They lull you into a false sense of security...and then they lie to you (Kilburn 7 8th July 2012)

 “Fast first mile, then stiff half mile climb before downhill through historic Coxwold, turning left at cross roads, some fast stretches before Bylands Abbey, turning left at the Abbey, a mile slog up to Oldstead with another climb from the village. The last two miles are undulating with very fast finish from the Kilburn sign to The Foresters.”

This innocuous paragraph is the route for the Kilburn 7 mile road race. Now various people had told me that this was a lovely race, a bit tough, but beautiful scenery and best of all...it finishes at a pub. So I agreed, now I must stress, I agreed on the descriptions people gave me, I hadn’t seen the paragraph above at that point. But I’ll admit, I agreed. Sent of my money, got my race number and a piece of paper with various bits of information, including the route description.

I should have started to worry when I read it; “Stiff half mile climb” has a slightly worrying ring to it, “a mile slog” even more so. But my friends had told me it was a lovely run and you should trust your friends shouldn’t you?

Kilburn, for those of you that don’t know it is situated in Hambleton, North Yorkshire. It sits at the base of the Hambleton Hills and is overlooked by a giant white chalk horse to which it gives it name. The horse is situated on the southern flank of Sutton Bank, carved into the hillside and can be seen from miles around. Now I know how steep Sutton Bank is, I drive up it often enough. Caravans aren’t allowed up there, lorries regularly get stuck on it...its steep! Yet I didn’t give it a thought, my friends said it was a nice run and I trust my friends.

(The other less ominous bit of info about Kilburn is that was the home of Robert “Mousey” Thompson, a furniture maker from the early 20^th Century, whose signature mouse can be found carved into furniture all over the world, including Westminster Abbey. There is a workshop and museum still in the village which is well worth visiting.)

The other thing that should be mentioned at this point is the British Summer, only Britain can have a hosepipe ban and floods at the same time. Last week it was the turn of the floods. To be honest the Friday before the race I was giving serious thought to taking my canoe, and yes, it was that bad! Thunder, lightening, lost power, we had it all and although Noah wasn’t quite sailing down the street, he was probably loosening the mooring ropes. To be honest, running in the rain is quite nice though, it cools you down and as long as you are road running it doesn’t cause too many problems. So when the forecast said it was going to be overcast with a chance of showers on Sunday I was ok with that. Like my friends, the weather forecast lied!

Sunday did indeed dawn overcast; however as we drove down to Kilburn the clouds started to lift, and the sun came out, and by the time we got there it was hot. Warm ups seemed a little superfluous given the temperature, but we duly did ours, and realised this was going to be an uncomfortable afternoon. Even the site of kids on Unicycles didn’t manage to completely dispel the rising sense of unease (don’t ask but they were called the Tholthorpe Jugglers). So with a feeling of impending doom we lined up at the start and we were off. Now the plan was 10 minute miles, quite a comfortable pace or so we thought, an alarmingly large number of people passed us on the “fast first mile” but we reassured ourselves that they’d pay for it later, and indeed some of them did, particularly when we hit the “stiff half mile climb”. I have to accept that it was half a mile, but it most certainly didn’t feel it. But the comfort was there were only three climbs on the route (read the route definitely only three), so this meant a third of the climbing was over and done with. It was notable that the “fast stretches before Bylands Abbey” never really materialised for us. Slow and steady wins the race though, or so they say. At the Abbey a welcome drink station, however it was situated at the foot of the “mile slog up to Oldstead”, this led to an interesting predicament, is it possible to run uphill, whilst drinking from a plastic cup and not inhale water through your nose. The answer appears to be no; so pouring it over your head is a much easier choice. This “mile slog up to Oldstead” by the way, was more akin to the North Face of the Eiger...but we ran up it, every... single...step! Now the next part of the route description was correct – there was indeed” another climb from the village”, indeed, it climbed and climbed and climbed. I should point out that the highlight of this climb was managing to pass the 70+ year old lady from Thirsk who was also running it; we have to take our victories where we find them!

And climbed!

And then we hit the “undulating” last two miles, think a series of hills one after another, it was like some demonic version of “Over the Sticks” without the wooden horses or the Wurlitzer music... Yet the mantra, downhill, fast finish, downhill, fast finished pulled us on and on – this 7 mile race seemed to be a little Tardisesque – i.e. more miles on the inside than on the outside!

Finally we hit the “very fast finish”, and in no time the joys of gravity took over, feet fairly flying we headed down towards the village, and the pub. To be met by a tractor with a silage tank on the back blocking the road, brakes on, sideways step, quick jog in place and we were by – stretching tired legs out into a semblance of a sprint to cross the line. We didn’t manage ten minute miles, well we might have managed one or two, but the grand total was slightly higher, no matter, we were finished, our legs could now wobble and fail us, we could be greeted by our loved ones and our friends (including the ones that lied) before making our way to the village hall for tea and sandwiches. How British is that? No medals or t shirts for us, but they put on a lovely plate of sarnies and a brew that tasted as good as any pint.

The run was over, my friends had lied to me, yet I found I didn’t care, something tells me I might be going back again next year.

PS the old lady was only 10 minutes behind me at the finish.

PPS According to a knowledgeable source, the name Kilburn is derived from Chilburn meaning cool/cold stream. Given the heat of the day there’s a certain irony in that.