I thought I might have a go at completing a qualifying amount of club championship races this year. I haven't looked closely at the detail, but the number of club races seems to have multiplied exponentially in recent years and you now have to complete about 50 just to be counted in the final numbers. Yes I am exaggerating wildly.
But Peter and I drew a fail at the very first one. Neither of us could stomach the idea of the Promathon. It's too short, too promathon, too real!!! Instead we went a canter round Gullane beach, late in the day and congratulated ourselves on our good sense and taste.
Next up was the XC in Dunbar. I don't want you to think I'm cut-throat, but the fact that my friend and rival-oldie Aileen had fallen and broken her jaw made it seem likely I'd scavenge an extra point if I went. I actually quite enjoyed it - in a way. I wasn't as bad as I thought I might be. Heady days. I was soundly beaten by Julie Moffat and expected nothing less. I keep an eye on her on Strava and her marathon training pace at the moment is pretty much my race pace. Not much you can do about that.
So anyway - 1 race done and 9 points earned.
I didn't relish the idea of the next champs race - the Nationals at Callendar Park in Falkirk. I never loved it and then someone decided to fix the disparity in distance between the mens' and womens' races by making the women run as far as the men. Well thanks women's lib. I don't meant to sound ungrateful but I wouldn't have thrown myself under a race-horse for this outcome.
Aileen and Vic Pound came along in the Berlingo too. (And Peter of course.) I did my best to get us lost on the M9 but Vic had sat-nav on her phone so set us straight and we arrived in time to run. Aileen is still recovering from weeks off running and now had a cough and she would probably be at her weakest so I should take advantage if I could.
How can I summarise all this quickly enough so I can get my tea soon? I galloped off like a famous race horse and had a lead over Aileen for probably a couple of minutes. It's difficult to say though as time does strange things as you near the top of your physical capacity. Unhelpfully it slows down. If it would only speed up instead it would all be over sooner. Aileen then went past and she was breathing a bit hard but I couldn't take much comfort from that because she was also faster than me. The race game kicked in - trying to stay in touch without blowing up the engine. There was still a long way to go. It played out quite predictably really. I was catching Aileen on the uphills and then losing her, particularly on the flatter sections. Quite soon the thought of doing three of these laps was intolerable so I did my best not to think about it. In the middle lap I had a period of thinking I might die and I did consider dropping out. Instead I eased back just a bit to see if it was possible to recover myself. Lap 3 I began to come out of it and feel better again. I caught Aileen on the up again and then she got away. Then I caught her on the last up again - and then she got away again. I continued to feel better so what I did - and they should write a song about me - is I NEVER GAVE UP HOPE. Oh no baby. And on the final straight I could see THAT WOMAN and I gave it every last scrap of everything that I had which from the outside equals means pulling the dying fish-face. I think I got a micro-second ahead at the line.
I haven't dug that deep in manys a while and afterwards I felt remarkable - very good indeed. Maybe that's why I used to race so much. I was on some big, transcendent wave of enjoying everything.
I chatted to Amy's sister for a while - she was very nice - and then took photos of the men. The skies had closed in by then and it went from spitting to outright raining, so the photos weren't great. Here's a picture of Peter he won't thank me for.
Peter went off to run some 30 miler the next day. I had a Feldenkrais workshop which was pretty good and I forced myself out a run afterwards. The next day I was pitifully tired. While I was still excited on Saturday night I had entered Lasswade 10 on-line. Now I was already regretting it.
I used to quite like the Lasswade 10. For a few years it was good to me. I ran it 4 years in a row and each year I managed to knock 2 minutes off. Those were the glory days. I can't remember the years but the time progression went 79,77,75 and then 73 minutes. At the time it seemed possible I'd just continue like that, knocking 2 minutes off every year. Older runners will be aware that the line doesn't necessarily stay straight like that. I had a bit of a break from the Lasswade 10 for a few years for whatever reason and was pleased in 2012 to come back and run 76 minutes. That was the last time I'd done it.
The day before the weather was a bit grim so instead of our usual run at Gullane we decided to keep it simple and local and go a run from Cramond down the road towards Dalmeny and back - maybe 6 miles taking it super-easy. At the Cramond Brig we took a spur of the moment change of direction and it wasn't much less surprising than the transition from the clothes cupboard to Narnia must have seemed. We found ourselves, after a while, in the Cammo Estate. I've been before, years ago, but I was never quite sure where it was. Legend says that it moves around from year to year. Anyway, this year it was tucked just up from the left bank of the River Almond. We ran along near the trees and had in no time come across not one but two woodpeckers. The paths are lovely and lined with tall mature trees.
Rounding a corner we came across the most tame of all robins. I cursed myself for not taking my good camera, but I couldn't be bothered carrying it. The day had seemed so unpromising. Peter got lovely shots of it and I got the police-drawing equivalent of the same bird. It was unbelievably cute and tame and friendly. We didn't even have any food bribes for it but it seemed to be enjoying the interaction.
My camera does know how to take a good selfie though.
So that was a nice run and I had cake and coffee on the way home. But the next day it was the Lasswade 10.
Highlights. Punchline. We're on a schedule here...
I sometimes saw Aileen in the distance - even walking on the hills! But I couldn't catch her. I was quite pleased with a PW of 85 minutes. I thought it could have been worse. My legs had been heavy as lead in the week and I'd been routinely running slower than 10 minute miles. It wasn't as bad as that.
Julie beat Aileen who beat me by a minute. The over 50s ladies looks likely to be the most hotly contested category in the Portobello Championships this year.
Afterwards there were more cakes and sandwiches than you would believe possible. I can't believe I didn't get a picture of them! Too busy cramming them in me mouth.
So it's been fun but I'm glad I don't have a race this weekend. Peter's a bit excited about the Scurry Event up Corstorphine Hill on Sunday - and I would be - but it's too soon! I need a weekend!!
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