Some people were enjoying watching Mo Farah break the 2 mile
indoor world record, some people were probably out shopping or at a football
match, but the hardy cross country fans were trampling through mud to watch the
current star mudlarks and those that slipped, slithered and sank, take part in
the English National Cross Country Championships on Parliament Hill on Saturday
21 January. True the Welsh and Scottish Nationals were also on this weekend but
for sheer volume and spectacle you can’t beat the English National, where it
was expected to be a record number of entries.
I don’t have much of a history in the National, having run
just seven in the previous 25 years since I started running. My first, and
lowest position (851st), was in Leeds in 1990. The following year I
progressed to 713th in Luton. Subsequent Nationals I took part in
were 1999 – Newark – 286th, 2001 – Durham – 161st, 2003 –
Parliament Hill – 106th, 2004 – Leeds – 211 (when Belgrave won the
team title) and 2011 – Alton Towers – 500th. So it was clear to see
I started badly, made some progress, peaked and I’m now on a downward spiral. I
also took part in one Scottish National, in 2008 I finished 89th at
Falkirk.
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| A young Rog enjoying his 2nd National at Luton 1991 |
I’ll admit I’m no great shakes at cross country though I’ve
had some fine runs and won three championships and did achieve a 2nd
place in the BMAF championships at M45, but I do like it. Unfortunately my body
doesn’t as I’ve found over the last couple of seasons if I do too much my body
gives in. So this year I decided I would restrict my cross country outings, so
far I’ve done the BMAF relays and the International Open Race, both in
November, and that’s it.
Alton Towers was so muddy it put me off doing the National completely,
plus reaching the age of 50 says it’s no longer something I should really be
taking part in. No disrespect to those of 50 and older who enjoy and compete
well in the championship, it’s just I have other things I could be doing.
So why did I choose to do this year’s National. It wasn’t a
decision I took lightly, I’d been ill since November and come the date of the
entries I was still showing no signs of significant recovery to get back to
racing fitness. But, although I can be quite competitive when I’m fit, I do
just love running and I really do enjoy being a part of big events, even as an
extra that nobody notices. I see myself as being fortunate in that I wasn’t a
schoolboy prodigy, which means I’m not precious about who beats me or where I
finish (though obviously there is a limit to this preciousness). So I took a
chance that I would be able to cover the distance and asked Salford to enter
me. I probably wouldn’t have entered if it was just anywhere, but being at
Parliament Hill, which evokes some good memories for me, and the fact that a
large number of old friends and new facebook friends from the group ‘I Was , Or
AM A Runner !’ were going to be present swayed me.
Despite being entered I still wasn’t entirely sure I would
run, I picked up another cold whilst holidaying in Cambodia and only shook this
off about ten days before the race. A week before the race I felt I had to go
out to prove to myself that I could run 12k cross country. I chose to run in my
local parkrun, Delamere. To be quite frank, I love Delamere but I have a, can’t
quite put a reason on it, dislike for the parkrun course, which made it perfect
for a tough challenge.
The run went well, a solid 18:23 behind a bunch of
youngsters, but the important thing was I didn’t push myself and could have
kept going at the same pace for longer. So decision made, I would run the
National. I spoke to my mate Rob Tudor, he was already sharing a hotel room
with mates and there was a chance they could fit me in, all good.
On National day it was an early start, with the drive down to
London. I didn’t feel any pressure and was quite looking forward to meeting
everybody and having a fun race. It looked like being a dry day, though the
temperature was changing from mild, for the time of year, to a bit chilly.
Once we got to the course I tried to find the Salford crew,
but naturally for such a big event there were many faces I recognised from my
past years as a Southern runner. Offers came in to use the Herne Hill and
Belgrave tent, to change in and store my stuff, I knew Salford weren’t bringing
the tent down, The Belgrave tent seemed just that bit better an option for what
I visualised as my pre and post race journey. Decision made I perused the
grounds and found the Salford crew, numbers were picked up and I was ready to
go, about an hour before the start.
Up near the top of the hill was the I Was A Runner banner,
it was great to meet the people I’d been exchanging words with on facebook, and
especially to meet those guys I’d been racing against for years. Just down from
the flag Salford Harriers had put up their flag so I trampled down to that to
catch up with what was going on. At first there were just a few of us and we
didn’t appear very strong, but then in walked; Carl, Tom, Josh, Simon and Gary.
Five of our top boys, but it’s six to score!
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| Some of the IWOAAR crowd, before the race and the beer |
As you may know each team is allocated a pen, but with those
five, amongst others I thought I was yet to see, I’d end up well back up the
hill, so I took up an offer to use Warrington’s pen, they didn’t have anybody
show up, well not to the designated pen anyway, so I wasn’t in the way, but I
was on the front line and raring to go. It’s a funny old world but as I stood
there I found myself next to the Belgrave pen, oh the times I’d been part of
that team. But I wasn’t here to reminisce I was here to do my best.
Then the gun went off, my decision to start on the front row
was good, I was away as quick as anyone, but then my foot hit the mud and I
slipped and slid and saw hundreds of runners surge past me. What were they
doing that I wasn’t doing? But that wasn’t to be my biggest surprise before I
reached the top of that initial hill. Never before have I had to stop in a
cross country race unless it was of my own doing, i.e. a fall, but today I only
got about 250m and the crowd in front of me just stopped dead. There was
nowhere to go, one of the largest fields in recent history had bottlenecked and
I was caught up in it. Precious time was lost while I stood still and then
shuffled forward (and in this type of race 30 seconds can make a big difference.
I went over the top of the hill, still angry with getting
caught in the pack and immediately plunged shin deep into a muddy downhill. I will
say this isn’t the muddiest course I’ve ever come across, but it’s close and it
certainly wasn’t pleasant. I hated every step of the first half of the lap.
Over the other side the ground was a little firmer and I was able to get my
legs going a bit better. Coming round onto the 2nd lap all I could
think was that I really didn’t care where I finished, but I was going to
finish. By now the field had spread out a little and I was able to find my own
line through the mud, which didn’t seem as bad now I was expecting it. I was
able to pick up my pace slightly, though still finding some parts hard going.
Onto the firmer ground I knew this was almost firm to the end so I started my
finishing move from a fair way out. I was passing loads of people and having a
great ding dong battle with a guy from Dulwich Runners. Not that we were
necessarily fighting each other for position but the fact that we were
travelling about the same pace gave us both someone to focus on. The sight of
my old rivals, Hercules Wimbledon, proved a spur and I worked hard to catch it.
Only as I came up close did I realise it was Peter Clarke, brother of three
time National Champion, Dave Clarke. I gave Peter some encouragement as I sped
past him and onto the finish.
I kept passing people all the way to the final downhill,
this was slippery in places but I managed to find a good line and romped down
the hill, only to turn into a quagmire of a finish straight, and a long one at
that. I tried so hard to keep my pace going but that last bit to the finish
just seemed to go on and on and I was all over the place, watching people pile
past me and making me lose a place in the top 700.
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| Determined to get to that finish I was too fast for John Mather's box camera |
And then I was through the line, I’d done it, and I was adamant
I’m never going to do it again. I traipsed up through the mud, feeling
dejected, and headed for the Belgrave tent and some dry kit. On the way I
bumped into Tom Cornthwaite, it seemed he’d had a good run and I was happy for
him. I was wondering how Salford the rest of the team had done, and where I’d
finished in the pecking order. It was a difficult race to gauge position, you
were in a big crowd of people you didn’t recognise and anybody could have got a
big jump on you during those stationary moments. I got changed, said goodbye to
Belgrave Harriers, went off to meet my pals and headed to the pub.
As it turned out I was sixth scorer in the Salford team, but
at 707 a long way behind fifth man, what a shame one more of the top runners
hadn’t turned out, surely we’d have been far higher than twentieth team.
I was stiff and sore the next day and it took me a further
three days before my legs returned to normal and then I screwed them again by
leading a leg heavy boot camp, they ached for days. But I’m back in the land of
the running, I feel renewed vigour in my body and I’m raring to go in my next
proper race. Funnily enough the rubbish run in awful conditions has given me
more confidence than if I’d sat it out.
Written by Roger Alsop
www.rogeralsop.co.uk
Photos with thanks to Yvonne Kintoff, John Mather and IWOAAR
