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Special News Features
Elswick Harrier, Les Williamson, reports on his running of the Coniston 14K Trail Race Sunday 19th September 2005 After 21 races; (I’ve even got the plaque to prove it) I have had enough of the Great North Run media circus; let’s go for something quiet and fun; nice and easy – a 14k trail race on the hills around Coniston in the Lakes; sounds good, what could be better?
Following yellow runner signs, I took a turn past the Black Bull (home of the Brewery and Blue Bird Beer) in Coniston, the car crawled up a 1 in 3 gravel slope before very carefully reversing back into the village and finding the John Ruskin School and the start. I should have guessed. The feeling was of a village fete; lots of kids and daft Labradors frolicking with sticks, a fair few Range Rovers and green wellies, a Lakes Radio live broadcast and a Jazz Band, a really relaxed and friendly atmosphere. The walkers went of first using those poley things; I believe it’s called “Nordic walking”. I had looked at the photocopied course map (which I later found out had not picked up the contours). The instructions put a two hour limit on the course – I can do that, I’m a proper runner. At 11.00 we lined up and plodded off into the village and up that same bloody 1 in 3 slope towards the Youth Hostel, being stalked by a Mountain Rescue Land Rover. What do they know that I don’t? It didn’t take long to find out. The climb was severe, going through 1k in 7m 50s which is a definite PW, not to worry it was to get even slower.. Not only was the slope severe; the surface was extremely uneven, with holes and covered in large stones, tree roots and wide cracks running with water. It’s my first race where the distances were only marked in kms, some directive from a Brussels bureaucrat or Health and Safety?, it’s always Health and Safety. The hill ground on to 4k in 36m and at the top of the climb, someone with a GPS said “12 minute miles”. But how fast was I going in British ? Imagine in the middle of this trying to work out (5/8)*5 in your head, as everyone knows 1km = 0.621371192 miles but my oxygen starved brain wouldn’t function. My brain, now freed of the responsibility of providing me with that information, went back to reminding me how much everything hurt, not that I needed reminding.
Passing the Youth Hostel; the route appeared to flatten out. “Great, let’s get some speed up”, I got going for a couple of kilometres then ran onto a sheep track about 6 inches wide weaving over, under and between giant boulders; undignified scrambling is not my style. The fearless ran upright; I shuffled along almost bent double ignoring the welcoming precipice to the left, seeming like a 100 foot drop into a quarry. Sneaking a brief glance at the fantastic view back down the valley and across the lake (see below), I was more concerned about where my feet were going next. I thought you could do yourself some serious damage up here. Can I see the risk assessment please? Had they heard of corporate manslaughter? Does my insurance cover extreme sports and/or self inflicted injuries?
It was about this point that I suddenly felt very sorry for sheep, having to do this sort of thing for a living. I couldn’t run even if I wanted to, and I didn’t. I thought if I was to die up here how long would it be before someone found me? By this time the field had really strung out, looking around I could see tiny dots of coloured vests marking the route ahead. There didn’t seem to be very many behind me. The same cluster of runners who had plodded along together overtaking and being overtaken then came to a silent agreement, form a crocodile and fight the course, not each other. “Hold hands and no pushing” Eventually a trail of sorts, worthy of the name, reappeared and I did get going. At least flat and even, gravel tracks with the occasional bursts across bogs and through ankle deep puddles, following sticks tied up with striped ribbon….cracked it !!
Then the really hard part, coming down, without humiliating myself by falling over and breaking every bone in my fragile body. The less fearless or more foolhardy released the brakes and literally went for it, whatever “it” is. I was determined to remain in the vertical position at all times. The route sharply descended through an old slate quarry, running down loose screes of slate and trying not to cause an avalanche and wiping out an entire village. I felt like a rat in a rockery, I could have been on the Moon. “BEEP- Hello Coniston, we have a problem – BEEP” Then civilisation; a farm house and “Thank You”; a relatively flat, smooth, dry surface to run on. The run-in was by the lakeshore along a boringly sensible flat path, the flat speed paid off and I finally managed to overtake somebody who looked even worse than I felt, ending with a lap of honour of the school field , to deafening indifference from the watchers, By then, of course the fit-young-lads were off home having their tea. Somebody commented that the winner had said the course was tough, wasn’t that was nice of him to make me feel better? The finishing time of 1h 29m for almost 9 miles does not compare very favourably with a road 10M PB of 1h 18m; but I was outclassed but we don’t have too many fells in Lemington. But it was certainly different, the best £9’s worth of running I can remember and the most fun I’ve had since the impacted wisdom tooth. The weather was extremely kind and forgiving, I’m not sure about coping with heavy rain or mist or worse. Two days later, I now feel as if I have only been kicked by one horse. “Will I do it again?” probably but only after much more race-specific training; up Percy Pit heap with a bag of bricks, like Alf Tupper or by taking sheep lessons. It was worth doing if only to bore people later, who buy me beer to keep quiet. You were either there or you weren’t. It will be the first, last and only time I lead in the club team of Me, Myself and I. But I must admit I really missed the GNR…… The joys of a two hour wait to start; shuffling for fifteen minutes to cross the line; jammed up close and personal with several thousand complete strangers: running twice the distance by weaving around walkers four abreast; being blocked by Sharons and Darrens stopping to talk on mobiles; the obsession with teddy bears, school girls, brides, Superman and bloody ostriches as well as fighting for a drink , others going for their fifteen minutes of fame by waving at every TV camera and yet another other two hour wait for the Metro to get home… all at a bargain £34 (plus another £30) For anyone else who may have lost the will to live – the organisers are planning another event, the Hawkshead 15k Trail Race on Sun 22nd April 2006 (beware; the time limit is 2.5 hours which should tell you something) See www.trailrunning.co.uk for further details. As somebody famous once said “I’ll be back” Les Williamson
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