rosthwaite to recreate half of a Long Distance Walkers event!

I should be grateful it was last weekend, we had sunshine, snow showers and mostly rain, unlike now when its bloody freezing cold too!

Up onto the fells south of Dock Tarn, down into Watendlath, past Walla Crag and back via the Lake shore, Grange and below Castle Crag back to Rosthwaite.

The food wasn't as good as the above mentioned chips, consisting of two small bags of Co-Op (a blatant advertisement) Cheese n Onion crisps and some jelly babies, washed down with some increasingly cold blackcurrant juice....

It was about 15 miles all told, in some of the most beautiful scenery in the world (probably), and being low level, even my navigationally challenged companion could manage ' going, keep the Lake on your left, and coming back keep it on your right!

The only bummer to the whole day (and yes, as with most things that hack off this Yorkshireman, it has to do with money) was the blunder I made with the parking. We parked in the National Trust car park, and paid £6 for all day parking.

Only when we returned to the car and were about to leave did I glance at the sign on the wall of the adjoining (as in right next door!) village Hall '' PARKING ALL DAY £2:50''!

You can only imagine how long I sat in the car fuming to myself on the journey home.....................

BEST CHIPS EVER ! ?

Its been a while since I blogged, but last nights chips at the NEW INN, BRAMPTON, APPLEBY (that's a plug!) demanded that I write about them.

Due to chip related 'difficulties' with the pub at Dufton in the past we convened at the New Inn, having agreed beforehand that we'd phone in the chip order (13 portions for those with a nose for detail) we were served by a Heston Blumenthal lookalike chef who provided three trays of the best chips we have ever had! Plus, as much mayo and tomato sauce as we could wish for.

The chips were hot, fresh from the pan, beautifully brown, crisp, firm, yet soft and moist in all the right places, and enough for everyone to have about three bowlfuls each (bad move of the night from 'big' Miles who ordered two portions and had to pay for two, but got no more than the rest of us!). Price: a very reasonable indeed £2:00 per person.

We will certainly be back!

Oh, and the run, which is, after all, the reason for our night out - beautiful clear views from the top of Dufton Pike round the whole county, a thunderous run down the ridge and back in time for a luxurious 'one flask' shower in the public toilets!

Breaking news: The proposed new Eden runners based rock band project continues apace - planning and auditions continued in the New Inn -Wacker is to be tour manager/ post gig party organiser; new additions to the line up continue with the discoveries that (a) Miles is a multi talented instrumentalist, (b) Tony and Martin are Eden Runners answer to Renee and Renata/Peters and Lee/Roger Whittaker and Des O'Connor/ two of the four Temptations - the list of options goes on, the door of opportunity opens for these two, (c) Mary, Sally and Mrs DSD to be backing (note to Mrs DSD, backing singers means just that- you stay in the background, letting the main men take centre stage) singers, also with options to provide musical pottery/musical bakery 'live' on stage at the 'gigs'. We can also announce a new lead vocalist - 'Big' Paul who wowed us with his Vic Reeves pub singer routines last night. The existing line up - Alan 'the Modster' Marshall: Lead guitar; 'Deadly' Dave Peacock: Vocals/guitar and Andy 'Bloody Finger' Sharples: rhythm guitar, can rest assured that the plan slowly comes together -look out for the 'debut gig' announcements in a local comic near you!

It's Not All Bad in the North East

(or - Gill DSD does her bit for the Northumbria Tourist Board)

Northumberland Coastal Run, Sunday 18th July 2010

Do you prefer this view? or...




..this view?

Driving home, I said to Paul & Tony that I hadn’t yet found an angle to use for the blog. Tony came up with the good points/bad points idea. Of course, I rejected it immediately.

Things to remember…..

Beadnell, being paced by a kite-surfer skimming the waves a few yards to the left.
Beadnell, running past the roped-off tern colony and having to jump the rope at the end.
Beadnell, having to decide whether to cut some distance by running/wading through the sea or staying right to ford the river. Choosing the longer route, still having the water above knee height.

Dunstanburgh, the trail/path section. And kittiwakes.
Craster, running down the dip. Lindy Lou!
The cliff-top trail section after Craster. I love trail running….
The next road bit because you could find a rhythm. Not a particularly quick rhythm, but a rhythm nevertheless.
The drinks stations. Isn’t water fantastic stuff?
Reaching the finish.
Taking off my socks & shoes & going for a ‘plodge’ afterwards. Like being 7 again.
Julia appearing at last. Her hilarious explanation of her (late) arrival at the start on her bike. I’m still laughing now.
Watching each Eden Runner home, in particular…
- Fantastic finish by Gill DSD.
- Kevin trying to sneak in on an alternative finish route.
- Matt’s battle to the line, injured.
- Sally, eventually.
Paul’s home–made granola bar. Magic.
Discovering that Tony doesn’t really like scones. Or dried apricots. Or most tv adverts.

Things to forget…..

Too much headwind.
Losing 20 places from Dunstanburgh onwards, only gaining 6 places back
Having nothing left to work with on the last beach section. For info, 1.65miles of it.
The Courtyard Café being closed…..

I have thought of far more good points than bad points. Feel free to add your own..

Thanks to all our brilliant Eden Runners ….erm, runners. What a club we have here.

Transformer

Redcar Half-Marathon Sunday 13 June 2010.

I am leaving the scenic Lake District and driving towards the land of the chemical plant, Teesside. Worse, it’s pouring with rain, one of those days when you can’t see where land meets sky. Everything is grey, grey, grey. Worse still, I know that when I reach Redcar, I will have to race 13.1 miles, in the rain. And, I had thought I’d be travelling with fellow ER Mike, but he’d had to withdraw at the last minute, not feeling well. On top of all that, England had kicked off their 2010 World Cup campaign last night in rather miserable fashion, failing to beat the USA. Surely, things would have to get better……

I know that the race start and finish (and the route, come to that) have been changed since the 2009 race, which was in April. This time, we're here in the middle of June, so the Redcar Half Marathon is undergoing an almost total transformation.

So, somewhat downcast and with expectations hovering just above the ground, I drive into Redcar and follow the race park & ride signage, eventually reaching the racecourse carpark in still-torrential rain. Two bedraggled marshals in yellow binliners direct me to park next to another 7 or 8 cars huddled in the vast emptiness of the puddly tarmac. I sit there for several moments, seriously considering whether to drive straight back home. No. I get out, get my bag, and walk as briskly as I can towards the waiting bus.

There are 4 of us on the bus. And that includes the driver. The wheels on the bus go round and round, splashing through the streets of Redcar, until at journey’s end we are all told to get off. Basically, we’re in a housing estate in the pouring rain, with no indication whatsoever of where the race start may be. Until someone thoughtfully asks the driver just as he speeds off, and it transpires we just have to go round that corner. We do that, and here we are on a large field extending across to the coast road and the sand-dunes. Behind that is a huge grey expanse. It’s either the sky or the sea, or both.

A large white marquee houses the baggage area. It’s so early that it’s virtually empty, so I find a seat and sit huddled in my coat and sulk, looking at the rainwater teeming off the roof onto the sodden grass. In this way, I while away half an hour or so, watching sandmartins skimming the turf, dodging the increasing numbers of runners frowning their way across the field. Why do we all frown when we have to go out in the rain? What purpose does the frown serve? I conclude, after extensive testing, that it is to lower our eyebrows so as to reduce the likelihood of water ingress to the eyes. See, every day’s a school day, kids.

Anyway, it’s time to warm up now. I get onto the tarmac and find that the race announcer is singling anyone with a visible race number out for special treatment. I quickly try to cover mine up but too late. ‘Number 472 is Alan Marshall from Eden Runners, welcome Alan from the people of Redcar!’ A surprisingly loud cheer goes up from the crowd. Eh? He soon picks on someone else but my attention shifts as I notice the rain has stopped and the clouds are beginning to break. It’s suddenly become perfect weather for running - cool, damp underfoot, a light crosswind. After the usual pre-race formalities (sponsors mentioned, organisers thanked, stupid running-related metaphor-based attempts at humour, etc) we are underway to the sound of Bruce Springsteen and the E-Street Band and ‘Jungleland’ – possibly the best piece of music ever, bar none.

We head south towards Marske, and mile one is reached with minimal effort and at a good pace, whereupon we turn round and head north up the coast back towards Redcar. To my right the sun glints off the deep blue of the North Sea as a flotilla of colourful yachts race south. Swallows and sandmartins swoop and dive across the grass and dunes. Mile 2 and I continue to steadily move up through the field, feeling really comfortable. I go through the start/finish gantry again where music is still playing, this time it’s the impeccable ‘Higher Ground’ by Stevie Wonder. This really is a first - a race with musical taste. Mile 3, into Redcar where the interesting seafront streets are festooned with flowers and packed with enthusiastic spectators. To my right, a beach volleyball match is in full swing. As I run past, the Brazilian Ladies Team lead Coatham Cruisers 6-5 in the 3rd. What a sight.

The first drinks station is themed (each one has a different ambience) around Raiders of The Lost Ark. The idea here is that you don’t have to stop, but you point to a particular person (all in character) as you approach, who then breaks off and runs alongside you with a range of refreshments for you to choose from. I ask Indiana Jones (sorry, Harrison Ford)

for a water, please, which is instantly given to me in a small bottle with the top already removed. It’s the little things that count. I take three or four mouthfuls and then Indy takes the bottle, offers me a white towel to wipe my face and asks if I want anything else. He has energy gels, jelly cubes, squares of chocolate (dairy milk and dark), a full Victoria Cream Sponge on a tray, and a bullwhip. I decline, and press on.

I have to say that the atmosphere on the course is tremendous. I have apparently been assigned a support team who move silently along beside me in a kind of milk float/golf buggy-type thing, offering encouragement, humorous asides and good conversation. It’s like running with Paul Saager, only faster. I am pushing my physical limits here but I barely notice, so much am I enjoying myself. I request some fitting music, and I am given ‘Tick Tick Boom’ by The Hives to speed me on my way. Perfect.

Mile 6 to 10 are along dual carriageway tarmac running towards and then alongside British Steel, formerly Corus, previously British Steel. It seems the place has been rejuvenated, now employing 27,000 people and exporting to 36 different countries since the recent takeover by a workers cooperative, led by former PM Gordon Brown and Juninho, the diminutive former Brazil and Middlesboro midfield maestro. In this spirit of rejuvenation and renewal I glide effortlessly along, passing Steve Ovett and Sebastian Coe joining in a game of 5-a-side at the turn-round point. Perhaps unexpectedly, Coe fires a spectacular volley in from long distance just after Ovett has belted one in from close range. Those boys, eh?

I am offered a change of footwear and, although I have misgivings about losing time, I opt for a pair of New Bollocks AirHead racers. Apparently I have chosen well, although expensively. But my support crew advise that Steve Cram is paying – one of the perks of being entered for the upcoming Kielder Marathon. Cheers Steve, nice one.

A thin line of pink & red out on the foreshore tells me that the Teesside flamingo population is thriving, and I begin to wonder if I’m hallucinating. However I am immediately jolted back to reality as a slice of M&S lemon swiss roll proffered by Michelle Pfieffer on roller skates helps me into the final three mile stretch to the finish. The yachts out on the azure waters have been replaced by schools of dolphin, and a pod of Orca cruelly taunting what looks like Ben Fogle in a kayak. That raises a smile, although the Killers have the upper hand from what I can see as I run past. Ben is vainly attempting to posh-charm his way out of this rather tight spot. Put it this way – I don’t think that match was heading for extra time. Meanwhile, the film crew on the big boat are all taking bets with James Cracknell on how many bites it will take until Ben can't emote to camera any longer. You couldn't make it up....

The finish funnel is a riot of colour and music and wild applause as I approach...

The announcer spots and namechecks every runner at the run-in, and gives a quick opinion, based on the finish time, of each runner’s performance. I have to admit that hearing the words ‘Don’t give up the day job Alan’ at 140 decibels is not what I want to hear as I approach, but I have to admire the brutal honesty. The clock on the finish line is a specially-built recreation of Big Ben, only digital, and as I fly through the tape – yes, they put a finish tape up for everyone to break through – I am handed a small bouquet of flowers and directed into a large marquee. The post-race massage is very welcome, as is the cup of tea and portion of freshly-fried chips (vinegar, no salt) which is placed in my hand as I leave the finish area. There are no commemorative t-shirts (I am told that they have been mislaid by someone at the Club - as if that could happen), but we are presented with a choice of non-chafing base-layer running gear, available in every club colour combination you could think of, and all in either natural or man-made fibre. And some socks. And a massive yellow shoulderbag to put all of this stuff in. Overwhelmed doesn’t get near it.

So, as I stepped blinking out into the warm afternoon air, acknowledging in passing the legendary Eric ‘Slowhand’ Clapton sat on a stool playing the Blind Faith classic ‘Can’t Find My Way Home’ ( I actually threw a couple of quid into his guitar case, and he said ‘cheers Alan - good finish by the way’) very quietly so only I could hear), I paused to reflect. I sat on the comfy seat on the bus back to the car-park, gazing at the sunlit streets of Redcar and drinking my complimentary iced tea, and remembered how negative I’d felt upon arrival. Sometimes we expect the worst, but, if we persevere, good things can unexpectedly occur.

My car is still there, looking clean after the morning rain. What a pity that no-one else from the Club had got across for this one. I’m fairly sure I’ll be back next year, but can’t guarantee that the experience will be the same. All I can do is relate the facts to my clubmates, and hope that one or two may be enticed to join in the fun.

But let’s see.