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Wansfell fell race Wednesday, 27th december 2006 |
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It’s Wednesday, 27th December and what a great day for a trot
up a fell and back down again. Well, any day’s a great day really, but it
wasn’t raining and there was no wind. It was bitterly cold though, but what do
you expect in December? It was my turn to do the race this year and myself, Martin and Levon had ventured up to the Lakes
for a day and a night.
The race was the annual Wansfell Fell Race. The fell cups one
side of the bustling
It starts in the town and goes up on the
tarmac for about 800 metres. It seems like an age, but it gets your ticker
going and your circulation pumping for what’s to come. Over the cattle grid you
go and then it’s down to the nitty gritty on the fell and up the slate steps
that snake their way up to the top. The running stops almost immediately and a
strong march replaces it with hands on knees and bellowing, laboured breaths as
the real climb starts and the urge to reach the top takes hold. In the distance
you can see all the other runners ahead like parts of a giant conga up the
fell, their different vests adding an un-natural array of colour to the usually
mottled, mossy green fell.
Coming past me with ease and experience, at
about a third of the way up, was bw&fac’s George James. I was hanging in there
for grim death!
The climb climaxed on a small crag that you
had to negotiate a bit of a climb on. Up at the top there’s no time to admire
the view as the steep descent unfolds. Down you go, whichever way you like,
although you don’t have much control and find yourself sliding down on your ‘gracias’
for a lot of it! People flew past me, as if they’d been propelled by some
invisible force, as I was breaking like a nervous driving instructor on the
duel controls!
As I tentatively neared the bottom, two
guys with a collie came up behind me. Not another two I thought. “You’re
well clear of the lass behind; you don’t need to worry,” one said.
“Well what about you two?” I piped up, “I’m
racing you too!”
Turned out they were on holiday and hadn’t
entered the race…well you know what I’m like! They did seem to recognise Wesham as being near
My vest stuck out like a sore thumb – ‘
As I approached the bottom of the fell
fast, I could hear Martin and Levon shouting, “Come on Michaela. Come on
Wesham” and there I spotted Steve
Bateson the photographer stalking the fell, taking pictures.
I came off the fell and onto the tarmac
again….BANG…..My legs became jelly,
quite literally, and I felt like the scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz on a bad day! As I came into the finish, I forgot
to stop my watch. My time didn’t matter anyhow as I loved every minute of it. Levon said I’d done well and that was
enough for me. It’s Martin’s turn
next year to do it and he’s looking forward to it already.
After the race we walked round the
waterfalls nearby with Levon leading
all the way round. We stayed at The
Watermill at Ings that night and
had a fantastic time with wonderful fayre on offer as usual. Hey, what a
perfect round off for a perfect Christmas time antic!
Written by:
Michaela Dempsey
Submitted: 29th
December 2006
Edited by: Brenda J
Earnshaw WRR Editor
PS. My legs are killing me! I can’t
walk properly and the lactic acid has set in. There’s only one thing for it……. More of the same!