Disclaimer: Despite what the organisers said about itthe Exmoor Stagger not being a "mindless road race" I was definitely racing and found it to be very hard so cannot guarantee that my memory serves me aright!
I had led the first couple of miles of the Mendip Muddle only to run out of puff and drop down to seventh over the next few miles so promised myself an easy start to the Exmoor Stagger. But on the day I still found myself in the lead so thought I might as well get on with it! Being a new event the route was completely unknown but started well enough on a steady climb up to the Grabbist Ridge. Little did I realise that this was the easy way to do it! But more of that anon. Then it was along a beautiful wooded path diagonally down the other side. Still in front but the competition was closing - I'm a much better ascender than descender. A bit of road at the bottom, over a stream via the bridge (again, this was not to be quite so straightforward on the return) then across some fields leading to forest tracks and the best part of the route.
Most of the next five miles or so was uphill, apart from a truly magical stretch following a wall through some woods. As I've already mentioned, I was being competitive but this stretch still stood out as one of the best legs I have ever run, let alone raced. It was probably a bit congested further down the field but I felt that I was floating through the trees. I had been caught by the eventual winner on the road after the Grabbist Ridge but lost him once we were climbing again. I felt alone. All I could hear was my own breathing. It was even better than the marvellous clifftop turf of Beer Head when you can see the finish of the Grizzly just a couple of miles away. Truly memorable.
Shortly after the wall (the stone one; the other one was to come later!) I was being overtaken by the eventual second place (I hope I can still run that fast in my fifties!) on a short descent across a field but hung in there and we played leapfrog all the way up the forest tracks to the trig point at halfway (distance, not time, I thought to myself hopefully!). Then I got one helluva shock. Once we started descending the supervet was pulling away from me pretty rapidly but the eventual winner was pulling away from him just as quickly, having caught us at the trig. By the time we had been descending for a mile I reckon I was in third place by a quarter of that distance! It was amazing how quickly I had moved from first to hundreds of yards down in third, I hate racing downhill but I had to hang in there. I guess there was a more-or-less continuous descent for about three miles.
And then I hit the other wall. I got to a really very pleasant path going slightly uphill through some woods (I think) and suddenly felt really tired. I consoled myself with the thought that it couldn't be too far to go and indeed soon found myself approaching the bridge across the stream at the foot of the Grabbist Ridge. But the bridge was taped off and there was a marshall saying something about the stream being knee-deep. Hmm!
It's amazing how quickly you slow down in water. I nearly toppled over as my legs lost momentum but soon cleared the water to hit the gungy mud the other side. That was more like it - a good bit if wallowing really makes a run! I assumed that the return from here would be the same as the outward route but it was not to be. The tapes went straight up the side - steeper (very steep higher up), but not so far. Near the top was a sign saying "Nearly there", then I had crested the ridge, turned right and saw another sign ...
"We lied". Indeed, they had. There was another climb ahead since we had joined the Grabbist Ridge below it's highest point. And what a climb it was: steep and gravelly. I started running it, hit the loose stones and slowed to a walk. (My excuse was that I was wasting energy sliding around on the stones.) I was finally at the top with a very pleasant sandy path along the top leading to the narrow, stony path back down to the road and the finish. But the excitement wasn't over yet.
I had noticed someone not too far behind me ascending the Grabbist Ridge, then again even closer coming along the top. I thought I was losing him on the descent but we hit the road together. I started getting away from him on a slight climb in the road (or was it my imagination?) but then we started going down again and I didn't have anything left to keep up with him. Or perhaps I just gave up.
So I finished fourth and rather annoyed with myself for not having tried harder to maintain my position. Robbed so close to the line! Maybe it's the advantage of coming from behind. Still, it was a cracking race and a superb route. The name seems to be something of a misnomer (I didn't feel that I was running on Exmoor) but it's not so important. Marshalling and taping was very good and there were plenty of water stations. The event centre facilities were good (apart from the tight parking which should be sorted for next year). This is definitely in my calendar for 1998, despite The Grabbist Ridge being worse than The Beach. And perhaps, just perhaps, it was even better than the Grizzly!