This was a very mixed day for me, with some things good and some bad, for various reasons.
I had taken a minibus-full of keen juniors with me to help at the event and to have a run later, having answered frantic pleas for help a few weeks ago. We arrived around 9:30am and things were already in action, with World Cup athletes busily starting. It was a great arena – a big field sloping down towards the woods, next to which were the start and finish and the big screen showing a great spectator control. We had a nice welcome from one of the organisers, who was a friend of some friends, and who was particularly welcoming to the juniors, none of whom had orienteered before.
We reported to enquiries, after talking to a few of the organisers on the way who mostly seemed puzzled about why we would want to be there. I was glad to find our contact who was expecting us and was very welcoming. She explained that things were in a bit of a lull, helpwise, as the world cup event had started and things were ticking along. She tried to get some of the kids involved in such things as handing water to world cup finishers and such like, but she and we had a telling off from the red-jacketed army who were hanging around the elite event, to the effect that kids could not be allowed anywhere near the world cup, that the elite athletes could only be tended by elite helpers and the like. We agreed to hang around a bit and see if something came up. This was not a good feeling, especially as I had changed our original plan to come along late morning, because I had had an email saying that they were desperate for help with the world cup – I had re-arranged all sorts of things to get there by 9:30 and we simply were not needed.
You can guess what happened next – it started to rain: dense, steady, cold and miserable.
Still, we enjoyed watching the world cup in action. We went up to the spectator control and mingled with a few spectators and a lot of the World Cup athletes (who were allowed up to the control before their runs) including the awesome Thierry Georgiou who stood on his own quietly contemplating the forest and ignoring the athletes who rushed past to punch the control. The students tried to shelter in and under a holly tree, but nowhere was dry. We went back to the run-in and watched Thierry and Simone Niggli, quietly wandering around watching the run-in. (The photo shows Thierry)

On the suggestion of my club captain, we had some fun trying to put a tent up (10 kids, two teachers and a lot of chaos) until we realised that the frame and tent-canvas we had did not match. It took our minds off the rain for a while, and of course, made the rain stop.
In the end, we were not needed for any tasks at all. There were hundreds of club members there who had cornered all the “jobs” and did not need a bunch of kids doing stuff. As seems all too common in orienteering, few of them had told the organisers they were coming until the last minute, hence the frantic pleas for help. Our contact found me and apologised and understood the irritation I was feeling, which did make things a bit better. We organised runs for the kids and fixed a start time on M45S for me. That part of the arrangements worked brilliantly, with friendly, helpful people looking after the entries without fuss and encouraging the kids.
It was good fun explaining to the students how the dibbers worked, what control descriptions were and so on. We managed to get some maps too and had a quick and dirty briefing before taking them to the start and delivering them into the “boxes” preparing for their start times. That was good too, with the starters taking excellent care of the beginners, making sure they got the right maps and so on, despite the large number of people starting and other orienteers around them being really supportive. That was one of the high spots of the day.
I went off on my run. The ups and downs had wrecked my concentration and I tried too hard on control 1 – looking at too much detail too early. Control two was in very vague and confusing forest and I went all around before I realised which of several parallel valleys it was in. I found the navigation very hard – with enormously detailed terrain and map, with confusing parallels all over the place. My eye finally “came in” on my second attempt to go from 3 to 4 and the terrain started to make more sense. I was pleased with controls 5 to 8, and my split times were actually moderately respectable (i.e. not the slowest in the field!). These were all well-hidden in extremely complex, technical terrain (ancient mine-workings) and I was delighted with my confident and clean navigation.
Things went horribly wrong on the way to control nine. Firstly, I seemed to lose contact with the map and terrain. I think I had been lulled into a false sense of security by a few good controls and left 8 without a clear plan of attack and did not keep tight map contact. In that terrain, it was a disaster. I tried to relocate three times, but as the area was marked as complex contours under undergrowth with lots of randomly placed, similar sized thickets, this was always going to be a challenge. I finally headed onto a nice clear path – which I could easily identify on the map but did not know how far along I was. I set out to find the next junction for a secure relocation and three steps along the nice flat path I turned my left ankle right over. Severe pain, then relief that nothing seemed to be broken, then more relief when I found it would take my weight, then very quickly realising that there was no way I could run even a step on it. Given I was already way down in time, and I had not even found the control yet, there was no choice but to pick up my safety bearing and start walking gently back to retire. The kids cheering me to sprint down the run-in did not help, but they were sympathetic when they saw the limp!
The students had enjoyed their experience of orienteering. They did not go away quite as elated as the ones I took to the opening day (too much hanging around wet for that) but they were impressed with the sport and keen to have another go.
Now, a day later, the ankle is sore, but I do not think I did anything serious. It is not visibly swollen and I have been able to walk on it all day (I have it strapped). It gives the odd twinge or throb but seems to be moving smoothly and in all appropriate directions. It is about the fourth time I have done this with the same ankle, always on flat surfaces, so I am beginning to think that I might have a bit of a weakness, and that strapping it before running might be sensible.
So a very mixed experience all round. In terms of the event, a lot of very smooth organisation, welcoming and helpful people and great atmosphere along with a little of the opposite. In terms of my run, enough good controls to show that I can (at least in theory) be competitive in my age group in what must be some of the most demanding and technical terrain anywhere and the fantastic sense of achievement when it goes right, along with the humbling experience that even the slightest lapse in concentration will be severely punished and the realisation that I have SO much still to learn.