THE RUNNER'S WORLD FAMILY RUNNING FESTIVAL IS BACK!
How far will you go? Pick up a lap band for every 5K you complete!
Runner’s World Runstock is a family-friendly running festival suitable for runners of all ages and abilities, from fun runner to ultrarunner, and produced by Rat Race Adventure Sports. Runstock features a 5K lapped offroad course and a glorious summer-festival feel within the stunning grounds of Boughton House, Northamptonshire. Run solo, with a team or even the whole family and see how many lap bands you can collect in eight hours.
nicely with the way Plymouth’s council has been showcasing the city to visitors since 2013.
But with little time for any rerouting, Nigel and his team decided to stick to the Plymouth Half’s tried-and-tested course. Not that there’s too much wrong with it. This race certainly makes excellent use of Plymouth’s most famous landmarks. We began on the Hoe, the lofty vantage point that’s dominated by the distinctive red-and-white-striped Smeaton’s Tower, the lighthouse that dates back to the mid-18th century. As we waited for the off, I marvelled at the commanding view over the bay below, Plymouth Sound.
Also scanning the horizon, presumably looking for another – albeit tardy – Spanish Armada coming our way, was Sir Francis Drake. An imposing statue of him, in front of his beloved bowling green, marked the start line.
Once we were set loose, we snaked away and down from the Hoe. The early pace-setters led us past the Royal Citadel, a 17th-century fortress that’s still used by the military, before we reached The Barbican, the quaint part of the old port.
After negotiating the cobbles here, we skirted another wellknown landmark, the Mayflower Steps. From this spot, almost 400 years ago, the Pilgrim Fathers set sail to begin a new life on the other side of the Atlantic. We navigated a more modest course, taking the road bridge over the River Plym and heading out towards the suburbs.
It’s no use pretending that Plymouth is awash with architectural gems to rival, say, Barcelona or Rome. During the Second World War, large parts of the city were destroyed in the Blitz by German bombers targeting the city’s strategic Royal Navy base. But the likes of the elegant 1930s Tinside Lido, the historic Plymouth Gin Distillery (in business since 1793) and the modern National Marine Aquariumall caught my eye as we passed them.
Another highlight was heading through the sweeping Saltram estate. But before reaching the grounds around this National Trust-owned Georgian mansion, there was a mile of steady climbing to the highest point on the course.
The views from Saltram were impressive, while the shade offered along the forest trail through its parkland was equally welcome on a hot spring morning. Add to that a deeply satisfying descent out of the grounds, and eight miles were already in the bag.
Although I could have lived without a couple of out-and-backs along closed carriageways that passed some soulless trading estates, I accepted it was a price worth paying to keep the race tight to the city centre. This ensured excellent crowd support for much of the route.
Among those who received an extra cheer were members of Storm Plymouth, a local group formed on social media in 2015 to encourage novice runners. Many of its hundreds of members were out in force in their purple tops. If I heard ‘ There’s a storm a-comin’ bellowed in an authentic Devon twang once, I must have heard it a dozen times. It certainly did the trick; it also encouraged me up some of the lumpier parts of the course.
But this race’s sting was in its tail, with one of the most brutal finishes to a road race I can ever remember. The zigzag path I’d breezed down from the Hoe almost two hours earlier had now turned into something to fear on weary legs. I knew every step up this steep slope (in the final half mile, the course rose by 30m) was taking me closer to the finish line, but it really didn’t feel like it.
Yet all that sweaty toil on this challenging and mostly engaging course was almost forgotten as I began swapping tales afterwards in the athletes’ village.
The race might have a new name and fresher feel, but one seasoned club runner seemed to sum it all up perfectly. ‘It’s still 13 miles with some tough hills,’ he said in a West Country burr as deliciously rich as a bag of Devon fudge. ‘ That’s not going to change. All that will is that I’ll be back next year, another year older and even slower, but still trying to run it even quicker.’
Well said, that man, and he definitely won’t be the only runner coming back to the Ocean City.