On the Friday evening my running buddy Fi and myself studied the race details and eventually resorted to looking at the OS map to check the coordinates and where we needed to be. We found Selworthy Beacon atop Bossington Hill and decided we would need to head for Selworthy in order to reach the start.
Come Sunday morning this is where we headed only to find narrow lanes ending with a 'not suitable for motor vehicles' sign. Oh. Ok, lets move onto Allerford and see if we can get to the top from there. Um, that'll not be the right place either then! Yes, we could walk to the top, a steep climb for twenty minutes but, no, the kindly gentleman told us, we really needed to go back into Minehead and up North Hill to get to the start of the race.
We retraced our journey and decided to head for the finish line where hopefully we would be able to get the limited minibus lift to the top. Time was ticking by and the car park was filling but we duly found a space and dashed for the minibus only to see it turning out of the car park. As the sign was still displayed we decided to wait and hope another one would be along soon.
We left Minehead in warm sunshine and arrived at the start in almost drizzly and quite breezy chilly weather. Our singlets and shorts quite the wrong attire for standing around waiting. We sheltered alongside the parked vehicles and were grateful that our foray around the surrounding area had left us with only ten minutes to wait for the start.
Now, remember I mentioned my hopes of a downhill and flat race? It started with an up, a slow and steady up but nonetheless an up. Humph. This was not what I had envisaged at all. The horn sounded and suddenly we were all hurtling through the gate along the track. So many people, no time to dawdle but within seconds Fi was edging away from me. Hills always kill my times and I just had to dig in and keep going. My team were long gone and I settled in for the climb. Being a slow and steady runner and dropping further back into the field I had time to look out over the view of Porlock Bay, way down below bathed in glorious sunshine.
Soon the up eased out into a short stretch of flat before we were rising more steeply up to the beacon. A gentle downhill section followed and then disaster struck. I fell. I fell badly. As soon as I started to go I knew there was no saving and resigned myself to the forthcoming hit. Oh my goodness did that hurt. My left knee hit the rocks and my upper body and leg slid along the stones in the rut. I wanted to cry. It hurt like hell. A very nice young man of about twelve or so helped me to my feet, retrieved my water bottle and was very concerned for my well being, it took me quite a bit of thanks before I managed to shoo him along to do his own race and not worry about me. Runners all around me asked if I was Ok whilst I stood dazed with a bleeding knee. What to do? Carry on or stop. I had fallen just before one of the relay team change over stations and I decided I would carry on to the next relay change over and by then I would know if I hurt just because I had fallen or if I had actually damaged my knee.
Next we dropped down over into the wooded area of North Hill. Marshals warned to slow down and take care as the way ahead could get quite slippery. I took my time and even managed to pass a few people. My knee hurt like hell but the bleeding seemed to have stopped and the trail was softer under foot so I tried to enjoy myself. Before I knew it I went over again. Heaven only knows why I tripped that time but this was steeper ground and smoother thankfully but I hit the ground hard and slid for what felt like forever. I managed to get myself sitting up and cried whilst I felt very sorry for myself. Two burly chaps took me under the arms and got me back onto my feet whilst a third suggested I walk for a while.
More kindness form the runners around me making sure I was OK whilst I realised I actually had no choice whatsoever but to carry on as this would be the only way to get to the finish. I re-pinned my torn number and gingerly tested walking, my right knee now bleeding, my shoulders scraped and my sweaty body now covered in a fine muddy dust and my pride well and truly in tatters. I walked for a little bit but soon decided this was going to take too long, I still had quite some distance to go, and gently sped up to a jog.
Eventually I reached the bottom and thank goodness out onto a tarmac road. I headed along the sea front and felt all alone. I was so far behind everyone else I really wasn't sure I was going the right way. I decided I had to keep going until I saw a marshal and eventually I did. Im sure most of the pedestrians were unaware of the race and I was duly ignored by quite a lot of them. I did get one shout out that was very special as the lady had read my club name on my vest. At last I reached the crossing point and headed towards the West Somerset Railway Line where I had to wait for the Thomas the Tank Engine steam train to puff past. A welcome breather maybe but I was seriously concerned I wouldn't be able to get going again.
I was directed up past the hospital and I wondered if they were open on a Sunday and if I would be needing their services, oh and this was an incline once again. At last I reached the college and onto grass. As I turned the corner I saw that I had to run down a steep bank, I edged to the corner determined not to fall in front of the crowd and made my way to the bottom. Sadly my spirit did not have an ounce of sprint finish about it but I ran to the finish. I heard Fi and her family shouting for me and I crossed the line and spotted my finish time of 1hr 10. I was not the only team member to fall, Phil also damaged his knee and hurt his rib.
It eventually dawned on me that for 7 miles I had actually done a good time, then I was cross, had I not fallen I could have got a wriggle on along the front and done a sprint finish and my time would have been cracking, for me. When I studied my stats I had actually done a really good pace up those hills.
The day after I could barely walk, the next day the bruising really began to come out and my body ached from head to foot. By Wednesday walking had become easier but banging my knee on the table leg reminded my how badly I had hurt it. Today I worked with the reception children and we compared bruised knees, mine were right up there I have to say and they seemed quite impressed that I had fallen over twice!
So there we have it, I'm out of action. Maybe I'm not a trail runner. Maybe I should stick to solid, flat ground. After fall one I remember muttering that I would never do this race again. After fall two it was a definite never again. Almost a week later and maybe...
Kerry, Fi, Lyn, Gemma
