Salomon "Hellrunner" 2004

SRI CHINMOY AC RESULTS:

Total Runners -  513 men, 122 women

42nd DAVID JOHNSON   01:10:46
72nd ROGER CHAMBERLAIN   01:14:23
98th STEVEN GUY  01:15:49

Well, we all finished in the top 100! Here's Dave's version of events:

The False Start

By Dave Johnson

After taxiing to the Cambridge station to find our hopes waiting to be dashed by a cancelled train (due to mushrooms growing out of the signal boxes or something like that anyway) we desperately stared at the
departures screen, willing it with all our might to change!

On the face of it our mission appeared to be well and truly scuppered before breakfast had even settled in our stomaches - which was, incidentally, cornflakes with pasta (gluten and dairy free) and pesto.....mmmmm!

Well what else can you do when staringcertain failure in the face at 6.20 am on a SUnday morning? Hope for the best and forge ahead! Which we did, first to Stevenage by couresy of the 6.50am train and then a lovely coach with out-of-order toilet and no live entertainment (Steve
passed out at this point - very wise too I might add). We "coached" in completely the wrong direction to where we wanted to be heading for the first 40 minutes or so, collecting more bleary eyed and beleagured rail commuters at various locations who had also been scuppered by the sudden late Autumn mushroom outbreak currently sweeping the Network Southeast rail system.

As Kings Cross loomed, our hearts leapt with a feeling of rapturous joy, a most rare and incongruous sensation! After getting flumoxed on the Northern Line.....which somehow splits into two and completely
misses the station you wished to be released at, leaving one in a flumoxed composure....

With Roger revving the engine outside "Little Nowhere Station", Steve and I glowed as the train scuttled along the tracks (no mushrooms in sight) leaving London behind us. The sun began to beam as it always does when you leave London. We were happy and contented, the adrenaline beginning to pump as our thoughts focussed on the 10 mile cross country less than an hour away - but thats another story!

Dave Johnson
Sri Chinmoy AC, Cambridge



Another story indeed.....guess I'd better tell it!

"Little Nowhere" was in fact Petersfield and from there a few minutes of astral travel (er, thats in a vaushall astra) brought us to the
gates of an army camp. There were cadets (not the space kind, though there were a few of those in my car) marching around and the reassuring clatter of gunfire from the shooting range. Everywhere you looked there were lycra tights, walsh shoes and helly hansens. About 600 had turned out for the much vaunted "Saab Salomon Hellrunner".


The sign at the entrance said "Welcome to Hell". We lined up at the start after a brief warm up to be greeted by the starter, dressed as a demon complete with horns. The "lead cyclist" was on a quad bike, and
also dressed up as a creature from the lower planes. A pattern was starting to form, here! We had been promised "ten miles of torture", and the PA kept telling us it was "too late to back out now". Mmmm....

A nervous countdown, with everyone joining in, then a blast on an airhorn and we were off up into some gorgeous woodland on a wide gravel track. Not so hellish after all.  The first few miles were winding trails a bit like bridle paths - very muddy and with lots of climbs. I soon discovered I was not feeling 100%, as I struggled to keep up a reasonable race pace. Still, you can't peak for every race, can you? Best just to soldier on, I thought, and tried to stick with the runners around me and not lose touch with the pack. I was, as usual, enjoying the feeling of intensity that comes in a race. Tough as they are on the body, races always get me to that special state where time has slowed down, the mind is simplified (if not totally blown away) and part of you at least is in a concentration/meditation kind of state. While some runners seem to be able to zone like this in training, for me it seems I need to be in the race environment to feel it.

On this occasion though, the physical side was being uncooperative (not enough sleep maybe? Coming down with a cold?) and I was in "survival" mode from quite early on. Suddenly Dave appeared alongside, looking fresh, and soon pulled away up the next hill, seemingly relaxed with that great running style of his, though for all I know he may have been feeling as cream-crackered as I was!

At about half way we hit a super steep climb on loose sand - bit like going upwards on a downward escalator - then a sign welcomed us to the Wild Wetlands. A long descent and we saw the first "pond" - the course taking us round the edge with our left legs knee deep in water and our right legs thigh-deep. This wading session was good fun but very taxing - I was getting a good spray of brown, yucky water from the heels of the runner in front, and had to pull wads of pondweed out from under the tongues of my shoes afterwards! More sandy hills and deep swamps followed - all good fun. Some of the mud really smelt bad - I saw the leading woman runner go face-down in some. It was like a surreal cross between a film of The Crimean War and an old episode of Its A Knockout.

At the time of "going to press" with this article, the race photographers have photos of the "Hellrunner" at:
http://www.irvingbartlett.com/home/Hellrunner/index3.htm

I recommend you take a look through those - its an interesting course!

After the wetlands we passed the PA announcer, who called out our names, presumably to check for some kind of a response as proof that we were still alive. In my case, I appeared to be conscious but I wasn't 100% sure! We were entering the "Hills of Hell" at this point, where the course ascends a super-steep bank of loose sand, then immediately descends again. Then you turn 180 degrees and go back up on a parallel path, and come back down. It goes on like this for a timeless eternity then the woods welcome you back to relative sanity for some more (hilly) trails. After some sandy scrambles and muddy woody sections came the final sprint to the finish on the gravel track. The finish line was very welcome, not just to me but also the runner alongside me who had mistakenly started his last-100m-sprint while there was still a mile to go!

All in all this was a superb race - the "hell" imagery is totally superfluous of course, and for runners who like a varied and exciting course, this was heaven.


Three mud-splattered finishers; Dave, Steve and Roger.