Some runs are about medals, PBs, and Strava bragging rights. TAL 19 is different. It’s a day to remember Talan Penny, who passed away aged just 19 from Rhabdomyosarcoma (RMS). The run is a living tribute: 19 kilometres, one for every year of his short life, winding past his favourite places—his home, schools, pitches, and paths.
It’s not your average city loop or trail dash. It’s part road, part mud, part potato field, and all heart. Family, friends, runners, and the community gathered at Bude Surf Club to run, cheer, eat, and remember.
🎨 Pre-Race Vibes: Soup, Cake & Face Paint
The Surf Club was buzzing. Kids had their faces painted—some butterflies, some zombies, one lad looked like a Picasso experiment. There was a 2k race for the little ones, and plenty of people just came to watch, eat, and donate.
The Trust laid out soups, cakes, bacon baps, and drinks. Honestly, I wasn’t sure whether to run or stay inside scoffing bacon baps. Paula gave me the look. Running it was.
🏋️♂️ Warm-Up Chaos
A local fitness instructor led the warm-up. Everyone bounced in rhythm—well, most of us. Some had the coordination of a drunk octopus. Myself included. Arms flailed, legs went rogue, spectators laughed. But it did the job: warm, stretched, and thoroughly humiliated.
🌲 Broomhill & The Stream of Doom
This year, despite a dodgy back, I kept pace. Roads, puddles, boggy grass, then Broomhill: muddy tractor tracks, puddles, stones, boulders, tree cover, and a stream that had upgraded itself to river status. Options: stride across and pray, or wade through and accept wet socks. I chose the “walk, breathe, complain” method.
By the top, blessed tarmac returned. Mojo rebooted. Past the schools where Talan studied, downhill past the football pitch where he played. My stride opened. I looked like a proper runner, not a wheezing extra from Run Fatboy Run.
The Split, Talan’s Lion on the 19k route.
🏁 The Split & The Finish
Back into town, zebra crossing, then the split. The 19k runners veered left past the rugby club, canal, potato fields, Bayview pub (roast heaven), coast path, tennis courts. Paula was somewhere out there, mud destiny awaiting.
I veered right, last loop, final hill. Past the tennis courts where Talan excelled. Alone, just me, my watch, and the goal: beat last week’s recce time of 1:01:45.
I smashed it. 51:43. Top 30. Results confirmed: 18th in the 10k. More than happy.
📸 Paula vs. The Potato Fields
I clapped in other 10k runners, then the 19k elites. Fast doesn’t cover it. Then I waited for Paula. Camera ready, Roxy estimating times. Ten minutes later, three Rats appeared over the hill. Only one was covered head to toe in mud. Paula.
She’d tried to dodge a puddle, slipped, and face-planted into the potato fields. By the time she finished, the mud had dried like a spa facial. Her time? 1:41:35—a personal best. First year she hadn’t run with me. Turns out I’d been holding her back. Ouch.
🍲 Soup, Cake & £20,000 Raised
We piled into the Surf Club for soup and cake. Medals awarded, speeches made. Claire, one of our Rats, won the women’s 10k. Paula, inspired, declared she’ll do the 10k next year—eyeing a trophy.
Talan’s Trust announced they’d raised £20,000 for RMS research and support. Incredible. I bought a t-shirt. Every penny counts.
❤️ Why We Run
TAL 19 isn’t just a race. It’s a living memory, a community gathering, a muddy, soup-fuelled celebration of a young man’s life. We ran through his favourite places, laughed at our own clumsiness, cheered each other in, and remembered.
If you’ve got a few quid, donate to Talan’s Trust. Because every step, every clap, every bacon bap helps.