A Muddy Shade of Grey

It is a fact universally acknowledged that mud is preferably enjoyed in the relative comfort of a luxury spa for skin cleansing purposes, as opposed to the down-trodden, slushy – frankly, plain miserable – experience that the Southern Cross Country Championships on Hampstead Heath’s Parliament Hill offered on Saturday 25 January.

While I had previously – as it turns out erroneously – assumed that Parliament Hill was just a bit of a ‘fun run’ in a bit of mud, it turns out that actually it’s a bit like Marmite: do it and love it forever, or, do it and vow to never ever put your lethal 15mm spikes on again!

Two years ago I loved it. I can’t think why now. This year I can shamelessly admit that I hated it!

And here’s why….

I was never one to lead from the front, which might have made the experience a notable success by collecting points for the Club or even winning (yeah, right!). I plod, propping up the persistent league of ‘back runners’ – as results and iPhone videos on Facebook will prove – I discovered a new hatred for all things ‘dirty’.

The German in me is a bit of stickler for cleanliness and orderliness, so the disorder of runners charging up the hill from the Lido, resembling a scene from the Grand National, did not sit well with my nature. And the inevitable mud bath, aided by the predictably unpredictable British weather, was diluted into an even murkier substance, eager to squelch through socks and in between one’s toes.

Not to mention the innate worry about cleansing the better-left-unmentioned toenail crevices and the extra detergent polluting the environment required to clean failed performance socks, once known by their distinct shade of once-to-often-washed-with-darks-grey.

While fellow Striders embraced the mud and thought it was such fun, I lied and nodded while secretly thinking: ‘…so not doing that again!!!’

Suffice to say, that once the woman’s 5 mile race was over, the men had to struggle through near enough 9 miles enduring an impenetrable mud-fest that must have surely beaten the manliest man at his moderately toned core! (….and bring tears to their eyes, perhaps?)

And as if that wasn’t enough! The journey home added to the soggy misery by sending thunder, lightning, more rain, and train delays. We eventually rolled into St Albans: dirty, wet and cold.

So, did I enjoy it?

No!

Will I do it again?

Certainly not!

Am I going for a long run this weekend in the wet, cold and muddy conditions known as the British weather?

Probably…..:)


Petra Grosse