What was unexpected, or I should say poorly remembered from my own childhood, was the level of self-doubt that was being expressed. ‘I can’t do it’ - ‘I’m going to vomit’ – ‘This is a terrible idea’ and ‘Everyone is way faster than me.’ As I gave them the starting orders, I admit that I envied my PE colleagues for the spell bond attentiveness that I momentarily caught them in. It was with callous satisfaction therefore that I dismissed desperate plea after plea, with each wave after wave of children who I mercilessly ‘Ready, Steady Goed’ through the start line. And with each protest, I began to hear echoes of the same self-doubt that I had heard just the previous weekend with a group of adults in a very similar situation…
The Cotswold Relay, in this, its 22nd
year, saw a record ninety teams of runners wiggle their way down the 100mile
off-road route of the Cotswold Way from Chipping Sodbury to Bath Abbey. It’s
not a traditional baton exchanging relay, as each stage has a predetermined
start time - regardless of whether your runner has come in yet –with a mass
start at the next chocolate box village every hour or so. This format allows
runners to follow the race once they have completed their own leg. Inevitably spectators
snowball in number in proportion to the pant wetting levels of anticipation
experienced by the later runners who they voyeuristically turn up ‘to support.’
 |
| MId-week recce with Paul |
A ‘recce’ run is de rigueur on a
weeknight preceding the race. With another club mate Paul Griffiths, I scoped
out a 12 mile leg that took in the infamous Cooper’s hill of cheese rolling
fame, near Gloucester. Questions were
asked and eyebrows were raised about whether such a gradient was even runnable.
Later the same evening, whilst rehydrating with a packet of crisps and a
pickled egg, I could see these hills begin to reach mountainous proportions in
my club mate’s mind and the sweeping curves morphing into vertiginous drops. Indeed
the inner dialogue of self-doubt had begun.
The morning of the race we travelled
in a bigger group in a Team Bath car and the excuses and the self-criticism
really began. ‘My shirt is too floppy,’ ‘my leg is too hilly,’ ‘my body is too
old,’ ‘my feet are too clumbsy.’ And yet all members of this chorus came in the
top ten of ninety odd competitors over their leg. More on this in a minute.
The Cooper’s Hill leg is the
fourth one. It’s everything you can ask
from a perfect trail run. Great views, good steep climbs, rutted rock strewn
descents, fast open common, banked trails through woodland. At 12 miles in
length it was enough time to get into the race and the pace was never going to
be gut wrenching. I set off with the front pack which whittled down to a
stretched out three in the first few miles with me at the back. I needed to
keep visual contact as we had not had time to recce all of the route and I
would lose time following the Cotswold Way signs otherwise. It quickly
transpired that the others knew as little as I however and their double backing
helped me keep contact a couple of times. I don’t like to run close behind
others on trails and I would ideally keep a good 5 or 10 metres back so that I
can see clear ground infront and plan my footfalls. This lasted for the grand
total of the 45 seconds that I led the race where I enjoyed clear footpaths as
we whistled down through woodland, weaving our way between meaty branches of
Oak. I was quickly put in my place by Garry Hughes of Stroud AC, who seemed to have recced the second
half and from mile 7 we didn’t seem him until the end.
Cooper’s Hill was always going to
be that climb at the end of a run that you are measuring your efforts against
and saving energy for and being a bit afraid of. The air temperature was rising
outside of the woods but the soil was soft underfoot and we plunged regularly
through cool air pockets and brushed against low hanging Beech leaves. I had Anthony Glover from Westbury Harriers in my sights in second place as we started up
the path that contours – thank heaven – around the cheese rolling hill. On the
recce I had run it at a manageable pace but as Anthony started walking, I walked it too. There is
a bit to save here for another post (and lots of others have already expressed
it well) that walking is a good tactical move in a race as you conserve energy
and, here I think, I went faster for it.
So I reeled in Anthony a
bit.
And then the end was coming and
it was taps open. I managed to squeak past my man on a rocky narrow patch. Anthony looks like a really strong runner and he
probably should have finished ahead of me if I hadn’t caught up when he stopped
frequently to find the route. I tried to
run strongly up the next rise to put some distance between us…and to feel less
bad if I did finish infront
The familiar closed in now from
our Wednesday recce but I tried not to concentrate on it being over. Maybe in a
road race when you are running for a time. But in the woods, on a dry sunny
summer’s day in the middle of the Cotswolds it has got to be fun, at least a
bit, or it’s not worth doing.
Garry Hughes was relaxing at the finish line with his first
place bubbly in hand and looking very relaxed compared to the runners of leg 5
who had been ‘ready steady goed’ just minutes before. The day expanded from
here into a glorious afternoon of clapping and cheering and manic driving between
the remaining 6 stages to see all the remaining 600 runners off. At stage 7
Luke Sturgess-Durden handed me the starting horn after issuing his race
briefing and then took his place with the rest of the runners. As I counted
them down and then sent them off on a mid-afternoon arc around Dursley to Wooton under Edge, I even got to wear
the starters’ sombrero: one of the entirely appropriate eccentric touches that
Luke has added to his brilliantly restyled and idiosyncratic race over the last
three years. And of course, 50 minutes later, with a grand total of two hours
sleep the previous night (2hours more than the previous year he reassured me
afterwards) Luke was the first runner home. |
| The one and only Luke Sturgess-Durden |
Team Bath had 4 podium places by
the end of leg seven. Other great runs were had by Dan Jones 1st place on leg 2 and James
Donald - 3rd on leg 5. But as the afternoon drew on, it slipped away
a little bit and when we reached Bath Abbey we finished in 3rd of
the ninety teams.
Prize giving for the Cotswold Way
was at Bath Rugby club. Anxiety was completely absent and had long since
dissipated amongst the leaf mulch of the Cotswolds. Pints were raised and
runners from Birmingham to Bristol fell into leisurely conversation. Plans were
hatched to run again next year and to see a different part of the Cotswolds
over a different leg. The most prestigious prizes of the evening were the King
and Queen of the Cotswolds: runners who have run the entire length in nothing
short of ten years. It’s a good effort that, but then there’s always the
Cotswold Century where you run the entire 103mile length in a oner!
There had been nobody really out
there watching us, unlike at Sports Day. But there were undeniably a lot of
nervous people lacing up their trail shoes throughout the day. This nervousness
was aired in many of the shared cars en route to the start line no doubt.
Telling others how little faith you have in yourself does seem like a good
self-effacing, group therapy strategy for managing nerves. And if it is entered
into lightly, it can be reassuring to know that other people are anxious too.
Perhaps this nervous energy, if properly addressed, can even be productive if
repackaged at the start line into something more broad minded and rational
about the difficulties that lie ahead. Whatever race you enter however, it
seems like it’s always going to be there no matter how experienced a runner you
are. So remember those feelings in the pub, toasting your success and the pleasure
you derived afterwards from giving it your best. Package them up, and fold them
away neatly with your Cotswold Way t-shirt, to be unpacked deliberately the next time the
doubt cloud starts to roll in.
