Real men run Cross Country that’s why I run Marathons

After reading the reports on the website of this year’s National Cross Country Championships I was transported back in time to 1970 and my first National. The National that year was held at that well known cross country centre Blackpool! The course consisted of three laps of the old showground where the De-Vere hotel is now. The changing rooms were the old indoor tennis courts, for anyone who can remember that far back. The race was the usual stampede with 1000 runners trying to escape the pens at the same time, and you could feel the ground vibrating as the runners hurtled down the starting straight. The race was won by Olympic marathon runner Trevor Wright. Blackpool were led home by Tony Byrne in 122^nd place Peter Morris was next in 145^th followed by John Fewery 188^th, Frank Maguire 203^rd, Alan Hudson 347^th, and Terry Parker 431^st, making a team total of 1436.

Back in the seventies the National was the race to run, with only nine runners from each club allowed to compete with six to count. Competition for places was tough with many clubs holding trials. It was also the trial race for the International Cross Country which meant that the race was packed with the top runners of the day.

Winners in the sixties and seventies included Basil Heatley, [three times], Ron Hill [twice], David Bedford [twice], and Brendan Foster. In 1980 it was won by Nick Rose who will be well known to the veteran runners.

The next National I ran in was the infamous race at Sutton Coldfield in 1972. Anyone who was there remembers it with horror, and if it had been held now, people would have to go for counselling.

The race was held on a tough muddy course which had been churned up by the previous races and involved the crossing of a stream twice on each of the three laps, which made up the 9 mile course. The normal stampede heralded the start of the race held in sunny but very cold conditions. After about 10 minutes of running the snow started, and got heavier as the race progressed. The stream, which was ankle deep, at the start of the race, was getting deeper each time it was crossed. By the time the 3^rd lap started a large number of runners were in some distress with hypothermia, as they were only wearing singlets, [club vests only to be worn], and shorts. The stream was now nearly knee-deep and starting to freeze.

The end of the race was like a battlefield with runners shivering as they queued in the finishing funnel to receive their all important metal disc with their finishing position stamped on it. They then faced a mile jog back to the relative warmth of the changing rooms. Several runners were hospitalised and rumours soon circulated that a runner had died. This turned out to be untrue, but one of the officials was taken ill on the way home and died several days later from heart failure.

My race was a matter of survival after the first lap, when you see the top runners running cross country they appear to float over the ground, unfortunately I run cross country like a tractor. Eventually after a battle against the course and the elements which the course easily won, I received my metal disc with 470 stamped on it and duly handed it to my team-manager, then set of on the trek back to the changing rooms. 887 hardy souls finished the race with over 200 dropping out. Malcolm Thomas won the race which turned into a lottery at the front of the field as the pre race favourites suffered in the conditions.

It was another 4 years before the mental scars of Sutton Coldfield faded enough to allow me to tackle the National again, this time at Leicester. This time the course was parkland and suited my style of running much better, and the weather conditions were conductive to fast running being sunny with a slight wind. The usual cavalry charge started the race as over 1100 runners were released from the pens. The three lap course consisted of mainly parkland with several steep climbs on each lap. I started the race at a fairly fast pace and managed to move through the field to finish a best ever position of 249^th. The race was won by Bernie Ford.

An interesting note for those runners who complain about the showers not being very warm at cross country races, the washing facilities at Leicester for over a 1000 runners consisted of six tin baths filled with cold water outside in March. I have to confess I went home that day with muddy legs.

The following year at Parliament Hill Fields, London was my final attempt at the national. I finished 370^th in a race won by Brendan Foster.

I have never felt the urge to run the National since but if I ever do I will just whisper to myself remember Sutton Coldfield.

Written by: Alan Hudson

Submitted: 7^th March 2006

Edited by: Brenda J Earnshaw WRR Website/Magazine Editor.