Happily Ever After
Life in The Rural Retreat with a beautiful wife, three cats, garden wildlife, a camera, a computer – and increasing amounts about running
Earlier posts can be found on Adventures of a Lone Bass Player, where this blog began life. Recent entries can be found here.
York 10 Mile 2024
by Russell Turner - 13:12 on 23 October 2024
The Weather Gods continue to toy with me: a week after surviving the Oxford chill, I had to face Storm Ashley in York. Life can be unfair.
In a radical departure from my usual practice, on Friday morning Grandson of Seat was left in the Inverness Railway Station car park while I travelled to Edinburgh (change at Stirling) with Scotrail, thence to York with LNER. At less than seven hours the journey was faster than by car, reasonably comfortable, not too plagued by annoying fellow passengers, and about the same price as the cost of the petrol I’d have burned, but I missed the flexibility of my own transport. I consoled myself that I was doing my bit for the environment.
A short walk from the station I was welcomed to my Airbnb room by Martha, my friendly host, shown the kitchen and bathroom, then left to my own devices. Although small, the room was fine for what I needed with the bonus of the most comfortable chair I’ve ever experienced. Simple pleasures.
Another short walk took me to Lal Quila Indian restaurant on Bishopthorpe Road where, despite visiting at most once a year, I was remembered. Splendid service. I returned to base, filled with chicken tikka rogan josh, to plan Saturday’s itinerary, which began in the morning with a quiet 30min stroll to the University of York via Walmgate Stray to ensure I could find my way there on race day. I returned the same way, enjoying sunshine and a light breeze – maybe the storm wouldn’t happen?
The afternoon walk was less restful, through tourist and shopping throngs that reminded me why I’d not been totally unhappy to leave York in 1994 (30 years ago – how did that happen?), to reach York Theatre Royal for a matinee performance of Rebus: A Game Called Malice. The play was entertaining – Rebus as part of a dinner party where someone is found dead – if not spectacular. The only actor I knew was Abigail Thaw from Endeavour.
Back at base, after meatballs and linguine at the Italian next door to Lal Quila, I settled in for the evening to watch Strictly and make a final kit check for race day. The sun still shone.
Morning: grey sky, showery, windy, cooler – I’d not dodged Ashley. I donned a vest and long-sleeved shirt, a warm jacket that would go in the baggage, and a rarely worn windproof London Marathon consolation top to throw away at the start, then retraced my steps to the start, aiming to be there just 30mins before the 10 Mile start at 10.15; the marathon began at 9.30.
The wind picked up; the showers fell a little harder. I handed over my baggage, realising a minute later that I’d left my water bottle inside, by which time the volunteers had lost the bag. Ten minutes later they found it, leaving me just enough time to reach the start and decide that the windproof top was staying on, albeit zipped behind me so my race number wasn’t obscured. The pacers had abandoned their flags, which meant I didn’t know where they were, so at 10.15 I set off at my own pace.
The first five miles were not too bad: the wind had eased and the showers were tolerable. I concentrated on picking a runner ahead of me but slightly slower, reeling them in, then finding the next. It seemed to work. Things got harder when the road rose to cross the bridge across the A64, then almost immediately took a sharp right to begin the return leg of the race. Now we were running into the wind. Despite that, I continued to reel in runners (and ignore those who passed me).
At eight miles we were urged to keep left, which we all did apart from the blissfully unaware woman wearing the illegal headphones who had to be directed left by a police outrider. Moments later the marathon leader ran past, at a pace we could only envy, and with an upright form that suggested he’d run an easy 5k rather than 24 miles in poor weather. It’s a different race at the front.
After exchanging comments with a couple of girls, one of them thanked me for being their pacer. That was a surprise, as I’d been using them and we’d swapped the lead a few times before then. It’s good to know I was of service.
At nine miles I left them behind and forged on to the brief but steep hill at Green Dykes Lane with half a mile to go. In my previous 10 Mile, in 2021, not long after a bout of covid, I’d run up without stopping. This time, I couldn’t summon the will to run (the only time in the race) and save a mere minute or two, even after the girls passed me halfway up. I picked it up again at the top and ran to the finish, did the Morecambe and Wise dance, and the race was over in 1:46:23 chip time, seven minutes slower than in 2021 (although I had completed marathon training two weeks earlier).
Suddenly, the rain came down harder and the wind blew even stronger. Or had it been that way and I was only now feeling it? The windproof, which I’d not felt the need of during the race, now proved its worth during a 15min queue to retrieve baggage. Foil blankets were handed out but weren’t too much use in the strong wind, especially for the shivering woman behind me who looked close to hypothermia.
Baggage collected, I scuttled off to the bike sheds where people were changing into dry, warm clothes and scoffing the meagre offerings from the goody bag (crisps, a flapjack and some sweets). Several were in marathon finishers’ shirts – orange this year and very naff. I’d declined the 10 Mile shirt. I’d planned to eat at the finish but the weather didn’t encourage al fresco dining so, after looking for and failing to find any of the runners I’d chatted with along the way, I trekked back to base via a corner shop for sandwiches and chocolate. The wind and rain had calmed again, or maybe it felt better because I was moving.
After the hottest race (London 2018), coldest (Oxford 2024), wettest (York 2018) and hardest (Edinburgh 2022) I can now add the stormiest to the list. London 2018 remains the best – so far.
That should have been the end of the excitement, but there was still the journey home. We set off five minutes late, which was a concern as I’d only 15mins to change at Edinburgh, then we stopped outside Durham. The problem wasn’t the storm, which was now mostly gone: a train further up the line had broken down. Thirty minutes later we got moving again, but only as far as Newcastle, where the train now terminated. The next available LNER to Edinburgh, followed by the next available to Inverness, got me back 90mins later than expected. The only silver lining was that after all day on trains, driving the Seat away from the station felt as smooth and quiet as a Rolls Royce.
Despite everything, the weekend away and the race was worth the effort. Will I return next year for the 10 Mile or the marathon? I don’t know. I’ll see how next year’s Edinburgh Marathon goes. There’s no ultra training to be done so I might be keen for an autumn target. A runner I fell into conversation with at Newcastle was rhapsodising about the Loch Ness Marathon. Time will tell.
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