SUNDAY 14th FEBRUARY
WINTER HILL FELL RACE
11m/2700ft
RIVINGTON, LANCS.

Winter Hill was the scene of my first venture into fell racing four years ago. I was not so much young, but certainly naive. Poor weather conditions put me through a bit of a learning curve. Did I not learn anything from my childhood and teens trodding the hundreds of miles and various conditions experienced walking the fells of England and Wales? It seemed not.
Wearing an average pair of road running shoes, wooly hat, wooly gloves and just a double layer of football shirts that instantly soaked up the icy rain, I had a rough old time of it. My hands numbed up in no time and became incapable of opening the bag to belatedly slip on my waterproofs. I was hitting the deck more times than I can remember, slipping all over the show in my flat soles. In the latter stages I also spent some time completely disorientated in the murk of Rivington Moor with nothing but the shivers for company. Maybe I flirted a little too close to hyperthermia for comfort as it took the rest of the day to get warm again, but I did eventually cross that finishing line.
This year marked my fifth consecutive appearance in the race. I would have to be bed laiden to miss this one, so the fact that I was carrying half a dozen niggles of significant discomfort was not going to stop me as I patched myself up with bits of bandage and an overdose of ibuprofen gel and hoped for the best.
I knew I was some way short of the form I took into last year's race when I smashed my previous best time and muscled in on 9th place with a strong finish. However, I wasn't going to put myself under too much pressure this time around as it was essentially a training run towards what my pal Dominic from Chorley Harriers would describe as 'the bigger picture'. That being the Yorkshire Three Peaks race on April 24th.
Even so, a race is a race and I was expecting a satisfactory performance at the very least. I felt I should be able to draw on some core strength built up from a tough winter's training to compensate for my lack of form.
The conditions were perfect. Absolutely calm with blue skies, whilst underfoot the terrain was essentially frozen like last year when everybody clocked fast times.
However, by only the second checkpoint of the nine, I was already struggling to sustain the sensible pace I had set myself. I tried to keep positive with the thought that it's been taking me five or six miles to get into gear lately. Young Preston runner Alex Fowler was shadowing my footsteps to checkpoint three and with respect to him, I felt that I ought to have been pulling away from him a little at some point soon. Instead though, I got the feeling that if anything I was holding him up whilst I guided him a decent line off Counting Hill. Those fears became reality when he climbed excellently from that third checkpoint and quickly gained significant yardage on me. As two more vests in the colours of Ilkley and Altrincham passed me by, and with the toughest sections of the course yet to come, I resigned myself to the fact that the recovery mode commomly known as 'second wind' was not going to be operating today. I reprogrammed my mindset for a torrid time ahead.
I've been known to lose my composure when the wheels come off early on in a race, but I kept focused and just dug in the best that I could with all thoughts centred towards that 'bigger picture'.
I regained two places with a good line to the knoll at checkpoint five, but the steep climb back up to Winter Hill summit knocked the stuffing out of me. I did at least find enough gas to share some self depricational humour with fell running legend Dave Woodhead. The loud and proud Yorkshireman was out on the course with his camera and I reckon he was loving it to see a Lancashire lad struggle on his own patch!
From the summit I tried to gather myself and was still hoping and searching in vain for that elusive extra gear. The normally enjoyable fast decent from here was icy and bobbly, so being extra conscious to stay on my feet after that incident a fortnight ago, I found myself dilly-dallying. Alex was getting further away and then lkley runner Steve Turland passed me by for a second time. I held on with grim determination to keep that red and green Ilkley vest within catching distance and after checkpoint eight a bit of local knowledge brought me even closer, although Burnden runner Martin Pollit somehow appeared ahead of me which I couldn't quite work out at the time.
I had probably recovered a good minute on young Al though and his leg action was visibly starting to wobble a bit down from Rivington Pike. He had run a splendid race, his first Winter Hill attempt and he deserved to beat me really, but I managed to get the better of him on the final climb towards the Chinese Gardens. I was just edging my bets if there was enough time to draw Steve Turland in aswell and so finish on some sort of a high note when Horwich's wily fifty-something Graham Schofield cruised by with typically perfect timing and plenty in reserve to see us both off.
22nd in 1.44:31. Only a minute or so slower than last year, but an unsatisfactory result given that the conditions were even better this year and my gap behind the front runners had expanded by a further four minutes.
British Fell Running Champion Rob Hope won his fifth Winter Hill title in six years in an unbelievable course record time of 1.26:54, pushed all the way by his brother Danny who was less than a minute in his wake. Third placed Graham Pearce also beat the old course record.
Thinking in awe about the exploits of that top three for too long though can be an unhealthy pass time as it ponders the question 'why the hell do I bother?' Well, the answer can only be 'the bigger picture' of course.
Time: 1.44:31   Pos: 22nd/196