After a brief hiatus, the Mickledon Straddle is back! I speak as if I have been awaiting its return, but in reality I found out about the race’s existence a couple months before race day when it was listed as the first event in the Striders Fell Championship. A £12 entry price for FRA members for a 23km 700m elevation route with five teams of mountain rescue dotted about and buffet (more to come on that later) was an absolute bargain.
I started at the back with Connor, Alice, and Michael, still undecided on whether this was just a fun and social day out or if I wanted to put some effort in. Darrel positioned himself much more strategically near the front of the pack. A countdown from ten ushered the milling throng to a shuffling start as we squeezed through a narrow gate to join the wider path. We kept an easy pace along the track, chatting idly about helping with Dan’s upcoming Bob Graham attempt. The air was cold and the sky clear, and the day felt primed for running. We descended gently along the woodland track, hopping over one downed tree and diverting right around another to meet the steep cobbled path to cross a concrete bridge.
It was here I made my decision that actually, I would like to run a bit faster and have a nice, controlled race somewhere below my max effort for the terrain. A sharp climb up a bracken laden hill helped cut all of ten or so metres of total distance, skipping the path but exchanging the solidity of rock for the fleeting structure of wet mud. Regardless, overtaking had begun. This climb, aside from some very minor descents dispersed throughout, was about 6km in total. Tiny steps made for big progress here. I used to think big strides were the way to get up something quickly, but I’ve learned this overstretching just tires you out as you lose forward momentum and exert more energy trying to propel yourself upwards. My heart rate stayed steady, and I kept on my campaign of hunting down the next runner.
Towards the top I had got into a pack but given the thick heather either side of the narrow path and steep up to my left, and down to my right, I had to resign to a power walk as the pace slowed. When the – as I call – riverbed section opened up I was able to pass and join a pair of runners. I tucked in and used them as solid pacers before taking my turn on the front. As it turned out, I had much more in the legs and a quick check over my shoulder saw me gaining ground all the way to the summit.
Peaking over the summit I saw the treat that lay ahead. A steep and sudden drop down to Howden Reservoir. Time to open it up a little. I bounded down the hill with reckless abandon, overtaking those more careful than me as I caught air launching off of tussock and rock. It was probably the most fun I have had descending yet in a race. At the bottom I settled into a nice pace on the track that runs beside the reservoir, taking stock of my legs and giving myself some respite before the climb I knew was shortly to follow.
Steeply it climbs on loose dirt, barely held together by the roots of trees that steal the light and heat from the understory. My breathing was good and I pushed on past those who had gone out too hard, huffing and wheezing with hands on knees. The line I ended up taking through the boggy section was questionable, but without planning ahead I just steamed on a diagonal to the stile in the distance. The slightly longer journey to complete the triangle joins the path much earlier, but I bet that the shorter distance would not be negated by my slightly slower plod. I chose correct. My lead on those I overtook only grew on the undulating path that snaked back up to the summit I had recently thrown myself off of.
The final descent was perfection. I danced along the line of overexertion, just keeping myself on the right side, taking places as I hunted down the next runner in sight. The short climb gave little resistance to the final kilometre and I pushed on, slowly ramping up to the final few hundred metres as I put in a final surge to try gain one more place. I felt heavy and sluggish, surprisingly slow as a jolt shot through my left calf, a hint of cramp. Unfortunately I didn’t have enough to take the final place, but was surprised to see my final push was well into the low three minutes per km.
Stats
Moving time: 2:17:28
Distance: 23.3 km
Elevation: 681m
Average Pace: 5:53/km