Strava

Sunday 3 April 2022

Pendle fell race report 2/4/2022

 Pendle fell race 2/4/2022



If I'm honest, I'd really rather not

This weekend saw me take on another fell race for the first time, the Pendle "short race" For some reason I decided this wasn't hard enough and as the race didn't start until 2pm I set off at 08:25 to walk up to my local parkrun at the Chevin as a warm up. The walk up to the start involves a climb of a few hundred feet as does the parkrun itself. I intended to and managed to, bimble around it without tiring myself out but true to form I did manage some stupidity. I kicked a very small tree root and landed solidly on all fours. Luckily my gloves protected my hands so I didn't need to pick gravel out of them for the rest of the day, unlike my knees. I bounced back up and carried on running with the only real damage being a bit of stinging, which was obviously a lot of fun later in the shower.


A brunch of cheesy bacon sandwiches later and a tight squeeze in to my "shrinking" club vest and I headed off to the Barley hall. This is another race on my club's championship and the second on Pendle hill. There are bonus points up for grabs for running all 3 Pendle races and as I was the only one to do the first one, there's only me who can still get the bonus points. Turns out I was the only Fellandaler to do this race too. The last of the 3 races is the notorious Tour of Pendle. It's just shy of 17 miles and 5000ft of climb. I have done it twice and both times were a disaster. The first time my knee went very badly and I had to walk/limp the last 3 miles or so as every time I ran I had stabby pains. Both times the final of the 6 climbs that takes in Big End has been horrific. So you can imagine my joy at seeing that this race is based around Big End. Sheesh.

My genius plan of arriving in Barley an hour before the race and finding a parking spot recently vacated by a parent driving a chid in for the earlier junior race was a very bad one. The juniors hadn't left. I ended up parking right at the top of the hill nearly a mile away. Still, you generally have to park farther away if you're doing a big city road race, it's just us fell runners are a bit spoiled and expect to park quite close.

I had a browse around the Pete Bland van but when I heard my wallet screaming and crying I thought it best to go register instead of buying yet another pair of shoes. In the Barley hall I picked up the world's largest race number and pinned it on my chest/abdomen/thighs/face. The organisers had decided the required kit on the day was at "runner's discretion" Dangerous. I briefly considered a moped as my kit, but instead settled on most of the FRA kit in my bumbag minus map and emergency food. I knew there was no chance of my losing my way and if worst came to the worst I could mug another run for a gel if I really needed it.

In a return to the traditional, this particular race is a £5-only-entry-on-the-day jobby. My fear that this would be a bad idea proved unfounded as in the end there were only 198 finishers on the day. The Stan Bradshaw had been entry in advance and had sold out all 300 places in record time which had given me pause for though, but anyway, I was wrong.


This picture is me on a different day on a different race because I'm still waiting on the the photos that were taken yesterday, what you going to do, sue me?

Unlike my preparation before the Heptonstall race where I had spent 2 weeks being very careful about "the things wot I put in my mouth" this time my preparation had been sketchy and that's not even including the lack of skin on my knees. So I had no idea how I would fare. Still, as long as I finished it was full club champs points for me. Nom, nom, nom. 

The race organiser gave a speech before the race that none of us at the back could hear and I gained a slight snigger from those around me when I commented "Can anyone lip-read?" Then we set off up the hated tarmac section next to the Barley hall and I had edged very far towards the back. As we started climbing the first hill I realised that I had edged so far back that I wasn't far off being last. At least this did mean that I spent the whole race over-taking people again which is something I very much prefer whilst I am fatter and slower compared to previous years. 

You know where you can stick your big end


15 minutes later I was very pleased to see the trig point at the top of the climb appear. But NO! The chaotic evil that devised this route then plummeted us back down a very long and treacherous descent to take us back to the bottom of Big End and away from the trig to attack it from a different and far harder angle.
I call the descent treacherous because it's a heady mix of seemingly all possible terrains and unreasonably steep.  I over-took A LOT of pussy-footers down this section but my smugness was short lived as close to the bottom I managed to trip again. This time I somehow stayed up-right with a swiftly planted hand. Again I was lucky that my hand landed on soft ground and so I once again kept the skin on my palm. I endured the very quick, sharp stabby pain in my lower back that is my reward each time I trip and carried on to the bottom. 

And then up I looked at Big End. Urgh

It should be illegal for contour lines to be that close together

I imagined that Big End would somehow look easier at 2ish miles in to a race rather than the 15ish miles of the full Pendle tour route, but it didn't. This bugger is steep. According to the strava segment it is a 42.2% gradient. During the tour of Pendle this hill has broken me badly both times. A lot of the time it is so steep I have resorted to climbing it on all fours. During the tour I have had to adopt a tactic of  "5 steps rest, 5 steps rest" whilst gasping for breath and dripping sweat like a P&O executive.
I can't say I strode up Big End yesterday feeling great, but I was able to give it some power hiking for a lot of it and continued to over-take a few people. The thought that it was all down hill from the top of Big End kept me going and made it easier. Thank goodness for that "total accumulated climb" on my watch telling me that the climb was nearly over. According to strava it took me 8 minutes 44 seconds to climb Big End. I assure you, it felt like 8 hours 44 minutes.
 A quick "sling-shot" around the trig and it's all down hill back to the Barley hall. By this time I could feel my ham strings tightening and I spent some small amount of time pondering if I should slow down or walk to prevent them going twang. I didn't of course.

After going past a few more people I found myself running alone with a bit left in my legs to push a little faster along the horrible tarmac with the soles of my feet heating up to burning point by the time I went through the finish line. My time was 48.21 which was somewhat faster than the estimate I had given myself before the race. 

I spent some time patting and making a fuss off all the doggies milling around the Barley hall before trudging off back up the hill to my car.

No, I did not win either of these trophies for 123rd place and I didn't steal them either, although I am not sure why not.




Mental health note-

I felt shocking all day. It took a lot to drag myself out of bed and get up to the parkrun and I left quickly afterwards. Same with the fell race. I usually stay and watch the presentations with a cup of tea and a slice of cake from the Barley hall kitchen but I couldn't face it. I spent most of the day just looking forward to when I could settle down on my sofa with the excellent bottle of malbec that was waiting for me. The only positive I can take here is the fact that I am still manging to function and do the things I would normally do while I am feeling awful. That's something I suppose