A LOVELY RUN IN WEST CUMBRIA

GOSFORTH 10

Tuesday, 1^st September 2009

Due to my love of Cumbria, I decided to take part in the Gosforth 10k back in September. My wife Angela and I love to get up to the Lakes and walk the fells, so I thought it would be just as good to run up there as well every now and again. Without going as far as fell running though, my osteoarthritis hip wouldn’t take that much hammer!

I duly entered myself, but not Angela as she had to work, the poor girl! I had to sort my kit before work and make sure I got away nice and early as it is over a two hour drive from Fleetwood. Mid afternoon is never a good time to get away from Fleetwood and so the super slow journey to the M6 proved.

Things really got interesting when I left the M6 and headed round the coast road to my race destination. I was trundling along very nicely, getting a little more excited about the race ahead when the weather got a big angry. In fact it got itself into a bit of a rage and struck fear into me.

From a few moments earlier when I was up for a great run, I had suddenly lost the appetite for a run around hilly country lanes in the most torrential rain I have ever driven in. My window wipers tried to smash the fist size drops of rain off my windscreen, while I envisaged a long wet journey home later that evening.

As luck had it, the rain stopped just two miles short of Gosforth. It would be true to admit that I was relieved and very happy, while suddenly excited and a bit nervous about the race once again. I parked up pretty much on the start line, so things really did seem to be going my way. Dreams of a PB suddenly entered my head as I jogged to the pub to pick up my number. Sadly it was only a PB in my dreams!

My number was pinned on after plenty of nervous dithering and I did half an hour of warming up mixed with a bit of chatting to the organisers, then it was race time. This is the point that I was worried my legs would be too tired from work to carry me round or I may have warmed up too much.

On the start line I gazed round for a friendly face in blue, none gazed back. The only Wesham runner here, the first ever race that I was truly alone in was about to start. The feeling was quite strange as I was excited, nervous, lonely and eager to be away all in one moment. At this moment I really wondered if this new runner had bit more off than he could chew, then we started running.

After thirty yards we scurry left onto the coast road and head mainly uphill for a couple of miles. All my worries had melted away before I even got on the main road, all I could think about was my pace and next step. It was only later that I thought about what a total wuss I had been.

By the time we turn off the main road and head toward the Wasdale Mountains along gorgeous country roads, the race has really stretched out. I am going quite well for me and feel happy enough. The puffing and panting sounds emanating from me are just the usual for my 10k breathing pattern, or lack of any breathing pattern! Ahead of me, a tall slim athletic lad suddenly pulls up and tries retching, wimp. I start to quickly catch him until he hears the gasping for air coming from my direction, then he is off like a rocket for the next few yards.

As I proceed up and down the lovely undulating and sometimes hilly roads, I realise this guy is intent on holding me off. It is obvious he had decided the little guy behind him is not going to be finishing ahead of him. Not to be shaken off I slowly keep cranking the speed up, with what limited speed I can muster I start to gain on him. Sadly he realises this every single time for the next few miles and canters in a few seconds before me.

As I close in on the finish I just get too far behind this whippet of a runner and can’t tell if he has turned or carried straight on up the road. Only problem for me is, this is the only turn that has no marshal. As I race forward straight up the road, I catch a glimpse of my adversary who has turned left toward the finish. I swerve back on myself and finish with the hardest sprint my legs could manage; you wouldn’t have been very impressed.

I shake hands with my rival and offer congratulations to him on his fantastic run, though I am not sure how sincere I sounded. Then I get my drink and a handful of biscuits, got to get my value out of that biscuit tin as I haven’t won a prize. Once I finish my biscuits I head to the car to get changed and then wolf down a king size spicy chicken sandwich that Angela had made me. My running may not have caught anyone’s imagination, but this buttie did. All the fatigued runners came past commenting on how good the sandwich looked. I hope it wasn’t too impolite spitting chicken, salad and bread over running trainers in my enthusiasm to agree?

Once I had finished grazing on my post race scran, I head back to the finish to check my time. The board says I finished 38^th in 43 minutes and 35 seconds, I am well chuffed with that. No PB for me, but on such a hilly course it was a great run for a beginner like me.

I skip merrily back to the car and gaze at the sunset over the Irish Sea. I am really glad I came to Cumbria now in the pouring rain. This is a really friendly evening race amongst some gorgeous countryside; I would definitely come and do it again.

I start the car and head back up the main road that I ran along just a short time ago, it’s much easier doing the 2 miles along it with the aid of a vehicle! My eyes search down the lane I had been pounding along earlier, I smile as I continue toward home with the knowledge that I had just ran a beautiful bit of Cumbria while representing the club far away from home. Enough of that, will I be home in time to pick Angela up from work?

Written by: Charles Colby

Submitted: 14^th October 2009

Edited by: Brenda J Earnshaw WRR Editor