Mayhill Massacre - 7th February 2010 - Nigel's Blog...

May Hill Massacre
Sunday, February 7th 2010-02-09

My final preparation for race day did not go well. Caroline dragged me around the biggest shopping centre in Europe – Westfield in London, under the ‘guise’ of getting me something for my birthday. The reality hit home 6 hours later, on examining my 1 bag to Caroline’s 4, I realised I had been ‘hood winked’.

Anyone else find shopping really hard work on the legs? Give me a triathlon any day. The drive home was broken up by a visit to Caroline’s parents in Basingstoke. It was a nice thought of mine, and didn’t have anything to do with the England v Wales kick off at 5:00PM ;). Eventually I get home to Cheltenham at 11:30 following a detour to a few Gloucester Pubs to see my cousins who were down for the weekend.

Looking forward to a good nights sleep, I should have guessed that Lewis would have other ideas. Whilst we both tried to ignore him, we gave up about 2:00AM and let him come into bed with us. The next 4 hours were spent with my right buttock perched precariously over the edge of the bed, whilst Lewis tossed, turned, kicked, scratched and snorted as he led horizontally across our bed. So at 6:00am I gave up, went downstairs and returned with enough baby milk to silence a rhinoceros. Lewis’s eyes started to sag and I thought my plan had worked until he threw it all up over me and the duvet !!!! . So all in all I was glad to leave the house at 8:30 for the 9:00am meeting with Mark and Martin and Esporta. Half way to Esporta I realised I had left my number at home, and had to return home to collect it. I just made it to Esporta at 9:00am with martin and Mark waiting in anticipation.

We decided to take Mark’s ‘Scooby doo van’ on the short trip from Gloucester to Mayhill, mainly because it had room in the back for all the kit, but I did wonder if Mark knew how much mud it was going to collect over the next few hours. The short trip was spent catching on up on the latest chapter in Martin’s love life which in itself deserves a separate blog! and trying to scare Mark into what lied ahead. Martin and I had completed Mayhill before – last year along with Marcus, and as we recited the stories and got closer to Mayhill, the normal pre-race butterflies appeared. No matter what race I do, how confident I seem, those butterflies always appear on race morning.

Now, I’m a stickler for being on time, I would rather be 30 mins early than 1 minute late, but even by my standards, arriving at the race at 9:25 for a 11:00am race is excessive. With the exception of a quick walk to the “rustic” race start for tea, shortbread and portaloo inspection it was back to the “Dream Machine” for Gas Mark 4 on the heaters. The “Scooby Van” also makes great cover for the nervous “wee” breaks, and I think Martin and I must have got into double figures by the end. Eventually talk turned to the job ahead, Firstly we started with what to wear! Shorts? Running tights? Hats? Gloves? Specially purchased 2XU compression socks! Eventually we actually discussed the race , and our objectives. I think for Mark who readily admits he dislikes running his objective was to just to finish with a respectable time. For Martin and I, I think it was to be competitive against each other, and improve on last years time. I personally had half an eye on Marcus’s time from last year, but I would need to be about 10 mins quicker to achieve that. Unfortunately Marcus couldn’t make it due to injury, which was a shame, don’t tell him but he was missed. I knew he was gutted not to be there and I know how frustrating injury can be especially when you know you are in good shape.

For Mark and I the car park was a great spot for people watching…… Look he’s wearing shorts! Ooh he looks fast!, For Martin however it was more a female watch, where he deliberated long and hard over which Ladies backside he would like to chase up the first hill. As good a plan as any! Reluctantly about 25 minutes before the race start we emerged from the van for our warm up. We wanted to look like we knew what we were doing, so jogged from the start down to the turning performed a few stretches, discussed the virtues of yoga and jogged back to the start. Following another “wee” break at the 10 minutes to go mark we assembled at the start line about mid way through the pack, shook hands and put the game face on.

I would break the Mayhill race down into 4 parts, each approximately 2 miles in length. Part 1 is the drag up quite a steep hill to the top of Mayhill. Part 2 is the flatter part across the top of Mayhill and down the other side. Part 3 is the hardest, uphill again through oceans of mud and water, and finally part 4 a fast downhill to the finish.

Part 1 – As the claxon went the three of us went off quite quickly, dodging through the crowds to find some space. As we turned left uphill Martin and I put in a bit of spurt, naively overtaking a few too many, whilst Mark sensibly took it a bit easier. 10 Minutes in and going uphill sharply, the memories of last year started to flood back. I spent most of the time moaning, which is not unusual for me, it makes me happy. I think Martin and I were jostling a bit for supremacy, eager to show the other we were in good shape, and that we would be hard to beat. We had agreed previously to run together as much as possible, driving each other on until the final downhill when it was anyone’s race. As we reached the top of the hill, we had probably overtaken 50+ people on the way up, and were beginning to struggle with the pace.

Part 2 – Across the top of the hill Martin and I agreed to drop the pace a little, and get our hear rates below the heart attack zone. On the way back down the other side a lot of the people that we had overtaken on the way up, overtook us. Even though we were taking it slightly easier, there is a real skill to running effectively downhill, one that I have not yet mastered. However, we were both happy to settle down into a steady pace. Hopefully those that flew past us were blissfully unaware of the mud bath ahead. The trainers at this stage were still remarkably clean, with my new laces shinning like a site of bleached teeth.
During this period I was dying to stop for “wee” break., but Martin was not going to stop and I feared I would loose him if I did.

Part 3 – As we run through the forest the terrain got softer and hillier again, and within a few minutes we were running/stumbling through thick mud. Thoughts returned to last year at this point where Martin’s foot went shin deep in the mud and reappeared without a shoe on the end of it, and I slipped off the bridal path into 3 foot of water. Again the art of mud running is not one I have mastered, backed up by some gentlemen behind me who told me I needed more tread on my trainers. It’s no exaggeration to say that at the time my legs were going into the mud as far as the top of my compressions socks – just below the knee and the art of running was more of an ice skating action. Surprisingly I only saw two people hit the mud, but I did see a St John’s Ambulance team jump into action and feared that someone behind us was injured.

Martin and I stuck closely together at this point, exchanging the lead and joking about whether Mark would still be talking to us after all of this. After what seemed an eternity, at the 1 hour Mark we approached the final hill. This mud slide goes on and on, and the only way up is to walk, but the cheers of the expectant crowd at the top of the hill, and the knowledge that it was downhill from the top drove us on. Exhausted we hit the top to be greeted by some cheerleaders, pom pom and all!

Part 4 – Glancing at my watch I knew that we were both going to beat last years time, would probably beat 1:20, and there was an outside chance of getting close to Marcus’s record of 1:16:45. We set off quickly down the hill knowing there was about 1.5 miles to go. Martin told me to go on ahead if I could so I tried to put a bit of a spurt on, however I didn’t have a lot left and for the next mile or so we stayed within about 10 seconds of each other. Reaching the bottom of the hill I kicked again but couldn’t shake off Martin who stayed within about 6-8 seconds behind. Knowledge that Martin was on my tail drove me up the hill in the final 300 metres. The finish photo of me shows how hard I was working as I crossed the line. Cold, Wet, Caked in mud, sore, exhausted but very happy. On checking my watch I was happy to beat last years time by about 9 minutes, and maybe a little annoyed that I hadn’t run 1 minute 6 seconds quicker and beaten Marcus’s record. Oh well there’s always next year.

All in all another great race, which the three of us thoroughly enjoyed. It can’t be that bad as we all want to do it again next year. Thanks to the organisers and marshals for a well run and affordable race for a good cause.

On to the next Race.

Mayhill Massacre - 7th February 2010

2010

162	Nigel Stoddart	Unattached	OPEN	01:17:55
164	Martin Fassett	Unattached	OPEN	01:18:01
304	Mark Pierce	Unattached	VET 40	01:31:07