Thropton Show Fell Race

It’s a sunny and cool Sunday Morning. I’m sat in the car watching the dog agility class out the window while spooning a porridge pot which comes with an added suggestion of microplastics. The local Hyrox club are going through their routine from their gym on a road nearby.

We turned out yesterday at the Thropton Show Race which starts in a field at the edge of Thropton and makes its way up through more fields and woods to Simonside, a craggy, heathery ridge which looks down on Rothbury, nestled in the Coquet Valley in Northumberland.

It was raining. Upon arrival the car struggled to get more than 20m into the adjacent field which was used as a car park due to the soft ground.  Much to the annoyance of the gate marshall, who, despite being 13, was doing a sterling job, I reversed out against the flow of traffic and elected to park on the side of the road near Snitter, about 200m away from the show field. I have a phobia about wet fields and cars or maybe its a completely rational anxiety.  

It was five quid to get into the show and another three quid to enter the 7 mile medium distance, medium ascent, fell race. Speedy Joe and me spend most weeks training on parts of the course, so the least we could do is pay our money and take our chances. First prize is eighty crisp notes, so not to be sniffed at. 

As I pinned on my number I was approached by one of the other runners. He had a medical setback at the event 2 years previously. He was quite emotional and wanted to thank me for my assistance when, on the day, after he retired early from the race, I noticed he wasn’t quite right. He said it took him 4 hours to get to hospital. We were both a little emotional, but it was uplifting to see him pull on his vest and take part, even if, as he professed, he was happy just to be out and running.Him and me both.

Around 40 runners set off. Speedy soon disappeared into the distance. The rain continued as we made our way up across the wet pasture and entered the wet woods, cutting through up a shallow ravine which had turned into a stream. I recall the proliferation of new mushrooms along the way, me having previously ran the wooded section of the course 3 days earlier.  A group of perhaps 10 runners were just ahead, mostly made up of Saltwell Harriers in their red and white hooped vests. 'If only I could stay with them' I gasped. However, the  group began to disintergate near the crag. I caught two on the way up. One was wearing road trainers which would do him no favours on the descent. The marshall on the Crag, Paul, was doing a mansized job on his own and he shouted encouragment in the wind. 

We began the descent, which I was up for. I got passed three before the end of the heather under the Crag and caught another down the ravine, which was, by this time, flowing freely as the rain set in properly.  Through the woods was a joy, all downhill, and just before the fields there were another 3 in front, but each running on their own. I focused on the front runner, the 2^nd lady, Karen, and tried to muster all my reserves. Passing the Alnwick runner and another, I was making good ground through Thropton and into the field toward the show. However, with 200m to go I was caught by both the guys I had just passed. I crossed the line in around 1:07. The garmin said 7.40 pace, which I was happy enough with. Times don't really matter in these type of races. However, I was a good few minutes down on last year. 

We waited for the presentation for Speedy, and then it was off to a dog trainer for 2 hours stood in the rain. We were soaked and getting back home, it was a fish supper to share. Another top day making memories and enjoying hill running again. We have entered the Bregaglia vertical kilometre and the alpine half marathon next month in Italy.  This will be the big trip out this year and should be ace. It will go better if I can continue with the losing the lard.

I’ve finished Neil Gaimans ‘The Ocean at the end of the Lane’ and Willaim Boyds ‘Gabriel Moon and am currently enjoying J.L.Carr’s short pastoral novel ‘ A month in the Country’. So many books, so little time.