The 28th Sand Stone Trail races 17.5 Miles & 1,800.00 feet of ascent approx.
By Jim Yearsley
Race Date 3rd October 2004
Result: Race A
First runner Martin Crosby) home in 01:57:10 (Beeston Split 00:46:00)
Mark Wrigley 17th runner home in 02:14:14 (Beeston Split 00:52:00)
Jim Yearsley 43rd runner home in 02:24:47(Beeston Split 00:58:00)
Ian Paden 66th runner back in 02:36:16 (Beeston Split 01:00:00)
Last runner 123 = 03:40:05 (Beeston Split 01:15:00)
Race B
First: Paul Frodsham & Ken Begley equal in 01:05:56
Bill Heaton came 8th runner home in 01:14:01
Last runner 138th in 02:17:53
On a long Sunday run somewhere up on Croaker Hill. Bill Heaton, Mark Wrigley, and I stopped at the summit mast to enjoy a rare extending view across West Cheshire and beyond. The distant hills of Shropshire and North Wales could be seen and not a rain cloud in sight. Bill pointed to the hills of Peckforton and Beeston Tor and described a great trail race that crossed the horizon. Bill prompted us to take up the challenge and the following Thursday Bill handed out three no opt out entry forms.
There are two Sandstone Trail Races on offer and depending whether you are a man or a mouse (sorry Bill). Mark Wrigley, Ian Paden and I decided to opt for the tougher 17.5 mile Race A. Bill, unknowingly, opted for the shorter race only to admit this on the morning of the race. We felt a little wrong footed as maybe Bill was not telling us something. The race does not start and finish at the same place and a coach (not Tony) is provided to ferry runners to start of their chosen races. The coach journey provides a chance to study the length of course which becomes somewhat daunting due to the travel time endured. Ian tucks into another Dainty Pie (more interesting) whilst Feel Good Bill offers some useful tips on how not to get lost.
The coach creeps along country lanes to a village called Duckington or was it F**kingdone and stops on the outskirts of nowhere. All ‘A race’ participants are told to get off the bus and walk up a lane to a sandy track halfway up a hill where a pleasant lady sits at a table with your running bear entry number. Luck would have it that my allocated number was 118. It would have been better suited to an old wobbly athlete with long grey hair and moustache. I have neither any more but I think someone was trying to say something. I have put it up for auction on E-bay. Bidding starts at £118.00 with free photo of a club superstar.
Runners anxiously chat, stretch, and twitch as they wait for the next instruction. Unwanted belongings are put in numbered bags to be taken and collected at the finish. Well over a hundred runners are then directed deeper into the woods to another friendly official who organises the start. At 10 O’clock precisely, ‘It’s on your marks’ and off you go along a narrowing path. The start pace was surprisingly quick with little room to spread out – passing was difficult and runners jostle for position. The thinnest and quickest away have a distinct advantage. Mark being both got drawn in and soon disappeared with the leaders. Deliberately, I held back taking a more relaxed start and had hoped to be joined by Ian for company. The nature of the paths and route do not allow for buddy running (sorry Ian) and the race soon became unsociable. Ian got tangled behind other runners and it was each man for him-self.
The early stages of the race were mud free. Water percolates away through the sand and paths are dry and pleasant to run on although it is rocky on some descents. It is not dissimilar to running on Alderley Edge save it is wilder and paths are more esoteric. You are rewarded with the occasional superb view which is obviously disregarded. Being a course novice means that the distant run is increasingly difficult to judge (no distant markers) and fatigue is hard to assess and manage. Andy Watts told me that I must get to Beeston within the hour to avoid getting tangled up in Race B which started at 11’O’clock. His advice kept echoing around my head and I kept looked at my watch not knowing where I was or how far it was to Beeston. 7.5 miles within an hour sounds simple enough but the running terrain is not easy and each mile feels like two. The route is well marshalled and signposted but there are gaps where it is easy to get lost. At one point a knocked sign sent me up a hill in the wrong direction but fortunately, a good natured competitor shouted me down and I sped after him as he was the only runner about. I think his name was Andy Smith of Helsby RC (thanks to him) He was a veteran of the race and was a useful guide over the next two miles. We put on a spurt as the course levelled out and Beeston approached. A short section of field hopping led to lane where I stupidly passed the drink station and check point to get an advantageous position in front of Race B due to start. The time was fast approaching 11’o’clock and somewhere lucking out of sight were 140 runners on a start line.
I was directed through a field gate and descended a slope into a muddy field. My running tranquillity was rudely interrupted by the blast of a claxon and suddenly 140 runners became visible as they set off in parallel. It was a surreal moment as I had been running for an hour yet suddenly I was amongst the jostling of another race as fresh runners fumble and stumble for position and supremacy. I was frustrated by my failure not to have reached Beeston moments earlier and attained the comfort zone desired. However, the situation gave me a much needed adrenalin shot and reality check. I was held up by some early queuing that gathered at each style but the short stops allowed a stretch which was useful. The race dramatically changed its character and now I was crossing, endless, churned up fields of mud. Running rhythm was constantly interrupted by slipping and sliding, and that is before you tackle the 56 wretched styles. Eventually, I climbed out of the fields via a long slippery slope onto a shale path which led to a lane and much needed drink station. I had my first proper drink which gave me a much needed energy surge. I had been in a rut of runners unable to extend my pace and move ahead. The drink gave me the needed fix and I upped the pace over the next sandy hill where I euphorically picked off dozens of tiring runners. I did not know who I was racing against anymore and it did not matter but it felt good to pass runners. In the next valley the route organisers have changed the course for safety reasons and you are directed to a road bridge away from the trail to avoid getting run over by traffic on the Old Chester Road. I was directed up the next hill via a long punishing lane which takes you back to the Sandstone trail and another welcome drink station. I started to believe that the end was nearing and a euphoric confidence developed although Mark and Ian would both disagree.
The relaxed start was paying off and I was being rewarded by my late ability to up my pace and pick off the wrecked and suffering. Good sandy trail paths lead through wooded areas towards Delemere Forest. Running is enjoyable but slopes keep popping up to deprive you of any comfort or relief. The forest woodlands thicken and puzzled dog walkers and forest trotters appear more regularly. More people appear and supporters form lines to cheer. Finished runners shout advice and give support and a last effort is made to regain some elegance and finish in style.
Runners mass around the drinks table before going off to collect their well earned T-shirts. It takes a few moments for the body to adjust but soon the finishing elation sets in and you wander off to meet your friends and share your experiences.
If races were given grades and star ratings similar to those used in the climbing world then I would give this race three stars. Personally, it was an immensely rewarding run and very different to other races I have done over the years. The route is varied and challenging and offers trail running, hill climbing, cross-country, and some road running. It demands strength, stamina, and commitment but leaves you with a sense of achievement and self-satisfaction. However, the true sandstone trail course is nearer 35 miles and I am told that the full route is raced in June – now there is food for thought.