The Vegetarian Cycling & Athletic Club
(Established 1888)

Hit The Trail 5 Miles-ish 8/1/12 - Steve Coote

This is simply one of my favourite short races in the calendar, offering all the fun of off-road running without the trauma of either ultra-distance or the elbows and attitude of fundamentalist cross-country. I think this was my fifth running of it in the 6 years I've been in Manchester.

Based in the country park of Reddish Vale near Stockport, from my perspective it's always worth turning up early as this both offers the chance of parking in the lower car park and so reminding oneself of the "sting in the tail" of the 400 metre uphill finish whilst wandering up to race HQ in the Chequers Pub, and doing some serious dogwatching as there are always some excitable, friendly lads readying themselves for their morning outing.

After a bit of a chat with Graham Tracey in the start area - a large 200-odd turnout for the run - we parted as start time approached so Graham could edge a bit further towards the front. I made the usual mistake I make these days when surrounded by younger - some much younger - people of starting too far back for what proved a congested first couple of hundred metres; remember those halcyon days when I used to think some of the field could be half my age, these days a third is a reality.

Unlike the last two outings when the ground has been icy and/or snowy today was relatively mild, which though it made for no hold barred descents and generally good footing on the well made up tracks that much of the course is comprised of also meant a wide variety of mud types and large puddles to run through on the other sections. Great fun, for the most part, though the stepped section midway through is always a challenge and the aforementioned uphill finish does those going for a time no favours.

My time was somewhat down on recent years, though it makes even less sense than usual to compare past times given the way the weather affects the terrain. 37:46 gave me 74/201, with Graham getting 35th with a time some 3 minutes quicker than mine. Then off home to do Len's afternoon walk as the rain that teemed down for the Manchester club's cup clash began to fall in earnest.

Quedgeley Xmas 5 Miles 17/12/11 - James Cheseldine

Nice round figures like 30 minutes for 5 miles are there to be broken. There are a few 5 milers in Gloucestershire, but overall I feel this is an under-represented distance - as is 10. I'd pick them any time over 10k/half marathon. They're shorter for a start.

It's been a foul week, we have had hail/sleet/snow/floods/hurricanes etc, I had my doubts that it would take place - cancelled last year of course. But it did, and conditions were as good as could be hoped for, not freezing and not too windy. And its not too hilly either, so no excuses for not at least attempting the sub 30. Furthermore, I was armed with my partners pink and grey GPS watch, along with very precise instructions about which button to press and when.

I tried to summon up some support from familiar faces, but after the 1st mile they faded away, leaving me in 3rd after a 5.57 mile. The runner in front was quite far off-I didn't seem to gain in the 2nd mile, not surprising as it turned out slow - 12.08 on the clock, and the "big" hill to come. It's steep but not long, and by the top I had enough hope that I could catch the man in front, which I did around the 3 mile point. The average time seemed to be back under 6 min miles, and I was feeling good. The third mile is pretty flat but tedious and endlessly long. I drew slowly away from the runner I'd overtaken, and by 4 miles I was quite alone in 2nd. I dug in, trying not to look at the watch constantly, but increasingly feeling it a real struggle to maintain pace.

About 800m from the line the route turns into a small and remote industrial estate, with a few bends before an agonising 200m down to the finish. I pushed hard, not wanting to blow it at this stage with no-one to keep me going.

Finished in 29.54, a good steady run, and a distance that doesn't feel like it will need a week to recover from. Good start to the Xmas season with 3 more races during the holidays to come.

Peak District Mountain Bike Marathon 20/11/11 - Steve Wigglesworth

When my brother rang and asked me: "What are you doing this weekend " I just knew it was going to involve some kind of grief. I was unable to think of a spontaneous plausible lie though and so, within 24 hours, had been registered with British Mountain Bike Orienteering and entered as a two man "veggie" team for a 61km mountain bike marathon in the Peak District. BMBO are the umbrella body for the sport of mountain bike orienteering. Essentially this makes a hard sport, i.e. competitive cross-country mountain biking even harder; by introducing the concept of having to navigate as well. The requirement is that competitors need to find their way to very specific checkpoints and record proof of the fact they've been there by dibbing an electronic control.

Mick has been racking up a ton of off-road miles this year and is thin and fit. I, on the other hand, am fully into winter resting mode and am working hard at not being these two things. I tried to explain to him that these events were unfeasibly hard and offered up rather pathetically that I'd already cleaned and put away my racing gear for this year. He wasn't having any of it. Reluctantly, being the brother able to interpret maps and navigate, I dug out and fitted my MTB handlebar map holder, and also fitted a couple of bottle cages. No event I ever consider myself competitive in involves taking on fluid, and whilst preparing my bike I constantly cursed my inability to effectively lie.

Within 72hrs of the fateful phone call I was on a start line in Chapel-en-le-Frith with a grinning brother and a man asking for my dibbler in order to be able to get us underway. In this kind of event you're allowed to start at any time within a window of an hour or so. It is organised this way as "racing" in MTBO events isn't allowed. What is allowed, nay expected, is that you will cover the course as fast as possible while everyone else who has started within the same window does exactly the same thing. And so, off we went, studiously not racing any of the people we were passing, or who passed us. The first few miles were fairly straightforward and were basically on metalled roads of varying quality, even if they were severely up, or severely down. My brother even had the sauce to pop a few spontaneous wheelies - something he's irritatingly good at - up some of the inclines. I had a feeling he would be sorry though...

Things soon got dirty and before too long we were hammering down some pitted gravelled tracks doing our best not to race any of the people who had started before us. Then things got hard. Mud, rocks, severe incline, and single-track replaced any semblance of civility. The severe uphill single-track, up which many couldn't even ride, levelled out briefly and was then replaced by a ridiculously rocky downhill single-track that was quite simply dangerous. We almost rode it without incident, and only a dislodged rock making a rather neat crescent shaped wound in Mick's shin marred an otherwise flawless, if demanding, descent.

I need reading glasses now, but because I don't ordinarily use any kind of glasses to compete in, and being from Yorkshire, my specs were £3.99 from Amazon. They are unsurpassed for reading, but, as it turns out, not that good at trying to navigate from a map mounted on a mountain bike's handlebars whilst covered in sweat derived condensation and whistling down a bumpy gravel track at 40mph or so. They're also extraordinarily good at directing cold air to just the point that makes eyes water most readily. What can I say, I made a navigational error that took us off course and about a kilometre down the wrong road before I realised my error and we were able to commence the arduous and irritating task of getting back onto the course as quickly as possible. Some people who we weren't racing were surprised to see us not racing them for a second time.

The torment of difficult conditions under wheel continued unabated and the terrain just got steeper. I know because on one boulder strewn descent I managed to overwhelm my - admittedly outmoded - V-Brakes and had to rely on a steel 5 bar gate to put a halt to a ridiculously fast descent. Genuine concern from other competitors indicated that my crash must have looked spectacular, even if it felt fairly run-of-the-mill. No damage to bike or reluctant competitor meant we were able to crack on.

The long course loop now faced us and I confess I was jealous of the competitors who were able to turn off and start heading for home, while we were sent up a mountain. A mountain that had rim deep mud and huge steps and outcrops of the finest Dark Peak granite to make this improbable-to-ride-in terrain most definitely the hardest bit so far. I couldn't ride some of it and had to get off and push. No one could though, and the fools on the long course were now not racing rather pathetically on foot. Once at the summit cairn - a reality check confirmed I was indeed competing, and incongruously at a cairn at the same time - things went literally downhill. This was the most demanding of all descents with wheel swallowing ruts, rocks, mud, and liberal ericaceous vegetation to halt progress.

At the bottom we rejoined a bit of metalled road and entered the last third of the course. Physically and mentally hammered we made our way through Castleton, which would ordinarily have meant stopping for some suitably expensive tourist coffee and cake, not this time though, and we were soon once again climbing out of the village and heading for the hills. Mick wasn't wheelying anymore and there were decidedly fewer other competitors around. The course was undoubtedly taking its toll. Fortunately the organisers clearly knew just how much was enough and the remaining kilometres were on comparatively good surfaces with only one 1K long 1:5 or so climb thrown in for fun.

At 4hrs 41 minutes and 34 seconds we dibbed for the final time and it was a done deal. We were lucky enough to make the gold standard and were the second team to finish. Many people didn't make the finish at all, or baled at the turn point and followed the short course instead. Though "forced" into this by my brother, it had been a memorable experience in a truly spectacular area. BMBO sanctioned events follow different formats but are all essentially about navigating off road as quickly as possible in very challenging terrain. Demanding, memorable, dirty, exhilarating, and at times genuinely frightening are all pretty fair descriptions. It only takes about four days before you're able to move again too.

The Lands End Sportive 16/11/11 - Noel Molland

Today I cycled 100km version of the brand new Lands End 100 sportive. The ride started in St Ives and followed the coastal road from St Ives to St Just which is regarded as one of the most beautiful roads in the country. For those who don't know it, its right on the tip of Cornwall with moorland type land and rural fields leading to rocky cliffs and then the sea. The sights were stunning and riding this road, rather than driving it, gave you a chance to really appreciate the beauty.

In St Just we were directed down side lanes to Lands End. Here it was literally a case of drive into the complex car park that is Lands End, go through the one way system and back out again. We then made our way past the Merry Maidens Standing Stones towards Mousehole.

Unfortunately I punctured at this point. I lost a lot of time fitting a new tube and I couldn't get the pressure as high as I wanted without a track pump, so that slowed me down as I headed through Newlyn, into Penzance and then continued along Mounts Bay right past St Michael's Mount.

The route then went inland heading towards Cambourne before heading towards the northern coast and getting onto the coastal road to Hayle then back to St Ives. The view coming along that coastal road was stunning. The day started cloudy and overcast but by the end it was beautiful sunshine and the sea looked so blue, with the golden white sand Hayle is famous for set out before me.

Unfortunately there weren't that many riders so I started off the ride on my own and apart from a few people I overtook or the people who said hello as they overtook me, I didn't really have anyone to ride with which made it a largely a solo affair. This also affected my time as I had no one to peddle against or with.

My final time was 5 hours 23 mins. A bit slow but okay when you take into account that Cornwall is a lot hillier that it initially looks.

River Dart 10km Swim 3/9/11 - Steve Coote

To say the nerves were jangling as start time approached for this event would be a massive understatement. Weeks of playing down what an effort 10km of swimming - I didn't dare think 6 miles - would be like fast disappeared in the face of imminent actuality. A brief chat with Paul Kerrison, a stronger swimmer than me who was doing the event along with his non-veggie partner, reassured me to the extent that I wasn't the only nervous one. The voice of one friend who said it was too far to even run merged with Steve Wigglesworth's comment on hearing that it was downstream that, " at least we would finish even if as bloated corpses." The good news was that the rather dire weather forecasts of earlier in the week had failed to materialise and it was a dry if mostly overcast day.

Four waves of swimmers were due to start from 1100 near the rowing club on Steamer Quay in Totnes with 15 minutes between them, fastest last. I watched the first wave off, my heart sinking yet further as they seemed to be making heavy weather of the first stretch of water, but I hoped this was partly just because they were crossing from the left to the right bank rather than heading directly away from us. I scanned those waiting to go in my wave but the likeliehood of spotting Jo Starr who was to start in that wave was remote having only ever seen a photo of her and with most of us now disguised in goggles and swim caps.

The start would have been low key even by LDWA standards, just a vague," Off you go, " and we all tiptoed down the steps into the river in our own time. One deep breath, hit the button on my watch and into the murk. For it was indeed murky, the water described as brackish even this far up was distinctly salty and going nowhere other than seawards with assorted clumps of bladderwrack, seaweed and other stuff you didn't really want to think about floating around.

I had decided to do this event as a cheap change from the Swimtrek events I have been doing of late, but it had nothing of the feel of one of those trips. I really can't describe the scenery we swam through. I did occasionally make myself look around but holding a swimmer's line, both in terms of body shape to make the most of the current, and direction to avoid unnecessary distance, took precedence.

In theory, the two drink stations were at 4 and 8 kms. I have my doubts about their placement, but they were they most welcome of havens, if only because they implied that one was actually getting somewhere. An all to brief clutch onto a line on a pontoon whilst downing some energy drink that tasted little better than the water we were adrift in, then off again as other swimmers tried to get a handhold. An hour for 4km is good by my standards and I left the first station in reasonable spirits.

The 90 minutes it took me to do the next 4km is etched on my brain. We moved into the wider estuary, in theory still hugging the right bank but with the incoming waves - albeit on an ebbing tide - fighting with the wind and stream current to produce an at times awkward chop on the water. No time to look at the watch, no time for anything other than trying to hold form, the odd tourist boat crammed with people staring bemusedly down at us a welcome interlude. Huge relief as I finally reached the drink station, but if this time was for real then the final 2km could take 40-45 minutes.

However,nothing short of a cripplng injury was going to stop me finishing this b****** now, so I dropped my handhold, fiddled with my goggles, rubbed Max's old dog tag that I had round my neck and creaked into a Frankenstein's monster version of front crawl. In fact, I was done and dusted in 30 minutes, it wouldn't have taken a current for me to have done 2km in that time at that stage but an outboard motor, another reason for my doubting the splits. Cramp kicked in viciously as I twisted trying to stand up in the knee-deep mud at Dittisham. Helping hands steadied me for a few moments and I stumbled to the bank, just under 3 hours after setting off.

Paul Kerrison, who had started 15 minutes or so after me, dropped into place in the queue for finishers mugs just behind me. Awhiles later, Jo Starr came bouncing up looking horribly fit and recovered - I guessd she must have finished a good time before but was in too much of a daze to talk properly.

Tired, head a weird shape, unable to focus. Sure signs of a good event completed. Shame about the 250 mile drive home to come as I could seriously have done with a beer or ten.

Frampton 10km 11/7/11 - James Cheseldine

This is a big 10k run on a fairly flat course near the River Severn which I have done every year of my competitive running life, and always with a PB. Occurring as it does in the last working week of my year - I work at a residential college for teenagers with behaviour that challenges - I often find myself in an exhausted and emotional state leading up to the event, and yet with a few very difficult days left to work until the summer break finally comes. There is something about this race as both a beacon of continuing motivation at a time when I want to collapse and be taken care of, and a crystallization of the effort and energy I have put in to my work - and the rest of my lif - in the preceeding year, which compels me to need to succeed.

In spite of renewed determination in the face of a few average races this year, my training regime continues to hover around 20-25 miles/week, although with 37.30 a nice round target in my mind I have tried to crank out a few sub 6 miles so my body gets at least some idea of what my mind is plotting next.

Under way on a pleasant evening, I stuck around a friend from Severn AC - a miniscule Gloucester club which boasts to arrange the most races of any UK club. I had a watch today, still not sure its a good idea!, and at 5.51 for the first mile I was feeling good, but consciously slowed for the second - I wouldn't have done if I had no watch to tell me I was ahead of schedule...good or bad? After mile 2 I had slowed to a par of 6.04 for my revised target of 37.45.

There is a hill in mile 3 which interrupts the flow but is followed by a fast downhill to 3 miles and water, both in the river and in plastic cups. I seemed to be leading a pack in mile 4, and near the end of the mile I got fed up with the pressure of feeling like 40 people were going to pass me imminently and pulled away with a relaxed burst.

Throughout the 5th mile, a slight incline, I became increasingly separated from other runners, and hardship began to set in, coupled with a learned dread of the last very flat and straight mile plus that feels like it will never end. By 5 I could see no-one and knew it was just me vs time from thereon. I tried to have positive thoughts; knowing my partner and youngest child were at the finish was helpful. I ruminated on the desperate stress I have experienced in a new position at work this year, and how I have ridden the urge to quit and made it work for myself, the pressure that this has put on myself and my family including a period of separation. I looked at a grey building in the distance which seemed 1000 miles away and is stil half a mile from the finish. My breathing became wheezy and loud, like it would at school cross country races of my youth through the mud and valley sides of West Yorkshire. The fear of being passed by a Stroud AC vest was all that kept me going.

In the last 800m the runner ahead of me suddenly seemed catchable, and although I didn't quite make it there was enough hope to rally my body for a last effort. I crossed in 37.53, pb by 6 seconds, 22nd/450. I think I lost a few seconds in the last 1/4 of the race with no-one to chase, but I'm really pleased with the position and the speed at which my muscles recovered suggests there is more that could be accessed subject mainly to the workings of my mind.

Dartmoor Classic 26/6/11 - Noel Molland

Last Sunday I rode the Dartmoor Classic sportive, 100km of rolling hills with a couple of vicious ups and downs. I wasn't sure if I would be able to take part in the ride because literally a week before hand I was hit by a stomach bug and spent the previous Sunday being very unwell - lost half a stone in weight in 24 hours! However happily the bug only lasted a couple of days and on Sunday 26th I joined 2,500 other riders in taking on this Classic.

The ride itself was really enjoyable. We started off just outside of the National Park and the first part of the ride was nice and flat-ish. But as soon as we got into the Park's boundaries so the hills hit. But unlike the Tor of Cornwall the hills, by and large, were not killers and so the ride remained challenging but fun.

An early morning fog kept the early part of the ride nice and cool. But as we climbed higher and higher I spotted blue sky and as we got out onto the open moorland roads so we were welcomed by glorious blue skys and warm weather rising upto 28 degrees.

If anyone knows Dartmoor the views were spectacular. Hound Tor was particularly stunning. The official feed station was based in Princetown - home of the famous Dartmoor Prison. This offered a welcome break before we headed out across the wilds of Dartmoor again and rode a small section of road - from Two Bridges to Mortonhamsteap - which was actually part of the 2010 Tour of Britain route!

Much to my surprise there weren't any suicidal sheep, cows or ponies on the road which was good. Also, much to my delight, I realised I was one of the stronger hill climbers in the group of about 20 or 30 that I found myself riding in. On the upward hills I was able to over take many a rider - only to be overtaken myself on the downhills! With 2,500 riders taking part you were never alone and there was a nice atmosphere.

Sadly I missed my target time, and chance of a medal, by 4 minutes. However I have identified a number of places I could improve my time on and I know I can be at least half an hour quicker next year!

Prestwood 10km 15/5/11 - Peter Simpson

I started running on the road when I was 25 years old and run my first event in Reading, the Golden Arrow 10K, 20 October 1985. At that time cloth badges were quite common as a memento and still have my original tracksuit top covered in sew-on badges.

Into my thirties, my times for 10K were still not great, around 40 mins and occasionally as low as 43 mins when the standards were higher than today. The mid to late 1990s was the breakthrough when times went as low as 38 mins and 37.53 is my PB on a flat course in West London.

Shortly after the millennium I began to suffer regular calf strains but was not prepared to have a long break. Times of course suffered and were generally no higher than 42 mins for several years. I also found it difficult to build up enough fitness to attempt many half marathons and the marathon was out of the question. It was only when I left my desk job in 2006 and became more active during the week that the injuries reduced which allowed improvements. Times lowered to 41 mins and at the Chichester 10k in October 2007, achieved 40.55.

Competition in the V40-49 age group has always been high so chances of an individual prize have not been worth considering. It was only when I ran the Watford Autumn 5 miles off-road challenge in November 2007 with a field around 200 I began to see that a category prize was possible in the over 50 age group. Still no chance in the V40-49 group. Two weeks after my 50th in November 2010, the Watford Autumn Challenge was scheduled. I was feeling confident especially as I only had a short ride across town from the railway station.

Given the lack of competition so I thought, I lined up close to the start line and went off at a fair but sustainable pace, uphill early on. Many did pass me but they were generally young (or senior) runners. I did rein back many of these runners apart from one runner who appeared to be in my age group and finished a few seconds behind him. At the presentation I was still anticipating victory as the other runner just ahead was a V60 so not in competition for the V50 prize. Unfortunately there was another V50 runner about a minute ahead.

My next target event for the V50 prize was the Prestwood 10K, an event of similar standard and numbers of entries. I ran it in May 2010 aged 49 and despite returning from injury, still finished the course in 21st, time 43.22 and noticed that the 1st V50 time was only 44 mins. I immediately thought that I must run it again when I shall be a V50.

The build-up to the 2011 Prestwood 10K was not ideal, missing some training in April and in the days leading up to the event was not in the best of health. I still went but there were delays on the local train to Tring thereafter cycling the 13 miles or so in the Chilterns with a fair amount of luggage, leaving me only 40 minutes for recovery at the venue. Starting the race I was soon feeling somewhat tired but did not let it dissuade me from my goal of the V50 prize. Once again many runners overtook me early into the race but gradually I reined them back until there were few in sight in the last 2K or so. I was still struggling, not helped by the wind this year in the later stages. I was not sure of my time at the finish but guessed around 43 mins. I did not get too excited as at Watford last November, especially as the presentation was quite low key. The male V50 prize winner was almost the last to be announced and it was indeed me. Unfortunately like all other prize winners I was given a box of Cadbury's Roses chocolates. What followed was more pleasing when some of the audience present noticed that I was a cyclist and were interested in the double achievement.

Great Salford Swim 15/5/11 - Steve Coote

On what felt like a mega-schools sports day in Manchester with the 10km run, mile swim and the City Games events all being staged, and televised, on the same day, it felt only right to do something. There not being a sack race on the Deansgate track, I opted for the mile swim in the quays.

The first tram was packed with people still heading for the later run starts, but it all thinned out as we embarked onto the second one up to the swim HQ around Media City in the heart of the Quays. None of this silly summer nonsense for Manchester with gusty squalls occasionally merging into longer spells of rain being the order for it's big day, The water in the Quays takes some heating up, being known for being cold both early and late in the season, with the weather not helping the 14 degree water temperature feel any more balmy. But with longer river-based events in prospect for later in the year, no harm in my getting one under my belt early doors.

The swim consisted of rectangular swims in two of the quays with a canal linking them. Don't believe the pictures you may have seen of the elite swimmers making it all look so easy - it was tough with a bit of chop on the water and the high concrete sides of the quays looming over the swimmers. On the positive side, there were canoes lining the route to the turn buoys that made sighting far less of a job than usual in open water swims.

I won't pretend to have much enjoyed the experience. The cold, that I had only been back swimming seriously for a couple of weeks and was now trying to dredge every little drop out of myself, the wetsuit, on it's first outing for the new season seeming to have shrunk, constricting my arms and generally fitting a little too snuggly about the tum. But the good thing about such a big city centre occasion is that there were swimmers of all ages and abilities in the water, so I was able to find others to have my own little races with rather than struggling on in solitary state. I ploughed onto the finish, emerging shivvering and tired.

I was a little disappointed with my chip time but on reflection it was about right since, though the elite swimmers finished hard slapping the gantry, for the masses the chips were only registering after one had climbed a slope and exited the water. Comfortably in the top half of the field both overall and in my race category. Good enough for one for whom swimming has always been the weakest part of any triathlon.

And less than three-quarters of an hour from gun to Di plonking a pint into my hand in a pub overlooking the finish. Can't complain at that.

Oulton Park Duathlons 3/4/11 - Steve Coote

Once in awhile it really feels like you pluck one out of the lap of the weather gods. I had driven through a couple of heavy showers en route to the venue at Little Budworth in Cheshire, sat watching a beautiful bright rainbow arcing across a black sky while drinking a cup of coffee and huddled out of the rain in one of the guys' camper vans after meeting Mick and Steve Wigglesworth in the venue car park.That was the last rain we had for a good three hours, much to the relief of those intending to cycle fast on a slick motor racing circuit.

Almost inevitably, it seems, we were informed of a 30 mnute delay to the start, and so it wasn't until 1010 that we attended the obligatory and even more pointless than usual race briefing - those in front were being deafenned, those at the back could hear nothing clearly, then headed off to line up for the start on the main track outside the pit area.

Steve W, who was doing the full sprint tri by himself as a sharpenner for the World's X-tri Championships in Spain later in the month, rapidly decided that with a strong wind blowing down the straight his best bet was to find a group up at the pointy end of the field in which to find some shelter. I didn't have a clue how to play it. I was running the standard 2 lap distance whilst many would be on the one lap sprint; this was a world's qualifying event so you could bet on a higher class of field than usual in the standard distance; relay teams weren't differentiated in any way from the rest of the field; and I'm pushing 53 now. Against all this was the simple fact that I wasn't going to have to cycle. I finally stilled all the rubbish in my head by just taking it in the spirit of the vast majority of time trial triathlons in which one has little idea until afterwards who one was racing against - you just do your race as hard and well as you can.

The whole race went off as one, with Steve W obviously well up there - the long sweeping curves which can be such a frustration of running on motor racing circuits as you seem to be doing a lot of running without getting anywhere and good sight lines letting us see the front of the race for some time. I wasn't going over well, it takes time for me to get into my stride these days and there were some nasty little hills on the course that weren't helping the process. The thought of doing it twice to cmplete the 9.2km first leg, knowing what was ahead, troubled me more than it should have.

Steve W, after completing the sprint distance of one lap of running, came through on his bike sometime early in my second lap, looking fast and with the race face totally on. As I headed down the pit lane I felt like apologising to Mick for my performance, even though in retrospect I had done sub-seven minute miles which is about as fast as it gets for me over any distance these days - it just felt so slow.

Mick congratulated me, ripped the timing chip off my ankle to affix it to his own and ran off down the line of very high spec bikes. He sort of knew - without being absolutely positive as there was a lot of confusion going on and I was too blown to do other than slump down with a drink for awhile to notice - that there were only two relay teams in the field, and he had got out ahead. Mick has done a lot of cycling in the early part of this year, cranking it up to over 700 miles in total as he took to doing this event. It showed as he powered round the circuit on his first few laps with 7 minute splits. I couldn't help thinking that knowing you had 9 laps of this challenging circuit to do, it must be nearly as tough mentally as physically to keep the speed up.

Suddenly Steve W was bearing down on me through transition having completed his 5 laps. I scrambled and just managed to snap off a photo and shout encouragement. Then he was gone again and I started pacing up and down and doing a little jogging to try to keep loose. In no time - 16+ no doubt very tough minutes - Steve completed his race. 1st in his age group and 5th overall, a brilliant achiement that we perhaps are getting almost too used to to acknowledge as highly as we should.

Mick still looked strong, though evidently starting to hurt as he went into his 8th lap. Steve had joined me in transition and Mick flashed a grin as he heard his encouraging shout. I started to strip down as the rain started up gently. Mick riding his laps so well to time made it easy for me to be ready to snap a photo of him running towards me in transition. Just under 70 minutes, sterling stuff.

A short-lived squall greeted my emergence back onto the main circuit but contrary to all logic in having sat or stood around for over an hour I really felt good. The only pressure, insomuch as I knew the only other relay team was a lap and more behind on the bike, was from knowing that everyone round me had cycled and I should be passing them. I won't claim to have enjoyed it but it was my fastest lap of the three I did in 19:04.

So two VCAC firsts on the record books, and even if our relay victory may have seemed a cheap one by there only being two teams in the race, as we were racing ourselves rather than the opposition I can only say that it didn't feel like it.

Many thanks to Mick and Steve for turning out and making it a day to remember.

Milton Keynes Festival of Running 13/3/11 - Nik Windle

The week before the Milton Keynes Half it was looking rather unlikely that I'd even be there as I was feeling extremely feeble due to a cold, I felt improved on Saturday though so decided to turn up and just take it steady. By lucky coincidence Sharon and Keith Hammond found me wandering round one of the free parking areas looking for somewhere to pay and explained the meaning of the green paint - this means free parking in MK, in Oxford it means you're standing in a cycle lane - then escorted me to the start.

We hung round in the chilly light rain, me putting off stripping down to my running vest till the last moment, where we met up with Manuel Corriente. Sharon was off to the start of the 10k 15 minutes before we were due to start the Half, the organisers had allowed a suitable time gap unlike last year when the faster Half runners had to squeeze pass the slower end of 10k. Next Manuel and Keith went to take their places near the front of the Half start while I tried unsuccessfully to guess where the middle was, some time markers would have been good. Then we were off!

The race starts gently downhill for three miles and I was obliged to exceed my planned 8:20 pace. I saw Peter Simpson passing and caught him to say a quick hello though I declined his kind offer for me to follow him round for a PB as I think I'd have blown up pretty soon. The drizzle cleared and I felt comfy in vest and shorts as various overdressed runners struggled out of jerseys and waterproofs. I'd started much too far forward and had to watch a couple of hundred runners pass me before finding my proper place, always a bit disillusioning.

Still running sub 8 min miles I felt pretty good at halfway so decided to hang on in and build up a minute or two for the generally uphill finish in the hope of an unplanned PB. I really needed those minutes for the last few miles which seemed to be a succession of gentle but sapping climbs which made me just want to get it over with. A runner dressed as a banana overtook me but I couldn't stick with him, I was passing more than passed at this stage though. Sharon and Keith tell me I was smiling when they offered encouragement at mile 13 so good to know the pain didn't show.

Dazed but happy I decided against sampling the Orange and Ginger gel in the eclectic goody bag which was fortunate as it was a shower gel not an energy one. Peter found us and we got the girl on the bag drop to take our photo - in photos/running photos.

Keith was first member to finish, 110/2516 with 1:26:49. Manuel not long after just the wrong side of 1:30 then Peter under 1:38, a good result considering he'd been ill and injured recently. I managed a 2 second PB scraping in under 1:45 again and I see from the results that Becky Wood wasn't far behind coming in under 1:56. Sharon finished the 10k in just under 58 minutes.

Winter Poppyline 50 miles 26/2/11 - Steve Coote

With a triple marathon along the Jurassic Coast looming, following on from a couple of hillier LDWA routes this seemed an excellent chance to get some miles in my legs. It was also to be my debut with GPS, not least because I knew from having done the summer Poppyline that we were likely to be provided with the best route descriptions going and I could assess how it worked in the field without being over reliant on it.

The weather had behaved itself for the 5-hour drive down to Norfolk but I had no sooner parked than the rain began to fall. It was still falling some 14 hours later as I made my way to Cromer High School for the start. The organisers had decided to allow people to start anytime between about 7.45 and 9.00 rather than stick strictly to the two official start times, with the proviso that if you reached a checkpoint too early you would just have to wait for it to open. Given the conditions and the likely state of this paths this consideration didn't bother too many of us. Certainly the approach I adopted of walking quickly on the well made up tracks and roads where I could get a good stride in without slipping about all over the shop and jogging the fields and grassy sections where it was easier just to plop from foot to foot wasn't going to threaten the opening times.

So I headed off solo at 8.25. The first 5, 10, 15 miles went to plan as I eased through at 5 mph, no signs of strain appearing and swilling down copious amounts of fluid. Somewhere in there the rain stopped, too, though even later when there was a bit of hazy sunshine the day never felt dry with the ever-present threat and occasional reality of a return to drizzle. This made little difference to the conditions underfoot. QI now tells us that the Eskimo don't in fact have 50 different words for assorted types of snow but an experienced LDWA member could probably do something similar for mud; though in honesty 'f------ mud' seemed to cover most bases.

Between 3 and 4 hours I lost a few minutes, stopping to eat a jam butty in the relative warmth of a checkpoint rather than walking on with it being all it took. I guess it says something about the approach to this sort of event over road running that the next section was long, easily navigated being a track alongside a narrow gauge railway and had fairly decent footing - and I've seldom heard so many complaints. Two things broke the monotony for me. Running over a section of the River Bure I had swum down last year with Swimtrek, and a break at the 27 mile checkpoint at which I received the weakest cup of tea and the best plate of beans on toast ever. Then it was back to the grind.

At 38 miles the light was beginning to go and I explained to the owners of a small dog that I'd stopped to stroke what we were at as they were a bit baffled by people running in headlights. I surprised myself in answer to a question by replying that I was still enjoying the event. They looked even more baffled so I guessed that I probably didn't look like it.

Time slipped as night fell and running became ever more difficult without risking a broken ankle. Navigation became somewhat hit and miss as instructions to look for distant landmarks became redundant and one could only focus on short term instructions and trust to local knowledge and or GPS. I had joined forces with a couple of other competitors which was lucky as we were all misreading instructions and correcting each other by now. Somehow we stayed either on the route, or at least along parallel paths - difficult to know whether we or the owners of other torches we could occasionally see wagging in the distance were exactly right. I do remember looking up after a particularly trying section and being rewarded with a fantastic view of the stars, the sort us city dwellers so seldom get with all the light pollution, so bright and so near. Then the clouds rolled back in and I refocused on the puddle of light my headlight gave.

The temptation to give it away after so much when one saw a road sign with Cromer only a mile or two away was firmly resisted and we struggled the final few cross country miles back to the high school, staying as close to the route as our tired bodies and minds would allow. What a difference when we suddenly realised we had cracked it, as the tension and stress slipped away and it was all suddenly jokes and smiles as we trotted the last few hundred metres home.

A cup of tea and a chat with a few familiar faces, then I trudged the mile back to my hotel in the teeming rain for a shower and a beer. 12:35, not great but I would have taken it if offered it beforehand. Job, very definitely, done.

The Poor Student 09/01/11 - Nik Windle

After last year's effective cancellation of the Poor Student event due to snow I was looking forward to this. The forecast was for rain early but as a bonus this had come and gone before I headed off to the start at 7am. Lots off riders gathered at the Peartree Park and Ride, many familiar faces, some I could even attach names to.

8am and we're off. The bunch seems to think it a good idea to start out averaging nearly 30kph so I lag behind a bit, soon catching Rodd BD who has also settled for a sensible start pace. It quickly becomes apparent that we are going to have a headwind for the first 50 miles but it's not unexpected. I leave Ross behind as we cross the A420 and pootle on into Shrivenham where I stop for a nibble

A bit of out of the saddle stuff on the way to Highworth including the unusual experience of not being able to catch up with a horse, they are obviously better uphill than me. A rolling B-road to Blunsden then back into the lanes where more old friends catch me and we chat away a few miles until we part at Malmesbury - I for a quick Coop stop, they to a garden centre for a sit down feed. Fifteen minutes later I'm heading off to Cirencester, soon to be joined by a young chap who has been riding snowy grimpeurs in the Peaks and who I let go after 20km when the road starts going upwards.

A slow but gentle climb in some lovely sunshine up the Whiteway, then a hairy descent down a grotty lane where snow can still be seen at the sides of the road, and potholes, gravel and pheasants have to be dodged. I plan to ride up the long climb before Compton Abdale but to walk my fixed wheel bike up the short but taxing climb up to the A40 that follows. I have to tack most of the way up, fortunately there is hardly any traffic and the nearest riders someway behind. By halfway up my tacking is making more horizontal than vertical progress and I manage to stick the front wheel into the mud at the side of the lane so I stop to 'admire the view' for a couple of minutes. The guys behind pass commenting that I seem to be travelling twice the distance they are. Back on board without actually walking any of the climb and I finally make it to the top and am rewarded with a fast descent.

I walk up the steep bit to the A40 and with 25km of hills to Chipping Campden to do stop for a breather and a sandwich. Refuelled I spot and catch Ross again, who has had mechanical problems and been trying to make up time at the expense of eating enough. Noticing him struggling on even the little climbs I fed him a Trek bar then speed on to reach Chipping C before dark.

Tim and Emily catch up at the One-Stop and by the time I'm ready to go there are six of us gathered, including two other fixies. I weigh up the pleasure of a convoy to Oxford against getting a move on. I realise they'll drop me anyway when I take my next promised walk up the nasty lump 5km after Chipping, so put my lights and nightgear on and head off alone.

The tailwind is strong and consistent; the energy drink I've glugged buzzes me along; and I walk my climb knowing the route gets easier after Moreton-in-the-Marsh on the other side. I usually stop at Shipton garage for refreshment but feel no need today so just down another energy gel. Mostly alone, I don't realise how cold it's getting until Matt C catches me a couple of miles from the finish and comments on it.

A final receipt and a munch in the garage at Peartree and we're done. I'd planned for 11hr 30 and finished in 11hr 05, so happy with that. Just the 10km home to ride to finish 140 miles door-to-door and a good first ride of the year completed.

Tatton Yule Yomp 12/12/10 - Steve Coote

My first time at this multi-terrain 10km, and despite my misgivings as I'm not one for events with big fields as a rule I hope it won't be the last. Even prior to start I made two mistakes. One was to arrive very early, which as I hadn't drunk my usual quota of morning coffee before setting out gave me far too much time to rectify the omission and left me feeling a bit queasy as start time approached. The second was a belated decision to head for the loos. I wasn't sure how many of the potential thousand competitors had made it to the start line, but the changing rooms being in the opposite direction to the start from where I had parked, when I returned the decision was either to elbow my way through the assembled runners in a most unfestive manner or settle for a place well down the grid.

I opted for the latter, being in any case unsure of how I would go as I hadn't attempted to run fast since the Leeds Triathlon and my training has been more geared to the long stuff of late. The first couple of kilometres proved this to have been the wrong choice as for the size of the field the start was congested and the running line on the subsequent grassy tracks narrow. It was possible to pass, but only by taking to the rougher ground to either side and using far more energy than a simple overtaking manoeuvre should. All in all, a six minute first kilometre wasn't what I had had in mind at the start of the day.

I picked up the pace as things started to spread out thiniking I might be able to salvage a halfway decent time, but kilometre times varied widely not so much because of the intrinsic nature of the terrain - a lot of slopes but nothing one would really call a hill - but the underfoot conditions. We had had a thaw over the last couple of days around Manchester but temperatures had again plummetted overnight. The good news was that we were running on frost rather than frost overlying compacted snow and ice; the bad that some of the trails were slippery in random places and the grassy sections varied from concrete hard to quad-sappingly soggy.

But it's a lovely course even if the freezing fog somewhat restricted the views, and as I wasn't hanging on having started too quickly I was actually in a condition to enjoy it. I would happily have carried on for another 10kms - and so got one of my longer runs for the week done - as the finish banner came into view. 47:14 giving me 71/652 runners says two things - that there were a lot of fun runners out, and that I really should have knuckled down earlier.

Many thanks to the marshals who must have frozen early on. And I hope the youngish lad assisting with the medals put down the rather old-fashioned look I gave him when he said, 'that man has frost in his hair,' to the stress of the run. It was only when I got back to the car that I noticed that frozen sweat and condensation was indeed glistenning amongst the grey.

Stroud Half Marathon 24/10/10 - Jim Cheseldine

A lot hinged on this race. My aim for 2010 has been to focus on reducing my half marathon time. I broke 1.30 in May, but didn't improve on my time in my last attempt in September. With only a nightmarish 10k since then, and training schedules completely trampled on by a new job that takes all my time and energy, I was not confident that I could get my time down by much at Stroud, although it's a fast course on which I have got a PB at all six previous runs so I expected some improvement. Thus the target for the day was a scary sub 1.28, with sub 1.29 acceptable, and sub 1.27 a half-formed foolish dream.

A bright and sunny morning was in store, and inspired by other team members I courageously wheeled my bike out to negotiate the 2 miles from my house to the start, almost all downhill. Even with my gloves on it was freezing - I have heard reports of a bad winter to come this year, no one mentioned it would already be winter by late October. I arrived with time to warm up, the atmosphere was uplifting.

Underway at 10am, I met numerous friends and chatted a bit, conscious that at the last two events I have started too quickly and feeling that relaxation in the early stages would be critical. Nonetheless the first crowded mile passed in a slightly over par 6.35, but feeling pretty comfortable. The course is fairly flat, around 3 miles there is a steady hill which is immediately countered by a downhill stretch, after which there are a couple of pleasant miles through lanes. I passed 5 miles in 32.48, seemed to be doing well although fatigue was by now challenging my ability to multiply 6.42, should always make a wristband with times on. Around this point my faithful Garmin decided to clock a short mile just to make sure I was really on my own. "Dear Santa...etc"

There's a hill at 6 miles where I started to lose a couple of faster Stroud AC runners I'd kept up with, and by the top you are halfway and the course obligingly turns Stroud-wards for a downhill stretch. There are some dismal miles along a traffic choked A road where it's not safe to overtake, yet the uninspiring scenery and 8 mile legs seem to be slowing everyone. An industrial estate loop hardly improves things although at least there are no cars, and as you come out it's 10 miles. I passed this in 66 mins, could hardly believe it, even in my depleted state I knew this was ahead of time. So just a case of hanging on for the three fairly flat miles back to the finish.

And 10 to 12 really was just hanging on. I forced myself to keep pushing the pace, recalling how a decent 10 mile time at Chippenham had evaporated in the last three miles. Around 11 I could really feel my core start to suffer - balance and coordination start to go, semi-delirious thoughts emerge and it becomes quite scary...

The last mile has a mini hill, by the time I reached the top I was ready to go into cruise control and a job well done, but the constant shouts of the crowd just behind me of "Go on Stroud" forced a kick, as I didn't want to be overtaken by someone I knew at that point. He did overtake me on the line - and I didn't know him!!!

In the excitement I didn't see my time until a bit later, chip time of 1.27.02 was well ahead of all expectations. 135/2000, so a fast race on a good day for lots of people I would guess.

It's 2.16 off my last PB, and a successful campaign over the year seeing a steady improvement from my pre 2010 time of 1.32.50.

The Ridgeway Run 10/10/10 - Nik Windle

My plan for the Ridgeway Run was just to take part and enjoy myself, with Abingdon Marathon only a week away I didn't want to risk injuring myself or wearing myself down. At the non-standard distance of 15 and a bit kilometres the Ridgeway sounded great for this approach as it wouldn't tempt me into trying for a PB. VCAC member Mary Davies had enthused about the scenic route and a Sunday in the hills and woodland would be just the ticket after 3 weekends of long runs on tarmac.

I parked up at Tring Cricket Club, the race HQ, where I had a chat with Mary before going and standing in an endless queue for the portaloos before fortuitously hearing that there was no queue at all for the loos in the pavilion. A 10 minute walk and jog to the start where it became clear that there would be no fast start for most of us as we were to funnel from the cul-de-sac where we gathered onto a six foot wide path with no passing places for those adverse to high nettles. I said hello to an inquisitive cat watching from a driveway then positioned myself at what felt like halfway down the field and remembered I was to take it easy. I couldn't see Mary but guessed she was somewhere in the mob behind me. The race start had been moved for reasons of numerology and sure enough on the 10th day of the 10th month of 2010 at 10 minutes past 10 we were off.

Well most of us were actually having a pleasant shuffling walk resigned to waiting for the press of runners to open up before we attempted running. But a minute or so later and it was a gentle jog and pretty soon the path widened. We crossed a canal then a railway, through a farmyard, where I retied my undone shoelace rather than risk tripping over it. Then we were gently climbing, the hills ahead were misty, no sign of the sun yet, a cool northerly breeze made for comfortable running.

A bit of a haul up through some woods then a track through a grassy field. We crossed a lane, the Icknield Way I believe, and back into more woods. I was expecting a challenging climb somewhere about here and I wasn't disappointed. I reminded myself again not to rush about and enjoyed a steady trot up the long incline, passing more people than I was passed by which gave me the impression I was a bit far back in the field.

I became increasingly aware of a metallic din up ahead, it grew louder and louder and I joked about alpine cowbells to a runner who gave me that 'what is he going on about' look I've learned to love. The climb started levelling out and a bunch of supporters were cheering us while the youngsters were having a fine time battering a good collection of saucepans with kitchen implements. A large column of the sort that can only mark hill tops appeared ahead and I guessed this to be the Bridgewater Monument.

We swung northwards and to my surprise recommenced climbing but much more gently so I sped up a little. Still in the woods but on a good wide path I spotted and started closing on Mary who must have been ahead of me at the start after all. Not long after I caught up and we descended what I took to be Inchcombe Hole. Another water station and we were out of the trees, high up but still a lingering mistiness prevented the long view

It was great up there though, following the Ridgeway where it had worn it's shallow path, one of many Grim's Ditches, through the rolling grassland. A short, steep nip up what I suspect was a burial mound and I picked up a tailwind and left Mary behind. I'd been warned about another long, shallow climb hereabouts but it was a false alarm, really nothing to the earlier hauls. The long descent that followed was good, though

We retraced the flat start, no longer crowded with runners but a few cyclists and walkers about now. I'd heard the last half mile was a bit of an anticlimax as we ran back through populated Tring outskirts to the Cricket Club. It wasn't too bad, though, time for a bit of flat. Then into the field and the finish was in sight. A chap I'd recently overtaken stormed past me but I didn't rise to the bait. Into the finish funnel then what seemed a bit of a queue for the extra special 10/10/10 10:10 t-shirts, but supporters and marshals were bringing us cups and bottles of water, attentive and cheery as they'd been all through this splendid run.

Swimtrek Norfolk Broads 7/8/10 - Steve Coote

Though I had put my name down for this months ago, having been concentrating on ingraining the timing of my revised swimming stroke, I suddenly found myself with only a month to go to this and two until the Leeds triathlon relay. A, for me, intensive three or four morning pool swims per week saw my times start to fall, and a 3.5km swim at a training evening in Boundary Water Park left me feeling strangely confident about the weekend ahead.

The usual preliminaries were gone through on Friday evening - overview of how the days would pan out, safety briefing, round robin introductions and the all important seeding into groups. To get the most out of the weekend it's important to get into the right group, too fast a group can be as big a waste of time as too slow a one, and this isn't a race after all, but I was secretly pleased to find myself in the fast, pink-capped group. Just needed to see if I could justify it now.

A meal and a couple of beers and we all retired to the tents around 10-ish; a very sober start to the trip but most of us had had long journeys.

This isn't the most intrinsically interesting of the Swimtrek trips I've done, being in the initially very narrow stretch of the River Bure between Aylesham and Coltishall. At this time of the year the water for the first day's swimming - 3.5 and 2.5 km swims - is heavily weeded and reeded, at times it almost felt like one could drag oneself along on top of the vegetation, particularly when there was no option but to swim through mats of water lillies. Talk of otters and kingfishers being sighted along this section of the river was all very well, but unlikely at any time the chances of us seeing much wildlife with thirteen of us thrashing our way downstream was less than remote. Day two opened out a little more in a less matted river and, having started late, a 2km swim was followed by a 3 with only a short break for coffee and biscuits.

So we made it interesting for oursleves by really attacking the swims, which our canoeist was happy to accomodate us in. I was often the hare as I was looking to do hard 1500-2000 metre swims with Leeds in mind. Iona would inevitably come past as soon as she liked, a white fountain of untiring arms and legs toppped off with a splurge of white foam. One suspects that had not day two finished at a blockage in the river she would still be heading downstream at much the same pace. As the swims carried on through to 2.5 and 3.5 km, I would start to slow and focus on holding form and - yes, I know this isn't a race - holding off the chasers, successfully on the shorter swim, less so on the longer. As we hit the wooden ramp at the end of day two I must admit I felt like I had left it all in the River Bure; very little left in the tank and shoulders aching, very satisfying.

Having previously been a little critical of the veggie food on these trips the pubs had good enough veggie options - though I'm not sure how a strict vegan would have fared - and with our guide, Huseyin, being veggie himself even the apres swim picnic had sandwiches with veggies and vegans in mind.

Good weekend, though after the swimming and a 5 hour drive home, come Monday sat up the pub with Di I was in such discomfort that if I could have chewed my arms off at the shoulder blades I felt it would probably have been a relief.

Bearbrook 10km 8/8/10 - Peter Simpson

We chose the Bearbrook 10K for the third successive year as a targetted event for members in the region. The first was the club's 120th anniversary year, attracting 11 members and last year 6. For me it is a comfortable cycle journey following a short train ride but subject to the weather. Arrived with 50 minutes to the start and met with Keith and Sharon Hammond even before I had parked the bike.

The weather was ideal on arrival, cloudy and coolish, but it was not long before the clouds melted and it was brilliant sunshine. Mary Davis and Nik Windle soon met us in front of the Aylesbury Rugby clubhouse. The start is a little more crucial here for the faster runners who need to get on the road rather than line up in the entrance before turning right. Keith and I were near the front when we were sent on our way. Unfortunately for one female runner near us she fell. Another runner in front of me semed distracted so had to warn him to keep going otherwise...

After that incident I lost track of Keith so wondered if he had been caught up in the aftermath. Maybe a minute later Keith eased past me trying to make up for lost time. I was feeling a little sluggish soon after the start but going at a steady pace helped by the flat course. At about halfway, in the centre of Wendover, we turned left towards RAF Halton and there began the roller coaster run with three climbs - the third of which I had forgotten about. The only drinks station was most welcome during this section. Strangely I soon became more comfortable and overtook more runners here.

After the last hill we turned left into the RAF base and began the descent towards the finish. On this occasion, apart from the initial and final descents, I did not seem as comfortable as in previous events but I was holding my place. Coming back into the Rugby club ground I had no idea of my time but given recent form was hopeful of a sub-42 minutes time. As usual after the road, the perimeter of the rugby club pitch was slower and drains the enthusiasm for a fast finish. I was caught on the line with no time to react by a fast-finishing young runner, not that it would have made a difference. There was no obvious clock at the line, in fact it was some metres in front and to the right.

I was feeling exhausted and not helped by someone without a marshal's tabard looking like an unattached runner getting in the way. I stopped to usher him to move on, instead he told me to keep moving. Times were quickly posted at the finish. Keith, who had avoided the fall at the start, once more finished in under 39 minutes. I achieved my sub-42 whilst Nik came in in about 49 minutes. Mary managed 53 mins, but the best was reserved for last when Sharon achieved her best time since joining, finishing in 57:57. Maybe now that Sharon has dropped the half marathon we are seeing improvements over shorter distances.

The third-leg warm-down travelling home home by bike and sightseeing in good weather felt especially comfortable without the blackfly experienced after the Wycombe Half three weeks earlier.

Frampton 10km 12/7/10 - Jim Cheseldine

I often like to begin such articles with some form of excuse - been at work too much, injured, etc. This time I really felt like there might not be one. Until 5.30pm when my 6 year old son disappeared in the forest behind my house as I was preparing to leave. I warmed up by walking/running/driving to every imaginable place he could be. Next door neighbour phoned to say he had turned up, but not before I had envisaged completing the race at lightning speed, sprinting beyond the finish line to my car and being back home at 8.21 to continue the search! This may well be critical.

I arrived with 20 minutes to spare and did a shortish warm up. It's a big 10k, that starts on the largest village green in England and follows a pretty flat course inside a giant bend of the Severn. I had set a PB target of 38.45. As my last 10k PB was by under a second, I wondered whether a 10 second cut was too much to ask. 6.10 miles would easily do it for me anyway, and after missing the 1 mile marker, I registered 12.10 for 2 miles. good start - could even afford to go a bit slower! Mile 3 has a hill and was a 6.10. There's a long flat straight to the 3.5 mile water station, where I had clear and nasty memories of starting to fade last year. I tried to keep sight of a Stroud runner who is very fast but over 50. I have watched his positions slip in my 6 year racing career as mine improve...one day I'll beat him. But not today - he left me at 4 miles and was 1.30 ahead at the end.

At 5 I was 4 seconds ahead of my recent 5 mile PB at 30.48. My target looked very possible, just had to hang in... the last mile and a bit is straight, flat and endlessly painful. I overtook someone to raise my flagging spirits slightly. Only on reaching a bend with 100m to go is there any support, and I managed a token sprint, which turned out to be a good move as I finished in 37.59!! - 28/450.

I was pretty blown away by this as I had done no special training for the event, and although I fully expected a pb on the day I had no idea I could slash almost a minute off.

Raises the bar a bit for next time...

Chorlton X tri 12/6/10 - Steve Coote

I had coughed a couple of times rather violently the day before without thinking anymore of it, had an irriating tickle in the back of my throat all night and finally awoke to the full ground-glass sore throat thing going on. Any further to travel and I probably wouldn't have bothered, but with the start line only 3 km from my bedroom window it needed a good reason for a no show; simply feeling a bit shit didn't really cut it.

The start was delayed by 20 minutes by something happening out on the water, and though undoubtedly just a mental trick I seemed to feel worse with each minute that ticked by. Hearing that the swim might be a bit long scarcely improved my temper.

Finally the horn went to get us underway. I'm not sure what happened to all that controlled swim training I've been doing since the Malta Swimtrek last year, but right through to the last 200 metres of the supposed 750m swim I seemed to be doing fair imitation of a headless chicken. Could be I'd just forgotten what mass-start open water swimming is like, particularly open water sprint swimming where people are swimming over, through and round others. I took a couple of feet and elbows to the face, probably dished a couple out, too. Could be, this being a bit of a community event, that there were more swimmers of my standard about so I was in the thick of it for longer rather than ploughing my usual lonely furrow.

Good to get that done and run down into transition on the banks of the River Mersey - not as grim as it sounds this far up river. Numbed fingers fumbling with my wetsuit as I ran along the line of bikes, fumbling with the clips on my cycling shoes and bike helmet clip whilst changing; it's been awile since I last did this. Off on the bike. Normally a feeling of huge relief sweeps over me at this stage of a tri as the difficult bit's been done, the rest is just effort, but a mountain bike course is always a little different. I also don't cycle much these days as work is an easy 15 minute walk, far less train. So much the worse then that the one bit of proper training that I had done - reps getting me used to getting the appropriate gear and forcing up a short, sharp incline without getting out of the saddle because if you did you lost all traction on the back wheel - went for nought as either the juddering the bike took on the course or my crunching the gears as I moved towards it for the second time had bent something and I couldn't get my small chain ring. For both that and the final lap I had to dismount and run the bike up this section.

Some pretty dubious course arrangements had swimmers from later waves crossing cyclists near transition, and at one bridge one had cyclists from one direction turning left across other bikes going straight on, and, later, runners turning across both to the first lap around the water park before heading down towards Jackson's Boat. But all safely navigated as I hit the bridge at The Boat, only a mile from home and in the garden of which Di, Len and I done a had a couple of pints of carboloading the afternoon before, before heading back up the other bank. My mental rehearsal, fuelled by a good fartlek session on the previous Monday, had seen me digging in here and overtaking a lot of people, but that wasn't happening. I was moving cause that was the only route to finishing, and taking the odd poor soul whose back I would fix my eyes on like they had done me some personal injury, but it was painfully slow. Back over the bridge one last time for a final three-quarter lap of the water park.

'Steve Coote, Vegetarian Cycling And Athletic Club. That's why he finished so easily,' said the announcer as I tried not to adopt the official event recovery position and loose all that isotonic drink I'd been sipping during the event, thinking eyes might be on me. 1:31:49, just outside my target time and only 89/151 overall. Still 2/5 in the M50-54 age group, guess you got to settle for what you can get as you get older.

It's a great little event this one, for both novices and serious competitors; it even has a team relay event. Hopefully, the few course crunch points can be overcome in the future to just make it that bit safer. Well worth a visit