Salmon and Salomon

It takes a special sort of motivation to get up at 5.30am, be on the road at 6am, and ready to race at 8am – particularly when you’ve been working the previous night until 1am.

Haworth. Overcast. March. Must be the Haworth Hobble – some 32 miles and 4,400 feet of ascent.

Stu,Mike and Me at the start

With Mike McKenna, I make up a team of two and am at the start wearing a new pair of bright yellow Salomon running shoes.

Lined up for the race start in the village’s cobbled high street, we’re obviously facing the wrong way as what follows is two miles of overtaking before we can settle in at a comfortable rhythm. There’s a strong Dallam turn-out today.

Onto Haworth Moor, it’s a long drop down to Walshaw Dean Reservoirs (where we pass Wendy Dodds). We’re virtually on the fringes of Burnley, before we turn south down to the Long Causeway and the first food stop. Here, it’s help yourself to handfuls of broken Bronte Biscuits – a reminder from my childhood where my father regularly brought home boxes of the stuff in return for supplying drivebelts to the biscuit factory.

Keeping on the subject of food, I’m trying to gather as many club tips on what to eat before and during BG – I’ll mention these on the blog as they come in. Mike McKenna’s recommendation is salmon, brown rice and spinach the night before a big run.

Three doughnuts crammed in at the next stop (two in my mouth, one squished into my mug for later) and then it’s down to Todmorden and then up to Stoodley Pike monument. The walking poles (declared illegal by many members of the club) help as my legs start feeling heavy at this point, but it’s then down to Hebden Bridge and then almost immediately up again to Heptonstall. At the top there’s a guy handing out energy drink (‘thanks’) and signing up runners for the following week’s fell race (‘no thanks’). The drop down sees my legs pack in momentarily. The legs are still turning, but they’re not actually moving forward. Swearing at, then hitting the left one, repeating the order for the right, seems to do the trick.

A long, steady climb follows before dropping down to Haworth, where Mike (who’d pulled away sometime before) is waiting so we can cross the line together. We finish in just over six hours – mostly down to Mike keeping the pace going when I linger at foodstops reminiscing over quality biscuits. Ray Gill finishes a long, long way ahead – though not quick enough to get to the car before the parking warden.