Winter Mondays race records – reach for the stars …
Having little better to do with my time – nor the wit to know how to get AI on the case – I’ve been manually compiling records for the Winter Mondays races going back to Read more
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When writing about an event of this type it is tempting to follow the usual format found in magazines where the writer tells us that "we climbed to the summit and felt tired, another hard slog took us to another summit" and so on. However writing something different is more difficult than one imagines which is why nearly half a page has been filled before even reaching Edale!
At Edale village hall all is in chaos as 200-300 people try to gather themselves into groups of four and pull things out of canvas sports bags only to stick them into rucksacks of various sizes. A little later a visitor would assume that a group of three eyed troglodytes had taken over as 200 people sprouted black protuberances in the middle of their foreheads just above the self adjusting binocular units which suffice most normal humans. Those who speak in cliches (about 93.46% of the population) will immediately shout, "They're not normal".
Eventually, a group dressed in nothing short of equipment best suited for a whole Winter in the Antarctic and carrying 5 foot long staves are let out into the darkness amidst applause of the sort reserved for those who are about the set off into space to explore the furthest parts of the universe. Perhaps they will do just that and never return again or, perhaps, those who applaud realise that those who participate will explore the furthest parts of their own reserves of stamina, fitness and mental resilience. So it was that I found myself about to be launched into the darkness dressed not for an Antarctic winter but for the average British summer.
"We climbed the first summit and felt tired" and remained tired until Edale Village Hall became a reality once more and one's dreams of warmth and succour were completed. In the meantime, an intervening thirteen hours, we experienced the sight of the lights of Hope Valley, Sheffield and even Barnsley. Slithering through a mixture of snow, mud, glutinous peat and snow melt we experienced that overwhelming numbness of feet that turns to exquisite pain as warmth returns. Then there was that feeling of joy on overtaking teams thought to be 'untouchable's a joy kept secret just in case it is short-lived and disaster befalls oneself. The line of lights coming down Lose Hill made a fascinating sight from half way up Win Hill. There was also that feeling of bewilderment tinged with slight panic that other teams are taking a different line to reach the same place.
One should offer a heartfelt prayer of thanks for the dedication of the marshals who spend the night in uncomfortable and cold surroundings often dispensing hot drinks and goodies. The greatest experience is the relief of finishing and the sense of gratitude to one's teammates for the support and help throughout the event, especially in the last few miles.
Frank Galbraith
Members can click on their name to see a results history
High Peak Marathon on Fri 2nd Mar 1990
The last remains of the Christmas turkey are consigned to the bin when the word "Watershed" is whispered. At first in hushed tones, the whisper grows to a roar until friends and relatives beg for mercy and ask to be spared hearing about the "Watershed". The watershed in question is that of the River Derwent which helps separated waters that run to the Atlantic from those that run to the North Sea. The name is simply shorthand for the 'High Peak Marathon' a gruelling event which is run on the first Friday in March. Just in case 43 miles is not a sufficient test of stamina and endurance the start is postponed until nearly midnight.When writing about an event of this type it is tempting to follow the usual format found in magazines where the writer tells us that "we climbed to the summit and felt tired, another hard slog took us to another summit" and so on. However writing something different is more difficult than one imagines which is why nearly half a page has been filled before even reaching Edale!
At Edale village hall all is in chaos as 200-300 people try to gather themselves into groups of four and pull things out of canvas sports bags only to stick them into rucksacks of various sizes. A little later a visitor would assume that a group of three eyed troglodytes had taken over as 200 people sprouted black protuberances in the middle of their foreheads just above the self adjusting binocular units which suffice most normal humans. Those who speak in cliches (about 93.46% of the population) will immediately shout, "They're not normal".
Eventually, a group dressed in nothing short of equipment best suited for a whole Winter in the Antarctic and carrying 5 foot long staves are let out into the darkness amidst applause of the sort reserved for those who are about the set off into space to explore the furthest parts of the universe. Perhaps they will do just that and never return again or, perhaps, those who applaud realise that those who participate will explore the furthest parts of their own reserves of stamina, fitness and mental resilience. So it was that I found myself about to be launched into the darkness dressed not for an Antarctic winter but for the average British summer.
"We climbed the first summit and felt tired" and remained tired until Edale Village Hall became a reality once more and one's dreams of warmth and succour were completed. In the meantime, an intervening thirteen hours, we experienced the sight of the lights of Hope Valley, Sheffield and even Barnsley. Slithering through a mixture of snow, mud, glutinous peat and snow melt we experienced that overwhelming numbness of feet that turns to exquisite pain as warmth returns. Then there was that feeling of joy on overtaking teams thought to be 'untouchable's a joy kept secret just in case it is short-lived and disaster befalls oneself. The line of lights coming down Lose Hill made a fascinating sight from half way up Win Hill. There was also that feeling of bewilderment tinged with slight panic that other teams are taking a different line to reach the same place.
One should offer a heartfelt prayer of thanks for the dedication of the marshals who spend the night in uncomfortable and cold surroundings often dispensing hot drinks and goodies. The greatest experience is the relief of finishing and the sense of gratitude to one's teammates for the support and help throughout the event, especially in the last few miles.
Frank Galbraith
Members can click on their name to see a results history
| Position | Name | Club | Class | Time | Comment | Bonus |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | Sub 9 | 10:15:00 | ||||
| 4 | Old Indefatigables | 12:01:00 | G.Desforges M.Desforges M.Hayes J.Brian | |||
| 6 | Dark Peak West | 12:06:00 | A.Ireland B.Harney J.Amies P.Blagborough | |||
| 12 | The Beegees | 12:47:00 | H.Swindells J.Armistead K.Tonkin N.Goldsmith | |||
| 13 | The Grinders | 12:57:00 | F.Galbraith K.Borman R.Clare J.Kiveal | |||
| 16 | All Night Burners | 13:26:00 | J.Harrison D.Lockwood C.Henson B.Marsden | |||
| 19 | Gritstone Girls | 14:15:00 | G.Goldsmith M.Greenwood A.Wright C.Turner | |||
| - | Rude Boys Reformed | P.Sanderson D.Sant A.Yates R.Beaumeister |