Officially, it was a test event. That’s what it says on Strava, anyway, in the careful language of someone who wasn’t sure anybody would turn up.
They turned up. Six of us ran, John met us at the bay, and by the end of the night seven people had spent an evening moving through Bridport and West Bay at the pace of whoever was at the back. Nobody was left behind. Nobody was racing. More than one person said, unprompted, how relaxing it had been.
We’ll take that. That was the whole idea.
Seven o’clock, East Street
We met at East Street Car Park at 7pm. A few days earlier, Jane had emailed to ask whether we’d need head torches. We’d done the maths and reckoned we’d be back before it got properly dark.
We were well out.
Fortunately, someone had packed two head torches and a hi-vis jacket, “just in case”. Between seven people, it’s not a kit list anyone would put in a safety manual, but we made it work, and Jane was kind enough not to say anything. Much.
John was already waiting in his camper, carrying a small injury from the Bridport 10k and under strict instructions from his own common sense not to run on it. He came anyway. That’s John.
A few quick introductions, a short and slightly self-conscious safety briefing about crossing roads together, and we were off. Nice and easy.
Introductions, stretches, and one very orange camper.
The Asker and the old line
We headed slightly out of town to pick up the River Asker and the Asker Meadows cycle path towards Morrisons. We did a lap of the supermarket car park, which is not a sentence that appears in many running blogs, came out the other side, crossed the road together, and made our way up Burton Road to the old railway line.
Somewhere along here, the group quietly stopped being a group of strangers. People fell into pairs. Conversations started that weren’t about running. The thing we’d been describing on the website for months began, without anyone announcing it, to actually happen.
We slowed for a short walk and a lungful of air. It was still light enough to use the railway path without trouble. On a darker evening, that would not be true, and we made a note of it.
The old line runs on a long, gentle decline all the way down to West Bay. It is very hard to hold a slow pace on it. Nobody meant to speed up. Everybody did.
West Bay
Just under a mile later we reached the old railway station, now The Platform restaurant, and took another short walk to check everyone was OK. They were.
At the harbour came the first real decision of the club’s short life: do we stop for a proper photo and add a bit of distance, or do we need to head back?
It was unanimous. Photo.
We’re very glad it was. The light was going, the harbour lamps were coming on, and the sky over the sea was doing something pink and faintly ridiculous.
Along the harbour at dusk. Nobody running, everybody talking.
West Bay harbour at last light. West Cliff in silhouette, the first lamp on.
The pink band over the harbour wall. A fisherman who’d clearly seen it all before.
Boats settling in for the night.
Then we walked round to the seafront, turned around, and there was the moon, sitting over East Cliff as if someone had booked it.
East Cliff under a rising moon. You can’t plan for this. We didn’t.
The moon over the shingle bank. Taken from the sea wall.
The line-up photo took about three attempts, which is standard for any group of adults trying to stand still in a row.
Left to right: Chris Park, Anthony Lockley, James Sayers, Kerry Foote, Jane Bartlett, Jack Bartlett. The first Thinking Out Loud Runners. The moon wanted in.
John was here too, having driven down to meet us, so he made it into the second round of photos, along with a fair amount of laughter.
Somebody said something. We’ve no idea what. It worked.
Anthony, James, Kerry and John. Two TOL shirts out in the wild.
The dark bit
From the bay we headed back round towards the holiday park, which gives access to the fields running alongside the River Brit, the river that flows out into the harbour, back towards Palmers Brewery.
It was properly dark by now. The head torch came out again, the hi-vis earned its place, and we picked our way along carefully. All ankles stayed intact, and everyone made it safely out to the end.
It was also the clearest lesson of the night. That stretch is lovely in daylight, but after dark we won’t be running it again unless everyone is fully kitted out.
The fields by the Brit, after dark. One head torch, one hi-vis, a lot of trust.
Home the long way
We offered to shorten the route. Nobody wanted to. So we pushed on through St Mary’s playing fields, crossed the river bridge and came back into town, then over the main high street, through towards King Street, and back to the car park.
Four and a half miles, give or take. An average pace of a little over thirteen minutes a mile. An average heart rate of 125, which is roughly what a heart does while its owner is telling a long story.
The pint
Chris and Jane had to head off, but the remaining five went for a pint to carry on the conversation.
The question came up, as it was always going to: how will this work? A weekly charge? A monthly fee?
The honest answer is that we want to build this together, and the group gets a say in how the costs work. What we suggested was that the original group, the people who turn up at the start and stick around, pay cost price: enough to cover what it costs to run a proper club, and nothing more. Pricing for new members can be set from there, if and when it seems right. That seemed to land well.
The new shirts went down well too. Well enough that Jane asked to borrow one for her next competitive run, to fly the flag. That’s the kind of marketing budget we can work with.
What we learned
- Head torches. Jane was right. As the evenings draw in, they are not optional.
- Hi-vis for everyone, at some point soon.
- Lit routes. Through the darker months we’ll lean towards pavements with street lighting.
- No running on dark field paths unless everyone is fully kitted out. The fields by the Brit are a daylight route for now.
- Everyone wants the photo. Always stop for the photo.
Six ran. Seven turned up. Nobody got left behind, nobody got lost, and nobody went home without having talked to someone they didn’t know at seven o’clock.
We’d written a lot about what this group might feel like. On Wednesday night, under that moon, it stopped being something we’d written about.
Next run: Wednesday 30 September, 6.30pm. East Street Car Park again. Head torches recommended. We mean it this time, but the route will be on pavements and under street lighting.
Bridport & West Bay, Dorset – 4.42 miles – 58m 46s – 66ft
Full resolution prints available.
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