Pednor 5, May 4th 2026 - Stephen Allison

There should be more evening races. It feels like a more civilised time to race, there’s no bolting down of breakfast and coffee and then hoping you’ve left enough time for the journey.  The Pednor 5 is one such rarity and it’s a gem.  Heading out of London the scenery gets progressively prettier as you get closer to Chesham - the short walk from the car park is positively idyllic, passing beneath grand trees, over chalk streams.  The endpoint of the journey is a tennis club that acts as HQ.  It’s a nice set up, with cakes and coffee available pre and post race (and a bar too!).

I raced here last year, loved it and was happy to be returning. Yet again, despite forecasts, the conditions were perfect - the air cooling nicely as the sun goes down, the sky clear, the air crisp.

A few things about the race.  It’s a 5 mile loop around quiet (basically deserted) country lanes, not dissimilar to Fred Hughes in some ways.  The first thing anyone will tell you about, though, it is that there is A Hill, and tales of this may cause the uninitiated to wonder what horror awaits.

We all crowd into the lane around the start line.  It’s a bit chaotic, the lane is very narrow and struggles to accommodate several hundred runners.  There are the usual announcements, then we’re off.  The first mile is busy. Unless you were on the ball and worked your way to an appropriate place in the start queue you will be either weaving to overtake or being overtaken. A few people charge past on the verges.  I fear for their ankles.  After a mad first five or ten minutes the race has evened out and there’s more space to settle into, and less attention needing to be paid to those around you.  There are high hedges, behind one I hear horses hoofs galloping alongside us.  The first two miles or so are gently uphill, not so much to be hard work, but definitely not flat.  At some point I become aware that the ridge high up to the left is the ridge we will soon be running along, once The Hill has been conquered. The gentle climb continues, beginning to drag, then The Hill strikes quickly: a sharp left and you’re into it.  It’s one of those ones that get steeper as you get higher, some of it must be 10%, it certainly makes itself known.  Still, short steps, keep your head up, keep going, it’s not that long, and really not that bad: if you’ve done cross country at Horspath or Parliament Hill you’ve done worse, you’ll get there.  And, lungs gasping, after a few minutes of effort I do get there. What doesn’t get mentioned in the pre-race chat is that The Hill isn’t quite honest: there’s a sting in the tail that caught me first time I ran here. Lulled into relief by the road turning downhill I was surprised to round a corner and be met by another incline - by itself nothing to worry about, but as a follow up to the preceding climb a potential morale disaster.  As a second timer I was ready for it this time, and felt a bit smug about it.  The danger passed, it's time to relax, or if not relax then to at least let the breathing recover, lengthen the stride and enjoy the wonderful cruise downhill.  This feels effortless,  like the reward for making it this far, if I could have all running feel like something, I’d have it feel like this.  There are a few people cheering, some cow bells too I think, at this point I felt if I didn’t actually look like an amazing runner, I definitely imagined I looked like one (thankfully there are no photos!).  If you’ve managed the Hill well you’ll start to reel in those who are still recovering.  Another runner with a black shirt has appeared from somewhere and is on my shoulder now (I do this so often I can hardly complain).  We start to reel a trio of Striders, and pass them, going pretty quick now.  My companion seems to find another gear and disappears ahead as the road turns more steeply downhill, I don’t try to follow.  I know what’s coming up. The other thing they don’t tell you about the course is that there’s not just The Hill, there’s Second Hill.  Far less imposing than its predecessor, what it lacks in gradient it makes up for in position - about four miles in where legs are tiring - and length, about half a mile.  The opportunity here is that if you can stay strong you can make a lot of ground.  My black shirted companion mustn’t have known, he’s slowed dramatically and I pass him back (this always feels so good) and a few more too.  Once at the top it’s the mad drop to the finish.  It’s downhill and steep: disengage brain, forget about braking, maybe pray, and basically fall down it.  A few sharp twists and you’re into the last straight - along the flat outside the tennis club, it’s longer than I remembered and I have to keep the legs moving fast for fear of one of the people I’d plummeted past catching me.  They don’t, and for another year the race is done.  What a fantastic evening of running.