It was a misty chilly morning when two member of the elite Elvis impersonators wing of the Mid Sussex Tri Club arrived at the Hickstead showground to take on the Hickstead Gallop - Haywards Heath Harriers cross country race.
It was dry but the ground was a trifle sticky as large groups of club runners stretched and warmed up we watched on, striking triathalete poses, gazing through our 1980's orange wraparound sunglasses as we nursed our hangovers and curry guts.
The gun went off and I burst to the front - I was in the lead - two seconds later I picked myself up, wiped the mud of my face and rubbed the spike marks in my back, 'humm reminds one of a good night out me thinks'.
Up the hill, down the hill, up the hill, through the mud.
Up the hill, down the hill, up the hill, through the mud.
Running backwards as more runners come by, I try to block with chicken elbows but to no avail, they just keep coming. The coaching books say start in a sensible position and run negative splits so you can have the joy, excitement and psychological boost of running past people. That's not for me I enjoy the extra pain of demoralisation and the feeling of losing every time someone speeds past wondering why I am wearing a wool shirt fashioned into a running vest.
Up the hill, down the hill, up the hill, through the mud - straight through the mud as other traversed the gate to avoid getting their £100.00 plus trainers dirty. Fortunately I had Robs £15.00 second hand cross country spikes on that he sold to me for £20.00 so straight through the mud, past a few runners at every gate and chicken wing to the next gate - absolutely brilliant spikes are thoroughly recommended if you do any of these events.
Still they come past - until the line came in to view, using my spikes and absorbing the DNA left in them by Rob to give me the power of a Spartan (fortunately with clothes on) I sprinted to the finish and past a few shocked runners as I past them, only to realise they were carrying on for their final lap.
The day was complete when I found a muddy old runners glove.
- Colin - 34:57
- Dean - 42.32