Scoutscar Fell Race Brigsteer Sunday, 7^th January 2007

We dropped an excited Levon off at his pals on one of those impromptu days and set off for a minor fell race up in Kendal.

We arrived there safely after asking the way at a remote house inhabited by two Liverpuddlians! We had gone the wrong way and then the right way, but not far enough! Martin hadn’t looked it up on the map and I so knew where I was going! (I thought I did!). It actually started quite a way up the fell on a flattish, sheep trimmed field. We got there about twelve for the race to start at twelve thirty only to be told through chattering teeth that the race would start around one-ish! It was windy and cold and exposed on that there field so we decided to sit back in the car for a while. Martin read his ‘Four Minute Mile’ book and I listened to Michael Parkinson on Radio 2 playing a few Frank Sinatra numbers.

At about ten to one we locked up and ventured out onto the grass plain near the start amid all the other runners. Some were pogo-ing up and down like Masai Warriors without the war paint and others were running round in circles like goldfish in a bowl just to keep warm!

At about one we set off up the field and the battle commenced. Up and up we went and I kept telling myself, “Come on it’s only 300 foot of climbing!” It was more of a long drag than anything and the wind was one that wasn’t in any direction in particular. The terrain was rocky and muddy and everyone had their heads down digging in. I was ahead of Martin for the first half mile or so. He soon caught me up and made a bee-line for the other runners in front, ticking them off one by one up the incline. “How, gasp, far, gasp, now?” I asked as we passed a marshal near the top, Wesham blue with the cold. “It’s just up to the mushroom, round it and then back down again,” he uttered. The mushroom is a rather ungainly looking mushroom-shaped, metal viewing tower, (for want of a better description), that looks out of place there really. It’s is informative if nothing else in that it portrays all the fells the naked eye can see around three-hundred and sixty degrees on a clear day.

As I was fairly near approaching it, I saw Martin hurtling down on the descent and thought ‘God’ still hard work for me and I should’ve tried harder like you do on those sorts of turnaround races. The view unfortunately wasn’t clear today as you ran around the mushroom with that childish excitement you get when you know you’ve got a downhill stretch pending! The wind put pains to any thoughts of letting rip as it was really strong in your face and spoilt all the fun!

Wesham’s evergreen, Dougie Brown was in the race too and caught me just up at the top as did Blackpool’s George James, showing his experience yet again. They both hurtled off into the distance while I settled to set my sights on a couple of girls who were nearest to me. I picked one off and as I approached the other she slaughtered me. She must’ve been sauntering until I went past and cranked up a couple of gears only to leave me in her wake.

Still, down we went on the well marked course apart from one little element of confusion on whether to go left or straight on. Martin went straight on momentarily, but once shouted at, switched direction, slipped and went down on his behind, scraped his ankle and his pride. He still finished strongly though in about 50^th place.

With about 5 minutes to go, the heavens suddenly opened and the big rain drops randomly plonked themselves on the already slippy rocks underfoot. I was nearing the finish now and another lady overtook me. Come on, I thought, I bet I can keep with the runner as I knew we were approaching the rolling field we had run up at the start. I got a welcomed bit of encouragement from Dot, (Dougie’s wife), and I stayed with her, just, and annihilated her on the 200 metre sprint into the finish with Martin shouting support too. (Well I beat her by about 4 seconds!) I shook hands with her at the finish and now my mission was to get out of this downpour. It seems to be raining a lot this Winter!

We did the usual ‘work’ for ‘The Good Pub Guide’ on the way home, chatting, dissecting the race and sharing our experiences. We got back in the car then for home and Martin fell asleep in the warmth of the half body mud pack he was wearing, his Xmas fleece and the blasting car heater. Yes, I was driving again!!

Written by: Michaela Dempsey

Submitted 9^th January 2007

Edited by: Brenda J Earnshaw WRR Editor