I never quite understood why tennis players feel the need to make grunting noises until today.We started out from home at around 8:30 to catch the 8:47 train to Charlbury, in Oxfordshire; and with the early start both of us managed to forget to take our cameras. After a bit of tension resulting from my particular brand of rushing to make the train on time, the trip itself was calm and painless.
We arrived at Charlbury station bang on time, and emerged from the warm train into a particularly cold and foggy autumn morning in the Cotswolds. Riding in the murk seemed a bad idea, so we pedalled up to the town centre in search of some coffee. After a loop around the town, we found a nice little tea shop that served surprisingly good coffee and rich, airy croissants. The café faced onto what was, I guess, the High Street, though most of the buildings around the narrow lanes were homes. While we sat there a few locals wandered in to buy the paper, some staying for a cup of tea in the bargain – it had a really nice, warm atmosphere. Soon it was time to go and we rolled out of town into the morning.
It was still quite a bit foggy, but with lights I felt reasonably safe and visible. The road was very nice, rolling hills for the 6km over to Ascott-Under-Wychwood where the race would be held. We got there soon enough and I wandered around looking for Dorian (my manager) who’d given me the idea to try out this discipline and helped get my membership at Cirencester AC sorted out. Quickly enough I’d located him and was changed into my spotlessly clean new club kit.
All pre-race prep done, I found myself oddly bored waiting for the gun. It is odd; at a bike race at least you have your bike to nonchalantly languish on. But standing on your two feet, you do tend to feel a bit spare. Thankfully the wait wasn’t too long, and we were underway quite promptly. I was quite surprised at the level of jostling at the start – much like in a bike race, a fair amount of elbowing and pushing. Not making much progress in the bunch, I decided to go around the outside on the first two corners and made up some distance to get in touch with the quicker runners.
The 8.6km course was fairly challenging, a short loop uphill followed by a long rolling downhill to the bottom of the field (where on the 2nd and 3rd laps, we’d run through a water splash) and then up a long (I’d estimate 800m) uphill stretch back to the top of the hill.
I took the first lap (of three) too fast and I started to feel it on the downhill at the start of the second lap. And my right foot started to hurt me, partly as a result of the laces not being tight enough, but also I think from the fairly firm surface and lack of pronation control from my running spikes. I stopped to tighten the laces and continued; this more or less solving the problem - my foot still ached but didn’t get any worse. The icy splash wasn’t as bad as I’d thought it might be, but it did make the long climb that much more arduous.
By the start of the last lap I’d learnt a lot about this XC lark. It was clearly nothing like running on the road; much less rebound to help propel you, and the mud presenting its own challenge in just keeping upright. Which reminds me: 7mm spikes are nowhere near long enough; I’d better get some 9s and 12s for my next outing! But the learning was all good and will surely help me in future races.
On the last lap I concentrated on pacing myself so I could make the best of my apparent climbing advantage. I tried to hold position within reason and kept myself just out of the red on the way down to the bottom. At one point I thought to myself, “this isn’t hurting enough”, but I didn’t want to risk tipping myself over the edge, not yet confident in my ability to pace myself on the grass and mud, so I kept myself just under the red zone.
The hill came soon enough and here I felt comfortable. I opened the taps and soon took a few positions as I scrabbled my way up the now quite mushy slope. I had to be careful and look for grassy patches to make sure I got enough purchase to propel myself up the hill. Now it was hurting. I was going pretty well, and started sprinting about 50m out. I soon hit the red with every ounce of my being focussed on passing one last runner in a yellow vest as we headed for the line. Then I noticed it; I was making the most extraordinary noises – a bizarre cross between a yell and a grunt. It was like a primal war cry, and completely involuntary. I couldn’t stop it.
Then Yellow Vest started sprinting too, I assume spurred on by the sound of a wild animal on his heels, and it was just enough for him. He pipped me to the line where we shook hands.
Once I’d got my breath back, I remembered to stop my watch. The time was just under 37’, so I expect around 36’ – which I think is respectable for 8.6km and my first competitive XC outing. I have no idea where the leaders came in, but I would expect somewhere around 30’-31’. All in all, I was pretty happy with how it all worked out, and I definitely have more room for improvement.
I just had a look at the provisionals: 36'13", 84th out of 253 - just about 1/3 up the field. Chuffed. The leader (from our club) came in just under 30 mins.
A great day, and now looking forward to the next race, 2 December I believe. Can't wait!
Results:
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