Grindleford Fell Race 2015.
A couple of weeks back a group of us from TRC had done a steady recce of the Grindleford Fell Race. Despite us taking a couple of wrong turns. We knew largely what to expect in terms of terrain. The route was truly spectacular and very enjoyable to do, so I was looking forward to giving it my best effort.
I turned up at Grindleford nice and early, getting a decent parking space, and I chatted with a few other runners I knew. I bumped into an old bandmate before the race and then an old schoolfriend after the race. I also spoke to Alex Kashefi, the barefoot runner whom I follow on Instagram.
At first, I thought the race might be quiet, but the car parking field soon filled up, and the race organisers ran out of numbers as a record 431-something runners arrived to take part.
Eventually, the race got underway and after a couple of laps of the playing field, the racing snakes were away.
The rest of us ran into the tight church lane funnel, where we got about 5 minutes running before we ground a waking queue. I was glad of this though because my quads were already burning and the calves weren’t best happy either.
After the steep climb of low branches and rock-strewn path, we emerged onto a wooded hill with an epic view of the Hope Valley. After a short downhill where I prematurely bolted past a load of runners, we were through a stile and up a boggy hillside heading toward the Longshaw estate. This hillside was crisscrossed with small, rusty streams whose banks and been collapsed by grazing livestock, turning the land into bog after bog. I was glad to get out of the fields and onto the hard-packed dirt track above. This didn’t help me much though as a few runners came past me at this point, the boggy terrain had really sapped my energy.
I feared I’d spent my energy too soon. After a few minutes, I found a good rhythm and slowly started to pick a couple of people off. We turned left and encountered ditches and fallen trees as obstacles. I think this is where I started to believe a bit because I went over the logs easily and headed down the road at the back of Owler Tor.
Slowing slightly to get my breath, I knew that getting a good start at the top of Padley Gorge would be pivotal for my race.
When we recce’d this the week before, it slowed a few of us up because there is a stream crossing. Quite a few runners choose to cross using the boulders instead of just running through the water. The same happened on race night.
There was a pack of runners, all gingerly picking their way over the boulders, I blasted through the water, leaving them to wonder what whizzed past. Then up ahead a few more just entered the rather technical, rock and root-littered path.
I just pressed the peddle here and went flying past them. It’s a really risky strategy because if you go over, you could easily break your ankle, arm leg or even your neck…but I do love a technical downhill, and I tried to remember what my teammate, Ben told me about not overstriding.
One after another, I ‘dropped’ runner after runner, this felt so good because I rarely overtake anyone in races and always finish quite near the back. Only once was I overtaken on this section by a Steel City Strider and I managed to catch that lady and pass her later on.
At the bottom of the Gorge there’s a gravel downhill, my idea of hell, followed by a brief uphill section, past the ancient ruined chapel where the Rogue Priest Nicolas Garlic was captured.
Here I ran with another chap, Ian from Sheffield for a minute or two, we marvelled at a small woman who came chugging past uphill like a Trojan warrior, before turning left through a kissing gate. It was at this point, that I put my foot in a divot and lost my balance. I didn’t go over but my confidence evaporated. I gestured for the runner behind me, a Smiley Pacer to come past. A few seconds went by and I regained my composure and kept going.
Running down a green path into open meadows, I could see four runners ahead of me, the Trojan lady and Ian from the bottom of the Gorge were already pulling away, followed by the Steel City Strider and the Smiley Pacer. At the boundary of the first field, I dropped the ‘Strider’. She followed the path, I bounded through a gap in the wall, landing a few steps ahead of her, and then pulled away. The ‘Smiler’ was just in front now, but we had the big flat meadow to cross, Instead of trying to take her early, I thought it best to wait, I trailed her to the river.
I’d envisioned myself fearlessly blasting through the river, but that was far from reality. As soon as I hit the water I became disorientated. The moving water made it hard to balance, I took a line with deeper water, and this coupled with the screaming crowd, I did well not to fall into the river, face first.
Emerging from the water, Smiley had 20 meters on me. I trailed her in, thinking that she would put a final spurt on at any time. Alex Kashefi high-fived me and shouted “Go on Tideswellman “, Well, it was at this point that I spotted the finish line and a few of the Tidza crew were urging me on. I gave it everything I had and crossed the line just ahead of the Smiley Pacer. I felt bad for her really, but that’s the game, and she was very sporting about it too. It was a rather unimpressive time of 58:13. Finishing 394th out of 431.
Any decent runner would scoff at such a time, but I’m only a year into my running journey, and I feel the race went ok. I’m proud to have done it, proud to have represented my club and proud of the effort I put in, which has boosted my confidence no end.
Since then I’ve completed 2 more local fell races at Tideswell and Hope. Next up is my chance to show that I have improved. Hathersage Gala Fell Race was my first Fell race, exactly a year ago. So we’ll see if I’m any quicker this time. Fingers crossed.
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