I think for the many Harriers who have enjoyed it through the years, this is a really iconic local race, 13.5 miles 2615 ft. taking us through our stunning peaks, starting and ending at Burbage.
Le grand arrivee:
Gabby kindly picked me up with a Yas Bean coffee in hand for both of us. An excellent performance enhancing fuel injection to the engine.
We drove up the road in dense fog and weren’t able to fathom yet Egg’s prediction of cloud inversions. Moments later just above Teggs, the cloud inversion happened before our eyes and then turned into the most stunning blue sky and sun. Maybe the Americano was too strong 
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We arrived at the hall, dealt with the needful number lottery and then I immediately escaped to the ‘quiet room’ where I have gone for years to escape the sensory overload, for intense faffery at the start and to gather myself from the 4 winds at the end. The faffery ensued and it was nice to share it with Gaby, Josh, Bernard and Dennis. Going for it? Why yes of course!
Out to the start line, a hive of happy buzzing in the sun – a kind and bouncy gent took our customary team photo. Julian delivered his calm and cheerful welcome address and it was nice to hear that a gent called John who set the race up in 2005 was also racing today 
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The start gun ricocheted across the peaks and we were off.
Le denouement:
The course unravelled before us like a ball of wool – I wanted to be taut and springy, not at all like a tangled ball of damp mohair .
Up we went, a long and hot climb to the top of Burbage, through the stile and a stunning expanse lay ahead of moorland – the long line of runners going for it could be seen (at this stage) weaving through the rocky road – I wanted to be the sugary biscuit piece, not at all the melting marsh mallow.
A welcome respite from the job at foot, of running, by climbing up around Fernilee – how blue! The first kind marshal stop arose, welcoming faces handing out drinks and sweets. On towards one of my many favourite parts, the beautiful climb to Windgather – every year, the trees look beautiful in their fancy autumn attire.
Lovely to stumble down through the peaceful, dappled words with Geoff and Kate and up past the rocks, alive with happy climbers. I have also found the next effort to Shining Tor particularly taxing and it delivered today, a shiny bill that can be paid off in stages, let’s get to the blessed flagged climb as a starter for £10.
Busy with happy hikers enjoying our area’s gourmet Mains. A group of walkers exclaimed ‘move aside…another runner!’ I was really happy to hear this and said ‘oh Thanks, I know I don’t look like a runner ’ – as I stumbled past. One of the ladies said I did look like one and I’d come a long way and that made me feel really happy and proud and definitely gave me a boost. Indeed the caffeine fuel injection had long since run out and the engine was spluttering and breaking.
Further on, with the aching continuing intensely in my Perimenopausal muscles and joints, I thought, that’s it, I am jacking it in after this. What’s the point if I feel so sore. Even if the scenery is stunning and I love running out in this beauty with all of us having a go and enjoying the brilliant, happy Harrier camaraderie, I can’t go on feeling like this. ‘Jacking it in’ is not the words I would use for this sentiment so I already knew this was my brain trying to protect me. I noticed the thought and thought, no, I won’t engage with you . This left room for another thought, what can I do about feeling this way? That’s it, I will start doing yoga for runners which I have procrastinated on for months and do better stretching (and hope to God the HRT kicks in soon to deliver the second Spring ))) – I then laughed at myself, picked up my clanking bone bag and carried on.
A veritable banging down the Berry Clough and it was difficult to hold body and sole together – as much as I have practiced this route in search of the brain to foot connection or disconnection, as the case may be, it remains elusive and continues to goad me with it’s every rock, strategically placed and ready to rile the Sole.
I fell in here with a couple of other runners which gave me a lovely sense of Camaraderie – I’m not the only one feeling like this, they must be feeling it too. Past another buzzy, cheering drinks station where the kind marshals vigorously encouraged us, having being standing there a good 2.5 hours now, very kind .
Up the last ascent to Burbage – I recalled going up this in some frightful conditions, where it looked a like a full on stream. It also brought back lovely memories of Barry Blyth for me, flying past me up it, yelling encouragement and laughing as always. It was on that same race that he actually gave me our shared Club Enthusiast Trophy in the ‘quiet room’ after just before he died, which is always a wonderful memory for me as he was the ultimate encourager of all into fell running – go on Barry!
I’d fallen in with a gent called Mark for the final descent who said it wasn’t his day – I said it most certainly was, as he was nearly finished and that was that!
The final descent was a real delight, what beautiful scenery and the terrain was like a Spring roll for the Sole with the dried mud like the dark Soya sheep dip.
La Piece de Resistance:
There are the blessed finish flags – like great sails fanning the soul – give me the grapes by God.
Was very happy to hear and see our lovely Harriers cheering us on – they had indeed been there quite some time by now – it is always so lovely to receive their kind welcome.
A veritable clump to the dining hall with the familiar scenes of happy rotary volunteers dishing out lentil soup, cheese and chutney baps and the elated chatter of the racing party.
Always a delight to see Julian and Jo, an aura of calm and cheer and it was there that I promised him that I would do a write up – I had felt the creative inspiration at the exact moment my brain asked me to jack it in and it is therein that the spark ignited, to Hill with you Sir!
A massive well done to all of our brilliant Harriers running today :))
