Some races you run. Some races you actually do.
This was the fourth time I’ve lined up at the Coombe Keynes 10k. The eleventh time the village has put it on. It raises money for the church and for the upkeep of a community that clearly takes enormous pride in what it has — you can feel that from the moment you pull into the car park. John was running it for the second time. Sarah and Kerry had come along to support. We’d all driven over together, which already made it different.
We’d decided in advance: no headphones. No head down and push. Something else instead.
The village gathers. Every year, same tree, same bunting, same quiet sense of occasion.
You can always tell a well-loved local race. Nobody’s trying to impress anyone.
The course
The Coombe Keynes 10k is one of very few races permitted to pass through the Lulworth Estate — and the route earns that privilege. It doesn’t ease you in. The start is a tight triangle of village road, the crowd packed on both sides, and within a few hundred metres you’re into a savage opening hill on rugged track. It announces itself immediately and without apology.
After that first climb the route settles — grassy track over the brow of the hill, along estate walls, around the edges of two wide fields, through a short wooded section — before tipping into a long, gradual descent. Glorious to run. The kind of descent you enjoy while quietly dreading the return.
Early doors. The legs were fresh and the sky was putting on a show.
Lulworth Estate. One of the few race routes in the country that passes through here.
At the bottom, the route does a loop past Lulworth Castle. It appears across the open parkland at a distance — unhurried, as if it’s been there waiting. We stopped for a photo as close as we were allowed. It’s a brief window on the route and we knew it. You don’t get long.
The castle shot. We’d planned for this one.
The halfway point came in at just under 27 minutes — which surprised both of us given the conversation that had been going on. Then it was back through woodland, back to the hill we’d been putting out of our minds, and a water station that appeared at exactly the right moment. The organisers run a no-cup policy on environmental grounds. Small details, right instinct.
The water station. No cups — the organisers take the environment seriously.
The hill
There are hills and then there is this hill. A mile of it, more or less, after six kilometres of already having worked. We made it eighty percent of the way up before honesty prevailed. We walked. We sucked in air. We said things to each other that don’t need repeating. Then we jogged where we could, walked where we had to, and made the top.
What nobody tells you about that hill is how good the view is from the summit. Once you’re through the walled section and back out onto open track, the Dorset countryside opens up in every direction and the descent back to the village is all yours. We pushed a little. It felt surprisingly good.
The back section. Once you’re here, you know the worst is behind you.
The wooded section. One of those moments where you remember why you do this.
The last approach is a small tarmac climb back into the village, and then suddenly there are people. Cheering, actually cheering, from both sides of the road. For a local 10k in a Dorset village that almost nobody outside Dorset has heard of, it’s a proper finish. We crossed the line together. The watch said 56:44. That felt right.
The finish. It’s a small village road and it feels enormous when you’re in it.
After
This is the part I’ve always missed. Four times at this race and I’ve never stayed for more than ten minutes.
A local resident was cooking bacon rolls from her front garden. We had one each. We cheered a few more runners over the line, then found somewhere to change before heading back to what turned out to be someone’s actual back garden — opened up completely for the occasion, with tombola, welly wanging, a whack-a-rat stall, and a bar under a parasol where we treated ourselves to a pint in the sunshine.
Welly Wanging and a cold pint. The real finish line.
Someone opened their home. The whole village did, really.
The prize presentations were held on the lawn. We stayed for those too. The winner of the 80+ category — a woman who has apparently run this every year it’s existed — got the longest applause of the afternoon. As she should.
Hardware acquired. The thatched cottage seemed appropriate.
Something else
We’d talked about a few things on the run. You do, when there are no headphones and no particular target and the course is giving you enough to look at that you’re not just staring at your feet. About being over fifty. About what you actually want from running at this point. About whether there’s a version of this — the community of it, the conversation of it, the headphones-off version of it — that more people might want.
We haven’t got that figured out yet. But we’re thinking about it. If you are too, there’s a page on this site for that.
Thinking Out Loud Runners page
Coombe Keynes 10k · Dorset AONB · 14 June 2026
6.38 miles · 56:44 · Avg pace 8:53/mi · Elevation 525ft · Avg HR 148bpm
Part of the Purbeck Trail Series. Organised almost entirely by Coombe Keynes village volunteers. Entry fees go to Holy Rood Church and village upkeep.