Not ‘Well Done’

The day dawns cold and white-over with frost. It’s all very pretty and festive. It’s also the first time I’ve felt Christmassy so far this year but I’ll soon get over it.



There is always something about the Lakes in winter that means it has to be done just before Christmas. It just feels festive and there are no trappings of a commercial Christmas up here. Just a few lights, a few Christmas trees and a few Santas running the Christmas 10k, nothing too outrageous. Although admittedly we haven’t been down Windermere high street.



Ah yes race day. Thankfully kick off isn’t until 12.00. Time enough to get the fog of the mulled wine out of my head. Now, how hard do I go? Not very as it turns out. I’m not even near enough the front at the start to see the great Ron Hill start the race.

The course turns out to be slightly hazardous, a bit icy and slippery underfoot in places; it looks like they’ve had a slight covering of snow sometime in the last few days. Other hazards include negotiating the local bus (twice), a tractor full of manure and half a dozen tourists in their cars. Just a typical 10k in Lakeland then.

I amble along at what I think is the back and get ready to join in the festive singing that I imagine goes on in the ‘autobus’ of those just hoping to get through the distance. People though appear just as poker faced and serious as they do nearer the front. Perhaps I’m still going too fast and I ease up a little more, expecting L or even worse, someone dressed as an elf, to come bombing past me singing Jingle Bells at any second. It doesn’t happen though; despite the fact most of my km times were a good twenty seconds down on my usual pace.

Despite my tardiness, people are clapping and cheering as I pass, shouting well done. Well no actually, if it was ‘well done’ I’d have gone past several minutes ago. Strange people.

At 7km I decide to try going a bit faster, after all if something fell off now, I could at least still crawl to the finish and get there before the pubs close. By 8km I’m actually reeling in a group of around seven runners and feeling more like my old self. The group includes three women, a man clearly the wrong side of sixty and a chap in a silly hat with tinsel on it. All people who, should everything be correctly aligned in the world, ought to be behind me.

I put on a spurt on a short uphill stretch, the kind of terrain where I normally make good gains and start to chase them down but something starts to protest in my dodgy leg and I think better of it. They’ll all just have to be on my list for annihilation next year instead. I ease up even more in the last km, thinking ahead now to my next race and even letting two people pass me on the run in. I smile at them, through gritted teeth. I don’t even try and trip them up.

As I cross the line I’m handed my Christmas pud. Asda this year, I still wish they’d supply local ones. I don’t get a mince pie because someone is remiss in getting them to the finish line in time.

They do arrive in time for when L finishes, so she gets extra, making up for the one I didn’t get and enough to share with the dogs. Then its hot chocolate with rum in the Stickle Barn bar, all very welcome. Suddenly I’m feeling festive again.

My time is four minutes down on last year, over 44 minutes, which L assures me is still pretty good and isn’t just cause to seek out the nearest gas oven for my head. Finishing fifty places lower in the low eighties is less easy to stomach and this will take several pints to get over.

That evening in the pub, as the Coniston Stout and the Chilli Con Carne go down really well, the evening entertainment is provided by some stupid woman who befriends Doggo. At first she is happily fondling his ears, which he enjoys greatly but then for reasons known only to herself she tries to kiss him. How many people do you know who go around kissing dogs they’ve only just met? Some people don’t even kiss other humans on a first date. Luckily he’s not a vicious dog and doesn’t have her face off although he does tell her where to get off. She’s seems shocked although apologetic. Lesson learnt I hope.