Having not had enough of Grizzly country Guy was magically transported back to the land of tortuous cliffs and effectively blindfolded for a seven-mile race.
This was the Night Run organised by Axe Valley RC – the same people who run the 20-mile Grizzly, but this was in the pitch black to make it even harder.
Running with Jane Allison of Plymouth Harriers (for moral support and company) we amazed ourselves by coming in the top 15 out of 80 runners, most of who were Axe Valley runners and therefore had good local knowledge of sleep-running.
We all got a baby bottle of wine for being so dam stupid and Jane was first woman home – even more creditable.
Head torches and hand torches were essential and at least one was compulsory to enter.
Following a wobbling head torch is not easy, so a wobbling bike torch in one hand was helpful. We had to wait until after seven for the sun set to disappear and it was officially dark, what fun.
Some how we made it across the cliff top without toppling over – think of the paperwork that would have caused! And then down steep stony zig zagging paths under the cliff. It is strange to ru in pitch black, and if I thought about it too much became a little claustrophobic – so I stamped on that idea and concentrated on find my way.
Even stranger ( for a running race) were signs saying ‘run slow’ before sharp corners. We were helped by very small but bright stick lights, but you had to be sharp-eyed. And the occasional marshal.
It was a case of keeping your wits about you and owl-like eyes peeled.
The toughest section was the shingle beach run for about 20 minutes. I followed lights only to find I was having hallucinations they were night-time fisher men drowning maggots lit by gas lights. Jane suffered on the beach, only having little legs. Being a gallant type I waited for her and of course had a wee rest.
Then she sped ahead on the flat land stretch before we waded across a stream and up an even darker wooded hill where we could not see how steep or long it was – therefore, making pacing impossible. The best policy was to walk.
Most the next part was a blur to me. But I do recall a path with steps and stiles appearing at regular intervals which really put me off my stride. I tried to shout behind what was coming up to warn Jane and was aware I was calling some unknown bloke Jane and she was a few places behind – the victim of short legs and steep stiles.
After another water obstacle (which Jane walked round) the Grizzly route’s so-called Stairway to Heaven reappeared and halted our swift progress and we trudged up to the top of the cliff again. And then a flattish cliff top finish to the picturesque east Devon village of Beer.
We plan to a revisit next year and maybe have a meal in the pub for a discounted £5 with race entry.
By Guy