B is for Blade Running and Boozing

I kicked off the 2016 season at long last today with the last round of the winter cross country league at Wythenshawe Park. After arriving at 1:30pm and parking up for a piss stop I tried to stroke the resident cat but she was having none of it and promptly ran off into the garden centre - through the NO ENTRY sign no less. Well done Chinook, one down, 299 opponents on the course to go. I shovelled down two granola squares as a post-lunch "lunch" before making my way through no end of dead-ends and across the course where the ladies were already racing to get my race number from Matt Shillabeer, who just so happens to have a degree from the same part of the country I might be doing my half marathon in on 23 October - how about "Who Wants To Win Something From Leicester" (and no I'm not planning on stealing the Premier League trophy either).For now it was time to catch up with Eddie Hirst and his IMUK plans, plus club newbie Michael Forber, who apparently is gunning for a 2:55 time at the upcoming Manchester Marathon. We were called over at 2:25pm to start, I lined up on the inside for the first corner and before we knew it, the starting gun sounded and we were underway.

I quickly realised why my teammates had gone to the other side of the starting grid; the inside line for Turn 1 was far more churned up than the long way round, and from that point onwards I pretty much committed to sticking to the hardest packed grass. This was noted by Michael after the race, as shortly after I overtook both him and Matt for second club counter I was kicking on after Eddie on the straights quite well but losing no end of time in the tight corners. Actually my best plan of action was to check that there were only non-Michael-non-Matt people on my tail and back them up into my teammates, but this led to a bit of give and take between me and Michael for most of the first lap either side of an over-enthusiastic puppy gracing us with his presence. There's always one. At the back end of the lap you went straight across muddy water which felt more like you were literally running on a real blade as opposed to the TT bike fo the same name (now available in St Helens colours no less) before picking up speed a little through the woods, which necessitated a few long jumps over the mini-ditches; how I'd hate to be one of the little people further up the field in such a situation. The hard-packed mud gave me a chance to make my escape from my pursuers and I ended the first lap in good spirits ready for two more hard laps of muddy mayhem.

On the second lap little of note really happened, other than the bloke next to the hidden tree roots in the woods sounding like a broken record player "mind the stump, mind the stump.........." and as we approached the bus stop chicane next to the tennis courts near the end of the lap, the St Helens ladies were cheering us on no end. I waved to them, NOT forgetting the importance of tomorrow's date and charged onwards to begin the final lap. By now I'd opened up a little gap on Michael and could have let my guard drop, but there were still plenty of people to race with/infuriate with my drifting ruond corner techniques. You could argue that this is a tactic of mine, in that they think "OH NO IT'S CHINOOK" as soon as the neon yellow skull cap/lifesaver comes within 10 metres of them but actually I was now well acquainted with the course because unlike at Boggart Hole two months ago we did the same course on every lap. So you really could plan where you would attack and where you would defend. This made the only off-camber corners after the woodland rather easier to manage, this propelling me round the tennis courts once more with the Saints tifosi cheering us on Ferrari-style (I wonder how many cheers I'd get alone if I bought a Ferrari-liveried Wilier Blade?) and I set off for the final hairpin, this time a right-hander, which led us into the finishing chute. This was a real hoot despite the fact that the lady doing the scoring couldn't read my race number (I did shout it out at the line but I think the RTTC are ahead of the game in this respect) and I could park up at the team base very happy with my time, 43:12, less than 9 minutes behind the winner (having been around 14 in arrears at the Boggartland Bowl before Christmas) and second club counter over the line, plus in the top half of the field (133/300) to boot!

After that it was over to Marie Whalley, our first lady finisher, to hand out homemade cake with some very sweet icing, and Liz Spensley, the only over-70 entrant in this year's races, who had bought some mini-bites from Morrisons in the form of chocolate brownies and flapjacks. These were very well-received as thought turned to the Rainford Beer Festival. Plans were made to get there for 7pm so while some waited around to see Liz collect the over-70 award most had to get home quickly, though I broked my stride on my cool-down run to go to my new Indian mate (who I'll call "Ravi" because there's someone with that name on the "Made in the Royal Navy radio commericals now on Capital FM) and he served up a strawberry Knickerbocker Glory. To look at, it would have appeared as though it was simply a glorified whippy ice-cream in a plastic tub with sauce and a Flake but it was by far the best ice cream van style offering I've ever had and if only there hadn't been so many "NO ENTRY" signs in a park that's ahrd to find your way around at the best of times, I think he'd have sold out of the stuff long before our race even finished. From here it was a one hour drive home for my evening meal, before joining Eddie at the Rainford Beer Festival in the village hall. Within a few minutes of getting there Lee, Mike and Andy also turned up and the token system allowed us to sample various beers, including the pick of the bunch, Cheeky Pheasant, a rather dark-coloured real ale with fruity hops. I even bought a crate of "real cider" featuring strawberry, blueberry and RUM flavours to take home! Come 10pm it was time to make the long journey home having enjoyed a cracking day out. Next up tomorrow morning: Delamere!

Now for the results, powered by Cheeky Pheasant Real Ale:

Distance: 10km

Time: 43:12

Average Speed: 13.89kmh

Animals: One cat and one dog

Ditches: 3 mini-ones in the forest

Bathroom Sinks Ruined: 1 in the garden centre loo just as they were closing at 4pm

Cakes eaten at finish: 2 plus an ice-cream from "Ravi"

Post Race Hydration: The remainder of my water bottle on the journey home plus three samples of real ale in Rainford

REJECT OF THE RACE: Wythenshawe Park Access Lanes for Lemmings
(No directions pointing to the start/finish line and nowhere for my mate Ravi to sell his ice cream? Come on guys, sort it out!)

See you all tomorrow for the Delamere century. I promise not to do any half-wheeling, in fact if I even reach the ferry in one piece I'll be more than happy. It's got to be easier than running with a 2:55 marathon guy breathing down your neck. Time to launch Project Leicester 2016? Of course!