It was with a little caution that I found myself on the start line of the MCN 10m trail race this morning - I haven't actually run fast for at least a year, hardly run with anyone, and wasn't sure of my level of fitness. Still, it was only 10 miles and could always just treat it as a training run by relaxing and enjoying the run.
Anyway, with one minute to go we jostled on the line; not to get to the front but to avoid being exposed as over-confident. I lost the shuffle war and when the bell sounded the start led the charge to the canal at Talybont.
I made a point of pinging along in a skippy barefoot style; partially to look relaxed and partially to ensure I didn't get over-competitive. One mile in and there were four of us together, with the rest of the race receding behind us - not what I had planned at all. However, I felt comfortable, knew what I was doing and had no expectations other than enjoying myself. Two runners drifted ahead - one I knew was in the marathon and so wasn't in the same race, but his compatriot clearly had ambitions. The race was initially flat, then climbed up Tor y Foel followed by a long cruise down to Talybont - my time would be on the hill as I am strong uphill, and was determined not to push too hard downhill in order to save my ever-complaining hamstrings.
So: foot of the hill, runners stretched out the whole way up the slope, weather looking less pleasant but still dry, and my protagonist (to be known hereafter as Gary Doherty, as it is his name) was lurking in the midst of the ultra runners about a minute ahead. Bit by bit I clawed my way through the field making good use of my leg strength and the hints I recently read in Trail Running magazine. Yes, past Gary, yes keeping running when others were walking, yes, through groups of pole-wielding ultra runners, and up onto the top.
What I hadn't considered was Gary's take on the race - while I fancied myself up the hill he fancied himself going downhill. I was suddenly sobered to hear a thundering behind, and then in front, as he capered past; arms and legs flailing, with sheep scattering in all directions. I was rather lamely picking my way down and watching my hopes of maintaining any contention steadily evaporating.
Through to the first and only checkpoint and we bad farewell to the few ultra runners daft enough to be running at the same pace as us and then dropped down off the hill. The only part of the race that needed carefully signage was clear and easy to navigate, and before long we had hit the path that led the whole way back to Talybont. I thought it would be a flying descent but the path was really rocky and hampered development of any pace. Gary had long gone - his buoyancy at taking the lead coincided with my resignation of the placings, so I picked my way downhill slower than a training run. A slight frisson was created by being overhauled by another runner, but he explained he had dropped out of the marathon; however if he had dropped out of a race and was still running faster than me that couldn't be good.
Never mind, a rather weak run along the towpath and into the grounds of the HQ and I finished in second place. There was the usual welcome from the MCN team that always seems to include more prizes than I feel I deserve, but am still very happy to receive.
So, how did it go? Well, it was nice to be running competitively despite the timid descending and finishing. I wasn't at all tired afterwards which suggests some fitness. The race had the usual MCN hallmarks - careful planning, crap weather, nice post-race atmosphere despite most of the runners still being out on the course. I wish I had entered the marathon as it was clear that I could have run that distance comfortably; mind you the idea was to ease back into competitive running very slowly and I achieved that. I wasn't very envious of the ultra when it was clear the weather wasn't at all good and they had to shorten the race - good call.
Camping at Talybont Farm was excellent as always, and I was back home by 2pm!
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