Today I took part, as one of two representatives of the Seaford Striders, in yet another cross-country event, the Sussex Masters. The first race was for men over 50 and over 60; falling into the latter class, I thought I must find a spavined 69 year-old to best. Hubris, hubris.
We assembled in a muddy field above Lancing, and set off at the sound of the pistol. The first uphill was taxing, but I was by no means last, and could hear other runners behind me wheezing and grunting. As we reached a flat section, they recovered themselves and overtook me. Perhaps this would not be so easy. It wasn’t; that was the last time I saw them. The course consisted of one shortish loop of a mile, followed by two longer ones of around two miles each. Once I’d completed my first circuit, I found that the longer one consisted of a very long ascent, then a turn into a ploughed field, and a muddy and bramble-filled descent through some woods. As I completed my first lap of the longer loop, the ladies were assembling for their start and, as I ascended the hill again, the faster ladies flew past. My chivalrous instincts caused me to throw myself into the brambles as one lady tried to pass me on a narrow stretch in the woods, and, while I didn’t notice anything at the time, I finished with blood running down my arm.
As I crossed the finish line I heard the timekeeper call out ’01’. I think this means I was just outside an hour. Though my Garmin recorded a time of 59:43, I think I fumbled at the start, so I fear I probably was outside an hour.
I went home to wash off the blood and mud. I am sorry to say I shall miss the next East Sussex Cross Country League event, at Firle Beacon on 31 January, but I shall have cleaned my trail shoes in time for the final race of the season, at Pett, east of Hastings.
