Met League Fixture #1: Claybury

In addition to the incredible individual and team results, the depth of the field was notable, with 31 women and 67 men competing on the day.

VPH juniors also had a strong turnout, with standout performances including:

• Ruby (3rd U17G)

• Khalid (3rd U15B)

• Matteo (4th U13B)

• Herbie (7th U13B)

• Monika (7th U17G)

• Aneirin (9th U15B)

On a team level, the U13 boys and girls teams both achieved 2nd place, U15 boys were 4th, and U17 women were 5th.

Notable senior performances from the men include Luca Minale (4th), Alexander Lawrence (5th), and Seb Lewis (6th), while standout performances from the women came from Jade Dos Santos (5th) and Laura Kaye (7th).

Full rundown of results:

• Howard Williams Trophy (combined result of men’s & women’s A teams): 1st

• Women’s A: 1st (won by only 20 points in the end, much closer than it looked)

• Women’s B: 3rd

• Women’s C: 1st in Div 2

• Women’s Vets A: 1st

• Women’s Vets B: 11th

• Women’s Vets C: 3rd in Div 3

• Men’s A: 1st (won by a massive 204 points)

• Men’s B: 5th

• Men’s C: 1st in Div 2

• Men’s Vets A: 1st

• Men’s Vets B: 4th

• Men’s Vets C: 2nd in Div 2

Now, a first hand account of the thrills of cross country, by Miry. 

Grass, roots, hills and thrills.

I never did cross country in school, and for the first few years of my running ‘career’ I kept firmly and flatly to tarmac. It was after becoming a parkrunner, that I realised that running on grass wasn’t against the law; and that running shoes look best when covered in a bit of mud. Curiously drew me away from the paved paths, and I quickly learned that you can run through and over anything (physically, perhaps as well as metaphorically). So after joining VPH&THAC, and making room on my shoe rack for types of trainers I never knew existed, I finally dipped my toes (all the way to my ankles) in the muddy waters of cross country racing. 

As it’s the start of autumn, and trails have not had a chance yet to get overly muddy, the preparation for Claybury involved a lengthy debate of what shoes to wear – trails or spikes. Unable to make up my mind – I packed both, as well as a change of clothes, plastic bags to stand on and to house post-run muddy items, some snacks, wet wipes, and most importantly – my club vest.

A jog to the station with this mighty bag of possessions, my mind was busy considering the pros and cons of each footwear selection. I decided to go with spikes, committing fully to the cross country experience. 

On the train, I bumped into 2 clubmates, excited and nervous as they were about to do their very first cross country race with the club. I shared some of my experience from previous years, navigating a delicate balance between mentally preparing them for THAT HILL, and not scaring them off. I think I did well with that, as despite leaving them at Woodford station to carry on with my warm-up jog, they both arrived safely and excitedly at the race village.

If you’ve only done big road races, ‘race village’ may put you in mind of rows of stalls of branded products, loud pump-y music, contoured influencers hunting for content, sparkling box-fresh supershoes, and long queues to the portaloos. A cross country race village consists of club flags stuck in the ground (preferably at a wonky angle), a tarpaulin sheet to protect your bags from the earth (but not the rain), wiry pensioners striding on gravel paths, shoes that their owners hope they remembered to clean them since the last race, and a selection of bushes as your pre-race loo stop.

No changing rooms mean no room for shyness, and everyone changes into their club vests a couple of metres away from the start line. Glamour makes room for grit. 

The women race after the juniors and before the men, and not long after arriving and pinning my race number onto my vest – it’s time to line up. Like birds of feather, we flock together in clusters of club colours; and I take my place among the jade and blue. The gun fires, and we’re off through the grass and down the hill, trying not to topple each other over in the hectic and narrow race start. Soon enough, gaps begin forming between each runner, and everyone settles into their race. After the downhill, there’s a sharp left turn, and I spot familiar faces on the sidelines shouting ‘Come on Vicky Park’. We run through a patch of woodland, and I distract my mind from what’s coming by looking at the golden shades of the leaves. The sun comes out, and suddenly it’s warm, almost too warm, and before we know it – it’s time to tackle the climb up the big hill. Everyone slows down, breathing gets heavier, and a strategically positioned clubmate is shouting much appreciated words of encouragement. 

What goes up, must come down, and I make up a few lost places by overtaking those who seem to be more cautious than me down the hills. Soon, another uphill, just before the start area, and I can hear the cowbells and the cheers of the spectators. The men are getting ready for their race, and some combine their warm-up with cheering on the women. It gives me the needed boost when my legs feel lactic after the uphill, and I start the second lap. Downhill, turn, woodland, field, and it’s time for the big hill again, which feels so much harder the second and then the third and final time. When it’s less than a km to go, I begin to think tactically, and stay close on the tail of a woman from Heathside. Last year, they beat us by a handful of points, and I’m determined to overtake her before the finish funnel. With 200 metres to go, I dig deep, and overtake, making sure I remain ahead. I finish in 106th place, over a 100 places behind Jade, the first VPH woman coming in 5th place.

Race complete, mission accomplished, but there’s no time to rest – the men have started their race and now it’s the women’s turn to cheer. We try to call out individual names, but the jade and blues are coming faster than we can name them, so we clap and shout ‘come on Vicky Park’ instead. Everyone is working hard, and the levels of effort are evident in everyone’s pained expressions.

When everyone is done, we gather around for a group photo and it feels like it’s the biggest turnout ever. And no wonder it feels that way, compared with last year when we had 60 men and 16 women running, this year 67 men and 31 women were racing up and down the Claybury hills. That’s nearly double the number of women taking part – you better watch your backs Heathside. 

Although we didn’t get individual podium positions, we came first overall in both the men’s and women’s races, for the first time in the history of our taking part in the Met League. While each and everyone of us was racing their own race, our collective efforts (and mass turnout) added up to this mighty win. The joy of cross country is that it turns the normally solitary experience of racing into a team sport. 

The final part of the cross country day out is an obligatory trip to the nearest pub, and we head to the Railway Tavern, baffling the staff and the locals with the sudden arrivals of more punters in an hour than they’d see on an average week. Still full of adrenaline, we compare our race experiences, and unlike after a road race where people obsess over their pace per mile and negative splits, it’s refreshing to focus more on how a race felt. 

The next race in the series is an unknown quantity, taking place in a new location in Horsenden on 9 November. But what is guaranteed, is that it will be another shared experience, perhaps not glamorous, but nevertheless thrilling.