I was feeling rather p****d off. I had missed last year's Gaddesby Gallop due to a cold; In May this year, I had recovered from a calf strain, only to go down with Covid, disrupting my racing plans. Then in October, I missed another race due to mild Covid symptoms. And now it was the Thursday before the Gallop, and my nose had started running, and I had the occasional cough. It was slightly worse on Friday (yesterday), and I didn't sleep well last night; but, contrary to my normal tendencies, I decided to throw caution aside, and do the race anyway.

Train from Loughborough to Syston reduces the mileage to be cycled on the way to the race (but not by that much, although it does eliminate the only significant hill). I arrived at Gaddesby at 9:40, for an 11:00 race start, so had time to visit the Parish Church. This is a tradition that started many years ago at Llanbedr, where I used to spend a few minutes inside the church before the start of the Llnabedr-Blaenafon and Black Mountains race. It is good to sit down in the quiet before a race and remember that God is in control; and I particularly needed it today, with the uncertainty over how my cold was going to affect me.

The race is becoming a victim of its own success. When I ran it in 2017 and 2018, it was Entries on the Day, and there were fewer than 200 runners. This year, pre-entries closed at 300, and the course is certainly not suitable for any more. The queue at the stile, a little more than half a mile from the start, was not too bad 5 years ago, but I was waiting there for at least a minute today.

With the rain over the last few weeks, the dewpond was deeper than on the two previous occasions that I have done the race, nearly up to the groin. However, the Gaddesby Brook responds quickly to changes in rainfall, and the last few days have been fairly dry; so it was less than knee-deep in the first section, and halfway up my thighs in the deepest part. Overall, the going was "soft"; it was a good day for mudlarks.

I am usually good at remaining upright during races: no tumbles on reckless descents, etc. Today, all went well until less than 200 metres from the finish, where there is a narrow concrete bridge over a ditch, leading into the final field. The bridge was coated with wet mud, and I went down, leaving my right side coated with that mud.

I got round without any serious discomfort due to my cold. The pace was certainly not storming, but neither did I feel that I was having to hold back. I haven't seen results yet, but I was certainly a few minutes slower than 5 years ago.

After the prize giving, the sun was shining, so I cycled the whole way home (about 13 miles, including that one hill between Ratcliffe-on-the-Wreake and Sileby).