The Cotswold Relay

I've just about recovered now from Saturday's Cotswold Relay. It's a big event, 105 miles or thereabouts, from Chipping Campden to Bath Abbey. The event is divided into 10 unequal parts which start and finish where the Cotswold Way long distance path crosses roads. I was given the tough Leg 2, from Stanway to Cleeve Common, on which to represent Chippenham Harriers Mixed Team. Not only a long way and very hilly too but also the early stages are a long way from Chippenham and are a bit of a trek to get to, both on the big day and on the 'reccies' which are so essential to acquaint oneself with the route. They're essential because there are no marshals and of course, on foot a mistake costs big time and may even decide the eventual result of the overall race. I had reccied Leg 2 twice beforehand, once walking with Lynne, when we just covered the second half, and once at running speed with four club-mates. Initially we walked the second half as I believe that this is where most people would go wrong, when the field spreads out and the next runner might be some way off in the fog... It acts an as insurance against not getting the chance to run it if illness or some other problem prevents a proper reccy. Not only that, but the Cotswold Way can be breath-takingly beautiful, not least the second leg which has marvellous views out across the Severn Vale.
Because of time constraints, the Relays are not handed over like a short track relay with a baton handed on from runner to runner. Instead each stage starts after the previous one , separated by the time taken by the course record holder. Only someone breaking course record for a leg would ever see the next stage's runners before they depart. I missed the Leg 3 runners by about half an hour! The result is calculated on cumulative time, a feat of administrative organisation equal to any that the runners perform on the day.
Saturday is forecast to be a horrendously wet day and as we stand on the start line just before 8.15 (that meant rising at 05.15) there is indeed gentle rain falling. I don't remember the rain stopping but sometime after that it does stop and we have quite a dry run. I had deliberated over whether to wear my road-running shoes or some off-road shoes. I have two pairs of off-roaders, a truly terrible, but much loved, old pair and a pair that are not really comfortable yet. I choose the newer pair, hoping that I will not blister badly on the tough and wet 12.5 miles ahead. The shoe choice turns out to be a good one as runners in road shoes are sliding all over the place on the first slope, providing an additional hurdling hazard to be cleared. After just half a mile the course starts the first of three big climbs, finding out those who are unfit or, like me, not good at starts. The climb seems endless and the pace is pathetic but I am slowly passing a few people and dropping a few too. We all finally reach the top and then it is a couple of gentle downhill miles of farm land and a dark rutted bridle-path down to Hailes Abbey and then a tarmac surface to Winchcombe. We run through the streets of Winchcombe, not many people about yet, and out of town we are back briefly onto farm tracks. Then a half mile more of tarred road where we meet the Chippenham Harriers-organised water station (why didn't they give us a w. station nearer to Chippenham? dunno.) The water station provides good cheer, some not very necessary water and some jelly babies - can't remember what colour they were.






Mixed feelings at seeing the water station as I know it is placed at the foot of the longest hill which drags us unwillingly up to the Long Barrow at Belas Knapp. If you haven't seen Belas Knapp, go when you get the chance. Very interesting. B.K isn't quite the top although it signifies the end of the steep part. The next two miles are mostly gently up though you don't really notice.
Back at the water st. I have picked up a hitch-hiker, a pretty girl called Emma from the Great Western Runners. She's been dropped in at the deep end by her team captain as she has been given Leg 2 just 12 hours earlier after conscientiously reccying Leg 1 . I tell her to think herself lucky - she got a lie-in! The other thing about Emma is that she's a man - well, she's in the GWR men's team. You've got to pity someone in a predicament haven't you; I hardly notice how attractive she is... So I say "Follow me; I know the way."
Soon we are on the open land of Cleeve Common and it is quite misty. My boast of knowing the way is getting to be a bit hollow now as the way markers are hard to see in the fog. In general the rule is to keep to the right as the path is designed to take advantage of the views out over the Vale. In theory there are views but all we can see is the fog and a few gorse bushes. It all goes well though and soon we are dropping down the big descent to a stream with a weir which we cross before the last truly awful climb. This is a hands and knees job, even our fast man, Rich, confesses to having walked it - in fact running just isn't any quicker - but despite being twice the size of the Slaughterford hill we do eventually get to the summit and then all that remains is to rush in a bit of a daze across the public golf course past all the puzzled golfers and finish in front of the Golf Club house. Emma shows her gratitude by out-sprinting me. (Later Joc, one of my club mates and running for the Chippenham Harriers Ladies team, gives me a telling-off for helping the opposition but that's not the spirit in which the Cotswold Relays are run. It turns out that Joc needn't have worried about her and I think she was only joking anyway - well maybe.)
So that is our share of the long day. We drive back to Chippenham and I try stiffly to do a drop of DIY. Later Lynne drives me into Bath to see the leg 10 runners finish and to attend the presentation and visit 'Lambrettas', the very last evening of smoke-filled public houses before the ban on smoking in public places starts. Leg 10 is over, a City of Bath runner first and a first lady too from the same club. Our runners take an agonisingly long time to arrive. Every runner, no matter how humble, gets a big cheer and a clap as they run down Milson Street to the Roman Baths weaving between bemused late shoppers and tourists.
The presentation is huge and noisy and we all have to shout a lot to be heard over all the people who are shouting a lot... The results are read and we can't believe our ears - our Men's Veterans have been beaten after 105 miles by 8 seconds. In the next couple of days it is reckoned that the winners have inadvertently short cutted during the middle part of the day at a place where the route has been washed away by the recent terrible weather. Much discussion about appealing but, as I said before, that's not in the spirit of the race so they let it stand without complaint.
Then we all go to Lambrettas and boy, we 'supped some stuff'! Sunday is a quieter day altogether.