Trail Running / Shuffling

Last year I decided to mark a birthday that is generally considered a milestone, with a challenge I wouldn’t forget!

It all started when I was scaling the heights of Pen Y Fan, in snowy January. On our way we noticed a number of people passing us with race bibs. We soon found out what the event was, when we were applauded off the mountain along with the race contestants. It happened to be their finish line too and was the annual civilian Fan Dance.

After curtsying and bowing our way across the finish line ;), I caught sight of a branded van that read Brutal Events. Now I don’t know if anyone else has ever read those words and thought SIGN ME UP, but for some reason on that day I did. A quick Google search later and my partner and I were booked on to the Midnight Mountain Marathon Brutal Bergen Race (don’t worry I did tell him before the event took place).

I had only competed in two other trail events at the time, but I had loved every minute of them. I adored running through the surrounding natural beauty, testing myself against the elements, and honing the focus needed to navigate the terrain and stay on the trail. I worried less about timings and thought more about the satisfaction of making it over the finish line.

This somehow led me to brave a trail half-marathon with weight. I turned up on the day with my ever-supportive parents and partner, a pack that weighed in at 12kg and the mind-set that I would

13 Miles + 12 Kilograms = 25 Years of Life

give those 13 miles my best effort, and ultimately make my 25th birthday one to remember. No doubt it was, as never have I before wanted to turn back in a race. I felt so utterly drained in the first couple of miles that I couldn’t think of anything else (not even the dislodged weight in my spine). Just over half way I managed to battle my self-doubt into submission, no thanks to my partner who had taken to having non-breathless conversations with people running past in the un-weighted race. I managed to find my reserve, when another weighted runner appeared on the horizon, two miles from the finish line. I gave chase (shuffled after him) until a hill appeared. At this point a woman with a backpack passed me and I tried to re-pick up the pace but had nothing left. I crossed the finish line as third woman in (I think there were only 4 of us crazy enough to do it), and felt better when I saw that the guy I had been chasing was the first man in and the woman that passed me was second.

While I am in no hurry to do a weighted run again, the exhilaration and sense of awe I feel, for both the landscape and my own body, (after) a trail run means I would recommend it to anyone: so who’s in?

Priteni Horning

Poetry in (very slow) Motion

Come for a run, it’ll be lots of fun. Were the words that my grandson spoke. It’s down by St Chad’s, with other grandads, you’ll all have a laugh and a joke

With little to lose, I just had to choose what to wear on my feet and my top. An old pair of shoes with some mis-matching trews I found at our Charity Shop.

So suitably attired, I was ready and fired to run faster than some two-legged mice. Imagine my dismay, the run was 5K, with a hill I had to climb twice!

With Marshalls galore and a Race Director We ran down the slope past the Pool. Along by the river, one’s legs all a quiver I staggered along like a fool.

Bearing left up the hill, I did try to fill my lungs with much needed air. There was none to be had, so I was extra glad for two Marshalls who cheered as a pair.

Uplifted by cheers and a promise of beers(?), past Hercules so naked and proud. On towards the bridge, with its low-hanging ridge. which if hit, causes swearing aloud.

Round the doc’s Column, wheezing like Gollum, being passed by runners galore. Most on their last lap, deserving a clap whilst we others set off for yet more.

The rest was a blur, other grandads concur it was worth all the effort and strain. So thanks to our Joe, I had dipped my toe into something for which I now train!

Mark Leahy