2014 Bookham 10K

You know you are a runner when you base your entire local geography by race venues.

There isn't a week that goes by that I don't have a conversation with someone that goes along the following lines:

Me: Sooooooo where are you based?

Unwilling victim: (Insert location in London or south east England)

Me: Ah yes I've raced a 10k there, fast course actually, although a few hills near the start to test the legs...

The reaction to this is normally somewhere between bemusement and ambivalence.

So when my now girlfriend and I met up for our first date, I was geared up for the inevitable "Where are you based" question. I thought could wow her with personal bests (41:21 for 10k thanks for asking) that I'd done at races where she lived and regale her with training routes in the region. This, I thought, will definitely impress her....

And so when the time came, I puffed out my chest, one hand clenching the table the other with my fingers crossed, and I asked the question:

"So where are you based?"

"Bookham" came the reply.

I paused and reached into my mind vaults like Charles Augustus Magnuson from Sherlock (although for less maniacal reasons, and definitely sans face licking...) - I found nothing.

Nine months later, and there we were expecting...the starting gun for the Bookham 10K. I love the circuit of club races that we do every year but its always good to have new challenges. And 2013's race certainly was that, full of mud, knee deep puddles and stony hills, it was of epic proportions to say the least and adds about ten minutes onto what you would normally do for the distance. I was 50th in 53:13.

Fast forward 12 months and I was back for a second go at this horrendous course. A rousing rendition of the national anthem soon raised the spirits however. It wasn't just me singing by myself I hasten to add, this was coordinated en mass by the organisers and the whole field joined in. Maybe they could do this before every championship or league race in the County, now that would be brilliant...

Soon enough, the race was on and immediately whole swathes of runners launched past me. My tactics and aims were simple, keep at 7-7.30 minutes a mile and try and get in a coveted (in my mind anyway) top 50 slot. And for goodness sake don't get injured ahead of next week's Surrey cross country league finale.

The first of these aims was proving all the more difficult after my Garmin packed up five minutes before the start. Lovely, £80 well spent. And so I'd have to go on feel and trust in my Casio f-91w (£4.99) that has never let me down yet.

At roughly 5K in, I hadn't made much progress through the field as I'd have liked. But then it came...one of the steepest inclines in all the races I compete in. Last year I approached it and wondered why people near the top of it were walking, I quickly found out why.

Not only is it steep - it proceeds to go on and on and on. But one thing my horrific experience in Parliament Hill gave me seven days ago, it was strength up the hills, and sure enough, despite treading water when I was at the top, I'd taken a dozen or so athletes in the process.

After 32 minutes. I overheard two other runners talking about the race, one of them turned out to be 2nd in the women's comp. Turns out we had run 6k. 6k?! This is abysmal. Next up was a downhill, a very long descent that is borderline dangerous if you actively try and sprint down due to perilous tree roots, stones, gravel, old brick and drain covers. I decided to play it safe, until another runner from an all too familiar club got beside me.

It was a Wimbledon Windmiler.

Six days from now, my club would be facing the windmilers in a straight shoot out to see who will be promoted to the 1st division of the Surrey XC league. It is all horrendously nerve wracking but it is likely that every spot will count on the day.

It is amazing what the heat of battle can do to the brain. My tactics of playing it safe quickly went out the window, and my focus changed to trying to beat him at all costs. A bizarre (and silly) thing to think considering it extremely unlikely that myself or indeed himself are likely to feature in our clubs scoring teams if we are seven minutes a mile.

But it doesn't matter, nothing matters more in this moment than beating him, I must vanquish him at all costs.

And then I rolled my ankle.

A funny thing...injuries.Or in this case a close call to injury - it all happens in a matter of a split second. Here I hit a rock embedded in the ground and nearly went over. Instinctively my body bolted upright to correct itself. I landed back flat on my feet and all was well...I'd got away with it. Common sense prevailed, and I put the brakes on. Next week is the biggie...not this one. I didn't get close to the Windmiler again.

The last few kilometres were an almighty slog. Boggy and hilly, I was slipping everywhere all the while losing precious positions. There is nothing more frustrating than not being out of breath and yet being unable to push the pace on, purely down to footwear and the sludge underfoot.

Be that as it may, I approached the last kilometre with some relief and reached the infamous of "puddles of death". I've coined that phrase, I don't think it'll catch on. These puddles are so deep, they are knee high, and it's basically a gamble as to where your foot lands, and indeed whether it comes back out again with a shoe still encasing it.

I launch in and as soon as I do, my foot turned to ice. It was freezing and unpleasant memories of last years National Champs in Sunderland came flooding back to me. After ploughing through the first puddle and neared the second, the one saving grace was that my girlfriend's parents were on hand to cheer me on. I was in much need of the support after such a hard slog and they were also able to document my pain in photographic format.

"That'll be a good one for Facebook" I thought and thus confirming to the social media 

Having lost a place through the puddles I made it back on the road to home on the pavements that I was oh so relieved to see. Little did I know that that move was for 50th place and that is where I'd remain in a time of 53:04, nine seconds quicker than 12 months ago. My lack of training at least hasn't killed me off entirely then....

Objective achieved then, but this wasn't the real battle, that comes in six days from now, and it comes at the Surrey league finale...