Last weekend was one of my favourite events of the sporting calendar, the Isle of Wight Fell Running Championships. I’ve been bigging up my hill running abilities to Fabien (the fitness coach who works next door) and with a recent score of 73 on the VO2 max test (tested to help my friend with her MSc in sports medicine), expectations were high. Could I regain the title of South of England Fell Running Champion?
After six months of training with Dark Peak Fell Running club I assumed that my hill running fitness would be stronger than ever (and I already considered it strong), but I was also aware that some of south of England’s strongest middle-aged, trail runners would be attending, so I didn’t want to get too cocky. I’ve not been doing huge mileage lately, so taking part in three races in two days was going to be a big ask.
I arrived in Ventnor on the southern tip of the island via bicycle, train, ferry, taxi and bus on the Friday. After dropping off my kit in our delightful b’n’b I had a quick recce of the main hill we’d be running over. It seemed steeper than I remembered (probably related to the shifting tectonic plates) although I would no longer consider the course technical after a few months of fell running in Yorkshire. It had been raining for the past few days but the chalky hills drain quickly and it felt fairly secure underfoot even descending the steepest hills.
On an afternoon supermarket trip into Ventnor I spied a good group of former sparring partners from Victoria Park Harriers and also several familiar faces from Serpentine, The Front Runners and Cambridge Harriers. Everyone seemed in good spirits and ready for the first race on the Saturday morning.
Race one was short, sharp and to the point. I could feel the burn growing in my calves from the off, even if the pace felt slightly slower than I recall from years gone by. I’d been suffering from a bit of plantar fasciitis over the last few weeks and both calves and achilles regularly feel tight for the first 15 minutes of the day but running tends to loosen everything off. There was a 250 metre climb from the beach, a few hundred meters of running at the summit and then straight back down to the finish line. I could see Fabien on my shoulder at the summit so had to really throw myself down the hill, all guns blazing in order to claim the victory. My quads took some serious impact from the fast downhill running and felt like they were on fire by the time I got to the finish. I spent the next 45 minutes doing some yoga stretches for my burning gastrocs, soleus and hamstrings. I did some deep thumb work on my plantar fascia and stretched my quads and hip flexors for a good 30 minutes, it seemed to do the trick and by the afternoon I was back at the start line feeling relatively ready to race again. Race number two felt fine but I was getting some serious muscle soreness when I tried to walk home from the finish line. I decided against completing the series by taking part in the third and final race on the Sunday. My partner was a bit bored of watching people run pop and down mountains and wanted to see some more of the isle of Wight but truth be told as I get older and wiser I’m getting better at listening to my body, and my body did not want to do another race that weekend.