Originally Posted by
Tindersticks
Geordie indie rockers Maximo Park have a gift in the art of penning a good tune. One such gem being “Postcard of a painting” which contains the fantastic line: You are just another thing that I have yet to fathom.
There are many things that IÂ’ve yet to fathom, none more so than the science of running.
I didnÂ’t like science at school, I always thought of it as being Intense. All the maths, physics, atoms, matter, particles...really wasnÂ’t my thing and as for how a pinhole camera works, who cares? You can buy a disposable Kodak from Argos for next to nowt.
The science of running: now that’s a different ‘matter’ altogether. My preparation for Buttermere wasn’t what you’d call textbook, I was worried I’d done too much and burnout like the old Bunsen burners from school. In the two weeks leading up to Buttermere I’d done approximately 80 miles with 38000ft of ascent / descent. My only tapering being on Friday the day before the race when we had a short walk with the dog. I’d suggested a recce of the route from Red Pike to the finish but my wife was having none of it....to be fair she’d a very valid reason to refuse my request.
The last race recce we did was a few weeks ago for the Great Lakes race and it turned into a bit of an epic. I told Alison it was only 14 miles and she’d have no problems. What I failed to mention is that it’s 14 miles over some of the trickiest terrain that The Lake District has to offer. We were out far longer than I’d envisaged with Alison struggling over the rough terrain. She would occasionally mention that her feet were sore and I’d keep turning around and offer words of encouragement: “not long now love we’re nearly back at the van”.....”you’ve been saying that for hours”. I had been saying it for hours....8 hours if truth be told. But to her credit she gingerly plodded on...’dug in’...as Daz H would say.
IÂ’ve felt a tinge of guilt ever since the Great Lakes recce. I thought it would be a nice day out whilst up in the Lakes celebrating our 17th wedding anniversary. ItÂ’s certainly an anniversary that Alison will never forget, sheÂ’ll be reminded every time she looks at her feet.....in the days that followed she lost 6 toenails.
I’ve tried to make light of ‘toe-gate’ with the following words of comfort: you’ll save a fortune on nail polish and you’re now sixty percent less likely to get an in-growing toenail. So far my comforting words haven’t worked and apparently, “I’m a dick”. What I’ve failed to tell her is that the missing nails will most likely grow back like talons and the money saved in nail polish will be swallowed up replacing laddered tights and plucked bed sheets. I think I’ll let her discover these unfortunate upcoming events for herself.
Unsurprisingly she wasnÂ’t up for the Buttermere recce.
Race day and I’m tired. Not so much physically tired, legs were a little heavy but otherwise ok, I’m more lack of sleep tired. We’d camped in Lorton on Friday night and the site owner had warned us that the camping field was busy as it was Woolfest in Cockermouth. A look on the internet described Woolfest as being, ‘a celebration of wool and wool crafts’. We’re not expecting the wool enthusiasts to be a riotous bunch and happily set up camp. To be fair the Woolfest campers weren’t ‘wolves in sheeps clothing’ but they did form a big social circle where they sat around ‘spinning a good yarn’ into the early hours. I’m a light sleeper and now know that Sandra from Grimsby made her own lap loom.
Pre race and Alison offers to apply sun cream to my shoulders. I say itÂ’s not needed as itÂ’s cloudy. She insists you can still get burnt through the clouds but I know best and declined her kind offer. I tell her to put her feet up and relax, give her toes a good airing....she accuses me of taking the piss.
Jump forward 12 hours......”Darren, will you stop fidgeting?”.
I could sense Alison’s frustration but I couldn’t get comfy. In my attempts to get some sleep, moving this way and that, every turn unleashed a level of discomfort which keeps me awake. Why can’t I sleep, I should be knackered: Sandra’s unexpected lap loom lecture on Friday night followed by Buttermere should’ve had me comatosed. But I’m restless with sunburnt shoulders and I await Alison’s “ I told you to put on some cream” but to her credit she knows she was right and doesn’t rub it in...oh the irony! But the sunburn is the least of my worries, it’s the pricks I’m struggling to handle.
Basically if you get the descent off Melbreak wrong youÂ’re in the shit.....the shit being the leg lacerating gorse bushes. For a moment whilst descending I lost concentration while looking to see if Calder Valley runner Ian Symington had found a better line than myself. Judging by the cursing coming from IanÂ’s direction itÂ’s evident heÂ’s also struggling. At this point I laughed, in part at IanÂ’s cursing but more so for the predicament weÂ’d found ourselves in. Laugh in the face of adversity and it releases feel good endorphins....my endorphins were being put to the test big time.
A stumble then wiped the smile from my grinning face. Somehow I stop myself from falling forwards but landed heavily into a large patch of gorse. My hands softened the fall but got prickled to hell and my arse was also on the receiving end of many a prick. At this point IÂ’m going to change pricks to thorns otherwise the double entendres that can be conjured up are just too tempting. I think my descent off Melbreak is the worst line IÂ’ve ever taken in any race and at the last count earlier today IÂ’d pulled 36 thorns from my legs. As for pulling pricks out of my arse....Â’oh matronÂ’...sorry I couldnÂ’t resist.
In summary: Up until the last descent off Melbreak everything was going fine. My worries of over doing the miles in the build up to the race were unfounded. I felt great and only wish IÂ’d have pushed it more early on, I shouldÂ’ve gone with Carl Bell from the off and given him a race.....there you go all the evidence you need to prove I donÂ’t half talk some bollocks.
Many thanks to the wonderful people of Cumberland fell runners, you guys did an amazing job in hosting such a huge event. Thanks also to the many helpers. And the cakes and food were incredible, thank you ladies.
But IÂ’m left with something else IÂ’ve yet to fathom....surely a round bread roll is a barm cake? Not a cob and most certainly not a tea cake.
I’m going to have a drink now in my newly acquired Darren Holloway ‘Dig In’ glass.....here’s to you Daz.
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