Dig Deep Whirlow 10K

We burst off the start, up out of the farmyard and onto a steep rocky lonning. It was hard going jostling for position up the ridged cuts of alternating grip, running water and slippery mud, we were going well though, myself and the brother in law, making up places and really attacking the first ten minutes. As we came over the brow and off the end of the lonning we joined a well defined and level path which widened slightly as it went off ninety degrees to the left. Runners spaced out a bit as it gently dropped downhill, in turn allowing for some welcome relief on the legs and the chest, Paul and I maintained a good pace. The path led us through some open ground, its bulbous borders neatly cropped like a golfing green. A playing field sprawled out to the right behind a neat little fence. The lead runners were opening up quite a gap up front, they plummeted down a steeper section of hill as it veered off to the right again, tree lined on the far edge, walled on the near. Their bobbing heads disclosed their progress behind the wall, it was a little disheartening, but then these guys were pros. Looking at my feet, they were lifting well and driving forward, it was all going grand; a flicker of enjoyment came over me and with it, an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. The feeling wouldn’t pass, I was here, exactly here, both times I had been here before, in a race, the same race, I had been dreaming. The dream had been this detailed, I’d been aware I was dreaming too, I’d been controlling my pace within it, pushing not to lose. I knew exactly what was coming and for the next two minutes I watched astounded as it unravelled in front of me. From the grade of gravel to the gradient, the colours and detail of the fence, the boulder three quarters of the way down to the church at the bottom, I’d seen it all before.