Happily Ever After

Life in The Rural Retreat with a beautiful wife, three cats, garden wildlife, a camera, a computer – and increasing amounts about running

Earlier posts can be found on Adventures of a Lone Bass Player, where this blog began life. Recent entries can be found here.

 


York 10k 2025

by Russell Turner - 11:49 on 06 August 2025

This time, luck was on my side: Storm Floris didn’t fully strike until after the York 10k. The journey south to God’s Own Country, mostly by slower but quieter back roads, was relaxing, marred only by a new complaint from Grandson of Seat, who squeaked long and loud every time my foot came off the accelerator. There’s always something.

After overnighting at the handy but unsalubrious Bellshill Premier Inn, outside Glasgow, I arrived at Wheatlands Lodge Hotel in York on Friday, settled into a modest single room, then enjoyed a birthday dinner-for-one at Lal Quila, where the management still remembers me despite my visiting no more than twice a year. The food remains splendid.

Wheatlands Lodge Hotel

Saturday featured a sunny walk on the city walls, a look inside Clifford’s Tower – the first time I’ve been in since it gained a new roof – and an afternoon with Martin Shaw in A Man For All Seasons at the Grand Opera House. He was memorable, especially considering he’s 80 (how did Doyle get so old?), but several scenes were stolen by Gary Wilmot as The Common Man. See it if you can.

Clifford's Tower and the view from the new roof

By now I was constantly checking the weather forecast and the progress of Storm Floris. At its worst, a 90% chance of heavy rain was predicted from 9-11am on race day, although that had later been downgraded to light rain. Come the morning, conditions weren’t too bad; I set off on the one-mile walk to Knavesmire filled with optimism. Thirty seconds later, a heavy shower suggested that I shouldn’t be too confident. At least the breeze was light, the temperature perfect, and it wasn’t long before the shower petered out.

With 30mins to while away before taking my place near the one-hour pacers, I deposited baggage for the first time at a York 10k – a dry hoodie seemed a sensible precaution – wandered around the event village (which didn’t take long), did a few stretches and marvelled enviously at the suppleness of the younger runners. The fact that some of those doing impressive squats and twists were also gathered in the one-hour section was baffling.

The hooter sounded at 9.30. Seven minutes later I crossed the start line, the pacers no longer in sight. No surprise there. This was my fourth York 10k, so apart from a brief course alteration in the second kilometre there were no surprises: crowds thronged Coney Street and outside the Minster; King’s Staith was congested, as was Rowntree Park; the turnaround behind the racecourse grandstand was cruel; cheering crowds lined the run-in to the finish line which I crossed in 1:00:54 – a minute slower than I’d hoped, and my slowest York 10k, but OK for a 67-year-old. There are faster 10ks to come this month (I hope).

I stayed to watch some of the 1:20-30 finishers, all ages, shapes and sizes, their expressions ranging from delighted to exhausted. The goody bag, by the way, was rubbish: crisps, sweets, a protein drink and a Zero tab; the bag at Leeds, from the same organiser, was much better. The medal was OK; I’d declined a shirt.

The afternoon was spent catching up with family in Wakefield. The weather was much hotter with no sign of the storm to come.

Morning: rain lashed, wind howled. My plan for a gentle holiday drive with stops at rural cafes for tea and cake was revised. Instead of a meander through the Dales I drove up the A1M, ignored the A66 turning (closed to high-sided vehicles) then turned west through Hadrian’s Wall country, taking a break at Haltwhistle. The sun shone out of a cloudless sky but the wind was no encouragement to tourism. From there I squeaked further west, bypassed Carlisle, then took the old road north from Gretna, shunning motorway until close to Glasgow and another Premier Inn, this time in Stepps. Next day, more quiet back roads (the Sma’ Glen was spectacular), lots of wind, arboreal debris, some rain, and home to a lawn that looked like a battlefield, littered with its own debris. Matchgirl seemed pleased to see me, cats less so.

Will I return for a fifth York 10k, gigs permitting? Probably. Despite the bottlenecks it’s a decent course and offers big city race feel in a picturesque small city. Anyway, I need to reverse my declining times and finish inside an hour again. Maybe I should try a proper 10k training plan rather than just run them as part of marathon or HM preparation.

Speaking of which… I’ve taken a risk and signed up for the Lincoln Half Marathon on October 5th. Expect City Limits to now be inundated with gig offers for that weekend. Accommodation will be sought later, though I’ll probably end up in another Premier Inn. Shame they don’t have a loyalty scheme.


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