Where were the bluebells?

To get back into racing mode I thought a couple of off-roaders would set me up nicely.  Thus the last two weekends have involved some of the best countryside this fine land can produce.

Showing a clean pair of heels (literally) to Keith & Ed
at the start.  Gibbet can just be seen.

I last ran the Combe Gibbet to Overton '16' in 1990, yes 24 years ago.  It's a beautiful course taking in the Wayfarers and Test Way plus Watership Down, with some stunning views from the mainly high level tracks before dropping down into the Berkshire village of Overton.  Fellow mavericks Keith Firkin and Ed Morris - both building towards the Marlborough '33' in a few weeks - took the opportunity to join me and both appeared to enjoy it as much as I did despite some muddy conditions in places and an easterly head wind.

I did my usual thing with an easy start that saw me, according to later pictures, about 25th early on. Gradually picked off the faster starters, reaching my final finishing position of 9th by about halfway. Sixteen miles was a bit of a push for me but just when I started to struggle at around 12 miles a lady, to whom I will eternally be grateful, was dispensing jelly babies.  One of those sustained me through to the finish with muddied legs and blood pouring from my knee (no, no idea).  A highly recommended race.

A hundred metres left and both
feet off the ground!

Although it took a few days for my legs to recover - what a pleasure to be suffering from fatigue after a race, its been a long time - I was determined to have a go at the Bluebell 12km at Collingbourne Ducis, south of Marlborough, not least as Claudie is away in France for a week so I had time on my hands.  Good decision.

Heavy overnight rain plus a dose of logging by the Forestry Commission meant that the course was quite demanding, with deep muddied ruts making maintaining balance difficult at times.  It quickly became evident that the standard wasn't high as a threesome pulled away and I eased into fourth after my usual easy start.  I soon picked off the third place man although the top two were well clear at this stage.  By halfway I couldn't see another runner in front or behind, nor could I see any bluebells!  Sadly the wood had been decimated by the logging.  I felt stronger and stronger as the race progressed; I don't remember ever feeling so relaxed in a race.  Having caught a glimpse of the second man up ahead with a couple of miles to go I kicked on and pushed hard but was not quite able to catch him.  A real confidence booster none the less.

This weekend was made even better by hearing that my old running chum Rob Wise, making a comeback after many years away from the sport, cracked 20 minutes at a Parkrun yesterday and that Rachel Barber-Brock, whom I've been giving a little bit of advice recently, ran 3.05 at today's Manchester Marathon, a pb by 14 minutes.

Definitely time for a whisky with Mahler's 3rd thrown in.