There's always something nerve wracking joining the start line for an event. No matter how long you've been running, how many you've done, or what your targets on that day are.
Last Sunday, preparing myself on the start line for this particular event, I had so many causes to be nervous.
I almost didn't attempt to start it. A dodgy hip following London turned into a full blown injury a couple of weeks ago, and until that started to subside earlier this week, I was going to do the sensible thing and give Clowne a miss. But being a runner, we often don't make the sensible decisions and the thought of being sat in the pub afterwards with all my friends sporting their new hoodies (a momento Clowne is well known in the area for) was too much to bear. So, after a test run with some parkrun tourism on the previous morning seeming bearable, I decided I was going to tackle it.
Last year, Clowne was the final event to round off my best ever running year. This year, it's the final event to round off what's been a fairly mediocre year for running amist a hectic yet fantastic year for everything non-running related. For so many reasons, running has had to take a back seat, and for the same reasons, I've been absolutely fine with that.
However, that doesn't make it much easier when you're stood waiting to kick off a race which you know is going to take you a good chuck longer than it has previously! Fortunately, when I suggested to some friends that we should "just twat about and have a good time together" they all agreed. So the klaxon sounded and off we went, heading into the countryside of the Notts/Derby/Sheffield border determined to take the next few hours in our stride in the best way we know...together, having a laugh!
The first couple of miles were fairly uneventful as we fell into a rhythm and got our heads into gear for the challenge ahead. Uneventful was good though, because it meant I wasn't getting any trouble from the dodgy hip! By the 5km mark our initial group had dwindled with people finding their own pace, but me and my friend Rachel stuck together and set about putting the world to rights and catching up having not seen much of each other recently.
Running has a unique way of providing you with time to give your complete attention to what you're doing, in a way we don't often spend experience. Generally when I'm running I don't check my phone, I'm not looking at housework that I should be doing and I'm not trying to do too many things at the same time - all things I'm generally quite guilty of doing.
The last few weeks have been 100mph 100% of the time. So a run through the countryside with friends was exactly what I needed, and the miles ticked themselves off nicely as we made our way through the undulations, thanking the many fabulous volunteers as we went.
By around mile eight, my body was struggling and I had my first little walking break. The hills were taking their toll and my feet were really aching. When I started running again my pace slowed considerably and it started to become a battle of wills to keep going.
The light hearted chat which had filled the miles previously became a lot of me moaning and complaining, and the walking breaks became more frequent through what seemed like never ending hills.
It was around mile 10 when Des caught us up and, with my constantly slowing pace, it wasn't long before he'd disappeared off in the distance. I wish I'd had the energy to attempt to keep up, but I was really scaping it together so it wasn't to be.
As we passed the 11 mile marker, now in a group of three as our friend Dawn had caught up and joined us, it was time to knuckle down and get it done. I remembered from last year that this mile was a bit of a boring drag down a country lane with a hairpin switchback. It definitely dragged again this year, but was much more enjoyable with friends who shared in the struggle somewhat! The moaning continued, mainly from me, but despite that I still felt in relatively high spirits having a lovely horrible time with my friends!
Before too long we crossed the 12 mile marker. Dawn had a time she wanted to achieve and we knew it was in reach but would need some effort, so it was time to dig out whatever we had left in us and get the job done. However, at this point we spotted some people who'd already finished walking back the other way, sporting this year's hoody. The thing I'd spent the entire race thinking about to motivate me through was a bloody minty lime green specimen! I was fuming when I saw it! Had I known before what I was running for, I honestly can't say whether I'd have done it or not.
But I did do it, and a mile left turned into 800 metres turned into a few yards turned into done! We crossed the line in 2:43:42, nicely under the time Dawn wanted which we were all so pleased with!
Collecting my hoody, the colour still wasn't my favourite but it felt good putting it on and being part of the group, so I'm glad I decided to run and luckily it didn't seem to make a difference to my dodgy hip so no harm done!
All in all, Clowne is a lovely event ran by the running club local to the area. The volunteers are some of the best out of any event I've taken part in, which really helped when things felt tough out on the rolling hills. It was lovely to run the whole thing with a few friends and part of it with Des, too. Not every race is going to be a PB, but every one is memorable for its own reasons and I'll definitely remember this one fondly.
It's now a week later and I must admit the colour of the hoody is actually growing on me too!
