During... (thanks to ​Andy Mutley-Photos)

It seems only in fell races that bits of the course have names. Monikers which inspire awe and fear. They’re spoken with hushed reverence as the runners wait around at the start, pretending not to be nervous. At the road races I usually attend it’s usually, "there’s a bit of an incline towards the end" maybe, but no-one calls it ‘Shaggy’s Doom’ or some such. It’s just a bit of a hill.

At Bamford (race website here), it was different. With whistles and shouts from the sheepdog trials echoing in the background, runners hid under shade discussing the forthcoming effort. The name ‘Parkin Clough’ came up time and again. Teeth were sucked, faces were pulled, fingernails chewed, feet were shuffled about. I sat and listened in wonder and no small amount of trepidation.

Being a newbie to this race, and this area of the peaks, I’d read up a bit about the race beforehand. This threw up nerve-twanging descriptions of a mile-long ascent with sections so steep you’re scrambling up clinging onto tree roots. That’ll be Parkin Clough then, our route up Win Hill which sits high above Bamford with views over Lady Bower Reservoir far below.

We all gathered in the start pen, our fear temporarily replaced by bemusement when one official tried (and failed) to shout audible instructions while the chap next to him used a load hailer for his bit? Weird, maybe it was his personal loud hailer and he didn't want it sullied by anyone else?

Anyway, I’m no mountain goat and was very edgy about falling off a cliff face, so took the first flattish mile and a half of the race nice and steady. I wanted fresh legs when I hit that mythical climb. The mercury was pushing 30 (it was the hottest May day on record), plus I’m (hopefully) coming back from an 8-month injury, another couple of reasons to hold back.

Dom had driven me and Ryan up there, about an hour from Kimberley. Ryan’s riding a peak of performance after his 3:04 at London. He’d had a nasty fall at The Trunce though, which battered most of his body and might have led a lesser runner (me, say) to give this one a miss. We all knew he’d be off strong, which proved the case as he disappeared in a cloud of dust at the start.

Dom and I ran that flattish bit together, up some slight inclines before turning sharp left up onto Parkin Clough. Here we go! Dom’s our resident Trail Leader, one of the club's most experienced hill runners, and he was mega excited about the Clough. I’ll be honest: I didn’t kill myself getting up this thing. From the bottom the steep series of stone and earth steps appeared to swing off into heaven like something from SpaceX. Endless unforgiving ascent. I’d no idea how my legs would respond but I was pleased to see (a) no-one was making any attempt to run (b) it was a decent path, not much chance of falling off the hill and (c) it was shaded under trees.

Dom legged it off like he was running down Church Hill, working his way through the string of competitors and out of sight. I got my hands on my knees and kept up with the Beeston runner just ahead. A few day hikers had their downhill progress stalled by us lot piling up and were stood to one side (if you're reading this, and this was one of you, many thanks!). Some had taken to heckling from the side of the trail. Good natured stuff. I shared a high five with one bare-chested, high spirited lad after accusing him of being an ‘evil b*stard’ for telling us we were nearly there, when we clearly nowhere near.

Eventually, having failed to kill us, the Clough spat us out in disgust onto open moorland. We all took to running again to get away before it sucked us back in. Half surprised we could get our legs shifting again (in my case anyway). Only a wee relief it turned out as the trail turned evil again. More steep hillside towards the trig point, back to hiking. More heckling too that we ‘were supposed to be runners’. Fair point, and I suspect the leaders had indeed run up here, but back around 60th place, no-one was running up that bad boy.

The trig point is a short out-and-back and a bit of a buzz. We were all given wrist bands at registration which we held against phone-like devices as we entered the start area, beeping our way in. Another device at the trig point registered we’d actually gone up there and not just hidden in the bushes and nipped back to the trail home (tempting). The terrain up here was rocky, easy to catch a toe and go down (well, easy for me), so it was a steady jog staring at the floor, ignoring the no-doubt magnificent views.

Given the heat, the organisers had somehow dragged cases of water bottles up near the top. I’d drunk enough to satiate an elephant before the start so ran past. Glad I did as there was nowhere to chuck the bottle and I needed my hands on the descent. Not for clinging to tree roots now, more for flailing about trying to maintain control.

I enjoyed the way back, a couple of miles, all of it down. It felt fairly safe, grass and trail, not too steep. A few gates to navigate. The occasional ‘oh sheet!’ moment when a fast section gave way to a tricky bit. It’s notoriously muddy in wet weather, but the ground was rock hard for us. Dom had borrowed a pair of trial Inov8 shoes from a stall at the start, which he found too aggressive for the hard ground. Much to my surprise he didn’t buy a pair, to add to his collection of ‘hundreds’ back home. He’s had to build an extension, where he keeps them all in glass cases, including the ones which are truly past it.

I could just about make out Dom’s maroon vest in the far distance. He was teeny-weeny, maybe half a mile away when I was at the top and moving fast. It gave me a target, but I didn’t hold out much hope of catching up. Using the ungainly-but-effective windmill technique, I was making decent progress downhill, gradually reeling in a few runners.

Dom appeared to be getting just that bit closer. I got tucked in behind a lady who dragged me along, making sure I didn’t get too close on the narrow path. If someone ahead falls on this stuff you’ve no choice but to try and vault them. Hurdling’s not my forte, so I held back a bit. A chap hosed us all down from his garden as we passed. Another nice touch and something we’ll all remember on a scorching day.

Eventually the trail dropped us back onto the wider paths we’d run out on, the end wasn't physically in sight, but mentally it was. Dom had grown that bit bigger, perhaps half actual Dom-size. The lady I was behind took off, again pulling me along and with just two or three hundred metres before we ran back into the event field, I overtook him. He somehow had the breath to utter words of encouragement.

Hat’s off to Dom. On flat courses I’m quicker than him, but he really showed his mettle in those conditions and was the devil’s-own job to catch. I could sense him working to try and get back past me as we went full pelt towards the small crowd at the entrance to the field. I was very relieved when I crossed the line a few seconds ahead. Checking afterwards my heart rate was over 180, which equates to my ‘nowt left’ zone, I was deep in the red by the time I staggered about beeping my wrist band at the end (used for position, not timing).

Ryan had been hanging about for hours by the time me and Dom got in. We’d joked at the start he had a massive weight advantage as he sweats out roughly 2kg of water a mile. Over a hilly 4.5 mile course, he’d dropped roughly 20 to 30kg and was left prune-like. In all seriousness he’d run magnificently which, we all knew, meant he’d soon be issuing a stream of self-criticism. This time he was unhappy he couldn’t physically fly or something, no matter how hard he flapped his wings. He’s got high expectations our chairman!

We all fist bumped and jabbered on a bit before stumbling back to Dom's car to try and achieve mission impossible of drying off under a furnace sun. Back into the event field we got refuelled. Having supported various cold drink, burger, ice cream, golf ball and cookie stalls, we plonked down in three seats and tried to establish what the shepherds were up to.

Five dogs later, we were cooked (shade was in short supply) and headed over to watch the gnarly lithe-looking winners being called out. The crowd was applauding like they personally knew them, which we think they generally did. Most of the podium placed runners sported the brown vest of the Dark Peak, this is their turf after all. The main category winners were allowed to pick from a selection of delicious-looking enormous cakes. Finally, we made off to the air-conditioned heaven of Dom’s motor for the drive home.

A cracking day out in a very friendly atmosphere. I was nervous of the course, of course. It turned out to be fine for me. Although I’ve had a few falls recently, deep down I know I’ve done this kind of stuff over the years and can handle it, if I'm careful.

I did feel for the runners coming in a full hour behind us, they’d perhaps been caught out by just how tough that climb was in that heat (I saw two youthful looking lads dropping to one side as I climbed). Maybe not a course for absolute newbies, but I am intrigued whether I could knock a few minutes off the dreaded Clough? Anyone up for Bamford 2027?  
   
 Cheers, Jay

Thanks to Angela for this report from a recent Trunce fell race.

I don’t do mud, I’m not particularly keen on hills and the idea of three river crossings with my little legs was a scary prospect so I can only put it down to guilt on Dom’s birthday that I found myself being driven to the little village of Oxspring about an hour away to take part in one of his favourite events, The Trunce.

The Trunce is a series of off road races that takes place throughout the year. Each season there are 9 races. The race route is just over 4 miles and involves three river crossings and about 400ft of climb and descent. You get points if you finish in the top 20 of your age category and points for beating your previous PB.

Six of us made the journey to the third race of the season on a sunny, but not particularly warm evening. There’s plenty of parking in a field which is well marshalled. Upon arrival you need to register, which is to just give your race number and £3 cash to the guys and make your race number with a marker pen. You register once and keep the same number forever more which was quite cool as a number of participants have had special shirts made with their numbers printed on them (an idea for Dom’s birthday next year perhaps…)

Dom told me that it’s great fun, but there is a really hard hill. If Dom is describing a hill in anything remotely negative then it must be bad!

Lauren and I took our ‘party at the back’ positions declaring that there was no benefit in going too fast as you get points for beating your PB next time. We decided that less than an hour would be a good target. My new running mantra that is currently serving me quite well is ‘Don’t die, don’t cry’, I’ll admit that it’s quite a low bar, but it takes the pressure off and, to be honest, I just want to get to the end of my runs and be happy rather than hating life which has been the case on many events over the last couple of years!

As is usually the case with being at the back you only hear a mumble when the officials are talking, there’s often an applause that we have no idea what it’s for and a few sentence fragments that float our way. Yesterday all I heard was “we gave them some money too so that’s nice”.

The juniors get set off first and then when they are a safe distance away they unleash the adults, the juniors complete a shorter course without the wet feet.

The start is uphill for a bit before going to a narrow track where we almost walked to the familiar photo gate where we enjoyed the respite of an orderly queue. The ground was very uneven with narrow paths, tree roots, wonky cambers, rocks and stiles made for longer legs than mine.

The first river crossing is quite early in the route and is erm “refreshing”, its’ really shallow though and although the banks are muddy they aren’t particularly steep.

The second river crossing was the one I was worried about with the friendly advice of “if you get stuck in the middle of the river just shout and someone will help you”, Dom said it’s above his knee so I reckoned that was mid-thigh for me. Again, the trickiest bit was getting in with some big rocks there to navigate as you walk through. I’m not sure if the photographer here was to double up as a lifeguard or was just waiting for someone to take a dunk?

I can’t remember the route particularly well and auto stop on my watch wrecked it a bit but it was just a mix of all sorts. The final climb back up seemed relentless, we had already said we were walking the two big hills, but it felt more like crawling at times with some cheeky false summits. Lauren was right behind me though, whispering sweet nothings in the form of positive comments to keep us going. It was reminiscent of my Bestwood sub 30 with Jay being the mental coach. She was right though, “we are amazing!”.

The wall at the top of the hill was more of a challenge on my jelly legs that it should have been and I declared enthusiastically to the marshal that I loved him when he told us it was genuinely all downhill now!

The last kilometre and a bit was all downhill as promised and in true KADS style, Lauren and I were met by Coach Sam to run us in, with the rest of the gang cheering us in just before the finish. Lauren’s positive mantras clearly worked as she left me in her dust at the end, we were in the same age category as we discovered earlier, so fair play! There’s no mercy when the funnel is in sight, I just couldn’t keep up!

247 adults and 26 juniors took part last night with the first adult finisher coming in at 25:30 and the final finisher being 1:07:16

Our team on the night finished as follows-
Ryan 26th place in 31:41, 10th in VM, 11 points
Dom 54th place in 35:19, 22nd in SM, 0 points
Sam 146th place in 44:21, 9th in VF, 12 points
Bev 167th place in 47:17, 3rd VF60, 18 points
Lauren 229th place in 56:48, 30th VF, 0 points
Angela 232nd place in 56:58, 31st VF, 0 points

So how was it? It was blooming tough!

I finished 232nd out of 247 runners in 56:58 so I’m happy. As the path narrows so quickly, we definitely lost some time by starting right at the back, we did overtake a fair few people when it got wider. It also didn’t feel like we were slow in finishing or holding anyone up, which has been the case on some events where I’ve had marshals packing away signs before people have gone past on the second lap. I do absolutely think it’s suitable for anyone who can run a league race, it’s not at all easy but you’ll feel really proud of yourself afterwards!

After changing into dry shoes and socks and layering up we went to the pub for a well-earned drink. The pub opens specially for the Trunce so it’s nice to say thanks in that way as they let us use their toilets before the start.
​
The verdict-
Did I enjoy it? A teeny bit I guess, it was really hard.
Am I glad I went? Absolutely, you have to give it a go.
Do I recommend it? Yes, it’s something really different and a great personal challenge for anyone.
Would I do it again? Well, I got a cup of tea and chocolate at the end so that’s a strong maybe.

 Blue water gently lapping against the shoreline, blue sky but lots of hills and sharp winds. Not quite a gentle run along a beach but Carsington 7.5 (used to be known as 7+ but they now declare the last 0.5 mile)

Seven KADS donned the maroon and silver at Carsington 7.5 miles on a cold May morning. Reluctantly shedding hoodies after a warm up, walking up to the start line. I was questioning what time I'd written in the predicted time box which had meant I were in the first wave (so was Sam).

It started fairly smoothly, until Zoe and I observed runner go down screaming within the first mile. Runners around him were quick to help. It was a reminder of how a misfooting can lead to serious injury. 

The route spans the circumference of the reservoir, the many uphills and, what seems to be, not that many downhills. With it being a sunny day, the exposed parts of the route were hard. The trees provided welcome comfort.

Those familiar course from the Carsington DRL will know it finishes on a hill. Whilst it's tempting to speed up at Millfield car park, its still 2km to the visitors centre. Those 2kms involve a long stretch across the dam. 

Today the wind was high, battering those trying to run against it. Many with magnetic number clips having to hold them on, my race number felt like a sail. Personally I struggled to get my breathe, I felt like it was 1 stride forward, 9 strides back. Eventually that 400m sign appeared in a tree line giving a respite from the wind and the opportunity to finish strong albeit battered from the wind. 

It was a great day for KADS. All seven crossing that finish line, even if a little wind swept with Matt achieving 7th place overall. 

​Emma

Ryan Stocks, KADS Chair, ran the 2026 London Marathon under the club's ballot place. This is his race report.