SATURDAY 13th NOVEMBER
TOUR OF PENDLE
16.8m/4830ft
BARLEY, LANCS.

Statisically, this was one of the toughest races I have taken on but I held no fear. I was feeling good and running well. Even on the journey to the race that morning, there seemed something in the air. There actually was something in the air, cold Pennine rain to be precise, but it was inspiring me rather than concerning me.
I was so relaxed going in to this race that I ought to have worried about having nothing to worry about! For once I knew in myself that I was going to do a long race and do myself a bit of justice at least. This was my first Tour Of Pendle and more than anything I was determined to enjoy it. I had a rough idea of what to expect as I had done a few recce runs up there with some lads from the club, but had not done the whole route in one full swoop.
The first half of the race is comparitively tame to the latter half and so my plan was to run just about within myself and make sure I had summat in the bank for when the going got tough. Pleasingly, just by running within myself I seemed to be going quite well although when catching up with runners from the early start, I began to lose all sense of what position I was in. The only issues up to this point were; wondering if I had missed the first checkpoint, although that seemed a mutual concern amongst other runners so I tried not to worry. Then, if snagging my favourite Nike windproof jacket on a barbed wire fence going up Spence Moor was a stroke of bad luck, it was soon enough retributed with a split second of extremely good fortune when bungling my way down the steep descent to Ogden Clough I sent a boulder the size of two milk bottles hurtling down the hillside and into the path of a lady who had gone with the early start. I stopped, screamed at her, as did the chap nearby me, then put my hands on my head in disbelief awaiting tragedy. Only by sheer chance did she move to the right and look back at us and so just avoiding what at best would have been some very nasty bruising. As we crossed the stream at the bottom I apologised sincerely for trying to kill her, but she seemed quite oblivious as to what happened - which was probably a good thing!
For a long spell I was in the company of a Scotsman from Carnethy Runners and Wharfedale Harrier Nick Charlesworth and we were in each other's pockets until when the latter half of the route kicks in and Keighley's Stephen Brock passed by to give Nick the taste of bitter Yorkshire rivalry and a reason to get the bit between his teeth and keep up with him. 
So from now on it was just me and the Scotsman. As the weather conditions worsened I found myself wasting the best part of a minute at checkpoint six unable to undo my checking-in tag with my gloves soaked and hands numbing up. I thought my companion from the North had long since got ahead of me only for him to actually catch me up shortly after at the foot of Mearley Clough. It turned out he was having the same de-tagging troubles as myself. We were inseperable!
Up the climb from Mearley I discovered this was the very same Carnethy runner, Adrian Davis, who easily had the beating of me in The Lomonds Of Fife race back in August along with his super-fit cocker spaniel. Today though, without his four-legged pacemaker, there was little between us.
I led us a good line down to the bottom of what is known in these parts as 'Big End'. This is the last climb to Pendle's summit before a fast couple of miles or so back to Barley. With the cold and wet now penetrating so deep as to question one's love of this sport, if not quite the will to live yet, this Big End seemed a whole lot bigger than my last visit here. 
It was beginning to feel like all the good work I had put in to this race was going to fall apart at the seams. Adrian had broken away although shouted me encouragement, meanwhile I could hear a couple of runners behind closing me down very quickly as I staggered almost to a halt at the foot of this bloody big slope. 
Refuelling was urgently required. Some glugs of water and a few mouthfuls of Galaxy cookie crunch chocolate later, which I lashed down my gullet so quickly I almost suffocated myself, was complimented a little further up the hillside by a group of very brave and kind souls who were spectating and dishing out jelly babies and just a few minutes later the transformation was complete. My body thermostat resumed normal operations and I regained focus on what I was doing. I had a little chat to myself and decided that all I had to do was get to the top of this lump because even though I was struggling to climb, I felt there was plenty of running left in me and anybody who was going to pass me would have to be both fast and very determined. I dug in all the way to the trig point and then pushed myself hard down through the choppy heather back to Ogden Clough and even a couple of high speed tumbles didn't put me out of my stride.
With just a mile or so to go down the track back to the village I had closed Adrian down significantly and in a kind of 'gloves off' fashion, I whipped off my windproof jacket, tied it around my waist and knuckled down to the business of catching him up. Feeling amazingly fresh legged at this point, I was leaping cattle grids - Galaxy, you are the future! - and soon enough I had passed Adrian and so set my sights on the next figures ahead, unsure if they were from the early start or not I just pushed hard to reel them in regardless. I was pretty startled to find myself passing Clayton's Tim Edward who sportingly tapped me on the arm as I went by. ''Bloody hell, I must be having a good one'', I thought. That was confirmed when seconds later I am on the shoulder of Mark Russell, the former Bolton-Tri man now with Salford. Not confident of out-sprinting Mark from here I stayed with him only for the finishing line to suddenly appear around the next corner and some hundred yards or so short of where I expected it to be. Anyway, I just instinctively edged ahead and the results later revealed they gave it to me by a whisker. I asked Tim if he was running ok if only to find out if I really had run a good one and he reassured me I had. Still unsure of my finishing position, there was a bit of a mix up with the results as the early start for the so-called slowest runners to be able to meet the cut-off point had been hijacked by some not as slow runners and confusion prevailed for a short while. But whilst overdosing on lemon drizzle cake and coffee in the village hall I was gobsmacked to be told I had finished 8th. What a result! All in all probably my strongest performance ever.
Time: 2.45:52   Pos: 8th/310