A self-indulgent bit about a dream

I had a fairly broken night’s sleep before the race. However, between the wake ups there was one clear dream that stuck with me enough to consult a couple of friends (and an online dream dictionary) in an attempt to try confirm what I had convinced myself of… that I was going to win the race and bring glory back to Burley… I mean Otley.
In the dream, I found myself walking a black and white spaniel from my home to Ilkley. I then entered the premises of a psychologist where I was met by a dishevelled Scott Harrington working as the receptionist. What happens next is a blur.
Black and white must mean Otley AC. Online dream interpreter gets stuck with the Spaniel, but hey, it rhymes with my name so let’s go with that. Ilkley takes care of itself. Scott being perhaps the most winning-est runner I’m aware of (hi Scott, I once queued behind you for a coffee. Big fan). Ipso facto, I’m going to win but I might need a chat with somebody afterwards. I didn’t know how it’d pan out, but I figured it’d need to be the fell running equivalent of this (skip to 1.30) >https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fAADWfJO2qM As it pans out, I didn’t win this year.

The bit about the race
Anyway. Usual malarkey and general faff at the start of an event, collecting numbers etc. We (yours truly and my friend Jen, her first outing in the black and white vest) noticed that Darwin Gardens had emptied out so we made our way up to the start line which was about 50 meters away, going up towards the Tarn. Ahead of us at the start line were the usual suspects Tranter and Podd, along with first timer Jessica. I couldn’t see the other guys, but looks like they did great.
Starting towards the back, the first mile or so is a bit of a foolish battle for position on the narrow tracks up to the Cow and Calf. I gained 20 or 30 positions here, but by the time I got to Lee who was on camera duty I was blowing and ended up paying the price for my over excitement over the remainder of the race.
Coming down the Backstone Beck descent, there’s no time to soak up the views as your eyes are battling with your brain to look ahead and not on the air ambulance inducing drop to your left, trusting your feet to dance the quickstep down the trail.
I’m sure it gets spicy up the pointy end of the race, but in the midfield and beyond I’m fascinated by how much of a leveller fell races are, with fitness being just as important as nouse and experience. Non more so this weekend than as I was sizing up the next climb, a lady who must’ve been twice my age bounded straight off the well-trodden path to take the direct line up the bank knee deep in foliage. Respect, lesson learnt for 2026!
There’s a couple of scrambly short sharp climbs where I reached to grab the heather on more than one occasion but overall the course was running far faster than last year. We climbed up towards Keighley gate (ish) before a right angle turn, skirting the road and on down the hill for the final mile, incorporating a drop from the moor which Strava calls the ski slope.
Last year I came down this hill at a snails pace, but the fairly dry weather through the week (and buying appropriate trainers) got me down 2 minute 40 seconds quicker. Still hardly flying, but progress nonetheless.

It was nice to get out in the vest (my last club outing had me dressed as an elf) on a lovely spring-ish day not far from home. Seven out of ten, will probably have another crack next year.
Overall results here > https://racebest.com/results/sy7ua?
Otley AC

44th Leo Johnson, 41/178 (M), 25/57 (MSEN), 46:57:00.

58th Stephen Morris, 55/178 (M), 30/57 (MSEN), 49:35:00.
69th Toby Fisher, 65/178 (M), 14/36 (M40), 50:52:00.
128th Kevin Hogarth, 109/178 (M), 19/44 (M50), 57:52:00.

164th Dan Wilkinson, 132/178 (M), 51/57 (MSEN), 01:02:25.