Cheddar O - not so cheesy peasy - Wednesday 28 May

My name's Rich, I'm learning to be an orienteer, and this week I went out of bounds . .

There, it's out in the open, and I'm starting to feel better already. Last week at Westbury-on-Trym I'd had a good run around the course and had been devastated to learn that I'd missed one of the last controls. So this week I couldn't wait to get going, and to finish the course properly, with every control found and all in the correct order.

So what was I thinking of? I set off toward the first control, but for some inexplicable reason, turned right instead of left and headed south on the road to Wells. It was so stupid! I know that part of Cheddar and have no idea what was going on in my head. Of course at the time, I was convinced I was in the right place, looking for that first control.

Eventually I decided I had to go back to the start and try again. I didn't actually get that far but got to the junction where I'd gone wrong, and the scales fell from my eyes and I found the control. Unfortunately it had taken me almost 15 minutes. 24 hours later I took another look at the map, wanting to figure out where I'd gone wrong and only then did I realise that the bridge I'd crossed was out of bounds.

What a great start! I'd wanted to make amends for missing a control and ended up taking a right instead of a left. I was still beating myself up about this when I went straight past the side road that would lead to the second control. More minutes added to my time, and then, once I'd found that one, the inquest in my head was still raging when I decided that the 3rd control was in a churchyard, when of course it was in the side road alongside it. More wasted time on the clock.

Even I couldn't miss the 4th control, and fortunately there was a reasonably long stretch to the number 5 and this gave me time to pull myself together. I knew I'd been guilty of careless map reading and navigation and I wasn't going to get anywhere carrying on like that.

Number 5 made me smile. It was in a garden (so needless to say, I didn't find it immediately as I hadn't realised this was a possibility). But the sign in the garden that read "Orienteers welcome" was a nice touch and helped take my mind off my poor performance up to then.

The rest of the course wasn't so tricky, because I was reading the map properly, and I was concentrating on what I was doing, as I should have from the first step. There was a bunch of 8 or so controls around the school where we'd started and would finish. They were a bit close together on the map and I had to do some ducking and diving to find some of them but that's more to do with failing eyesight than not reading the map very well and perhaps I need one of those fancy magnifying glasses to stick on my thumb?

Conclusion? I was so disappointed with my start, and the time I took to get round, but pleased to have sorted myself out and rebuilt some confidence on the way. I can and will do better, and I can't wait for the next event, to prove it. And, no doubt, to make other new mistakes, and probably repeat some older ones!

I know I'm not the first to make these mistakes, nor will I be the last, and I expect I'll make them again, just hopefully not all at once. I don't intend to blog about every event by the way, that would be another mistake, I just needed to get this one off my chest.

Lark and Learn . .

It's been a while since I described my first encounter with Larking with Brains on, known to many as Orienteering . .

Since then I've spent too many hours on the motorway and far too few hours running, but I have managed to take part in some more orienteering events, and slowly, I think I'm learning a few things about this new - to me that is - sport. In particular, I've learnt that I wish I'd discovered it years ago!

My second event was down by the big tv mast at Priddy, just north of Wells, where many of us fought our way through a hail storm, it was freezing cold and I discovered that when it's really windy my eyes water and I can't read the map. Which made a couple of my route selections rather exotic. Despite this, I found the controls, and made my way round the course, and loved the sense of achievement I felt as a consequence.

Next, I found an event at Houghton Wood in East Yorkshire whilst I visited family in York. There was much to learn here. I moved up from Orange to Light Green, and was horrified to be handed a list of control descriptions at the start that showed symbols, rather than the written descriptions I'd followed at my two previous events. I recognised a tree, and a bridge, but the remainder was going to be guesswork. And that hasn't changed in the 2 months that have passed since then.

Written control descriptions were suddenly replaced by symbols . . I wasn't expecting that!

Here I learnt that I needed gaiters because despite wearing leggings, my shins were ripped to shreds, and my trail shoe laces came undone 3 times during the event, despite my habit of threading them through themselves. So I needed to get some of those snappy, elasticated laces that never come undone. And, apparently, I needed to get pink ones!

snazzy new posh pink laces . .

Finally at Houghton Wood, I found out the hard way that when I realise a younger runner is way off beam and headed in completely the wrong direction, I don't have a duty of care to remain with them. This was the hardest lesson of all, because it just went against my better nature, but in future, kids, you're on your own! (And why you should look to me for help will always be a mystery!).

my very own dibber . . although I really must loosen that elastic . .

Since then I've invested in my own dibber (aka SI Card) and joined Bristol Orienteering Klub. And in the summer, Wednesday night is O night! I've taken taken part in the first 3 of BOK's 10 evening Urban and Park Sprint events. The first was at Rodway and Emersons Green. I felt at home in the first portion, as it was on the Pomphrey Hill parkrun course, which I'd been to 3 times earlier in the year, and I was running close to two friends. So it didn't seem like orienteering at first, it was just a run with my mates. But I soon realised that they were getting on with it, and they weren't talking to me, or waiting for me, and of course I was on my own.

As usual I made one or two unorthodox (with hindsight) route selections, but I found the controls in the correct order and once again, thoroughly enjoyed it, in particular my first experience of urban orienteering. But I realised that I needed to pay more attention to my choice of route, and the following week, at Nailsea, I think I succeeded in doing that, although inevitably there was one pesky control that evaded me for a while before I pounced on it.

Then last week, at the Westbury-on-Trym event, I learnt a particularly tough lesson. I found out what it feels like to finish, and to be told that I'd missed a control. It's an awful, gut-wrenching kick in the stomach feeling. I couldn't believe it! I'd had no idea that I'd missed one. There had been a couple of dodgy ones, but I'd found them after a little while, and although I remembered being confused at one particular point I really didn't appreciate that I'd completely missed a control. 5 evenings later and I'm still kicking myself and can't wait for the next event so that I can make amends. And I'm told that this won't be the last time I miss a control. That's probably correct, but we'll see!

My Happy Birthday Race . . the Bristol 10k . . Sunday 11 May 2014

So who wants to be 60? Certainly not me, that's for sure, although I hope I'll be in a position to change my mind in 2 or 3 years' time. But as we know, time waits for no-one, and it wasn't going to make an exception for me, so I had to get on with it. I can't remember when I learnt that the Bristol 10k was going to be on my birthday but when I did, I realised that this gave me something to do on "my" day, alongside the other 10,000+ runners, of course.

Initially I had a Grand Design to finish in 59.59. I hadn't done very well in May 2013, finishing in 68.23, but then in October I'd completed the Wistow 10k, in East Yorkshire, in 61.48, on a very wet and windy day. So it seemed reasonable to imagine that if I was able to get a decent run of training under my belt I could get under the hour. Unfortunately life got in the way and I've probably spent more time driving up and down the motorway to York and back this year than I've been able to spend running.

As race day - and my birthday - approached I recognised that I had a choice. I could try to race as hard as my lack of fitness allowed and see if I could get round (relatively) quickly, but whilst I'm happy to dare to dream, the dreaming needs to be tinged with some realism. I knew that if I tried to go for it, the race would very likely end in tears as I simply wasn't in any sort of shape to really give it a go.

The alternative was to float around at a sensible, sustainable pace, maybe stop and chat to any friends I saw on the way around, and carry a small camera and take some photos to remind me of my birthday. In short, I could just go out and enjoy myself. I decided to take the latter course, and having been encouraged by parkrun friends to make sure everyone knew it was my birthday, draped myself in a "60 today" banner.

I can't imagine that anyone has ever been wished Happy Birthday more times than I was on my way around the 10k. So many complete strangers in the crowd and amongst the runners noticed my banner and called out. My shoulders were sore from all the slaps on my back. And of course my friends, those in the crowd, those marshaling and those running - all looking out for me (I suspect I was hard to miss!) and so many of them wished me well despite being focused on their own races.

Then, glossing over the interminable queue for kit bags, and the fact that they ran out of medals and t-shirts (I was lucky enough to get there before that happened) . . the fun and laughter in the Berkley afterwards that just never seemed to stop.

Throughout the day I received heaps of messages and good wishes from so many people. I wrote about daring to dream, and I'd dreamt of having a birthday I'd never forget, and that's what I got. It couldn't have happened without all my friends - both here in Bristol and further afield - who made sure I enjoyed this big day. Thank you, everyone of you - I'm a very fortunate fellow indeed. And perhaps being 60 isn't quite so bad after all?