Race review: Rombald's Stride 7/2/15

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Looking down Ilkley Moor

People may have been forgiven for thinking that I had, for once, given up my lackadaisical, slap-dash attitude to races when I lined up for the LDWA "Winter Challenge event", "Rombald's Stride" at the glamorous location behind the Argos at Guiseley, but you'd be wrong. There I stood dressed in the appropriate kit,  with a proper race-pack-style vest on, More Mile fell shoes, carrying full waterproofs (even though the event specifies kit "suggestions", rather than "requirements" as a full FRA race would have) and, crucially, for once I had actually carried out a full reconnaissance of the route. But not a decent recce whereby I knew the route intimately; each turn, each line off each moor, where the stiles were, where the gaps in the walls were.

No.

On the day of the recce I forgot my map and ended up just following Simon as he knows the route well, whilst taking very little notice of where I was actually going.
And despite that fact that we sauntered around, taking photos, admiring views, eating sandwiches and generally lolly-gagging about, the final climb up the Chevin killed me and I was badly cramping as I shuffled back in to Guiseley. Not totally ideal.

The full route of Rombald's Stride is thus:

I'm going to be polite and pretend that the route looks more like a pointy finger than something else.....

Out from Guiseley, the route goes through Escholt wood, passes near Baildon and up the moor. Then it's a long run through to the far side of Ilkley moor via Rombald's moor for the trek over to Menston and the final killer climb up the Chevin. And even then, you still have to drop back down in to Guiseley for the finish. All told, 22 miles and around 2 and a half thousand feet of climb.

I nervously parked in the Westfield retail park in Guiseley and hour before the race. I say nervously, because one never knows when an over-zealous car park attendant might clamp you and although we couldn't see any parking restrictions on the signs, I doubted I would have the strength after to tear a wheel clamp off my car after the race.

The "event" staging area is in a primary school and was the usual, charming and quintessentially English affair of an LDWA walk with sweet old ladies cooking, making tea and handing out your tally card. (And of course, sinewy old men and young and glamorous ones too. It takes a lot of volunteers to run something like this!)

The finished tally card with all its clip marks

The usual pre-race milling about was done, saying hello to familiar faces and generally making light of what we were about to do. Then there was an announcement- the police weren't able to turn up to see us across the road (No, I'm serious) so there would be a new start point at the aforementioned "beauty spot" behind argos. As we wandered down there I laughed that several people had mentioned that I would be "racing" this event. "Hardly" I replied, "I'm carrying a bloody tea-cup!"

Just one time I would like to report that there was much "to do" at the start of an event like this, but of course, this wasn't the day and we were set off after a short speech that as per usual, most of us didn't hear a word of. Fellandalers, Adrian, Simon, Martin and Naomi also toed the line.

I'm in there somewhere

Off we went out the back of the industrial estate and very soon we were in to the woods. Not even a mile in to the race and Simon tripped and left a gash in his knee which looked like a proper war-wound by the end of the race with blood running all down his shin.

There were no real race tactics from me. I just needed to get round in one piece and I decided to run at my comfortable pace which saw me gradually over taking the back half of the field.

Nothing of real note occurred during the first half of the race if I am totally honest. We plodded across to Baildon Moor and up to the trig point and made our way slowly across to Rombald's Moor and it was there that I began to enjoy myself. I was moving well and feeling good. The path was covered in snow and was pretty boggy but I started to pick off the runners in front. At the far end we dropped down to Ilkley Moor and made our way back towards Menston and the final climb up the Chevin. Suddenly, with little warning, I was starting to flag and there was still a long way to go. I swapped places on many occasions with the runners around me. By the time we started to climb up to rocky valley I had slowed badly and was being over taken. My ego meant that I had to actually run up the slope where Debi had cruelly positioned herself to take photos as I didn't want to be snapped walking. Of course I began walking as soon as I was past her, as did most of the other runners!

Does my smile look forced in this?

In the photo above you can see the ice on the ground which made some parts of the race a little tougher and by this point I was really beginning to have had enough.
I started chatting to another runner who, it turned out, travelled from Cheshire for the event each year and it was organised by half his family. Sadly, the trauma of the day has robbed my memory of his name. As we dropped down in to Menston I told him good luck but that I would have to let him go on ahead as I was flagging badly. He had gathered from my dithering earlier that I was more than a little sketchy on the route, so he was having none of my lagging behind and insisted that I run with him through Menston so I didn't get lost. And I am eternally grateful because without it, I would probably have taken another 20 minutes to finish the race, even IF I didn't get lost in Menston, which I probably would have.

Carl, another Fellandaler had positioned himself on the far-side of Menston with life-giving goodies. I swigged downed a couple of cups of juice, sucked on some orange segments and Carl told me off for walking and to get running. So I ran until I was out of his sight and started walking again.

At this point there was probably still 3-4 miles to go including the climb up the Chevin and I was absolutely spent. I seem to remember trying to keep moving along a thin path before entering an especially muddy field. I had to walk, running through the mud was far too hard in the condition I was in.
I finally made it to the West Chevin Road with the Chevin scowling down at me from above. Walking along the road was painful, as was running slowly, so I decided to ignore the feelings of exhaustion and put in a relatively quick trot along the road which nearly fooled Simon behind me in to thinking I was still in good shape.

Simon caught me at the bottom of the Chevin climb. By this time I was trudging in a haze of pain and he disappeared ahead after giving me a protein bar to eat and telling me I could still buck up before the end (I didn't). A couple of minutes later Adrian passed me and he was moving well. So much so in fact, that he was actually running up the very steep Chevin path. By all reports, I had been a long way in front of them both earlier in the race, but I had slowed so dramatically over the last few miles that they had been able to catch me with ease.

I had it in my head that the route went up the flag stones that form part of the Chevin fell race on boxing day and I had misinformed poor Debi who ended up wandering aimlessly trying to find runners to photograph.

The final check point was at the old quarry and I had long decided that I would stop there and have a cup of tea. At that point I could have been handed a cup of hot swamp mud and it would have tasted like nectar of the Gods, but as it was, I gratefully supped at the tea before realising I had been standing around for far too long and that as I was using my own tea cup, I could actually be walking.
The run back down in to Guiseley involved lots more pain which was not improved when I hit the hard, steep road down to the finish. Eventually I found my way in to the school and received my finishing certificate.

After the race I began to feel truly terrible. I couldn't force any food down and could only just manage to drink. Later, I developed some serious stomach issues that I won't gross you out with here. I thought the most likely culprit was the protein bar that Simon had given me or the electrolyte drink from Adrian. As it turned out, I must have been brewing something as my girlfriend got ill a couple of days later. As unpleasant as it was for her, I was a little relieved as it meant that I didn't have to try to work out what had upset my stomach.

Anyways. enough of that. Adrian caught Simon on the run in to Guiseley and Martin and Naomi finished safely. My time was a respectable 3 hours 38 (Exactly an hour behind the winner!!) and it placed me in 70th position of 467 finishers.

In case you were wondering, this is what a pair of dead More Mile fell shoes look after a 22 mile off-road race

And it doesn't do much for your socks either:

Holes in both mean they have been given a solemn burial.