The beginning of April saw GRC heading back to Barmington for the much-loved Bimble, the 5k out-and-back up the local volcano, Barmingus, organised by the delightful Barmington RC. The traditional pelting of the assembled competitors with rotten vegetables was particularly notable this year when John Aguar, the taciturn speed demon of GRC, took umbrage about getting a really still-quite-fresh black salsify (Pseudopodospermum hispanicum) to the eye.
With an appalling lack of self-control, John Aguar leapt from the start line and mauled the small Barmintonian that had thrown the item. Mr Aguar was marched away in disgrace. Members will not be surprised to hear that having brought the sport and the club into disrepute, Aguar has been expelled from GRC. More surprising was the fact that John Aguar turned out to be a shaved jaguar in GRC kit. This does explain his extraordinary race times in recent years, and his poor communication skills.
With the start line returned to something akin to normal, the out-and-back was ready to begin. As has been noted in previous race reports about the Bimble, Barmingus only appears once a year, on the first day of April. It was not there on the Tuesday, but on the Wednesday, it rose from the grass like a sulking pudding, steaming faintly and smelling of hot iron and damp toast.
GRC’s Nigel Butterworth recalls commenting as they awaited the start whistle that the course was looking rather lumpy this year, only for Margaret Pritchard, who has won the ladies’ category twice and still occasionally glows faintly in the dark, to observe the challenging route would be good for the calves.
The whistle blew at 7pm exactly.
Halfway up the first climbing section, Nigel was overtaken by a polite but determined swarm of bees that seemed to be pacing him at exactly 4:30 per kilometre, and which rather dispirited him. Margaret briefly disappeared into a patch of mist and emerged running with an extra shadow.
Roger Bellamy reported that his watch began counting down from numbers he didn’t recognise, shortly after he crossed the iron bridge over Barmington Beck. The invisible choir incanting ancient Sumerian curses also didn’t help.
Approaching the penultimate climb before the summit, Daphne Henshaw encountered a gentleman in a waistcoat who stepped out of a crack in the long-cooled lava and offered cucumber sandwiches. She declined, which turned out to be wise, as they later attempted to bite Stanley Moulton.
By the final ascent the field had thinned and only three runners remained in serious contention; Margaret Pritchard, Clive Hargreaves, and Fiona Chaudhary. The volcano rumbled approvingly as they climbed.
Clive surged ahead as they reached the summit and turned back, just as a flock of glowing crows attempted to draft behind him, momentarily disorienting Fiona just yards behind. She tripped over a root that had not existed moments earlier. Margaret kept a steady rhythm, ignoring a small glowing symbol that had begun hovering politely over her head and set her mind on gaining on Fiona and Clive.
Down the final slope they flew, shoes kicking ash. Margaret was barely 25 yards behind the second placed Fiona, when the latter’s shoes fell to bits, causing her to slow pace considerably. Margaret stormed past, having ascertained Fiona was not injured, and carried on down the slopes, which felt very much steeper in decent than they had on the ascent.
Ahead, Clive was determined to come first and not even the seductive ethereal calls of mermaids in a boggy pond could slow him down, and he kept pushing into the final kilometre. Margaret, similarly committed, upped the pace and tried to run him down. She probably would have achieved it too, had David Bowie, Prince and Lemmy from Motörhead not just started jamming somewhere off to her left. Had Ozzy Osbourne not encouraged her to keep going, her race might have ended there.
Re-entering Barmington just as the last of golden hour light seeped away, the pair sprinted for the line with everything they had left. It was a close thing, but Clive held on and crossed the finish line first, with Margaret just behind him. Villagers applauded warmly and someone rang the cricket pavilion bell.
Clive accepted congratulations modestly as several elderly committee members from Barmington RC approached carrying a camera. Clive headed off with the BRC president, John Eldritch, towards a large wicker man in the back field, which was apparently the only acceptable backdrop for taking the winner’s photo.
Margaret waited at the finish line to cheer on any other team mates that made it back.
The Committee has formally enquired as to why no other running clubs appeared to have participated again, and we will feedback any response. Meanwhile, if anyone has seen Clive Hargreaves since Barmington, please let Welfare know as his wife is worried about him.
Report by Pilaf Rool