Donkey Brae 2015

Group shot nicked off fb from Robbie Yates...ta

It was Donkey Brae race at Aberdour Festival today. Being a Porty club championship race, there was quite a club turnout. I've just had a good google and I reckon there were only 3 ladies over 45, so I don't mind Shery and Aileen beating me. 8 points in the bank. In any club championships there are stars and grafters. The grafters are the unsung heroes, making sure to turn out, come rain or shine, when other people are injured or on holiday :-).

Aileen gave me a lift there and back and it was good to relax and not worry about whether my brakes would work or not. We had a chat about running, running times, running injuries, mental adjustments, retirement and Venice. The journey flew past.

Fiona W was with us on the way out but opted to stay in the park to sample the beers for a bit longer, rather than return too soon.

The race? Oh yeah, the race. Ahem. It was alright you know. Well fairly hard. I was keeping in the best mood I could, running along, feeling a bit challenged. My worst bit was running through the houses. I got caught in a father daughter thing with the father coaching the daughter and telling her every detail of the route. I didn't want to know any details about the route and was trying to drown him out with an internal "La la la, I'm not listening." For a while, running up the hill, the daughter had dropped back and the dad, looking over his shoulder, found out he had actually been coaching me for the last minute or two. That was almost funny.

But then he dropped back and the monologue continued. "It's just two miles from here and only one more hill." "Leave her alone, you'll put her off running for life." I thought. But then she chimed in "How many more hills are there?"  Oh for God's Sake. I ran away from them ill-advisedly hard up a hill, just to get some space. I think they maybe overtook me back. It's bad enough living with my own thoughts without having to listen to other people's too.

I'd love to tell you that I loved the race - and I think it was a good route - but I didn't love the race. I was glad when the race was over.

It was a nice finish and they did that thing where they read your name out as you cross the line. The crowd were on their feet roaring. Well, actually not. Monica Flanagan was lying on her back, enjoying the sunshine and lazily said "Well done Mary."
I got a bottle of water and a green banana and a medal. I got stuck into my green banana right away. It had been a long time since breakfast.

We milled around for quite a long while after that. They were having some trouble with the results. I went up to the school to get my bag and had the horrible realisation that it was all locked up and my bag was in there with my front door keys, credit card and phone. Oh Holy Shit. I rattled the door hoping someone might be left in the building and come and let me in, but nobody came.  After a while I realised that I was at the back of the school and that the entrance I'd used before was further up the road.  So I went there instead and gained easy access through the open door.

Fast forward, I was back in the field. There was some music from the 70s playing. Steve Crane and I were comparing notes on terrible concerts we'd been to at Knebworth. Did I ever tell you I went to see Deep Purple make a come-back at Knebworth in 1985 or so? Willie Jarvie was there too. I wouldn't like to think that he was one of the people peeing in a bottle and throwing it at the stage. I just went because I had a free ticket. It was an awful experience and it rained all day and all night and the buses got stuck and couldn't get out the parking area. Steve had had a similar experience in the late 70s.

There was an announcement that Cilla Black had died. Surprise, surprise. Apparently there were no suspicious circumstances. A lot of people seem to have been dying when there have been no suspicious circumstances lately. Hmmm, seems a bit fishy to me.

Well, you know, that's it. I was glad to make it in under the hour. The race was won by a couple of unknowns called Charlotte Morgan and Robert Gilroy. I'd be pushed to get my bike round in the times they did.

And next up is the Haddington Half Marathon. I'm going to have to work very hard to put a positive mental spin on that. Maybe I could try being glad I'm not in prison or something.

If you came to this site hoping to get a sense of the race route, my apologies.