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Humbugs are Cock-a-Hoop at Hendon Brook

AUTUMN PEARSON 22 JUN 2013
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Wow, wow, wow…what a race! It was everything I imagined it to be and more! Hills, pain, camaraderie, more hills, cheers, backache, hills, stitches, smiles and a few more hills. This is regarded as one of the toughest (if not the toughest) road half-marathon in the country and today, I conquered it.

The weather was perfect: cloudy with a light breeze and the odd shower. When I arrived at registration I was pleased (but not surprised) to see the awesome array of humbugs, out to dominate yet another Grand Prix race.

It was also great to see runners who were still recovering from yesterday’s Pendle Pub Walk (a 12 mile walk with a pint in each pub along the way!). There were groans all around of “I feel sick”, “Why are we doing this?”, “This is no way to celebrate Father’s Day”, and I was greeted near to the start line by Barry who yelled “It’s not too late to turn back…don’t do this…why would you do this?!” Hmmm, something tells me that this course is going to give me an absolute spanking.

I had two targets for today. Number one: do not walk any of the climbs. Number two: finish in under 2 hours. I was fairly confident about the first target but the second….well, not so much. And with the sage advice of my friends ringing in my ears (pace the climbs, recover on the downhills and for Pete’s sake DON’T speed off at the start), I crossed the start line and completed the first mile in 7:28…oops.

But soon we started to climb and I backed off the pace. I knew if I were to stand any chance of going sub-2 I had to pace it well and run a clever race. Harry (who was running his first half-marathon) also had the same plan and we ran much of the first half together, which was a welcome lift, thank you Harry. We held back, ran steady and bided our time.

Even on the first climb there were lots of people walking. As I passed one chap who was struggling, he exclaimed, “My God this is steep!” I didn’t have the heart to tell him what he was to face at mile 11, so just nodded in agreement, gave a few encouraging words and trotted off. I really hope the Beast of the Brook didn’t get him….

The miles seemed to comfortably tick by and I really found myself enjoying the whole thing. There was so much support out on the race route, making everything feel just that little bit easier. Club mates who weren’t running were out in force to cheer us on, hand out water, point us in the right direction and take photo’s and videos. It’s surprising how you can keep running up an almost vertical climb when someone has a camera in your face!

I found myself on the lovely run down into Trawden at around 1hr 15minutes……little did I know that the race had already been won by this point! I was greeted at the church with offerings of sweets and loud cheers of encouragement by yet another one of our fantastic support crews – thank you all of you that were there.

Despite the tough course and my legs really starting to feel the steepness, I honestly didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world at that moment.

Onwards to Colne and I was bracing myself for the beast that was to come. I found myself gasping and could really have done with a drink. And then, like an angel from the sky, Neil appeared on his bike and motioned his water bottle towards me. My saviour! He selflessly abandoned his (very expensive!) bike on the pavement and ran with me so I could have a few gulps, what a hero!

I then encroached upon the dreaded Lenches hill at 11 miles in. This is where the real race begins (and Gerry was there to vocalise this!). I took a deep breath, said a little prayer and hoped for the best. ”Just one step at a time…keep it going…tippy toes…left foot, right foot…tiny little steps”. Yes, I was talking to myself out loud and although I may have looked a little crazy, I’m happy to stick with what works.

At the crest of the hill we approached the 12 mile marker and there were no massive climbs left; a bit of flat, a nice section of downhill and a little sting in the tail at the end. With a nudge of encouragement from Helen (who was orginally miles infront of me but was hampered by injury in the latter stages) and with the reassurance that I had been running conservatively so far, I decided to see just what I was capable of. This is it…full throttle!

I hurtled down the hill, arms windmilling and legs flying. A quick glance at my watch told me I was definitely on for a faster time than 2 hours, but the question was, just how much faster? Come on girl, keep pushing! I could sense people on my shoulder and Chris confirmed it as I neared the finish line.

Not a soul had overtaken me for the whole 13.5 miles…there was not a chance on this earth that I was letting somebody pass me in the last ten yards! I gave it everything I had and flew over the line, keeping my position. A quick glance at my watch: 1hr 55 minutes. That’ll do nicely! And it was a victory made all the more sweet knowing that I ran all the way, every last tiny, painful step.

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