Chilling Out in Kent

PE lessons during winter usually meant football or rugby. For someone like me, who enjoys playing football and rugby, those were good days. The bad days were when the pitches were frozen or waterlogged. That tended to indicate cross-country runs.

“What about dodgeball, sir?” someone would ask. Others agreed. The gym was a far more appealing option than the cold and/or wet outdoors.

“Yes. Sir, that way you can join in, it’s always better if you play too”. A PE teacher, pretty much by definition, is competitive. He would play to win, regardless of whether the opponent was a grown man in Sunday League football or a group of snot leaking 13 year olds, awkward in their barely pubescent bodies, running around the school gym as the teacher hurled day-glo fluffy footballs at their heads. A good lesson involved knocking the inch thick glasses of the nose of the least sporting child in the class.

Sometimes this schoolboy psychology worked. Sometimes it didn’t. When it didn’t you would spend maybe thirty minutes of your school day splashing, slipping and tripping around muddy fields with number fingers and saturated trainers. You actually looked forward to communal school showers, poorly cut school uniform and, in several years time, leaving school, to never having to face a winter cross country run again.

Never.

Never?

150 people in Kings Wood, Churrock Hill, Kent had forgotten the teenage oath. Or maybe it had been worded wrongly because with heavy settling snow and gusting northerly winds it certainly felt like hell was freezing over. Paul (dongoling Paul, not 3 Men in a Boat Paul) and I had hidden in the car for as long as possible, watching the thermometer fluctuate around freezing, me ruing not having gloves, Paul ruing not having long sleeves (he didn’t seem to have an issue with shorts). But you can’t hide for ever and at 9 o’clock the rasce started.

The first running lap, of two miles, wasn’t too bad. The snow had just settled and was a bit slippery but you could maintain a grip. I started quickly in the hope I would warm up, most people had the same idea. I slowed down for fear of being too tired to cope with what was to come. Most people seemed to do the same. My time for this leg was 17:25, it placed me 57th.

Next came the cycle. Three laps to give a total distance of ten miles. I had been worrying about my knees but needn’t have wasted the energy. My body had gone so numb by the time half the first lap was complete I could not feel anything at all. My strategy was simple, hold onto the handlebars as tightly as possible and only when absolutely necessaryy pull the brake or change gear. The cycling was proper mountain biking, with some very technical parts. I’m not an experienced mountain biker. And by that I mean I have mountain biked once before in my life, going down a volcano in Guatemala about 8 years ago. My previous experience also involved riding a mountain bike and no snow. In this case I was on a cyclo-cross bike in the snow. The big advantage of cyclo-cross bikes generally is that they are light and skid over the surface. On steep hills you just get off and run up the hill with them over your shoulder. The disadvantage is that they are light and skid over the surface, so if you are technically incompetent and riding on snow it is kind of like ice-skating down hill, you spend most of your time trying to slow down and hoping you can maintain your balance next time you skid out of control. Also, if you are going mountain biking during a snow fall it is a good idea to wear untinted glasses, this will stop you being blinded by the flakes as you cycle into the wind.

With each lap the snow and mud got churned up a bit more, I had given up racing and focused solely on survival. I made no attempt to overtake anybody and let others go past me because the idea of manoeuvring with other cyclists close in front or behind was too unappealing. Finally, the third lap was over. What had been a very slow lap became even slower in transition, my fingers were so numb that I could not remove my helmet. I found a guy who had finished the race and asked him to help me, he kindly obliged, telling me he had kept his helmet on for the run because he had the same problem. Total time for the cycling leg was 1:06:25, my position for the leg was 88th.

Then started the second running lap, exactly the same two mile course as the first. It was initially a relief to be on legs rather than wheels. This was short lived as the running course had now been churned into a slippery bog. There was no chance of getting momentum because with each step your feet were sucked into the mud and all your energy was used pulling it out again. I had started quickly with the intention of making up ground on the cyclists but this was a reckless approach that resulted in me slipping, tripping and slipping again. The only reason I did not fall was because a well placed tree painfully helped me stay upright. Even with a more cautious approach after that I made up time on a lot of people. The last guy I overtook was a victim of his own pride when, in deciding he was not going to be overtaken so near the finish he sped up and took a tumble that allowed about 10 people past. My time for this leg was 18:07, I placed 47th for the leg. This gave an overall time of 1:41:57 and final position of 80th out of 124.

Back in Paul’s car we sat with the heater at full blast, waiting for the involuntary shivering to stop. This was a different cold to Tough Guy cold. That had been a suck the life out of you cold. This was an attack every sinew cold. I had been worried that a duathlon would be less challenging than this year's other components. Once again I was punished for underestimating. This had been as hard as any of them. The agonising conditions just capping an event that was, in any circumstances, difficult. It is nice to know my perspective has changed since being 13, it turns out that, whilst not as good as football or rugby, cross-country is actually good fun. More varied and interesting than road running. I'm certainly not going to say "never again". However, next time, if I am making my way to a duathlon and the thermometer is going down whilst the sun is coming up (albeit hidden by snow laden grey clouds) then, rather than race, I will remember what I learnt at school. I will find a group of stereotypical computer nerds, a sports hall and a football spend the morning sadistically knocking their glasses off.