Race Report: The return of Cross Country (or why we all love and hate cross country)

Having had a weekend off racing (mostly because I had to work), I would like to say I felt ready for cross country today. But actually, I had done one tempo run, one medium run (supposed to be easy but went out with some new people) and a hill reps session in the week, my legs were actually pretty tired even before I tail ran for parkrun. Part of the problem I think is I no longer move at work, and my body is deteriorating as a result. So having done the tail run/walk for parkrun, along with a 2 and a bit mile walk each way, I knew I wasn't going to go run a blinder. But that didn't make me any less stressed...

I  barely did cross country at school. Once or twice we were sent to run round the football pitches at primary school, and I came near the back if not dead last, and in secondary school we had one PE lesson where we were sent to run a course on the school field and I was surprised to be fitter than I thought, but still terrible. No one really enjoyed it, and we never had any pointers or tips on how to run, or improving our time (maybe as we never did it again). My mum talks of cross country being in the woods above her school and bunking off for cigarettes, and certainly I now a few of that generation scarred off exercise for life by such events. At university, I think Martin may have run one cross country race, long before he met me, dragged by his mate Dan who is good at running, but he doesn't even parkrun these days. Even once I joined Chorlton runners, it took me a few years, and a lot of people telling me to do it, before I signed up for a cross country season. To me, cross country meant fast people running through the rain and wind in tiny shorts and vest, with a lot of mud, and fat girls like me just didn't feature. 

But a few trail races later, and I got some courage or maybe some curiosity. I have (secretly) always wanted to be one of those girls who did run corsscountry in tiny shorts with perfect hair, so I was going to have to try it. Martin took me to my first race, where I was nearly sick with anxiety. I'd bought some second hand spikes off ebay and it was cold and damp, and lining up on the start line was intimidating: everyone was in a club vest, and it felt like everyone looked fast. I was panicking about the route (all those letters providing some sort of coded route map, what on earth did it mean!?!). But I managed to get round, was far from last and everyone cheered you at every point (joys of being a large running club). I felt like a real runner and I have had some loyalty to it for the couple of seasons since, even running the GMAA league at Boggart Hole (very fast event, very tricky course) twice, and coming third from last both times. 

So today, turning up nice and early to help get the gazebo put up, I recognised the fear in the faces of a few newbies and sympathised. But I also had my own anxieties, even beyond getting the gazebo up. See, when I run cross country, I run for my club. It is the only real time I am running for them, and not me. It is also a club runners only event and there is no where to hide among the fun runners or the social runners. You run hard and you put everything out there. If you are sensible, you run your own race but it is so so easy to get dragged along for the first few miles and suffer later. There are supporters at every turn so you can't stop or walk. And it is pure, unadulterated running fitness. There was a lot of people moaning about why on earth we do this but also knowing we'd be happy later, it wasn't just me!

The latter is particularly true of the Wythenshawe park course. MACCL doesn't have any major hilly courses except maybe Heaton, when compared to, for example, the Lancashire leagues. Wythenshawe takes me back to running around the football pitches because, except for maybe a quarter of a mile of each long lap, that is exactly what it is. Its flat, its grass and it has a small diversion in to the wood to stop it being enitrely dull, but that is it. And this year, the dry weather means that despite the kids oging first, the gorund was still holding together. There was a lot of spikes vs trail shoes chat. I reckon a set of road shoes would have been fine today it was so relatively mud free... But all in, this is not my course. I am better when I have some hills and mud to play in (or I used to be). 

We forgot to do a before photo, so this is the after

CR Women's Team 16/10/21

(Courtesy of Chris Rayner)

I love the gala aspect of cross country; tents and gazebos and face paint for the kids. I arrived as the last of the kids race were going round. Found somepeople to stand with, got the gazebo up, went to the loo, got changed, warmed up and landed on the start line in perfect time. So far, so good. There was a lot of nervous energy around and its a while since many of us did mass starts like this, and most people huddles in despite it being chip timed this year (covid advanced cross country a few decades it seems). There was cheering and a few friendly faces on the sidelines for the first small lap. As we entered the first longer straight I glanced at my watch and groaned; 7:30mm is not a sensible pace for a 5 miler. Fortunately it was early enough to even it up, and let the speedsters drift away from me. I followed the short lap round and settled in at around 8:30 knowing I would fall off this pace too (I was thinking closer to 9mm). I settled in to the first big lap behind a girl from club called Marlenna and tried to keep and even pace. By the end of lap one, I was pushing her and eventually overtook. The little diversion through the wood with its white sprayed obstacles stopped the course being too painfully dull, but my legs were complaining.

Thunder thighs are go - pulling face in the woods 

(Courtesy of Jon-Paul Kearns)

Lap two started with our famous V60 Ann sailing past me, making it look very easy. She always paces so much better and cruises past us as we die. The pace had falled off to 9mm and it being Marlenna's first race, I was trying to drag her with me. I remember shouting a few words of encouragement, and I wasn't puffing but my leg muscles were having none of it. As we entered the second half of the lap I pulled away and started to indvertently chase down Steph B who was ahead. Entering the woods for the second time I thought I might get her but my heart wasn't really in it and a lady from Man Tri and another from Macclesfield over took me. In the back of my mind was the thought of the 14 mile run I had to do on Sunday after this, and I didnt really have sprint in me so I just pushed poor Steph over the line where she had a wobble and ended up sitting by the fence with me fussing as I felt the guilt (she seems to have forgiven me). 

Chasing down Steph in the final section

(Courtesy of Gary Daniels)

After we finished, the best part of cross country starts. Most of the rest of the girls were gathered near the finish funnel and we all wondered back to the gazebo swapping stories and lamenting fitness (or lack thereof in my case). Warm clothes go on, the men are hanging around nervous (and fretting about shoes still) and a cup of tea was made from the club urns. Various cake bars were consumed. We made our way over to the edge of the course to cheer. 

I never envy the boys the third lap. I agree with run equal but there is no way I personally want to be running the long course with the men. It was nice to catch up with some of the girls I hadn't seen over lock down, and chat to various people whilst cheering loudly for every Chorlton Runners male passing us. Sadly I had to get back so missed the last lap, but it was so good to be part of. 

Don't get me wrong, Cross Country is far from perfect. Its sexist, and very cisnormative with no room for trans athletes. It is not always very welcoming and it is certainly very stress inducing. But it is grass roots sport, and perhaps a pure form of running (whatever that is) without the commercialisation of road and trail running. And it makes me feel like a real runner, and for those reasons, I hope it doesn't change too much.