The Strange Tale of the Christmas Sparkle

 Yesterday was the second edition of Megan Wright's Binning Woods Races. The first was in 2016, and it was a good event, so when we heard it was on again we didn't really question if we'd give it another go. This year the course was a bit different, and Peter and I both thought it was better. I couldn't even tell you why. It was good last time.

Before arriving at the race we'd been talking, inevitably, about Peter's dad, who is buried in the woods somewhere. (It was all above board all you amateur sleuths - this isn't a confession.) We wondered if he might give us a sign - bubbles of light in the trees - that kind of thing. I didn't see any bubbles of light in the trees. But I'm going to come back to this theme. Please be patient.

The Hays

And Nick and son Jack.

So anyway, we arrived. We saw nice Dunbar people. Binning Woods is a lovely woods. I went a long warm up lap because I was freezing and because I think my whole system works better after running a couple of miles. I ran my warm-up lap in a jumper and duvet jacket and by the time I got back to the start I was roasting.

 

I know I look a bit mental. I was excited. Be kind. Anyway, I am a bit mental.

It was a good strategy. It wasn't hard to take off my jacket and jumper just before the start. I was glad to be stripped down and even in a t-shirt and shorts I was too hot after the first lap.

I was determined to run within myself and pace it and not get caught up in mini-races. This isn't so easy. It's not bad when you don't know anyone around you but then I was in bunches of people I did know. I stuck behind Anne Hay for the first wee while and used her intelligence for path finding. She was going for straight lines rather than trying to dodge the muddy bits and that worked well. There was plenty of mud but none of it was that deep. Neil Jones appeared from somewhere. He appeared to be enjoying the mud so much he'd been rolling in it.
I lost Anne for a while. I got a bit stuck behind a mother and baby unit who were running side by side and there was no way past without really barging, which seemed unnecessary, so I hung back. Eventually the path widened and I got by. It had given me a nice wee breather. I didn't know if I would see Anne again but I found myself just behind her again and this time I felt like I could keep going so I did. After a while I went past Neil with his muddy back and elf ears too, but he wasn't keen and after asking if I'd like an elf hat to wear (which I politely declined)  surged off forwards. I didn't try to give chase. I have no idea what shape anyone is in and I went back to this plan of running steadily. After a while I caught up to Ian of HBT and an HBT lady and I went past both of them. The HBT lady came back at me and did that thing - unintentionally I think - where she went in front of me and then slowed down. This switched on my fighty brain (technical term, it's somewhere in the middle of your head) and I went past her and kept moving faster for a wee while. Lap 1 was over and I headed off back out into the woods. The 2 HBTs did not come back. After a while I drew even with Neil Jones again, who by now had lost the elf hat. I sensed he was somewhat spent, and this time, when I passed, he let me go.

Now you can't afford to get complacent in a race, but I was enjoying myself. I was mostly on my own and it was peaceful. I think there's a Japanese thing where you hang about in forests to restore your aura. It didn't seem beyond the bounds of possiblity that my aura was being restored, because I did feel good. I thought it was possible that Peter's dad was giving me a hand too.  Whatever it was, I was clicking along nicely. It didn't seem that long before the 4th mile beeped on my Garmin and there was only one last mile to go. I had no idea what other 50s ladies were in the race so I thought I shouldn't let any available places go - just in case. (I needn't have worried. As it turned out the race was bristling with top over 50s talent and I wasn't in with any kind of a chance.) There was an older looking elf up ahead of me for a long time and I thought I would take her if I could, but in the event, she drew slowly away ahead. I ran mostly on my own to the finish.

Ah, the finish. Such a good place. I stood about in a daze slowly cooling down for quite some time. Be still my beating heart.

Nick attends to his nutrition.

Peter was 2nd V50 and Willie was 1st V60. I don't know the name of man no. 3 in the picture but he was 1st V50 and was very speedy by all accounts.

When I got home and I was downloading my photos from the day, I came across a curious thing. There were weird sparkles in some of my pictures. I shouted Peter through and he looked at me suspiciously. Was I at it? Had Peter's dad decided to give us a wee message after all? Later I looked at what the setting next to "automatic" on the dial of the camera was and found it was set on a filter called "Sparkles". Well, that was some kind of an explanation, but it's never happened before. Did Peter's dad change the settings? He didn't used to be so very technologically gifted, very often bewailing the fact that Windows 95 had become redundant. But maybe he's been taking a class.

ANYWAY. 

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Today, Peter was off to run 25 - 30 miles with Nick and Nasher. He was crying as I waved him out the door, but there was nothing to be done. He was undoubtedly in for a thrashing and it would do him good anyway.

I set off a little while later on a more leisurely journey-run of my own making.

I've got Strava Challenges to be met and I wanted to get a bit of distance in today, and do a bit of ascent too. I also wanted to take in a bit o' "Christmas" towards the end. I thought I might use my new found sparkles to good effect. So I set off at foot-off-the-gas pace round Arthur's Seat. At the top of the hill I spotted this fine pheasant fellow and stopped and had a breather. Is he even real? Does he know he's made out of felt? No matter.

In the distance the Forth was looking ethereal. I threw in a bit of sparkle.

Fife seemed to be getting the best of the weather, which didn't seem right.

The forecast had promised a bit of sun, but there wasn't much sign of it.

Edinburgh looked quite dull.

until...

I made my way over to Blackford Hill through the quiet back-streets.

From the top of Blackford Hill I could see a grim looking fog rolling over the Forth. Again, Fife and the Ochils seemed to be blessed with all the sunshine. It seemed the sun's benificent rays couldn't penetrate the atmosphere of seething commercialism over Scotland's Capital City however.

So we were blanketed in a chill, damp air.

As soon as I hit the more densely populated regions my good-ish mood evaporated. There were scores of yacking people in parkas with legions of dogs with them. I saw one posh looking lady kicking some leaves over a spaniel turd so she wouldn't have to bring it home. I told her what I thought of her with my eyes.

I stopped at a wee cafe just out the gates of the Hermitage and had a coffee and a tiny brownie. (To eat.) (Just a cake, shut up.) I sat in the wrong place, just inside the door where the counter was. A dad came in who obviously wasn't used to wrangling children. His 4 year old came and stared at me as I drank my hot coffee and ate my cake. I found this uncomfortable until I realized that in her all-in-one romper suit and bobble hat she looked kind of like a penguin. When I thought of her as a penguin it didn't feel so uncomfortable to be stared at unflinchingly. She wasn't getting a bit of my brownie anyway. And I couldn't take a picture, which is a shame. The cafe had a heavy door that sticks, and while the dad ordered things at the counter his penguin toddled right behind the door. If anyone had come in, the door would have knocked her hard in the head. I couldn't relax, waiting for the impact. "You're a fucking moron". I thought, as I looked at the dad. The brownie hadn't fixed my blood sugar.

Time to move on. Joy to the world.

Then it was difficult for me not to think of this as some soft-eyed paedo Santa who keeps a stable of captive bears.

"Everyone has a price little Ted" said the cynical Panda.

Even my sparkles couldn't fix the dense and dank heart of the capital.

I had thought about running a half marathon but it was time to be getting home. I arrived home having run just shy of twelve.

Tune in a gain soon for more "Bah, Humbug!!!"

Binning Woods Race and a Sunday Run

Peter - on his knees, but not done yet. He arrived with

5 minutes in hand to get his monkey suit on and run.

Yesterday was my first race as an F50. The occasion was a race in Binning Woods organised by Megan Wright to raise money for dementia research. I have been dodging and DNSing races for some time, and was tempted to do the same with this one, except it looked like a nice, low-key event, and Peter was planning to get this month's Tynecastle Bronze in by running with Clare Gordon who was celebrating her approaching 40th year by doing a 40 mile run with friends. Their plan was to run the last 5 miles running Megan's race. I knew that the poor, old fella would be a bit ragged after this and would appreciate a lift home. So I did some paperwork I had to do in the morning and set off for Binning woods about 12.30.

I don't think I ever used to notice how dark the winter is but now I do. Carrying a camera brings it home. Your eyes adjust to the low light but the camera does less so, unless you've got a big fancy one. I recently upgraded my camera and so I've got a longer lens than Peter; something that has led to a bit of tension in the home. I wasn't wielding it with much skill at the race yesterday anyway. 

Thankfully Bob Marshall was out taking photographs of me looking much happier than I really felt. Well I wasn't exactly unhappy, but I got a bit bewildered in the woods. It was very, very busy at the start of the race as there was a mix of children, adults and dogs. It being a woods there were quite a number of trip hazards as well - you know - little tree stumps and rocks in the grass, muddy bits, malevolent twigs. I was watching my feet a fair bit and as I'd been working hard for ages, when my Garmin beeped, I assumed I'd covered 2 miles but not noticed the first one. As it beeped the third mile I had a look down to see how I was doing and realised I'd only run 2 miles! Jeezo. 5 miles started to seem like a long way. If I'd read the race instructions I probably would have realised that we were doing 2 laps of the same route, and there would have been no mysteries. But there were mysteries. My brain told me we were going a completely different way the 2nd time round and as I saw we were  finally approaching 5 miles on the Garmin, I picked up the pace, confident I could hold it for just a few 100 metres. The only problem being there was still more than half a mile to go, so I sped up, slowed down again, and then I got one of those decisive signals that it was time to go to the toilet. I'm proud to say I'm over 50 but I can still hold it for a certain amount of time. I know. TMI. I can't help it. Or I don't really want to.

When I got over the line I made for the woods and communed with the bears and felt better.

There was a pretty good quality field out and I was proud to hear so many pals getting prizes; both the Hays, Nick Williamson and Willie Jar super-star to name a few.

It's been a busy week, and I haven't been able to run much but I've got in the way of running at least 30 miles a week. With racing yesterday I only had 18 miles on the clock for the week, so really needed 12 today.

My legs didn't wanna run particularly, and Peter really wasn't needing a run, having clocked up something like 42 and a half yesterday, so we were late setting off today. Not that late, but just after midday it already looked like dusk. We were both a bit tired and narky. I blame all the dark. I've definitely been noticing a sense of humour failure in the last week or two. If we don't watch it Peter and I can start a rash of arguments and unless one or other of us is gracious enough to stop it goes on and on. He said some rude things about the lovely fluoro pink top I was wearing, so I...I can't remember what I said...just something rude you know? Then we had an argument about who was fatter. (He is.) Then some other stuff. We were both tired. And it was dark. A dark grey sky stretching towards the horizon. At the horizon there was a little streak of brighter sky. I said maybe the west wind would blow that our way. "No!" opined Buchanan. "It's going to be grey all day." I looked at his thick wooden head and thought how I'd like to punch it.

Some cake and coffee at Falko's raised the mood a little and we set off.

It was never a wonderful day and we were both sore, but running raised our spirits and we stopped fighting.

Lovely crows enjoying the perma-twilight.

Poor ducky thing.

Beautiful baked beans trees.

As we were nearing the final stretch it became clear that I'd miscalculated so we had to put in some extra loops to squeeze out an extra mile. Not easy on sore legs. But we did it.

On the way home some entitled arse-hole in a BMW blew his horn at me because I hadn't joined the roundabout just when he thought I should. I was for stopping and going back to have a word with him, but Peter wouldn't let me out the Berlingo. He said he was too tired to fight.
Oh well, another time.