Diary of a middle aged runner

[Bierzo Baggie]

So, if I am to emulate the G-men and prolong my running through middle age and beyond perhaps my first port of call should be Croft Ambrey running club. For there surely lies the fountain of eternal youth.

Googled it and discovered that Croft Ambrey is not actually a town but an ancient iron-age hill fort in Herefordshire. The running club probably encompasses several little villages between Leominster and the Welsh borders. And the G-men are components of its 3 man cross country team, bronze medallists at the British Masters cross country championships, a remarkable achievement for what is a tiny club in the middle of nowhere.

Of course El Bierzo is too far away to attend club nights….but maybe these villages have something in common. Who knows?
 
The runners of Croft Ambrey regularly meet at Croft Castle which is 3 or 4 miles away from the picturesque little village of Pembridge. Here my grandfather on my mother’s side was born and raised in a farm labourer’s cottage without electricity or running water. One day he quite literally took to his bike (pre-Norman Tebbit) and rode to the industrial Black Country to seek work and a new life.

My surprising discovery was that the G-men were from an area which I could at least partly make claim to as an ancestral home. That this loose connection is enough to guarantee remarkable running feats into my 70s I very much doubt, but hey, it makes for a nice anecdote.

Long live the G-men of Croft Ambrey!