Kielder Run Bike Run 2018 Report

I'm standing in the crowded, narrow road between towering pine trees and not happy with myself. This isn't the perfect mindset for a race start line. Everyone has been tightly packed onto the tarmac in the shadow of the starting banner. I'm standing seven rows from the front. I want to be in the first two. Since finishing in the top 20 at this race three years ago I have had an eye on a top 10 finish, something that up to now I have only achieved in a couple of small fell races, and then only recently. So far my record here is 18th, 14th & 17th so I feel like I could justify pushing my way forward. Instead, I let my politeness overcome me and stand kicking myself (not literally, obviously, if there was space for that I could have danced to the front) and watch as the legendary Daley Thompson gets ready to set us off.

Before me lies the full lap of Kielder water, and 11km into that, in Kielder village, awaits my bike. My first task is to run to it. Long before all this, was breakfast...

I love Kielder. I first came here for the race in 2015, maybe it was initially the endorphins of my only experience of a multi sport event but I knew I would be coming back. The drive from Newcastle to Kielder is only around 90 minutes but the necessity of arriving early to drop off my bike and negotiate the traffic and coach transfers meant an offensively early alarm considering the 1pm race start. I hatched a plan on the drive home. Transition 1 and the bike drop off is in Kielder village so why not stay in Kielder? Since then that's what we have done, my fiance and I enjoying a mini holiday as well as the marathon weekend. The B&B in Kielder village does an excellent breakfast, although this morning I had picked at a plate of scrambled egg with more than the usual paranoia that my prep hadn't been good enough (see my pre-race blog post).

Hannah was doing the 10km race this year for the second time and we were both visibly nervous, whilst trying and failing to hide it for the sake of the other. We walked through the village to drop off my bike at transition 1 (T1) and noticed the day was cool and still, good for running, things were looking up! Steve Cram appeared while we queued to rack my bike and got things moving (I don't think I have ever seen the organiser of a big race like this put so much effort into their event, I even saw him find time for a selfie with a fan over the course of the weekend!). We took the coach transfer from the sleepy village turned bustling race nexus to find Steve guiding the coach into the waterside park at the other end, is there no end to this mans talents?!

The 10k race starts just after the RBR with the competitors lining up behind RBRers. After a quick warm up I wished Hannah well and made my way through the throng to stand behind about half of the field in my race. Daley got the nod from Cram, sensibility stepped out of the middle of the road, and set us off. Of course I spent the first hundred yards excusing myself past people.. muppet.

The angry expression settled down after half a mile or so..
Picture courtesy of Events of the North

The run bike run can be done as an individual or a team. The teams are each given what looks like an arm band for your phone, but with the team number in it to act as a baton. Also useful if you are trying to work out who is in your race or who is part of a team.  The start of the race snakes through the woods that also make up the final kilometer, bringing you parallel with the 10k runners waiting to start. After crossing over the finish line for the first time it hits a rare open, tree free section. The path twists and undulates it's way around a few inlets so I never had a clear view of those ahead, but counting back from the lead bikes I thought I was sitting in 10th. I could only see one arm band ahead of me, and with a 6:18 opening mile loosing ground on the leaders I was starting to think that this wouldn't be my top 10 year. There were a lot of guys in tri-suits with lightweight and expensive looking bikes waiting for them in the village, cycling is definitely my weak area in this event and I was expecting to loose places on the middle section.

I managed to overtake a few people, including the only visible arm band in front of me, and was sitting in 7th (or so I thought, it was actually 6th, with three of those ahead of me teams) until just outside Kielder village when a guy from Washington running club came flying past.
T1 went smoothly and I was swiftly on my way past the houses and glad of the change from feet to wheels, after all, "a change is as good as a rest" and it looked like I might have even gained on my rivals through T1!

On the first climb I overtook my friend in the Washington vest who had got himself in the wrong gear. The climb is steep and hidden behind the trees and I knew it was coming and avoided his mistake. So far so good but that's about as good as it got on the bike. After the first 5 miles I started to hemorrhage places, every one of them looked like a seasoned triathlete with their red "individual" competitor numbers hung on a race belt fastened around shoulder to knee Lycra and easily visible on their backs.

Enjoying a rare stretch of tarmac crossing the dam, for the first time without a headwind! (also, i will probably not wear baby blue socks on the bike again..)
Picture courtesy of Events of the North

Around 9 miles into the bike leg I managed to stem the flow. A Marshall told me I was 13th and a few moments later that briefly became 12th (I lost the place within a mile to another triathlete). I had no way of knowing if the count was just individual competitors or overall, hoping for the latter I carried on pushing. It wasn't my fitness that slowed me on the bike, more skill and confidence. Some of the bends so tight I almost came to a standstill, every time I gathered speed my back wheel seemed to skip on the gravel like a warning from my bike. I glanced enviously at all the expensive looking lightweight cyclocross bikes gliding past me up the hills and cursed the portly hybrid beneath me; got to be the tech, not the athlete right? 

As the second transition approached I was overtaken by a Saltwell harrier who's bike must have done more than warn; mud, blood and a ripped shirt to add to his medal for the day's effort. By the time I left T2 I thought I was in 14th place but had no idea how many teams were ahead of me. I caught a few glimpses of the red and white hooped Saltwell vest through the trees but it wasn't getting any closer. I overtook a runner with a team arm band but the prize rabbit got no closer.

This leg is supposed to hurt, correction, these legs are supposed to hurt. Trying to learn from previous races I had tweaked my nutrition to make the last 6k run less of a chore. And it had worked, the pain was there but confined to the legs, not the all over exhaustion of past years. The feeling is like nothing else, trying to run again after over an hour on the bike feels like someone took your legs off, gave them a shoddy overhaul and didn't connect them back up properly. The hills don't help. Mercifully all of the big hills are done by the end of the bike section but the ones that remain challenge everything I had left to maintain a good pace.

The final kilometer of the race is the same as all of the races in the weekend and anyone who has done it will agree that it is one of the best race finishes around. It doesn't have the roaring atmosphere of a Great North Run or Blaydon Race, nor drama of the Northumberland Coastal Run's beach finish. What it has is a tight, twisting, undulating footpath snaking between lofty pines, the scent of the woodland filling every panted breath, the sound of the music and announcer at the finish area getting closer with every labored step, then suddenly, breaking out of the trees, the crowd. Cheering, shouting, encouraged by the guys with the mics who make every finisher feel like a hero. The road climbs one last steep hill and between the fences lined with spectators appears the finish line and clock. 

Hannah is waiting near the last pine tree and spots me coming as I round the final bend in the woods. Her shouts drown out the sound system and with renewed energy I push for the fresh air beyond the trees. I can still see the Saltwell Harrier but I know I wont catch him (I really hope he isn't 10th place!) I break onto the roadway, as I crest the hill, my ears filled with the sudden cacophony after hours of solitude and near silence, I spot the clock. Only seconds to go to dip under 2 hours 20! "Sprint" is the message to the legs! "*$£& off" comes the response!

Digging for the line!
Picture courtesy of Events of the North

2:19:44 on the gun, 13th across the line, and 8th individual. top 10 achieved! Mind you, less than 2 minutes quicker would have got me top 5, just over 4 minutes to be on the podium; with the time I lost on the bike that doesn't feel out of reach. It feels great to reach my goal, but hitting a target means it's time to set a new one...