I’d spotted the Oxon AA XC Champs up Shotover a couple of years ago when I was out for a trail run and noticed all these runners racing the opposite direction, I’d had to ask a marshall what the event was as it doesn’t seem to appear in the usual on-line calenders. A bit of research suggested it was really for local clubs though so I forgot about it until Vegan Runners UK Secretary Peter Simpson half jokingly suggested I might be interested. A bit of enquiry and I seemed to be welcome to run, a cheque for a fiver and an emailed entry form and I was in. I’d looked at previous results and saw the local names I tended to race alongside were right at the back of the field. Local course knowledge might count for something but as I had no idea what to expect I judged it best to give it my all and not worry if I was last.

On the day a corner of the athletics club field on the Horspath Road was covered in tents and banners bearing the various local club names, it looked more like some medieval tournament than a race. I went to look for the expected HQ to collect my number but soon began to realise it wasn’t that straight forward. The instructions were to collect your number from your club team leader but I hadn’t got one. I looked in the hall and the refreshment area. I looked for further information on the notice board with the course maps.  I asked a marshall but he didn’t know. I ran into Rich Kemp and he suggested I ask at Oxford City AC stall but they didn’t know. I watched the ladies race start then went and asked a race official who didn’t know but suggested I followed the path signed to ‘First Aid’ and ask in a mobile office behind the building that had so far escaped my notice. There was no one in the office but it seemed the right sort of place. I asked a chap approaching the office with some paperwork but he didn’t know. He suggested I asked Cheryl doing the teas.

Cheryl helpfully came with me to the mobile office where we searched for and found some red numbers along with a list bearing my name and others and their allocated number. There were hundreds of these red numbers but ours were not there. We agreed I should search for organiser John Sears, an old chap in an anorak being the best description I could get, and see if he had them but if that failed I should write my number on the back of one of the ones we’d found and run with that. I was pointed to the finish where John was last seen, I met Andrew from Abingdon Amblers there who said John had just this minute wandered off. I was pointed to a non-existent bench with numbers near the notice board. Less than 10 minute to go so I decided to go for the marker pen solution. A friendly chap who turned out to be John wandered up, looked at my Vegan Runners vest, and said something like ‘Ah you’ll be looking for this’ and handed me my number. Phew! I pinned it on and headed for the start feeling worn out already!

A quick hello to George and Andrew at the start then I got in position right at the back. Off we went and already it was splish splosh splish through water logged grass. A couple of hundred yards in and I checked my Garmin and realised I was running much too fast. I slowed and noticed too late that we were to leap or splash through a wide, deep ditch – I’d already spotted it but had wrongly presumed we’d run over a little bridge which was in fact taped off. Without the momentum to get myself up the other side I dragged myself out of the water with the aid of a tree in a totally undignified manner. To make matters worse I used my sore right arm (my latest chronic ailment) and it took revenge with a lot of pain for the next few minutes*. I later discovered the whole water thing, including my sad episode had been captured on video by a Didcot Runner and put on their club facebook page.

On across a field track and at last we were onto familiar territory at the bottom of the longest climb up Shotover. I made slow but steady progress up it, passing a couple but also passed by a walker despite me running. I run this hill most weekends but trying to run it fast was a whole different ball game. Still I was no more huffed than those around me at the top and kept my place along the top then gained a couple on the familiar descent. My cursory glance at the map on the notice board had given me the impression we were to be excused the really muddy field at the bottom but I was wrong and we charged through it, me taking the direct route as some mud and wet is best taken head on.

Then it was back up that hill again. I joined the majority for a bit of a walk on the steepest bits, a tactic that paid off when I passed a couple of runners along the top who had worn themselves out by running all the way up. Then the descent again I gained 2 places here and by the time I had a chance to check behind I seemed to have a good lead and be pretty much alone. The marshall pointed me down the bridleway through Brasenose Wood which was really, really muddy with big pools of wet grey muck. I kept going, rather slowly and often over the top of my shoes – no one seemed to be catching me though.

Then over the strange wooden stile thing that leads to the industrial estate, turn left over a slippery railway sleeper bridge, and back in the start field for a long periphery to the finish. I was pretty much on my own when I checked a minute into the field but then I heard someone coming up behind and knew he was going to pass. He was younger and stronger, I was only in front of him because I was faster on that earlier descent.

Howard managed to get a photo just before I got passed, then it was into the finish and get my breath back. 50:23 for about 8.75 of the hilliest, muddiest, km I’ve ever raced. 105/119 so not quite last. It was great fun and I expect to be back again next time 🙂

* 2 months later this was to be diagnosed as a frozen shoulder destined to get worse and plague me for a long while. (note added 6th March 13)