Mr Wonderful and myself arrived at Masham Market place around noon. The spot was packed already, runners and supporters crowding together. The children cherishing the won medals, as they ran before noon.
It’s a huge run, in hilly country, and on this hot and sweltering sunday, it will be running hell. I am doing the run too, but as a photographer, meaning I get to drive from checkpoint to checkpoint, snap some, and on to the following point. I will be able to catch the breeze, tell you all about that one later on.
For now, it is an hour away from official start, the Market Square is heaving.
My husband is off already, having an ice cream. I got treated one by Ian Whittaker, our photography coordinator for the day.
We meet up with some other volunteers from Masham Photography club, and my personal guru Michael Dunne will shoot some too.
I am swinging it already, trying to find new angles and hoping to not have the similar boring shots that at times are taken from runners in marathons.
Since I am shooting with the Masham photography club, I am sure that we will have loads of original pictures.
More runners come in, the weather is better then last year, at least for now. Last year was drowned totally in a pouring rain, the whole day.
It was an almost impossible task to keep camera’s dry. Not so this year. It’s hot and humid.
Some runners bring friends, others bring family and pets. I notice this band of sisters in the back of a small car, their owner is getting them leashed up, they will be able to run soon.
I wonder if they will do the marathon too.
The game is getting close, the official town crier has arrived, he will ring his bell, and that will be the sign for take off. An important man this afternoon. He must be melting in his official outfit. Guess there is a toll to pay to be the town crier...
A lady jumps into the conversation that I am having with him, she wants to be on the photograph... Sure, let’s do it. That is why I am here today, to catch people on my flash card.
The bell rings at 12.45, and the group of runners is trying to sprint off, making the distance with the head group bigger, it’s a frail balance between good take off and end sprint.
They will leave the Market Square on to the Masham golf course, and there the first ones will split off and go the distance.
The head car leaves before them, to warn traffic on the small back roads about the running group following, all measures have been taken to make this a safe run.
There they come, I do hope I am far enough behind a sign post, as I am flat out on the tarmac to get away from the normal shots of races starting. I want to snap legs and running shoes.
Funny, no faces, yet the people stand out. There are thin legs, heavier ones, young and old ones. Some have outspoken veins, others have scars. What legs can tell us about each person’s uniqueness.
The tension is visible on the faces, it’s a run for trained people. If you are not fit, don’t even try it. Some pretty steep hills in the parcours, a couple of fords, uphill and downhill.
Both male and female contestants run. They vanish off the Market Square, time for me to run to the car, where Aaron is waiting for me. We have twenty minutes to get to the first check- and water point. Mind you: we have a car and take a short cut. They run it and without a short cut.
It’s exiting. My blood is running, it’s the only thing running in and around me. I make sure to find a good spot to see them come up the first long hill before the first water station.
A lot of volunteers working. This race could not be run without them. The runners need water, food, wet sponges, Marshals to guide them on the right roads. A big organisation.
My first post is at Keld School, the cups with water have been filled already. We are all waiting on the runners now.
The sign mentioning the water station must be a welcome sign when they run uphill. There comes the first one already. Man, he did not even run ten minutes on that one.
People cheer him on, I wonder how much time there is between him and the rest. We will soon find out...
Supporters and fans are waiting also, with movie camera’s and point and shoots. We are not the only photographers on duty.
A couple of minutes between the first and the main following group, runners are soaked already, the heat and humidity must be a heavy burden.
No way could I ever do a thing like that. And we have a big group of senior runners. Where do they get that energy? I take a hamper with laundry out of the machine and need to catch up with breathing.
Baby is watching it too, her little toes wiggling in the scallops of her knitted blanket. I doubt for a minute if I will tell the dad that the baby will overheat with that blanket, but Mr Wonderful is watching me, so I have to be polite and do what I am supposed to do: snap the runners.
A couple of school kids have sacrified their sunday, and are big helpers to give out the pints of water. My fellow photographer friend Ian is passing me by. I think he is going to go down the hill a bit, to have some more hill shots.
Mister Wonderful and myself head off to the first ford of the race. Before I came to England, I had never heard of a ford. It is a place on a road, mostly a small back road, where a river or creek runs over the street to continue its journey down stream. The road is mostly sunken in some, and if you are not careful, the ford can give some kind of aquaplanning and the cars or pedestrians can slip away. Not deep, but slippery. Another co photographer is checking the back of his camera. I think he is taking test shots to get the exposure right. Rob, in daily life a sheep farmer, knows all about sheep. But has a keen interest in photography. Nice chap...
The runners are coming in, over the small bridge, the ford is too deep today, they have to take the bridge instead of running through the fresh water. I bet they are swearing about that one...
I have time to look around, and admire the beautiful setting they are running in. I doubt it that the runners will admire the digitalis, but it is a wonderful view.
Four separate runners at the head of the group to come, I have time to take some flower shots.
One of my favorite flowers of all times, digitalis, and some prickly thistles.
Look but don’t touch... It burns.
A few contestants are getting too hot, even if they are only twenty minutes in the race by now, and take exces clothes off. That’s it boy, no more...
It’s not a Roman nude run...
I managed to wade into the ford, hoping on some shots that nobody else will have, and get stuck of course. Lucky, my knight in shining armor has seen me, and comes to my help.
The water is not too deep for PT, I am just afraid to slip in with camera, the bottom is extremely slippery. Never mind soaking shoes and pants. It’s the camera I am worried about.
Down the road I wriggle through the sun roof of PT, and snap the rest of the race from that view point. Catching the cool breeze, while I shout down to Mr Wonderful not to brake suddenly, as I could be seen flying over the hood. I feel like a true photographer shooting the Tours de France... I’m having fun... The above photographs obviously has not been taken by me as I am in it, Rob did it, the nice chap.
The finish in the second installment tomorrow, with some more running shots... Stay cool and dry all...
Talk later!
