Race Report: LDWA Two Crosses Challenge Event (short route)

 If race day preparation carried points, I would have been in minus numbers before the start for this one! A week of skiing, a flight home that got delayed six hours, a subsequent 2am bed time and then 6am wake up after a stress-sleep night all conspired to mean that it was a two cup of tea morning. Then there was no milk. 

Fortunately for me, the LDWA West Lancs branch believe tea and toast should be served prior to the event starting. And the three other Chorlton Runners at the event didn't seem to mind my inability to string sentences together and my managing to get crumbs on the floor of the community centre (and mud, to my guilty shame).This was one of the last events I did prior to lock down, in conditions that were wet and muddy even for March. Returning  felt sort of cyclical but 2022's event dawned beautiful and clear, with daffodils lining the hedgerows. The world had changed so much since that day and despite my tired brain I was reflective as we stood in the cool morning sunshine. 

Photo courtesy of Francis

The race starts on a short section of old railway line now cycle path, in the village of Greenmount. I found myself surprisingly near the front in this section, as it seems there were more walkers than runners this year, and none of the mad rush I remember from 2 years ago. It was a nice flat, easy warm up and my legs felt okay, at least initially, from their week of skiing. The light was filtering through the trees in that magic early morning way and people were dog walking and chatting.

Several people missed the first turning but there was some debate about quite which turning it was anyway; we all ended up going the right way after the village of Tottington. At this stage, I must confess, I wasn't really navigating but following the crowd. We trotted past ponies, and farm and over surprisingly firm farm fields (though pitted with hoof marks). The horrendous paths from 2 years ago, with barbed wire on each side for each time you slipped, were no too bad. I was slowly trotting and being steadily over taken but happy to just go at my own rate. I was warm so ended up taking off my outer long sleeve. 

Hitting the Roman Road to Affetside, still very early in the race, my legs started to feel tight and tired; there was no push to give on the tarmac. I just plodded along, appreciating the daffodils in the headgerow and the long views across the Pennines when the appeared. At the hamlet of Affetside, the first cross sits in a pretty little gardens. It isn't in fact a cross, so much as a pillar, and I decided I wanted to go see it, even though the route cuts the corner. I seemed to bcross,e the only one but I'll be damned if I am running all the way up there not to have a look. The cross is a Georgian replica of a Medieval and marks what was then the older route of Watling Street.

Cross number 1: Affetside 

There is now a nice long down hill that previously was a muddy mess but this time was enjoyable. My very short detour had meant Francis had caught me up (he runs faster than me anyway) and we chatted a bit as we started the grassy descent. Francis is a bit of a long distance guru and had run the Haworth Hobble the week before which is rather impressive in my opinion! However, ski legs were still catching up with me, and descending didn't feel all that comfortable, so Francis gradually drifted off as we joined a farm track and were met by a guard of honor of a few chaps having a wee. I also realised I needed to answer nature's call but it wasn't going to be as easy for me! 

Fortunately we were soon running around the track that leads to Jumbles reservoir, and I knew there were loos there. This was a good wide track, a bit bobbly in places, that then headed up a short flight of stairs to the car park. The car park was busy but mercifully the loos were not. I waved goodbye to Francis and dashed in and out as fast as possible. The track around Jumbles undulates a bit but is pretty easy running. There were a lot of dog walkers and a few joggers, most of whom were friendly. Last race no one else had been here due to miserable weather but nice weather and post pandemic, we are a nation of Sunday strollers; it was nice to see. 

At the top of the reservoir we popped over the bridge and up short steep path towards Turton. A few people nearly missed it and I decided it was time to keep an eye on where I was going. Fortunately, I knew this bit. Up and over the mound, then a short section on the road and we arrived at CP1 at Turton tower. A jolly old boy asked if we had all taken the same bus to a group of us who arrived at a similar time. I love LDWA. I grabbed a chocolate and started to jog up the drive to Turton tower then up on to the Witton Weavers way. I chatted to two women who were training for an Ultra and who I would meet again a few times  along the race. This track is a well made and used by cyclists and walkers and runners. However, it does undulate a bit and I decided to try not to get stressed by time and walk jogged, as did a few people around me, leading to this wave of back and fourth over taking. I knew I should be running more of this, early in the race, as its good underfoot and not steep, but I also knew my body was tired and I needed to keep my mind under control being very tired; a trip to the pity party would be very hard to shake today. 

I hit the CP where the routes diverged and was buoyed as I knew the sandwiches were just down the hill. I bobbled down the path towards the car park not seeing anyone ahead (all on the long route I guess?), and navigationally I was slightly doubting myself at the bottom as it narrowed to the bottom, and then it had a bit of a funny camber and I sort of half remembered it. Landing in the car park with the checkpoint and food point, I was pleased I had caught up a few people but also had a weird sense of deja vu from the Anglezarke Amble a few weeks ago. Despite the amazing array of food (possibly why I had caught a few people) I was good with my checkpoint discipline, getting my water bottle filled quickly, and grabbing an eccles cake (or are they chorley cakes?) and disappearing despite the desire to sit and chat to the lovely checkpoint volunteers (one of the best bits of the LDWA events). 

Having pointed out the steps to a few chaps ahead of me, I trotted along the road damn of Entwistle reservoir eating my eccles cake (surprisingly, they are quite good for running and eating) and up towards the Strawberry duck pub. The light on the reservoir was stunning. 

Entwistle reservoir in the sunshine

Around the bend by the pub and off to the left, there was a path down some steps to some woods. The steps with my tight legs were less than fun, and I had no real memory of this section, but it was pretty and without checking the route card or my map, I pottered through over the bridges and through the spring woodland. I bumped in to a few people and then promptly realised I had missed the path to the left that took me up the hill and was instead heading towards the Wayoh reservoir (hence more people appearing). I wasn't far off course but I had just gone on to autopilot. I trotted back (passing the people I had just run past) and then headed up the hill footpath that is a bit more narrow but not exactly hard to find. Numpty. 

Streams in the spring time woodland looking magic

At the top of this hill, I found the two ladies I had chatted to earlier and we headed up to the next checkpoint together. The tarmac was now making my feet very sore and I had something in my shoe but it was nice to have company so I tried to keep going up the road then the drive way that leads to the checkpoint in the garage that we all remembered from previous years. Usually this checkpoint is  desirable as the volunteers get more sheltered than the others but today it was the cold one in the shade and I adjusted my socks and shoes, removing a stone whilst my companions ran on. This was the point I had been over taken by the fast long route runners last time but this time there was no sign so maybe I was going a bit faster than before? I jogged walked over the tussocky ground that is usually farm land and was overtaken by another short route lady who I couldn't keep up with. At least this year the path was firm and not the cow poo mess I remembered from last year. At the road I enjoyed the short down hill to Crowthorn, catching up a chap who had gone along an old route and had to turn round. We had a good chat as we started the assent of Bull Hill.

My companion and I fortunately managed to spot the flagged footpath that was the new footpath diversion as we hit the moor proper. Flagging is a rare luxury but definitely helped through this section. I only had to climb up one peat shelf but it reminded me how precious out peat bogs are, and how much carbon they store, and how at risk they are. There had been 20 moor fires in the north west already that weekend and it as mostly very dry and runnable under foot. Previously I have definitely waded on this section but only the deepest sections were still wet, and even then, crossable. As we hit Bull hill and handrailed round the shoulder, my companion pulled away as my legs were getting tired but also I was starting to struggle with the bright light and my tired brain. I followed some advice I had heard on a podcast about aiming for a neutral head space, rather than try to get back to happy. The first long route runner past me, and I thought that wasn't bad (the next one wouldn't pass until the descent after Holcombe tower). At the 'naughty corner' check point, they were in fine spiritis but I turned down the tot of whiskey for a jelly baby and had a walk up towards the next cross. 

The second cross: Pilgrim's cross on Holcombe moor

The path across the moor was very runnable given the date. It was also notable that a fair few people were out and about. I struggled on the section to keep moving forward, with tight legs but also just tired brain. Its a easy route with a few ups and downs but I just had to make myself keep moving. I had less than five miles to go and good see  the tower so just kept moving across the moor. A walker told me not far now, and obviously knew the event was on. By the time I hit the tower, it felt very busy which gave me a reason to keep running. 

Peel tower

The descent off the moor should have been a delight, along the main track down to the road. I dodged a few groups coming down but my legs were just not playing ball and it was a slow shuffle rather than a good run. People must have thought me a bit crazy with my slow shuffle and pained face. I reached the checkpoint and got my bottle refilled for the last time. They asked how I was and I said 'struggling' and explained why. As ever, jolly faces cheered me on and I started up the bridleway that really marks the last few sections of the race. Shortly, two men in walking gear jogged towards me asking if there was a checkpoint back there, and it turned out they had come down the hill a different way (a harder way in my opinion). They never re over took me which is a bit of a relief. 

I made the left hand turn off the bridle way and enjoyed the jog down the field before encountering the steps of Redisher Nature reserve. These were torture and steep and led to a bit of woodland that was bit of a wiggly route I am not entirely sure I got right, but I ended up on the right path out and on to the road. I was sort of running by memory but kept checking my map repeatedly. I got a bit confused when we had to urn down someone's driveway to a footpath at the back but ended up on the right bit of MOD land. At this point, the first people of the day asked me if there was an event on and I told them what it was. Running and shuffling over field gave way to a paved road, then a crossing and I knew I was on the home straight but couldn't remember how long that was. Then there was the golf course and I knew I was nearly there: over hole 18, up the slope, through the cul de sac, past the church, right then left and I was back at the community centre. 

I felt shocking and stumbled around a bit. I had caught up with the two ladies I had met earlier. It took me a while to work out how to remove my shoes, then to organise myself some tea and soup. I was pleased but impossibly tired, not just physically but mostly lack of sleep. I was pleased with myself for having made the race but performance wise it was hardly a golden race. I had missed my A goal, and B goal but was within my 'acceptable' C goal by 10 minutes so I suppose that is something. I had enjoyed the sunshine though, and am now so ready for spring and summer racing! 

Race Report: ECCA Nationals at Parliament Hill

 Things I never thought I would do 191: a national cross country event. But on a glorious spring day in February 2022 I found myself standing at the bottom of Parliament hill, one of over 1000 women signed up to run the 'National' cross country. It was the third Saturday in a row of 'questioning my life choices' having done Heaton XC the week before in atrocious conditions, and then Anglezarke Amble the week before that. My legs were still pretty wrecked despite a week of barely training but work had been fairly all consuming and keeping my head above the tide was enough energy. So I jumped on a train to London to see my sister who kindly agreed to put me up for the night despite being on crutches herself (another source of stress). I had entered very close to the deadline, mostly as an excuse to see Lucy and we had spent the morning at London fields and the nearby cafes ( I was impressed how far she was getting around with only one working leg). 

On arriving in the vicinity of the event the local roads were bedlam but I think that was just because everywhere was double parked mostly with residents, this being posh Hampstead region. It was simply a case of follow the runners to the main area where clubs had set their tents up. Some what unreassuringly, the ground up to the tents was already churned up and soft. The majority of the club had come down together on the coach so I already felt a bit of an outsider. Soon it was time for layers off and Ann and I ran down to the start. I immediately felt breathless. Warming up, I felt I wasn't getting going and the breathless feeling just stayed and stayed. I ignored it and hoped it would pass. Standing on the start line I felt very old as much younger slimmer women in tiny shorts filled in the large pen in front of the lido at the bottom of the iconic hill. Everyone was very anxious and excited to judge the atmosphere. 

And then the gun went and we were all heading up the hill. Initially it was so quiet and we all surged forward, some fast and others more like me at the back. The ground was soft but at this point there was still some grass on it but it didn't last long. Soon we hit the wall of noise as we passed through the supporter tents on each side of the course. I was struggling on this first hill, my heart rate and breathing feeling completely uncomfortable and soon Ann had passed me on the very muddy section. I really should be able to beat Ann on the muddy hilly terrain but I was slipping rapidly down through the pack and the deep mud seemed to such me in. There was chaos as we headed over a muddy puddle with tree routes in it, and a fair bit of squealing. and then it was up and across more muddy sections. 

I must confess, I hadn't really understood the route. I am terrible for this in cross country as I know I never have to worry about it, just following the people in front. I knew we had a medium route and a long route but I wasn't entirely sure in which order, and had no idea what that actually meant. It would be about 5 miles and that was good enough for me. But in that race I felt I was barely walking at times the mud was so deep. My hamstrings were tight too, and so I was shuffling. Then Sue came past me and I was properly miserable. 

There were some lovely views over London  but I didn't really have time to enjoy them and as we came round the corner and I realised we were about to start the second lap and only about 2 miles in I twiggd that was the shorter lap. I took a little walk up the steep section of the hill between the tents and felt like a complete failure. On the horrible muddy descent on the otherside my hamstring went in to cramp and I was acutely aware that one slip with a cramped muscle and I was sitting on the injury bench for a while.... The fastest girls were doing a loop on the inside of the course, the opposite way to us and I figured we must do a lap with a loopy middle as the long lap, and I prayed for better ground. Of to the side of the course, a girl was being tended by a very worried lookin marshal. 

It was a while before my prayers were answered but actually as the cramp when, my right hamstring and left anterior shin started to loosen and I was able to get going again. I felt a bit less breathless too and suddenly I was starting to catch up a few people rather than just get constantly over taken (women twice my age but I try to ignore this). And then we hit what i think must have been the top of the heath and suddenly we were on some better ground and I could kick a bit. We dodged through a lovely tree bit which i imagine is near the top of the heath but in reality have no idea. Lots of locals were very confused about why all these crazy women were running in their dog walking park. In amongst the tree, another woman was sitting off the course awaiting first aid attention. This section felt more like enjoyable running though it was pretty brief. 

Back on the slick grass, and now on the reverse section I had seen the faster girls on earlier, I saw the worried marshal had been joined by an ambulance which did not bode well. That section had been particularly unpleasant, mid shin deep in mud and awkwardly cambered. Even the reverse was slick, and I tried grimly to push over the undulating and slippy ground. I sensed we must be getting close and looked at my watch to see it tick over to 4 miles. Around the course support had been potted, but the chaps from Chorlton had come out to wave and cheer at various points. There were also cameras so I tried to keep looking like a runner. The photos later mostly show a hippo in shorts wallowing patheticlly in the mud. 

As I rounded a corner near the end, I just heard my sister call out 'Go Hannah' and caught a glimpse of her and her partner Henry cheering from the footpath she had managed to hobble up to. I kicked down hill to the end and the long slippy muddy finishing straight. 

I saw Sue had finished a good minute or two ahead of me, and was politely waiting for me. I handed in my ankle chip and put on a brave face for a very bad performance. I felt shit about myself: overweight, kidding myself I am training, and just too greedy for my own good. But you can't say that can you? So I nodded that it was a tough course and tried not to cry. It was a nice diversion to catch sight if a friend from medical school I hadn't seen in a few years and have an excuse to duck the rest of the girls celebrating their success. Then I chucked on a jacket and made my excuses about going to find my sister and her crutches. 

I was so grateful to Lucy and Henry for coming out to watch that I tried to be positive for them too. And we went on to have a lovely rest of the afternoon, away from the cross country. But it wasn't really how I wanted to end my cross country season, or start my fell racing season. Another disappointing performance. Looking at my training diary, erratic doesn't even cover it, and a lot of my fast sessions simply haven't been fast (or with enough effort) enough. I am lying to myself about my level of training but also about my eating which has been a disaster. Lots to reflect on, and hopefully improve. 

Would I recommend the event though? Absolutely! There are people a lot slower than me running and its a fantastic experience to run with that many people on the start, including Olympians. I recommend being brave enough to try it, and suspect I will end up doing it again next year when it is hosted Midlands or Northerns, and definitely when it comes back to London. I also want to visit Hampstead Heath for a nice summer walk too....with less mud