Grindleford Gallop (or crawl?)
“You must be mad”, “Have you seen the weather forecast?”,
“Are you sure you still want to do it?” These were the sort of reassuring comments
I had the week before the crawl. As it happens, the day dawned fine and I can
say that with the utmost confidence because we were driving up to Grindleford
at dawn.
Race headquarters was a Pavilion, with 1 ladies’ and 1 men’s toilet and no changing rooms. Luckily there weren’t many ladies running the race. On the plus side, they did serve teas and cakes. The first thing you had to do was register and collect your number and dibber. No that isn’t a rude word. The dibber is a plastic ‘stick’ that you glue to your wrist and insert into little boxes at the start and finish and at various checkpoints along the way to take your times and ensure that you don’t short cut (remember that for future reference). What footwear to use, what to carry with me and how much to wear generally were important issues. We decided on studs, although I had reservations about how comfortable they would be to wear for 21 miles. I tried to fit food, a mobile, tissues, a map, Imodium, directions and a compass (insisted upon by Pete although by the time I would ever be likely to use it, it would probably be too late as I wouldn’t know where I was) into a small waist belt, but in the end decided to carry a light rucsac with me, on the basis that if I tried to take anything out of my waist belt it would all fall out.
The start of the race was in a field. The sheep didn’t look too happy about having to share it with about 500 runners. I tried to take a few photos with my new phone which I had acquired the day before and was still learning how to use. We were late starting as Tony noted, but before long we were off, only to stop again soon for a queue at the first stile. Tony was wearing his Eynsham vest and two lady Ambingdon Amblers saw it and introduced themselves. They ran with me for about half a mile and then I didn’t see them again. From the results they finished about 1 hour and 1 hour 30 minutes ahead of me! The first part of the run was alongside a river and ensured that our feet were wet from the start. Not long before the first village and then out and up. I could see runners up ahead, but most people around me were walking and I decided to follow suit, and this set the trend for the rest of the route. The jacket soon came off and never went back on again. After reaching the top, Tristan joined me. He seemed to be running about the same pace so we joined forces. It was good to have some company and reassuring when getting lost was a real possibility. At Eyam, we had the first checkpoint and had to use our dibbers. I had asked Hannah to put mine on fairly tightly so it didn’t slip about, but it made inserting my dibber (no smirking please) challenging.
For a
while, the run was uneventful. I remember saying that it was good being able to
see other runners around. I’m not sure when that stopped being the case. The
route got quite boggy as we made our way across Longstone Moor, but there were
some stunning views from the high points. Intermittently it tried to snow, but
then the sun would come out as well. At least it wasn’t windy. As the runners
thinned out, route finding became more difficult. If you were lucky, you might
spot a small yellow arrow showing you the way, but on occasions when none
seemed to be visible we waited for others to catch up as someone behind seemed
to know the route. On our way down to Great Longstone village, my phone rang.
The trouble is it was at the bottom of my rucsac. By the time I had got it out,
it had stopped ringing and all the runners who knew the way had gone. It was
Pete wondering where I was. He was waiting for me in Great Longstone. It was
nice to see some familiar faces, but I was aware that we were losing people and
wanted to at least try to be able to follow somebody. As it was we went wrong
shortly after. I was just commenting how nice it was to be running downhill
when we realised we didn’t know where we were going or what we were looking
for. It wasn’t so much fun retracing the half mile back up the hill to find the
footpath. Then we were on the Monsal Trial, a (flat) disused railway track that
led us to Bakewell, with the added advantage of having a checkpoint with free
teas and cakes, except that all the cakes had gone by the time we got there.
The tea was appreciated anyway. After Bakewell was another climb, aptly named
Ballcross Hill. This was particularly muddy and slippery and passed through a
golf course. We had to bang a gong to warn golfers of impending moving (just
about in my case) obstacles. Soon we were heading down towards Chatsworth. The
feet were beginning to feel sore and at the entrance to the park I was glad to
see Pete and an opportunity to change into trainers. Tristan was glad of the
banana and water too. It was so nice to have dry comfortable feet again, I
spent the rest of the run going to great lengths to avoid the mud and puddles,
which was no easy feat and meant a few detours. In the grounds of Chatsworth,
we came across some lapsed runners; one had an injury but was accompanied by
two others, and another was resting. We ‘picked’ up Walter from
The good bits: the atmosphere, the scenery, the tea and cakes, being met by Lesley, the homemade soup (brought in in dustbins apparently) and bread at the end, and I wasn’t last. The bad bits: none, well apart from having to have a surgical operation for my dibber to be removed at the end. We ought to get a team together for next year – but perhaps I’ll walk it.