I think I might have a little proud cry when I finally cross the finish line on the 13th May. This route takes me all around the places of my earliest days. Past the house where I spent my childhood; the woods where if I’d been allowed to I probably would have spent even more time than the house; past the playing fields we used to play frisbee on, where I can see across to my Primary and High Schools; past the Post Office (more importantly, it was a Kola-kube, Irn Bru and comic shop) that used to be the start of every Saturday morning BMX adventure; around King Alfred’s Castle, which was my runaway place when I was a misunderstood teenager; and back onto routes I’ve used since getting really into running about 5 years ago. My feet know these places, and deep emotional parts of me become very happy just running over the same ground again.
However, it’s easy to think all these happy, proud thoughts now that I’m sitting back at home, clean, full of Sunday breakfast and on my second cup of tea. While I was out there I was actually trying to establish where the sticky points might be. Which bits are going to be the hardest? Where will my weak spots take a pounding? If the urge to walk kicks in, where is it going to be?
As the race will go past my house, I decided to start and finish today’s run at the nearest point where the route passes me, so all the way round I was mentally aware that everything that happened today would actually happen at roughly 4 miles (about 45minutes) earlier on the day. Now that I think about it, I’m quite glad that the hardest points will occur when I’m about 45 minutes fresher!
We’ll be starting outside the Town Hall, and one of the worst hills is right there – the Headrow. I don’t think it had registered with me until now that it is a hill, it’s one of those invisible buggers that you can walk all the time without noticing you’re going up.
From there, it’s onto New Briggate (where it started raining for the first time) and down North Street to Meanwood Road. When I used to work at a photo studio in town and was living in Meanwood, I must have walked this part a hundred times without registering where the hill started, near the Cricket Club. It creeps gently up towards the junction of Monkbridge Road, Green Road, and Stonegate Road, and there it turns into a steep slog for about half a mile. This is the hill I would walk up with my Dad as a 4 year old, and the memory is imprinted on me of myself as a tired little girl wailing to be picked up and carried or put on Dad’s shoulders because it was too long and steep. Dad used to threaten to leave me there – we were only a hundred yards from our old house, and he would always have his hands full of shopping. I would inevitably become enraged and find some energy from somewhere, running desperately up to him, red-faced and angry, yelling that I hated him, only to find that we were at the end of our street by then. Perhaps Dad foresaw that it would be this memory that would come in so handy for just these circumstances, and was trying to teach me something about perseverance. Even though I was dragging leaden feet up the hill at the steepest bit, I realised as I passed the end of Parkside Avenue just how quickly I had recovered, and could almost see the little, tired, stroppy Caroline slipping her hand sheepishly around Dad’s outstretched little finger and walking the last few yards into our drive.
From there, it’s nostalgia and a slow consistent shallow climb all the way up to the King Lane roundabout. All my open playing fields and woods are there, and I wondered, as I passed, if there were as many kids messing about up the trees as there would have been on a good Spring Sunday 25 years ago. It also occurred to me that if there were, I wouldn’t know either way – we used to sit quietly up the trees in the deepest parts, eating sweets and imagining we would ambush our enemies as they walked oblivious underneath. I hope the trees were full of monkeys.
Turning onto King Lane was a huge relief, and the downhill helped me get my breath back and speed up a little. The Ring Road was a surprisingly ecstatic few minutes of steady speed, it’s a shallow downhill all the way to where the end of Parkside Road (known as Dunny Hill, a notorious miniature mountain, short and incredibly steep, in my Dad’s running days) opens out and meets the main road. Unfortunately, it’s this next bit that’s pretty tough – the climb up to Lawnswood High School actually looks like a slow gentle incline, but it’s only at the corner of Otley Road where the route turns onto the flat, that I realised how hard I’d been working. Only in extreme situations do I need to speak out loud to myself, and I heard myself saying between noisy exhaled whoos and huffs, “Well done! You did that really well! Now keep going…”
The flat curve around the school playing fields came in very handy as a few minutes of recovery, and it was with joy that I realised I was onto the last couple of miles when I rejoined the Ring Road. Fast and easy, the long gentle downhill took me right up to Low Lane. I was flying along, or so I thought, until someone came past me going much faster, but I’ve learned not to waste energy comparing myself to other runners by now. Hawksworth Road is part of one of my usual running routes, and I think I ran down it faster than I ever have before, knowing I was nearly finished. It started hailing on me here, and it probably illustrates my state of mind to say that I ticked it off as my first rainy and haily run, but remarked to myself that hail is my favourite of all weathers, because it’s usually sunny at the same time as throwing down icy little drops, which appeals to my sense of enjoyable contraries.
Back on Abbey Road, I realised the same thing that always hits me on that corner – it’s actually back to a slight uphill with a strange camber on the pavement, and however fast I’ve taken Hawksworth Road, I have to slow back down and build up slowly again under the woods below my house. What surprised me today was just how fast I was able to build it to – I sprint finished up to the bollards, where I set off 2hours, 21 minutes and 40 seconds earlier, at the bottom of Vesper Road.
On the day, all that remains from this point is the 4 mile stretch of Abbey Road, Commercial Road and Kirkstall Road, up onto the Lower Headrow, past the Town Hall and then triumphantly through the finish line at Millennium Square (which is why my route today was .25miles shorter than the race route). Based on today’s long slow run timings, I think I could be looking at a time of about 2hours and 25minutes on the day.
I will be delighted with that. For me, running makes a strange emotional connection to the ground and the landmarks. There’s some serious memories tied up in every step around this course, and I’m very proud to be running this one, not just as a proper Loiner and true Yorkshire lass, but as my parents’ daughter, brought up walking, biking, climbing and running all around this brilliant city.
the200milemacmillanmadness 