Having lambasted the first cross country match of the local season for its lack of mud, it is kind of justice that I couldn't make any other matches until the last match of the season and the conditions were somewhat different! I hope one day I'll make a full cross country season but not whilst still working as a registrar it seems.
The UK has been utterly bombarded with storms recently. I mean, its UK weather so its never THAT extreme but by our standards it is causing chaos. This weekend we were all told not to travel and batten down the hatches. So the fact I was missing the first proper fell race on the club blacksheep calendar was not the end of the world (it was fairly snowy by all accounts), but when I couldn't get to Stamford Park parkrun to put in a time and get some points there, I was a bit disappointed. Instead I found myself picking up the tea urns from the club storage and wondering if my body would ever feel recovered from the Anglezarke Amble. It had been a hard week at work and training had been a disaster of pain and poor movement resulting in me skipping the last speed session (also because I was late home from work). Then the rain really started and I found myself once again questioning my life choices on a Saturday.
Heaton Park is a beautiful park in the north park of Manchester, and so one the few courses in Manchester to have a bit of elevation. It is famous for its hall, archway, temple and small farm (complete it seems with large highland cattle who made their presence known at the start of the men's race but otherwise contentedly watched us all pass). For once at a cross country match, I got parked nice and easily at the far car park as I suspect a few families had decided not send their children (or indeed themselves) out in to the rain. I was wet through despite waterproof trousers, jacket and wellibobs in all of three minutes which didn't bode well, and sections of the paths to the start were flooded. One of the kids races were on and I stopped to say hi to some colleagues who were supporting their kids on the way up the hill. Everyone was wet and everywhere was already very muddy.
As a club, we entirely failed to get our gazebo up properly. It was sleeting at times, and as the women's race was first, we were mostly too short to push the central section up. We got it upright enough to protect some bags and coats and then it was already gone run and it was strip and warm up time. The cold air as I took my jacket and jumpers off was unpleasant and the tightness in my hamstring after last weekend was not easing as I warmed up. This was not going to be good. I also had doubts about my decision to run in trail shoes; people were talking about 12mm spikes! My second hand spikes had pretty much fallen apart, so I had abandoned them after shoe gate in December.
The start line was definitely quieter than normal but there was still a buzz. In fact there was a very girly shriek as the gun went off and we headed off in to the quagmire abyss. The first section was down hill and already muddy and in the crowd I very nearly skidded down, only just managing to keep my feet. I resolved to be a little more careful and someone promptly went over in front of me. The next ascent and descent (both short ish) were similar and then we entered a relatively deep section of mud just to the side of the main park drive, before turning off and heading up the side of a field and up a hill. I was constantly being over taken but did also manage a bit of over taking as we climbed up a bit more and headed in to a small section of wood, which finished with a large up step where people had charmingly tried not to kill the daffodils that were trying to sprout (I suspect they were very dead after the men's race). We charged through and slightly down a long quagmire in an enclosure and round some cut off trees. People were taking very different lines, including darting out of the cordoned area, due to the thickness of the bog. I was already feeling ghastly but a section of slight relief was found as we crossed the path to a field where the ground wasn't completely broken up and indeed the sleet had settled a bit. However, the woodland sections were churned up and rooty both sides of the garden centre and I clocked the jump out the end would be interestingly dangerous on the last lap when my legs gave up. I skidded out on to the path and felt vindicated in my choice of shoes as I heard the clacking of spikes around me. The next section was almost certainly meant to be run on the mud next to the path but I took the path and the mid shin deep puddle instead, without compunction. Then it was the long drag back up to the start where most of the crowd was and so there was no stopping for a breather......
And then a 180 degree turn back down the muddy slope of the start, now even more muddy than the first time. In the second lap I lost maybe a dozen places as I rapidly felt my legs fatigue. I lost touch with one of the girls I should keep pace with (though she is having a cracking season bless her). Right at the end of the second lap, women's first and second place lapped me and I was disappointed as this was what i had wanted to avoid. By the third lap I was trundling, definitely lost in my own grumblings and not really giving it welly until someone from club I really can out run caught me and I decided I had enough ego to get a bit of a chivvy on. The course was deteriorating rapidly and I was amazed I never went down, though I was coated in mud and could taste it somehow in my mouth from it being flicked up. I had nothing to give on the final ascent up the hill to the finish and was overtaken by at least three people on this section alone. I knew I hadn't performed well and was a bit disappointed as I crossed the line. But I was also alive.
Having sources a cup of tea from the urns (so glad I carried them up the hill now) and pulled on dry clothes at a rapid rate (though stupidly leaving the wet base layer on), it was time to watch the men's race. The course by now must be horrendous, and as the first few chaps came through they already had mud all the way up their legs. The leader was a Chorlton runner I didn't recognise but he already had a smashing lead and ended up winning by a mile. It was nice chatting to the other girls, even if we were all slowly freezing to death. The sun even made an appearance and you could see the snow on the Pennines in the distance. After the last chap had come in, and the last teas been made it was a scrabble to take down the haphazard gazebo and i carried the urns back to the car. As always I was a mixture of pleased with myself for turning up, and disappointed with my performance. I take pride in not being as bad at XC as my size and road performance might suggest but this was not one of those performances. Lots to work on, though I hope some of it was just fatigue.
The scary thing is that it is national next week, and I am running. I really don't want to come last!
The real heroes in this though were the Scott RC2s I ran in. Apart from the minor slip at the start, they soaked up the mud well, and tackled the tree root sections without the skitteriness if spikes. They also allowed me to crack on on the path sections. After my initial hesitancy with them, they have definitely earned their place in my heart (though I still don't know about wet rock).
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