Feelings Can Be Deceptive

This morning it’s the Crossdale 10k and I’m feeling fit for it. Feelings can be deceptive. I did a storming time last year, considering it’s an off-road race and I have no idea how I’m going to repeat that performance.

This is the 10th running of the event and L digs out her t-shirt of that very first event in 2000, which is the only time she’s entered. I see a couple of people opting to race in that first t-shirt. Last year was the only time I’ve ran it but this year we’re both in the field. The event is a considerable fund-raiser for the primary school that hosts it and also raises money for the charity ‘Friends of Kadzinuni’ who promote education and health care in Kenya.

The prospects for my ankles don’t look good when even the school sports field, where the finish is, is covered in pot holes so big it looks as they’ve borrowed MD to do some excavation work for them.

The course is fairly flat, other than the fact that you start at the top of a big hill and therefore have to run down it, which is pretty treacherous. Then of course once this is over you can spend the next 9k worrying about how you’re going to get back up that hill to the finish line on its summit. Certainly a finish for the masochistic.



It’s a scenic course, pretty countryside and apparently we run past a graveyard, according to L, but I’ve never noticed. Too focussed me.

My run goes well, although all the way through I’m conscious that I’m well down on last year’s pace. Due to all the dry weather we’ve had the ground was hard and rutted this year, so perhaps the softer conditions last year suited me better. I can’t see how I could have ran much faster without breaking an ankle this year.

Towards the end I try to up my pace and go past a few people who slow down for the last drinks station. I don’t ever take a drink on such a short run but the chap in front of me thoughtfully shares his with me as he slops it around trying to find his mouth and in the process pours half of it down my sleeve. Then after failing to find his mouth, he gives up and pours the rest of it over his head and soaks me in the process. Very refreshing.

Then it’s back up the hill to the finish. There’s no one immediately behind me so I can actually take it easy, unlike last year where I ended up in a three way sprint up it. Not good for the calves.

At the finish, I’m two minutes slower than last year. Oh well. Still a good overall placing though.

In the evening we manage to stagger into town, have a snack at Broadway and then oil our aching legs with a good dose of Screech Owl, a 5.5% IPA, at the Kean’s Head. Castle Rock the brewer, from Nottingham, are generously accepting the ‘50p off at Wetherspoons’ vouchers that we have, because Wetherspoons don’t tend to sell their beers. This is all very bad news for our alcohol units.