SWANBOURNE ENDEAVOUR 2013 A RUNNER’S TALE Some “lunatic” sidled up to me in that esteemed establishment known as the Green Man and enquired if I was interested in joining a pub team. The aim being that this team would enter the Swanbourne Endeavour. Now I say “lunatic” on the grounds that the Swanbourne Endeavour involves charging across the Buckinghamshire countryside whilst encountering numerous obstacles designed to sap what elements of strength and sanity you have left. It was the beer talking when I suggested you could count me in. I had realised of course that the entry fee was just that, an entry fee, and not somehow a method of buying your way out of participating. As the money was going to charity this did however seem a good cause. What wasn’t such a good cause was when I realised that not only had our team captain entered us into the “Elite” category, rather than the less demanding “Challenge” category, but that he’d also opted for the 10km route rather than the 5km. As we stood at the start line I realised I’d been had, kippered and bagged and it was all too late to pull the old war wound trick. Before the neurones had fully assessed the predicament I was in we were off and over some straw bales. After that some deranged route planner had us running up and down a hill several times and if that wasn’t bad enough at the summit sat another stack of bales to clamber over. It was at this point that I lost a certain secretary of state. Say what you like about his politics but by heck he can cover ground. With his 50th birthday about as far behind as I was, I began to be indulged with a serious dose of respect. After draining myself running across a field or three I arrived at a pond. When the big bloke in front of me started making like a submarine I favoured the “just swim it” option whilst tugging at a rope draped across the pool. I was now wet through with bursts of rain replacing what little water that had had the chance to evaporate. It was now a case of just getting on with it. My whinge cassette had spooled out by the time I got to what the Army would call a low wire entanglement. Being diminutive I wasn’t much troubled by crawling under it but by heck it did go on a bit. I did suggest to the Army Cadet watching somebody old enough to be his grandfather that perhaps he and I ought to swap places. That said it was really great of these terrific young people to stand outside in the pouring rain laughing at us oldies getting on with it. Before we’d set off we were given an ankle tag as a tracker come timing device. Whilst assaulting an endless swamp I’d hoped that this contrivance was measuring time using a calendar rather than a chronometer. By about the fifth pond I realised my head and been under water more often than Tom Daley and I was beginning to feel a little knackered. Charging through a copse while rolling over and then ducking under logs I realised that my pace had reduced to a violent walk. I had no idea how far I’d gone, where the heck I was or how far I had to go. Realising that bursting into tears would be entirely inappropriate I just pressed on over the rope climb and across some mud entrapment. Believe you me I had mud in orifices I didn’t even know I had. But then as the clouds parted sanity prevailed and a kindly gentleman was offering a tot of rum. In keeping with my good fortune thus far I dropped my tumbler. As I made my approach to the last few fields a sense of euphoria began to encroach upon my muddied, scratched and exhausted limbs. It would soon be over. I had thought too soon. The psychopath who had mapped out this course had left the best ‘till last. There was a concentration of obstructions that took on the demeanour of an assault course. My suspicions were aroused by the vast number of Green Man supporters who had turned out to watch us at this particular juncture. We runners had to walk a plank, drop into a pond, step over smouldering straw, run along another stream, navigate a tunnel, close with yet more holes and pipes and then crawl under an electric fence. Once my left buttock had been duly stimulated I realised the fence was indeed carrying a charge. When I rang the bell on finishing I was very much looking forward to meeting the “lunatic” who’d talked me into this because it had all been utterly brilliant. A fantastic morning’s endeavour and the best charity raising event I’d ever participated in. Well done to all the organisers and everybody who’d made it such a terrific occasion. By 1pm I’d showered and a few of the Green Man team had mustered to hear the results. Strap back we’d won. No I’m not making it up dear reader we had won. I nearly fainted with the shock. There was a flurry amongst us in order to sort out who should collect the prize. I shoved the “lunatic” forward where he modestly received the trophy. Obviously he was not so daft after all. The spoils were taken to the Green Man where team photos were taken and a large roast indulged by all. So dear readers, and especially the young stallions, who constitute Mursley’s university diaspora make sure you participate next year when our pub will have to defend its title. Because sure as eggs are eggs I’m not………………..well maybe.
Posted on: Tue, 05 Nov 2013 09:40:03 +0000
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