Mobberley 5 and Manchester 10k

The Mobberley 5

Evening runs always mean I have to skip off work early, to the usual comment from my wife 'how can you get home early for races and football matches and nothing else'. After 30 years of marriage I know when to keep quiet.

Carolyn picks me up at 5.45, and at the first wrong turn out of Wilmslow Park it transpires that we have both left it to one another for directions and details -but it is only Mobberley so one intelligent person and me should be able to find our way to the Railway Pub near Mobberley station without sat nav or a map. As we were driving through the village we decide to follow the car in front driven by a bloke that looks like a runner, it worked. We arrived in plenty of time for Carolyn to work out where in the half empty field to park – why she picked the patch of long nettles God only knows – and to register, this time with my glasses so this evening it is Chris and not Curtis running.

My race tactic is to keep Alan in sight, close enough to pass him in the last 500 m . As we both look for one another at the start it appears that all 52 WRC members have congregated at the same spot on the starting line and I find my self next to Alan which is the closest I get until after the finish. I have also decided to go off quicker than usual, instead of what I like to class as a steady.

We are off, why has everyone decided to go off quicker than usual, my arms are going fast, breathing is heavier but I don't seem to be running any faster. I can see the usual backs in front of me and I can still see Alan, 50 meters ahead and we've only covered a mile. I up the anti, increase my stride length, it appears to work. I pass Clare, something I have only done once before (to my regret as 500 meters later she passed me as if I was stood still) but not this time. I pass John for the first time since Langley Fete when I managed to walk up that hill faster than him only for him to pass me at the top. Alan is now only 20 meters ahead. I keep urging myself on, at a sharp right turn I see Alan looking over his shoulder, I'm getting to him at last.

As we turn under the river tunnel I am 10 meters behind but I am also aware of the hill around the corner. On the previous Saturday, Pete Stock sprinted up this hill and unfortunately so did Alan or at least compared to me, as I reach the brow the gap has increased back to 50 meters. At this point I settle into survival mode. I am not making any ground up on my quarry, I am certainly not going to become a quarry. Hunted down by John, Clare, Angie, Sharon, Carolyn. The marshal informs me of the stile at the right of the next gate, I am in a pack of 5 or 6 runners. I decide that queuing at the stile is not for me, I have to be there first, at least out of this pack. The gate is a little further than anticipated, the increased 'speed' doesn't bring Alan any closer but it does Owen. I now have a new quarry, I win the race to the stile, jump it like man 20 years or even 30 years younger and set off with new vigour. As we reach the road I am slowly closing in on Owen, I know there is a left turn near the end but how near the end. The applause from the finish can be heard from across the field. This is the first time I have not been relieved to see the F in finish, I needed at least another 500 meters to catch Owen.

As I cross the line with a strong finish I have to be satisfied, Clare was only seconds behind me and I have finished ahead of John for the first time and over 3 minutes faster than 2009.

Manchester 10k

The following Sunday in the Manchester 10K I soon realise I need gold and blue vests to focus on. Following Thursdays exertions, Saturdays Cup Final is upon me quicker than expected. Up at 6.30, off by 7.30, pick my footy pals up in Rotherham, travel to Wembley, win cup, back up the A1, drop my pals off in Rotherham and home by 11.30 pm. Meal consists of left over take away and two three or even four bottles of Budweiser in the early hours of Sunday. Can't imagine Gabrselassie preparing any better if his team had just won a trophy after 35 years.

Sunday allows one extra hour in bed, up at 7.30, 8.45 train into Manchester. Travelling light, that's not inclusion of a song title, I was indeed travelling light, running gear, sweat shirt, number, chip and a £10.00 note. What more do you need to compete in a race, well, tracky bottoms, waterproof and a thermal would have been an advantage. Manchester was busy, cold and windy with a strong threat of rain. I got my timings all wrong, over an hour to kill before the race starts so I head for Subway. £4.80 – my change from the train ticket – doesn't buy a 6" sub and a cup of tea, so I settle for the cup of tea and sit inside in the warmth and made it last 30 minutes.

Considering the amount of participants I don't think Malcolm could have organised it any better, the race started at 10.34 prompt. After the usual 100 yard shuffle I reached the start mat and we were off. I had set myself a target of 45 mins, why, I have no idea, my best 5k time is 22.40 so how I intended to get 2 PB's back to back is beyond me. I was feeling comfortable, I had decided to wear my replica City shirt along with hundreds of other blues. I was working my way through the field with the occasional 'come on you blues' and 'did you go' as I passed fellow City fans. I did pass the occasional red with Nini and Gibbs on the back of their shirts but they were few and far between, after all we were in Manchester. How Paul and Toy would have frowned, running in a replica football shirt, sweatshirt tied around my waist chatting and carrying a PowerAde drink.

The first 4k seemed to pass quickly, I was pleased with my pace and felt comfortable. 5k time was 23 mins and some seconds, I can't see the seconds on my watch without my glasses and can't run in glasses, so I decided my new target was 46 minutes . At 7k I was still passing a lot more runners than were passing me. I was, and had from 6k been, focusing on a far better looking quarry than Alan. I first noticed the pink fairy skirt around the slender waist, the sun tanned calf muscles, she even had an elegant running style. I was very disappointed when I passed her at the 8k marker which, being so focused, I nearly missed. Up a slight hill and the last stretch along the dual carriageway arms pumping faster, heart beating harder, still not so sure if the legs are in sync and are moving any faster, and finally cross the line in 47.37.

Next target Dunham Massey 5k 22.30.

Chris Cannon