The rest of March.

I'm just going to have to make it up as I go along as frankly I have little clue what happened for the rest of March. I know we went back to Cammo on a sunny day with Nick W, to see if the friendly robin was real or if we'd just made him up. We'd told Nick and he said "Just for clarity, is it going to be like Snow White, and am I going to put my hand out and the birds will come and perch there?".

We assured him that that was about right. But we didn't know it was really true.

The next day I think Peter and Nick went and thrashed themselves with the Porty crew and I went a long marathon training run tout seul. There was a strong west wind and some heavy rain showers. It was supposed to be a 17 miler but close to home I realised it was going to be more like 16. I didn't bother extending it but thought I'd wait for less inclement weather.

The next weekend was supposed to be another long run, but Saturday was a day of sleet. I did consider doing a long run anyway...for a short while. Instead Peter and I went a run round Arthur's Seat. It was kind of fun and a long run wouldn't have been.

The next day I had a Feldenkrais workshop which was a shame because it was a beautiful day. Well it was a shame in terms of getting the miles in but was actually a jolly good workshop. Peter and Nick went and thrashed themselves again with the Porty Crew I think and I managed to knock out 9 reluctant miles but didn't love them.

Come the following Saturday Peter was off to do a 40 mile run up North with Graham Nash and Nick and somebody else. I didn't like to let the lads down but I wasn't available. I had to attend to my own long run. Missing a weekend's long run sets up a kind of guilty tension which is almost useful. In recent years I have avoided the road from Edinburgh to North Berwick as a long run route at all costs.  It is all tainted with bad long runs and horrible Edinburgh to North Berwick races and nasty marathon experiences. The road is littered with ghosts of myself all suffering in different kinds of ways. But it was blowing a stiff west wind and I couldn't be bothered fannying around with trying to get trains or doing circular routes or any of that so I set off out the door at about 11am (to Nick W's amusement. The boys had been up at 5 or before for their secret mission.) and just ran to North Berwick. It was a nice day and it wasn't too bad. I didn't bother carrying any fluids, just bursting into shops and using my contactless debit card instead. How very modern. I upped my longest long run distance from 16 miles to 22.5 miles in one fell swoop but hoped to get away with it, and I did.

Good advice at Seton Sands

That was pretty cheering. My average pace wasn't all that bad either despite 3 miles of off-roady sandy track. I must have done something the next day but I'm not sure what. Probably ate. Oh yeah the other part of that was that we were supposed to be doing the HW round the grounds 5K as it's a championship race - but the pressing need to do something long was just more insistent.

That Thursday, unusually, I was off, and I was missing the car and Gullane. Peter somehow freed himself from the day's commitments too. Does he even do anything? I don't know. None of my business. He was hoping for butterflies, but despite it being quite sunny, it was cold and there were no little flappers to be seen. I have given up berating him for making a day of disappointment by setting his expectations for the day in advance. It doesn't make a jot of difference. He was punishing the absent butterflies by declaring in a loud voice that he thought birds were better. There were precious few birds too. Maybe Nick was out singing in a woods nearby and all the local wildlife were there. (Lol.)

Anyway, it was good to be out of town. We ran 13 miles but slowly and my legs were tired and I thought maybe I'd ruined myself for my next long run.

Yesterday there was rain forecast for the morning and sun in the afternoon. Despite my late morning starts, I really hate waiting until the afternoon to run. I have usually pretty much gone off the boil by then and would rather be sleeping. This caused a party-split as Pierre wanted - well you know what he wanted. I just went out round Arthur's Seat and knocked out 6 miles. I had my "B" camera with me just in case I saw something too good to pass up. I saw the pheasant that seems to live up there. It is getting very tame.

Today Peter was off to Dunbar in search of...jeezo...you know. I, however, am all about the numbers now and my schedule was asking for 17 miles with 5 at marathon pace. This time it was sunny but with a fairly gentle easterly blowing. It was pretty cold though. I burst out the house at nearly 12 noon and set off down the road.

It was all going fine. Portobello was the worst bit in both directions. Why do people all collect together like that? It's horrible. It was the only time all day I was in a bad mood.

I saw some butterflies which may be as yet unclassified and I had to stop and take a picture for PB.

I figured Prestonpans Co-op would be about 8 and a half miles, so half way. Rather than carry fluids, I'd stop there and get a drink and maybe something to eat. I had a fizzy drink and bought a Mars Bar and hoped to get a coffee but an enormously tall fellow called George told me that the machine was "being cleaned". He had the manual out and I didn't think it looked good. Then I heard the people behind the counter laughing and saying that George had broken the coffee machine. I thought so. Anyway, I probably shouldn't be drinking coffee in the middle of my run. I was a bit disappointed though. I like a coffee and a Mars Bar. I styled it up in the Co-op car park for a wee while and then it was time for "5 miles at marathon pace".

So what pace would that be? Picking a number out of the air I thought I'd shoot for 8.40 pace. To my great delight I nailed the first mile exactly. Then in the next mile I upped the pace and ran 8.33. Surely I wasn't going to keep it up? That's right I wasn't. I wanted to have as much distance as possible before re-entering the territory of the Prom which would surely kill any pace I was trying to hold - so I went the windier and longer outer way round at Musselburgh. I was suddenly running into a headwind again which killed it all dead. 8.56 pace! Holy Smokes. Was that it? Was I done for? The next one was only fractionally better at 8.53. I got a bit of shelter coming back towards Porty and the last "mile at pace" was a more satisfying 8.36.  But that was me done for then. I tried not to get churlish making my way back through the swarms but inside I was churlish and if my thoughts were to be broadcast they would be something like this "fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off...." A new hazard has added itself to the general prom mayhem of dogs and kids and scooters and oldies and wheelchairs and fast bikes and runners which is people on "Just Eat" bikes which means they don't normally cycle, so they don't steer so well. Or pay any attention. I saw someone defying the "Just Eat" logo by not only cycling and eating but also smoking - but not looking or steering.

It was good to get past that. I wondered if that's why stupid people are called clots.

And then finally I was home. And now it's time to move on the the next thing. The government has stolen an hour off me I won't get back until October, so I better get moving.

Racing Madness

 Oops I've dropped the ball again. I'll try to pick it up briefly now, but I've got stuff to do - I'm a busy lady! Probably part of the reason I'm feeling like such a busy lady is I have somehow got sucked into racing madness. It has been fun, but it eats weekends. Also I'm doing some extra hours for the NHS on a Monday now so I get spat out into the week sooner than I might ideally like. That's alright. You're welcome.

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!!