This past week has seen several members of the club in action. Starting with Bank Holiday Monday, with the Allens both taking part in the local Denby Dash, 5.6 mile (9km) scenic and undulating course on footpaths through fields, woodland, conservation land and the historic Quaker Village at High Flatts with a total ascent of 700ft. Matthew Allen finished in 57:34 and Jolene Allen finished in 64:01.
Saturday was a quiet parkrun (most trying for Oasis tickets?) we did however had 3 runners still out at 9am. Over at Concord Kate Fewkes ran a personal best in 25:09 and her mum Cathy Steel ran a personal best and a new F55 club record in 27:21. Over the hill in Penistone Colin Mansell ran 30:11. Also one of newest members Nick Wright took part in the Sheepdog Trails Fell Race (His report is below)
Sunday we had 4 members in action. First up taking part in the Belvoir Castle Triathlon, this was a middle distance event consisting of a 1900m swim, a 83km bike ride and finishing with a 21K run (half marathon), well done Nicola!
Next up Paul Scott headed over to the east coast to do the Hornsea trial half marathon, a race tainted by issues. Starting 5K, 10K, 10 mile, HM, 20 mile, marathon and ultra all off at the same time on a narrow track was a recipe for disaster, then a logistical issue meant no one received their finishes medal either! Needless to say Paul wasn’t a happy bunny. At time of going to press there is no official results either!
In better news the Hayes family following on from last weekends exploits headed up to Lancaster to do the Riverside 10 miler and Golden Ball 20 mile race. Starting at 11am Molly Hayes made her official 10 mile debut running a personal best in 78:34 which also was a new overall female record by over 9 minutes to finish 12th female overall. In the 20 mile race Richard Hayes finished 2nd V40 in a new personal best and club record time of 2:16.12.
Mollys race report:
The Riverside 10 Miler saw us setting off at a leisurely 8AM after a dreadful (at best) night’s sleep for me. Car ride fuelled by some comforting up-beat tunes, meaning a bit of Blink-182 and Sum 41 to start our day. We reached Lancaster over an hour early to collect our numbers and situate ourselves with adequate time before the race began. On the way there, I’d reviewed the route and noticed a lack of elevation as I discussed my ‘plan of action’ with my dad. Admittedly, I wasn’t looking forward to this race. Typically, as a 5k-10k racer, 10 miles is my long run and to do it at hard pace in a race was a rather daunting task, especially after doing a half marathon only a week before. I expressed my concerns with my mum before shoving them to the back of my head and out my mind, I’d done too much to back out at that point.
We’d lined up early, noting that we were going off gun time rather than chip time so I placed myself at the front of the pack seeing no reason to misplace myself in favour of the others. Normally, busy crowds intimidate me but due to the rapidly-paced set off, I needn’t have time to worry.
We’d set off early, just before 11AM and I was working at 4:30/km pace, allowing myself to be dragged along by the crowd and decided I’d make up for it later.
Around the kilometre mark, my pace had settled to 4:50/km pace and I felt at ease, and struck up a conversation with one of the 20 mile racers which managed to pass the first 3 miles rather quickly. Eventually, he decided to press on and I smartly held back, joining onto a pack of club runners and allowing them to do the hard work to half way, rather than myself.
I ran to the rhythm of my own metronome, my feet just pounding pavement and the sound of my own breathing and at around 6km, I relented and turned my music on. Stereophonic and Pulp taking me to the turn around. This is where the task became daunting.
My pack were racing the twenty-miler; therefore meaning that I was now by myself, no one behind, no one in front. And regardless of the fact that I managed to overtake a few people, none of them stayed with me. This is when it occurred to me what I was actually doing. My mind began to recognise the apparent fatigue in my legs at 10k, and the lack of support I was receiving from any of my fellow competitors (in a sense that I no longer had anyone to work with other than myself). I began to recall the course, connoting where the mile stones were and at what point. At 12km I grabbed a bottle of water and dumped it on myself, feeling very sick as the temperature had raised from shivering to sweating conditions, I sipped it then discarded my bottle. 13km left. This last 3km was what got me. Nothing but straight, unwinding trail and local civilians that evidently had no intention of moving for the racers. 14km.
My pace had lulled only slightly, now running at 5:00/km and I decided not to try to increase the pace, knowing full well I’d just die in the last km. At 15km I realistically needed my dad, I felt the need to cry, be sick, stop: all of it, but I didn’t. I’d come too far now. Two ladies told me I had 600m left, I could do that; only 600m. I could see the cones in the distance, I imagined the relief of stopping, I pushed through the pain and managed to sprint finish to a time of 78 minutes, a time surprising both myself and my parents and I’d come in 3 minutes quicker than expected. The relief I feel when I finish racing is unmatched. I collected my medal, water and t shirt and reflected on the race. Closing my eyes to thank god it was over, however I would do it all again in a heart beat.
Nicks Sheepdog Trails Report:
Having left our valley swamped in a cold, damp, grey fog it was pleasant to arrive at the Longshaw Estate to feel the warmth of the sunshine burning through the morning mist, to give views of the days run, a jolly jaunt out to Higger Tor, Owler Tor then back in time for lunch. On the map a pleasant five mile loop but with the elevation of the Hope Valley and terrain from the last ice age, this could be a greater challenge than I’d anticipated.
As part of the oldest sheep dog trials in the country 200 keen runners sprang from the starting line in one bleating herd, and immediately any thoughts of a gentle jog were left in the barn as the technical aspect of not tripping or falling over the tuffty grass that made up the sheep field brought our attention to the game in hand. To shouts of ‘Come by’ we all squeezed through the first gate and out of the field, across the road and away.
The track very quickly narrowed to single file, a path through stone and bush that soon had me regretting folding the map away, scoffing that maps were only for tourists! We quickly (too quickly!) climbed through the tree line and out onto Burbage Rocks, the first of several beautiful views, although hardly noticed as the placement of feet on rough scree mixed with knee scraping rocks became much more important to focus on.
Having ran more road than trail the constant assessment of where to place your feet, the hope that the earth didn’t move for you, the push off as the chasing pack surged along behind you all made for an exciting, if exhausting first mile, and still, with Higger Tor to overcome.
Dropping down over the Sheffield Country Walk should have been more fun than it was as the number of curled up runners in the heather nursing tender ankles took some of that joy away, reminding me that it would only take a simple miss step for the morning to go in a very different direction, map or no map.
Once bottomed out at the Burbage Brook it was time to climb again, up and over the Carl Wark Fort and then onto Higger Tor itself (434 metres). Some of the younger, nimbler runners made the most of this and sprung lightly up / over the rocks and cracks, however some of the older, not so nimble decided now would be a good time to stand and appreciate the views, after all, what’s the point of pouring the coffee if you don’t stop to savour the full flavour.
Over the top the run down again was beautiful, a refreshing cool breeze, soft spongey turf (mind those boulders!) to put a spring in your stride and the views of the Hope Valley opening up before us , pockets of stubborn mist holding onto the shadows, and lush greenery stretching to Castleton and all points west. One Pennine Fell Runner fumbled for his camera to take in the Countryfile views only to shove it back into his pack as the other runners caught up and the race was on again.
Once around Over Owler Tor the pace slipped again as even the young’uns were now taking the climb at a much more sedate pace. Coming down from Mother Cap took on the feel of an avalanche; the giddiness of having a path wider than your foot, young, bendy saplings unable to offer support or stability, the sudden breath taking jolt of confidently placing your feet on a large flat boulder only to focus on a two foot drop to the grass immediately below, unable to stop to assess as momentum was enthusiastically shoving you in the small of your back and over you go!
Safely at the bottom and into the scrub we were nearly on the home stretch. Marshalls kindly held the traffic on the A6187 as we headed off across country to Granby Wood, tall ferns and thick vegetation hid all from view until we burst out amongst the bemused tourists queuing patiently for their ice creams.
One final climb away from the road, the finish line beckoned, but by now too much energy had been spent and that tricky, technical tussock filled field of sheep claimed more than one runner as feet were too heavy to lift over the treacherous tussocks, and where else would you fall than on the home stretch in front of an audience of none too impressed sheep farmers.
It had been a mad, fun filled dash around some of our beautiful countryside, technical and challenging but well managed and marshalled by the Dark Peak Fell Runners. The price of the ticket in 2024 was a bargain £6.00 which included the cost of entry to the sheep trial itself, if sheep are your thing. The start and finish are adjacent to the Nation Trust property on the Longshaw Estate which made it easy to find, also providing a grateful opportunity to sit and drink coffee in the sunshine at their café & courtyard.
