Simonside Cairns. First Loser.

It was some of the super photos from 2008 that tempted me along for a pop at this one this year. Although it was obvious that the same magical snowbound conditions weren't going to form the backdrop, I was still keen enough to set aside the 3rd leg of the Borders XC series in favour of extra distance and more testing terrain. Had some idea what to expect after Hillforts & Headaches on New Years Day- but all of the 'outback' section of the course behind the ridge was virgin territory for me. I hadn't gone out with Nick and Don for their recce which, by their own admission, had been (at least in parts) something of a headscratching session. They had managed to ascertain though that it was (surprise, surprise!) "A bit muddy!"

A record field dispersed from Rothbury at 11 bells and got stuck in. Initial leading pace didn't seem too crazy and I was content to sit at the back of the first dozen or so and concentrate on my own headgame of quashing initial enthusiasm/nervous energy, to avoid blowing up later. All the climbing in the first 3m seemed to flit past and I hoped that the steady progress I was making wasn't going to be echoed later with an equally steady descent back through the ranks. I was focussed on running economically and looking at who and what was ahead. At about 4m I was vying for 3rd place, and then 2nd, no-one more surprised than I. A bit further on and I was in what felt like a comfortable 2nd place with only the leader and another 6m or so ahead.

Whatever tussles we were having with fellow competitors, we were all in the same boat as far as what was underfoot went. And in some parts it might have been useful to actually be in a boat. The middle third of the route was ready to engulf the unwary. The footpath was dotted with little duckboard bridges here and there which spanned the swampier parts of the morass. As numerous 'tales at the finishing tape'  told afterward though, you were probably safer to pitch straight on through the worst of it than take the footbridge options for thereon lay a very good chance of sliding headlong rather than feet first into the drink! I had one 'near miss' and one forward sprawl. As well as this there was a tricky section of cleared forest with some nice ridge and furrow undulation round about Selby's Cove, heather covered sheeptrack- scratchy scratchy, a punishing rocky scramble up to Simonside itself, some pleasant grassy track (!) and leg sapping hard flagstones and actual tarmac too. The whole package. Of course, special mention should be made of the "Grotto Trot" a festive detour of a couple of hundred yards into the darkness of the wood wherein there were fairy lights and music playing, courtesy of the race organisers and a generator. Brilliant stuff!

With the Grotto and Simonside approaching I was still feeling chipper and increasingly surprised. Could it be that race leader James Buis, 200yards or so ahead, was slowing up? Phil Sanderson, (I'd wondered where he was! And failed to recognise him in passing too! Sorry Phil.) who was marshalling at Selby's Cove, hinted so. "You're going faster than him," he said as I made the stile. I started to think I could catch up and then, on breaking clear of the woods of the Grotto section, found that I had. James still had the edge. He'd either held a bit back over the previous mile or so, or was just keener, because he put 20yards on straight away up the Simonside scramble. I held on though. He drew away to about 100yards up but seemed to be taking it quite steady on the descents on the ridge and by Lordenshaws I'd almost got back with him. Round the Hillfort was where he racked the pace up though and put me well and truly in his wake over the last 2m which he covered a full 2mins quicker in decisive fashion. I'd had a good dig but felt the pinch over the harder ground on the run in. One of my calves was tightening up so I had to be content with second and a steady run in for home. Far from disappointed though, what may well be my last race this year had turned out to be one of the most enjoyable.

Eventually everyone was gathered in and a prize list as long as the race itself dished out along with soup and rolls in the  Newcastle Hotel. I took home a Christmas pudding for my efforts. It might just cover the calories burned up whilst swamp-trotting! Full results, photos, other reports and blogs links via NFR website. A shout out to WRC teammates Nick, Don, Kenny, Glen & Jack and my thanks to the organisers and all involved in hosting this great race.

 

 

XC 2. Lauder.

Anyone with any sense stayed at home. That didn't include Kenny and I, amongst others. The day dawned furious and foul with wind and rain, and more or less stayed that way. The only saving grace being that it wasn't (quite) freezing cold too.

There were other equally foolhardy souls swelling the ranks too. Both Kenny's son and my laddie had decided to brave the elements and have a turn in the Junior race. Did I feel guilty in egging them on? Increasingly so as their start time drew closer! The weather was at one of its dirtiest spells during the day as they legged it away from the start line. My son's face was set in a mixture of grim determination and, "I'll get you for this Dad!" Kenny and I weren't their only cheerleaders though because Kenny's wife Sue and my daughter and even my mum were out to watch too. Although it's always great to get support I have to confess to being even more amazed at those who are prepared to stand around the outskirts of muddy fields and applaude than by those who run through those same muddy fields. Three Cheers for the spectators!

And it was muddy. Oh yes! As the juniors slopped their way around the testing course I followed to (try and) warm up and began to think, "What have we let them in for! Jeez! These are wee laddies, they could drown in this!" But... they went the distance and, I think, came away with some of that strange glow of achievement and satisfaction that keeps us all returning to the seeming craziness of the XC fray.

The Seniors were off without delay at Noon. Rain held off for the duration of the race, a freak pause in the precipitation. The mud was still there though and it wasn't good to run too close behind the person in front during the first mile! I'm a fan of the course at Lauder. There's a pretty stiff climb after the first half mile taking the field out to some nice open country for a while and then back via a valley floor, criss-crossing the stream that runs along it. In the last third of the course is a shorter and steeper hill to climb, which had been turned into a good approximation of a mudslide by the passage of the junior race earler, and almost at the finish a couple of hundred yards along a track which had actually become a minor stream in itself. Absolutely no chance to navigate a better path, it was just a case of plough on through!

I had a good race. Managed to keep the brakes on in the first half-mile whereas quite a big group seemed to go out very quickly. Saved my effort for when the first hill began and was rewarded by being able to slowly pick off places for most of the rest of the way whilst feeling not too bad. I elected to vault a couple of gates rather than go through the wickets toward the end of the course, always risky but I think it makes for less of a break in rhythm, and that seemed to work in my favour too. One good tussle developed with the chap who eventually pipped me to 5th place overall! We'd traded places a couple of times over the last half mile and the way he ran up the mudslide hill had suggested to me that he was still going strong but might have used up just a bit much. I'd gained a neck sploshing down the track/stream but he still had that bit extra to outsprint me in the home stretch. 6th place it was, 1st Vet40.

Kenny didn't get outsprinted to the finish though. Far from it. I turned tail when I crossed the line to trot back a bit and watch him come in, which he did before very long- just trailing a group of 4 in front which he proceeded to demolish in the last 200m with a fantastic finish. Sterling stuff.

The bottom line is that everyone who turned out on such an atrocious day, competitors and spectators alike, deserves either a round of applause or a stretch in an institution, but I'm not sure which!

 

 

 

XC 1. Norham

Bang, and they're off again for the Border's XC season 09-10.

Lost count of how long I've been going out for this series. Always a good atmosphere, competition and motivator for training over the winter. I usually just feel like hibernating while the days are still drawing in.

Hadn't forgotten the usual conditions we find ourselves in on the Norham course, and it was as per usual for today's race. Mud, swamp, stream crossings a plenty! Proper XC. It didn't appear that anyone managed to get lost during the senior race this time though. Is this a first I wonder?

I posted an 11th overall, 2nd Vet40, and had what I felt to be an OK race considering having been a bit bogged down with a cold during the week and also out a-partying until wee small hours the night before. Straightforward race too, no interesting tussles to report, but I wish I'd had a bit more fight in me when a fellow triathlete went past at about a mile out, going strong. Good run Brian!  I was tiring on the run in though and dropped another couple of places in the last half mile or so which I thought I'd be able to keep in my favour considering the bit gap I'd opened up. 

Well done to WRC crew who turned out and sympathies to Bruce who cowped his ankle down in the dene and had to retire. Obviously a sickener for him especially since, from what I saw at one part of the course, he was having a strong run and was well up the field. This particular course always has some dodgy bits underfoot! 

Pentland Skyline (Sixteen Summit Special)

Err... Not trying to go one better here or owt like that, but I reckon this is where the Merry Men should've been on Sunday, never mind poncing about in their own back yard, so to speak.

Come to think of it I would probably have been better off sticking to local terrain too, especially since my efforts to rope in some other fools to have a crack at The Pentland seemed to have fallen on either reluctant or deaf ears. But... after feeling I could put in a better performance at this race than at my first shot last year, off I went with my fan club of Sarah and Beki in the car to keep me company. (They'd set their sights on the challenging south face of 'Ikea' after watching the race set off.)

Careful observers of the race profile above will see that none of the peaks on this course approach the height that the Chevy Chase gets to over Cheviot and Hedgehope. Also that the distance is less than the Chevy too. These two facts seem to have deluded me for the past 2 years now into thinking that The Pentland should be easier in some way, and my tiny little mind has somehow glossed over the pertinent fact that there is one-and-a-half times as much climbing to do as with The Chevy. The only easier aspect of this course is way-finding, and I can only say that since beautifully clear weather prevailed yesterday, and when I ran it last year, so the paths were easy to follow.

I hadn't arrived with much time to spare so it was a case of registering, kitting-up and lining up to start. Bumped into sometime Wooler RC visitor Tim, of Norham,out for a first go, and another familiar face, Ian R, of Dunbar. Earlier in the year Ian had come up on my shoulder during the Coastal Run and said a few words, shortly after which I'd taken off with renewed pace, not happy at being caught. He quipped that he's never said a word to anyone that he's caught up with in a race since. When he caught me during this race, somewhere about Black Hill I think, I just felt a tap on the shoulder and turned to see him pass, finger on lip going, "Sssh!" This gave me a much needed cheery lift because things had been going pretty much WRONG for a while beforehand!

Last year's experience had tried to teach me not to go away too quickly in the first part of this course but I still made the mistake of working too hard on the longest climb stretch after the low point at Flotterstone. There's a farm just before there and an old boy was enthusiastically counting the runners through. "Forty-six, forty-seven....forty-eight...." I heard as I passed, and his words were like a red rag to a bull. I'd been coasting, deliberately taking it easy, but suddenly I had that urge to gain a few places, prompted by a desire to improve on last year's 61st position. So, right through the hardest section of the course was where I wasted my energies and worked up to 32nd place, by my reckoning, at the midway point. The only delay in my progression came when a fellow runner went over badly, right in front of me, on a steep and stony descent. It was all I could do to avoid falling too by leaping over him and then putting on the brakes, along with some others, to make sure he was ok. Remarkably he got up and carried on, despite being badly bloodied! About 10 mins later he came past me, dripping gore, and I had to congratulate his courage.

But, after that it was pretty much downhill (and uphill and downhill and uphill...!) for me. "Relentless," is the best way to describe this race. Truth be told I hadn't done anywhere near as much training as necessary and so once I'd been out for about an hour and a half I was starting to tire badly. The majority of competitors are reduced to a walk on the majority of the climbs and I was holding ground there but didnt have much other than a feeble jog for the more runnable bits in the second half. I should've packed another pair of legs for the descents. All the places I'd gained soon slipped past, and then some, and it was a case of 'plod on' as best as possible whilst being thankful for good conditions underfoot and dry weather! At about 2 miles from home though I started to pull through the exhaustion and had a fairly strong finish to come in 59th and just 45sec slower than last year in 3:19:30, from a field of 160 some. 

Despite the toughness of this event I'm sure it would be to the liking of a lot of Wooler runners. Some of the second half of the course has more rolling terrain similar to that of the Cheviots and whilst the scenery is in contrast to the largely unspoiled Cheviots backdrop, on a clear day there are some really spectacular views. Well worth the trip, although I don't think my cameraphone shots do much justice.... "Hey man! Ye havenae got time tae be takkin' photaes! This is a race ye ken!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dude Alert.

Another break in the surf drought brought some good stuff from the last day of Sept. until 5th Oct- with the saturday off to have a breather (strong winds blew the swell out for a day) I didn't need to venture much further than Bamburgh to get my kicks, apart from the second evening when things were a bit rough there so the shelter of Annstead Bay beckoned.

High points were Fri. 2/10 and Mon. 5/10.

An early finish from work on the friday meant ample time in the afternoon to get rinsed in the great waves that were coming in and I spent about 3hrs in the water. Quite a lot of folk out too. I think Tynemouth must've been rammed and the overspill found their way north. Swell angle wasn't quite right to get the reef going but peaks and lines all along the beach gave room for all and some long swoopy rides were taken by many. A solitary figure did limber up and paddle over to have a go on the reef for a while. "Hang on!" thought I. "I recognise that goofy-foot style splashing spray about over yonder!" It was Rob, a mate I've not seen for ages, and he paddled over to the main beach break a little later so we had a jaw and caught up on each other's news. I was suffering a bit though. Went left on a wave and got a bit churned up in the breaking lip. The board turned and slid underneath me and one of the fins went hard against the funny bone. Eye-wateringly hard. Most of my lower left arm went numb and some of it stayed that way until monday. Not good. Neither was a very stiff left knee, which materialised later in the evening. I set about treating that when the sea was flat on saturday by icing with a bag of frozen peas and wearing a compression bandage. It worked.

Monday 5th had similar sized waves, 3-4ft plus, but the swell was getting onto the reef at Bamburgh this time. Not as much premium light available once I got there (It's starting to get dark quickly!) but enough time to have a decent session and just in the good company of Dan, who was paddling off the reef as I arrived but who reversed his course and kept me company for about an hour. We traded lefts for a while, some rather good 'uns running right through to knee depth over the slab ( "Nobody surfs The Boneyard....!") where you can step off, all casual like, and hope that a big set hasn't rolled right through to the inside to swat you for being so smug. That happens to me at Howick every time. The tide dropped and the reef stopped working. Dan had had enough and I paddled over for some big peaks on the beach. Dom had arrived for a quick session in the fading light. He caught a couple and then blew out. I waited a bit longer watching a beautiful moon climb through cloud and snagged a couple more close-out waves before calling it a night.

Eyemouth Triathlon/Series round-up.

Eyemouth hosted the last of the Borders Sport & Leisure Trust triathlon series on sunday and there was a big turn-out for the final event. Each event in the series has had a shorter 'Come & Tri' race running in parallel and it seems there are more and more people eager to have a first go. Book early if you want to participate next year!

As well as the smooth organisation and running of the series this year, for which the organisers deserve a huge 'Thank You,' another noteable feature has been the nearly always great weather. Towards the end of the Peebles and Kelso races there was rain, but any winds have only been light and the majority of the time we've cycled and run in sunshine. I've been lucky to completely avoid getting wet on course other than in the pool. Fantastic! Poor weather, being freezing cold, skidding about on the bike on wet corners etc. were all unfounded worries, this year at least. But I suspect the elements will balance things out eventually if I persist in the triathlon vein!

Mr.S and his amazing tri-mobile transported us and kit to Eyemouth and we went through the usual pre-amble of squeezing into lycra, lining up trainers and towel and the rest. I think it was Sib, at Pam's hen-run last week, who'd mentioned someone turning up for a tri only to realise bike wheels had been forgotten! Therein is the beauty of Mr.S's motor, for it be spacious enough to not have to do any silly cycle dismantling to get the stuff in. I did have to spend some time a-tinkering though 'cos my bike gears weren't shifting smoothly. Bah! The bike route was the hilliest of the series so gears would be getting good use.

Had a natter with some increasingly familiar faces as I got ready but couldn't see Big N anywhere. Eventually he rolled up seeming very relaxed and unhurried even though some of the earlier swim heats were underway and registration closed. He confessed to a heavy night before, and an early start too, and didn't seem to fancy his chances much. He had time to get ready though for he do swim like a shark and was starting in a later heat.

Mr.S was away in the swim heat before me and, from what I saw, seemed to have a similar pool experience to mine in that the lane was frequently crowding in places due to swimmers being at very similar speeds. It's a case of accepting a certain spot in the swimming order or tapping the toes in front to pass if you feel you're held up. I swam quickest in my lane, but there wasn't much in it this time and twice I mistakenly thought I'd been tapped so stopped at the lane end to let someone pass who wasn't there! When I'd eventually done the 30 laps and jumped out of the pool I ran straight into a diving-board ladder in my haste, as I was head-down with misty goggles! Bang! This was probably great comedy to see but I went into transition a bit agitated to say the least!

The dicky bike gears didn't help my frame of mind as the cycle leg progressed either. I'd sort of got the technical hitch fixed but still my feet were jolted from the pedals on two occasions on uphill stretches and all rythmn ruined. Seeing Mr.S hurtling downhill in the opposite direction (out & back bike course) gave me a boost and "what goes up, must come down" eventually brought me to the same point going at about 42mph. Quite exhilerating!

I didn't transit into the run very well in that I felt quite sluggish and not able to get into my stride. The course was uphill from the start for about 500m then along the clifftop path partway toward Coldingham before returning roughly the same way, with a finishing stretch along the beach. Only one chap had passed me on the bike leg, riding the equivalent of a Ferrari, but I reined him in quite quickly on the run. Perhaps knowing that I was leading from those in my swim heat made me ease up a bit too much on the rest of the run as I've done better than being eighth placed runner before. A finish like Big N's would've been the way to see out a season. Mr.S and I had finished and were watching at the line when Big N appeared on the sand. I did a double take. He was a man possessed, trying to catch up with his own eyeballs as he gave it full belt! Hangover? Cured! I'd predicted that he'd be able to match my time for the sprint tri eventually, but didn't think he'd catch me this season. When he turned his watch to reveal he'd knocked about 4mins from his previous 5k time I knew he was close, and the results eventually showed he'd beat me by a neck coming in 1hr 13:26, 11th place to my 12th (3rd Vet), six seconds behind!

We still await placings for the series as a whole. Best four results from 6 to count. Prior to this event I was 7th overall and third Vet. I think I'll have dropped in the overall rankings as stronger athletes who hadn't raced in as many previous events bring their Eyemouth result to the table, but I think I may have held on to the 3rd Vet placing. On the whole I'm quite happy with that for a first season and fired up for next year, keen to add an open-water swim event and, possibly, the half-ironman to the list.

 

 

 

 

Big weekend/Berwick Tri

Don't quite know where to start with this weekend's activity epic. Saturday morning, 5:20am was when the 'on' button was activated and already I knew there was thespian activity in the form of a Belford Players performance coming up, and a funeral service as well as the triathlon. The early start had been necessitated by the added complication of the first decent swell and waves for about a month being forecast for saturday. Would getting up at sparrow-fart and going surfing impact negatively on acting and triathlon abilities? These things can't be pondered on too long...! It's a surfers duty to cast aside all other considerations and get out there if conditions are good. Besides, a dawn patrol is proper now and again, just to make sure the sun is checking in on time.

So, some nice early morning waves at Annstead, just south of Seahouses, were good to kick off the proceedings, before shooting home again and getting props, costumes and kids loaded up to go over to Ford. The Belford Players, of which I'm a member, put on their first performance of 'The Mad Hatters Posh Party' as part of the Berwick Food Festival. This wee play adapts the tea-party scene from Alice In Wonderland as a means to showcase, in song and verse, some of the regions local food producers. There are NO prizes for guessing which of the familiar Alice in Wonderland characters I was called upon to play. This was a warm-up show of sorts. We're due to put on 2 more perfs. in Berwick this coming saturday if anyone is interested. 11:30am on Walls by Gymnasium Gallery, 1:30pm Palace Green, weather permitting.

Home again, home again, jiggety-jig. The afternoon was given over to a funeral service in Belford. That of a friend's mother who, sadly, died unexpectedly last week. R.I.P. Margaret. I'm not big on religion, but the bible has some very moving verses and a reading from 1 Corinthians 13 was indeed that. Alot of folk turned out to pay respects. Belford's churches also saw a wedding and a christening over the weekend. Life's full spectrum of rituals.

The sea beckoned again in the evening. Mobile phone was stacked with messages about the great condtions. I threw caution to the winds and headed down to Bamburgh for more, meeting up with Dan and Rab and 3 guys paying a visit from Scarborough. Pretty classy waves, head high or so on the reef and then the beach when the tide dropped. We pigged-out on it until the sun was slipping. Worth the wait.

Moving swiftly to sunday morning and I woke up a wee bit throbby with tiredness! Porridge and coffee and loads of water to get hydrated. A minor blur of getting kit together and then Super Chauffeur Mr.S was on the scene with the tri-taxi and off to Berwick we did go! There were some differences in the format of this triathlon compared to the ones in the Borders series- which I'd had reservations about. Paper numbers on number belts as opposed to marker-penned on arms and legs and the requirement to count your own lengths in the pool seemed odd. In the end it all went smoothly though, even the crossings of the A1 on the cycle route which must've been a headache for the organisers. Best of all about this tri was being amongst so many familiar faces (see Dolly's post and pics). I hadnt had a close enough look at the entry list to see who was all having a go. Well done to the Alnwick Tri/WRC connection competitors. You know who you are, even if I'm not readily familiar with everyone yet!

I just tried to ignore the surf-lag from the day before and get on with it. Quite hard work at the start of the bike leg with a few generally uphill miles into the wind. My thighs were complaining straight away and I was a bit worried that I'd overdone it until the turn out of the wind when there was chance to get the speed up again. Similar scenario with the run. The first of two laps I found very tough but there were lots of other runners ahead to aim to catch and into lap 2 I was feeling not-too-bad at all and giving it full steam ahead.

Everyone I spoke to seemed to have enjoyed it all but had similar difficulties with the tougher sections of the course. Mr. S seems to have come up a few places in the field in this event and I know Big N is mighty pleased with improvements in his run leg. There was a meal laid on for competitors in The Bonarstead afterwards and some results and prizes materialised quite quickly too. I came in 6th place overall and scooped a prize for  2nd Vet.

All that remained to be done was go and see the latest Harry Potter with Sarah and the kids in the evening! I managed to stay awake for the 2-and-a-half hours! Possibly the best achievement of the weekend, made easier by it being a pretty good Harry Pottering in comparison to some of the others in the series.

 

 

ESOC Score.

Buoyed up by success last weekend I hoped to stay on a roll for another event, this one hosted by Edinburgh Southern Orienteering Club on sunday in Holyrood Park and Arthur's Seat, Edinburgh.

In a 'score' event you're out on the course for a certain amount of time, in this case either 45 or 60mins. During that time you have to visit as many checkpoints as you can manage and return to the finish point, not necessarily in the same place as the start point! Route choice and the order you visit CPs is totally up to you. Different checkpoints are worth different point values, in this case varying between 10 and 60 points. Generally speaking, lower value CP's won't be as far out from start/finish, or as tricky to find as higher value CP's, but there will be more of them. Points are deducted from whatever you collect for being over the alloted time limit on finishing, in this case 1 point per 6 secs. Winner is whoever bags the most points. There were a total of 30 checkpoints cunningly concealed on the course and the chance to amass 920 points in total if you were good enough.

My total of 380 points (-6 for overtime, clocking in at 60:34) was enough to put me seventh! Seventh from the bottom of a field of 49 on the 60min course that is. In other words, a pretty dire performance. As a sometime hill runner I should be used to life's ups and downs, ha-ha, but some technique honing is obviously required if I'm to move up the ranks with this orienteering thing! The winner racked up 815 points managing to visit all but 4 CPs. I got to just 13 of them. My major fault was spending too long looking for one particular CP which eluded me, even though it was only a 10 pointer! What an idiot. And occasionally overshooting, which stems from trying to go too fast and not concentrating. 'Curb your enthusiasm' would seem to be a golden rule with this game.

In my defence, I did hear some grumbles from other competitors about various pathways either not being on the map, or not being on the ground any more where they should have been. And, let me tell you, those various little bumps of hills about Arthur's Seat are bloody steep dont-you-know!

Still- at least it wasn't pissing down! The sun shone, the hill was criss-crossed with orienteers, runners, joggers, walkers....you name it. Solitiude was not the order of the day! Top of Arthur's Seat was bristling with folk and the festival atmosphere was carried right out of the town and up to this fantastic vantage point. Sarah and Fynn had come along to cheer me on, and afterward we chilled out with a walk up the Royal Mile to watch various street performers doing their thing.

 

 

 

Phoenix Long-O. From the ashes.

Will try to be brief with this and just list my highs and lows from the 2 days. Since you're mostly out on your own, apart from criss-crossing with people on other courses you've no idea of your progression in the greater scheme of things. It was tough in parts but nothing like the terrain over Keilderhead last year. And I was getting pretty wasted toward the end of day1 with it being quite warm and sunny. But I had a much better time of it than on previous occasions and feel that I've risen from the ashes of previous performances in this event. 

Photos below show the B Course maps and CP descriptions, with the direct routes marked on, and my split time download, for each day.

(Open the photo and then click to 'view full size' for a clearer image, and to have a go at deciding which way you might have gone, if you're interested!)

The map and the little list of checkpoints you must visit (in that order) are what you get at the start. Then you mark on your route if you wish (Most people mark the straight-line route as I have done.) and away you go. Start times are staggered so competitors cant follow each other. I've not confused the maps any further by drawing on my ACTUAL (!) routes, suffice to say that I've gone considerably further than the indicated distances in order to choose, hopefully, less strenuous terrain. I estimate my total distances covered to be closer to miles than the distances given in km for the direct routes, ie: 18m day 1 and 16m day 2.

Low points: Sunburned knees/ Knee and ankle twinges (took too long a route on a road on day 1)/ Nettle stings, knees again, not good on top of previous sunburn!/ Why am I in the middle of this bracken patch!? (stupid route choice toward end of day2)/ Soaked on day2.

High points: Windy Gyle (literally!)/ Glorious weather day1/ Views FOREVER from the Border Ridge day1/ Not getting lost (major achievement)/ Running along Usway Burn day2/ Barrowburn Tea Rooms/ WINNING the B Course race. Yesss!

Not high or low: Will the real Quasimodo Crow please stand forward! After I entered this event I checked the entry list (About 21 per day on the longer courses A/B, more on the shorter) to see if there was anyone I recognised. The name Quasimodo Crow immediately jumped out at me, not because I know Quasimodo, but just for being such a brilliant name! How blind I (possibly) was. My father pointed out to me that a good orienteer might want to traverse the course, "as the crow flies" or, "in the manner of a crow," which is how the name Quasimodo Crow translates! I wanted your monicker to be the real deal Quasimodo, but have to suspect not! (Sincerest apologies if it is, by the way!)

Thanks to all from Newcastle & Tyneside Orienteers for organising such a great event.

 

Event Horizon.

Been out for one of my favourite longish runs this am. and feel compelled to remind/inform about some upcoming events which might be of interest to you in the next couple of months, most of which I've wittered incessantly about during training sessions.

Officially, entries for the Phoenix Long-O, based at Barrowburn next weekend, have now closed. But...unofficially they haven't because you can still enter online. www.newcastleorienteering.org.uk  Become acquainted with the term 'Get lost!' (in my experience)

I believe some WRC members are already in for the Cheviots Challenge, last Sat. of this month, 18 or 25miles, run or walk, non-competitive. Another navigating challenge. www.cheviotschallenge.org.uk

Norham RC have their annual 10k road race at the end of Sept. www.norhamrc.co.uk  Always popular.

And early Oct there is a new event organised by Borders Search & Rescue in connection with Active Berwick. This seems to be along similar lines to the Cheviots Challenge although the 2 courses on offer are marked and shorter at 16/23k. Based at Hownam. www.bordersar.org.uk

Finally, again in Oct, bit further afield, the Pentland Skyline. Also known as 'Kill Yourself For A Fiver.' Approach with caution, for this be quite tough! Not quite as long as the Chevy but with more climbing overall. LOTS of up-and-down, a bit of scope for getting lost and dramatic views of Edinburgh if it's clear. www.carnethy.com/ri_skyline.htm

 

 

Kelso Tri.

Another eagerly awaited foray into the world of one-piece lycra clothing and talc in the shoes! Kelso hosted the fifth in the Borders Sport & Leisure Trust Triathlon Series yesterday and I was feeling ready for action, bitten by the Tri bug. As the Hawick event, fourth of the six, had been the day after the Chevy Chase I'd wussed out of appearing there. Not a viable option really!

The best bit of preparation for this had been following up on the invite to go and recce the course with another tri mate, who shall henceforth be known as Big N. Although I'd been quite distracted with a sore tooth (see saga in a previous post) when we'd ventured around the cycle and run routes the week before last, our recce proved to be A Very Good Idea in that we discovered: 1-That the course was a bit longer than the others have been, by about 3k on the bike and 1k on the run, 2-That there was a bit more to that hill on the bike route than at first thought, and, 3-That there was a bit more to the rising section of the run circuit than at first thought and that some of that was up a couple of flights of steps. Gr-eat!

But, to the day itself. Up rolled Mr.S, bright and early in his trusty Tri-Taxi to drive me there. What marvellous service! A true gentleman. A first class chauffeur, certainly no loafer. Especially when it comes to running I might add. And, WRC take note, this enigmatic presence may be revealed as he has hopes of more time on his hands soon, some of which to possibly spend out with the club at training. Jolly good. We batted around our varying concerns about the event on the drive across from Belford, casting an eye at the overcast sky, wondering if threatening rain showers that were forecast would hold off. Would we have time to drive by some of the route beforehand so Mr.S could get an insight? Nope. Getting parked up and ready took precedence, but we did have time to spin round the run route on the bikes before registering and setting up kit in the transition zone.

Countdown. Mr.S was off in swim heat 3, I was away in heat 4. Big N has the better developed webbed appendages, gills, fins and other things that make for faster aquatic transit and was up there with the fast 'uns in heat 6. So there was time for banter, mostly tactic-talk, before any of us were under way. Had a blather with some other familiar faces too, Ben- a strong junior contender- eager to get a new bike frame out in race conditions, and another veteran, Doug, ready to tackle the three-horned beast for the umpteenth time. There's a different vibe, pre-race, at Tri events than at straightforward run meetings. At events such as these, where the starts are staggered, but probably even in mass-start swim events where it's not clear who's who until the competitors are out of the water, the feeling is that you're up against yourself more than racing the next person. The numerous variables seem to dispel any air of rivalry and a general feeling of camararderie prevails.

Eventually I was in the pool and under way for what became a good race for me. Basically, things went according to plan except, perhaps, for a minor hiccup on my clock-watching later in the proceedings. In the water I steered away from the adrenalised urge to simply get going which can knock the swim stroke out and concentrated on keeping steady until I got into the swing of it. Bore in mind what Ben had said to me earlier and tried to coincide catching anyone I was going to pass with being at the end of a length which is where you're allowed to pass. The swim felt smooth and I think I exited the pool first from the heat, no longer worried about lack of training in that department. 

Consequently I was out on my own once I got on the bike, at least for the first circuit of the 2-lap course. But I didn't mind because that tied in with my strategy to, again, have a steady start and then try put the hammer down later on if things felt OK. I did pass a couple of backmarkers from an earlier swim heat on my first lap but basically it was down to me to concentrate on keeping spinning and find my own pace. The circuit was, in brief, from Kelso approx 2 miles on the flat out to Ednam, followed by 2 miles rising to Stichill then the final stretch mostly downhill back to Kelso. On the flat at the start of the second lap two bikers from a later swim heat just starting their first lap came past on my shoulder. This was no bad thing at all. They came just at the right time to give me the spur to pick up my pace and have a bit race. I found myself wheeling the rest of that stretch at least 5mph faster than the first lap and not feeling bad going into the hill for the second time where, even with my modest steed I felt I could reel at least one of them in, despite their more expensive machinery. That I did. And managed to stay ahead for longer than I'd expected on the descent too which was a blur at approaching 40mph. An eyewatering approach to Kelso for the second time and for the, generally speaking, final and feared run leg.

It's quite a weird feeling transiting from bike to run and I've been pleasantly surprised at how quick the pace can be without feeling so. (This could be testimony to not warming up enough for straightforward run races!) My gait feels very long and bouncy and for the first mile or so it seems to be about clipping that bounding feeling to increase the stride  rate. The run was again a 2 lap affair going from the pool around the houses and along one of Kelso's boundary roads. All tarmac! The short flights of steps were more a novel interlude than a disruption but I doubt everyone felt that way. There were more folk in sight at various stages of their race now, both passing in the opposite direction on the bike leg and ahead on the run. So, there were targets to aim to catch. I went a steady first lap again and then tried to open up a bit on the second. My slight fluff with timing was thinking that a split time of 18:something for the run was my overall time of 1hr18:something at the point toward the end of the run when I glanced at the watch. If I'd realised I was, overall at that point, actually about 2 mins faster than I thought then I might've been spurred toward a harder effort in the closing stages. It was getting quite hot and humid though and so felt good to get across the line, get a drink and flop for a minute or two until the heart stopped pinballing around! 

Mr.S had been finished a while before me and seemed content with his race. He and I delayed departing for a while to cheer Big N through his transition from bike to run. He too was going well.

Within a few yards of the sanctuary of Mr S's camper-van the heavens opened. It came down stair-rods and must've been disruptive for those still out on the course, especially if cycling. Big N said it came as a welcome coolant for his running laps and Mr S said there'd been a short downpour on one part of the route when he was biking. My only dousing came whilst loading the bikes back up, so I was happy at that!

Obviously with a protracted event it takes a while for results to be collated but they appeared on a website later in the evening. Everything was rosy. I'd posted my highest placing yet, 9th overall/4th Vet from a field of 110+. Swim time was just a shade off my best,  I'd improved my ranking in the bike times, had relatively quick transitions and (I allowed myself a pat on the back) managed (just) to clock the fastest run leg of the day. Thus far my 'result of the year!' Mr.S maintained his position within the field overall and says he is bent on letting cycling activity lay waste to his forthcoming family holiday so he might rend the field asunder at the next outing. Big N improved his position against his last event I think and shows a determination to meet his personal challenge of the run leg head, or should that be trainers, on. Very strong junior contenders took the top slots in this event though, Jack Ferguson and Greg Turner, 1 and 2, were 2mins and 1min up respectively on third placed senior, Allister Short. Two other juniors, Ben Davidson and Angus Killean also made top 8.

Next stop, bit more local, a one off Tri at Berwick early Sept.

 

 

 

Powburn Show Hill Race.

Brief rewind to 2001, the last time I entertained the idea of doing this wee jaunt, and I remember rolling up at the show ground only to find the field deserted, the sign reading, "Cancelled due to Foot & Mouth." It should've been obvious that's what I'd find that day- every farm on my rounds at work had been off limits for a couple of months. 8 years ago though! 'Time flies,' I thought to myself when setting off from Belford to try get on the start line this year.

Weather didn't look very promising on the drive across. Only the Cheviot foothills visible, everything else blotted out under a purpley-grey smudge, smeared across with a south westerly breeze. Could be rain, could be monsoon, could be......

...Not too bad actually as things turned out. Rain stayed off, breeze dropped away to nothing really and the sun tried to make an appearance, turning conditions just to the overly-warm side of comfortable. But not unpleasant. Glen & Jack smoothly shepherded the entrants into the starting area and the 20 to 30 of us were soon ready to run, looking  ahead at the straightforward course which took us out to the nearest bump on the landscape about 2 miles away (East Hill I believe) then up it. And back again. The only fore-warning was that there was a river crossing to be negotiated in each direction! How deep? Various hands on various legs indicated various depths. So...  that'd be somewhere between ankle and crotch depth then!

I was a little apprehensive. For no other reason than Jack breezily saying, as soon as he saw me approaching to register, "Well! That's a good 1-2-3 then! Phil Sanderson, Ian Twaddle and Adam!" Nice to get such a strong vote of confidence but.....well....no pressure!

The strongmen huffed and puffed in the main ring, ewes and rams bleated in their pens as judges cast their expert eye over, a show official strode over to announce the race (Who had also very kindly donated a lot of the quite substantial prize money from his own pocket.) and then Glen shouted 'the off.'

Straight away the race set up as a two-man showdown between Phil and Ian with, after reeling in a couple of frisky Low Fell runners who took off at a belt, me pottering along in 3rd place a hundred or some yards behind. Phil didn't seem to go away at quite his usual pace and it looked as if he and Ian were weighing each other up during the first half, waiting to see if the other would make a move. As well as the river crossing (stony, about knee-deep as it was) there were numerous gates and stiles en-route too as we crossed from field to field and eventually up the hill. Varying terrain underfoot too- grass, soft and hard track and a bit of road. What the feet are landing on doesn't bother me too much but I'm a picky bugger when it comes to opening gates and jumping stiles and the like- don't get on well with getting my stride broken once I've got going, so such obstacles are always a challenge.

Approaching the top of the hill I met Phil and Ian who'd made the turn. Phil seemed to have got away a bit and that became clear once I turned and saw him opening up the gap on Ian which he continued to do during the return leg. I didn't realise it at the time but the strong fourth place runner who, whilst not breathing down my neck exactly, always seemed to be within striking distance behind, was Phil's younger brother. I dug in during the last third of the way and got myself into more space to secure third place then coasted in the last quarter mile.

The surprise of the day for me had been to discover that Ian Twaddle was wearing the Wooler vest for this outing and that he had high hopes for us to take the team prize. Like Jack with the 1-2-3 prediction, he wasn't wrong. Soon after crossing the line I trotted back a bit to see how Jack and John were fairing and how we might do on points. It turned out that Jack's 10th place (Which put him as 1st local) was enough to do it, Wooler gents first place!

The ladies that turned out to compete had a good day of it! I believe they were three in number, although could be wrong at that, and so were assured of each getting a share of the prize money. Now that's what I call organisation! I hereby propose that all runners in the area draw up a rota of just who is going to turn up at each race in the calendar, only three at a time though so that everybody gets a turn on the podium.

Well done one and all, and thanks again to Glen for another great course. Unfortunately I wasn't able to get up to Hethpool for the new College Valley course on sunday so hope everyone had a good day there.

Tooth Fairy.

All hail my wonderous dentist! I bow before her, praise her healing powers!

A recently awkward resident in my upper right jaw has been evicted.

Fortunately I've only managed to sprout 2 wisdom teeth in my time, both Uppers. They came through about 20 years ago without much hassle at all, but the right hand side one was slightly impacted against the rear molar and grew at a bit of an outward angle. Quite a pointy-crowned little 'back-of-the-classroom' distraction, it was a little abrasive against the cheek interior as it grew through but settled down to be little trouble thereafter. Apart from being difficult to clean around that is. Daily oral rummaging with brush and floss and picks to keep things good.

However, a couple of weeks ago it started to make its presence felt a bit more insistently. What was that sudden throb of pain about the right hand side of the jaw which materialised after a surf session then amplified for half an hour- sending a jolt up some neural mainline behind the right eyeball?  Cold water tweaking some sensitive gum tissue? Had some of the sea seeped into a previously un-douched forehead cavity, jangling a nerve therein? (Salt water re-appearing some time after surfing, having been caught in the sinuses, is quite common and usually comes as a nasal waterfall in the middle of a polite evening meal or suchlike!)  Jeezus H...!... What if rolling around in a boisterous sea had suddenly disturbed some dormant brain tumour which was about to......?

That warning flash faded as quickly as it materialised though. I ruled toothache out. And brain tumours and all the rest of it. Put it down to being knackered, a freak headache. Nowt to worry about man.

Then, Tuesday this week and here we go again. Same deal. Just finishing a short but moderately strenuous little walk with Sarah and the kids. So- feeling a bit tired, and suddenly it's Black & Decker to the right jaw and eye-socket Sir, and get-your-head-in-your-hands for an hour. Again the pain came and went without reappearing that day. Again I tried not to think too much of it, putting it down to tiredness.

Wednesday and Thursday let me know what the story was though. From Wed. evening and intermittently through Thurs. there were repeating waves of nagging pain. Don't much care for taking painkillers but that became necessary both nights to get to sleep. Swilling a bit of water around in my mouth was enough to completely alleviate the twang for a while during the day but that certainly pointed out that the root cause must be oral in origin. The only minor trouble zone in my gob for years had been said wisdom tooth and come yesterday morning I'd eventually accepted that I needed help and that that help lay somewhere behind a dentist's door.

Retrospectively I'd been trying to sidle around all the 'Horror Stories' hadn't I. Because, basically, there aren't any rolling-in the-aisles funny, or usually even remotely reassuring stories about teeth, wisdom teeth or dentists. Fact! I'd got out for a run on Thurs. and a day later was trying to psyche myself up for some dental surgery inevitability or other and this was all welling up into some kind of personal Marathon Man horror scenario with me as the unfortunate victim. Yep. I was feeling a little sorry for meself!

I don't want to sicken anyone who's had an eternity or an agonising wait, or both, to see a dentist, but here's what happened.

I felt I had a little luck on my side in that I've been on holiday this week so didn't have to bunk work to go try sort some treatment out. But, I'd been told that our local dentist, who is conveniently situated in the village and merely 5 mins walk away wasn't at work at present, so I was just expecting to find emergency contact details on the surgery door and take it from there. I don't want to go too far into why I'd been told that the dentist wasn't at work, suffice to say that she has suffered illness recently which has meant surgery and courses of treatment for her. But- at work she indeed was and has been in spite of her setbacks, albeit just for the mornings recently. So- the second stroke of luck was that I was on the other side of the surgery door alot sooner than expected and the third stroke of luck chimed quick as she was prepared to at least consult about my problem just as soon as she'd finished scale-and-polishing the family foursome already there, thank you very much. (It was 11.30, the morning session was to finish at 1, and she had three other people to see after the family she was treating when I walked in, and who started to appear as I sat feeling alternately the most miserable and then the luckiest of specimens!)

What can I say?!

 As soon as she'd had a look and a tap at the offending tooth there was a flurry of words between us and the final scene was set. A gap between tooth and gum. Infection, maybe hidden decay. Antibiotics and see if the pain clears up? (I weighed the possibilities feeling detached, doomed, frankly-scared! What to do? I knew she'd be away from work for a while in another week's time for her own treatment to commence again. Her own health concerns dwarfing my problem a thousandfold. And yet, right now she was bright, cheerful, reassuring and ready to strike while the iron was hot.) "I take it out now for you! Done in 2 minutes. Won't be so bad. You only ever hear the horror stories....."

What could I say?! No havering now. No holding up the queue I'd managed to jump. Decision time. 

"Go ahead. Do it." And I didn't mind openly confessing my nervousness.

Those hypodermics look huge up close to your face! There were 2 of them, and that was the worst bit really. The leg came up a little from the chair while I was reclined and the second needle went in! Then I sat up, got up, walked around the room a little as the anaesthetic started to make my face feel like a cubist painting, all previous perspective peculiarly perverted. Sat back down as she reassured me again, explaining how the extraction would feel which, in the end, probably took longer than actually pulling the thing.

Those forceps look huge up close to your face too, but their image was only floating across my field of vision rather than being horribly etched onto it Clockwork Orange stylee. For the few seconds that the wiggle-and-then-pull operation took all I could feel was awe and admiration for the steely determination it must take, no matter how familiar the procedure is, to reach inside someone else's face and wrench from there a part of them whilst maintaining such calm professionalism and kindliness to keep the patient at ease. Really, I had... nowt to worry about (lucky) man!

"So, will any sort of painkiller do later on when this anaesthetic wears off Jeanette?"

"Oh! I don't think you will have any problem!"

I didn't.

 

 

 

 

 

Full of Beans.

A little phase of the garden calendar, one of my favourites, has almost passed.

First came the garlic, from autumn planting, eagerly awaited. Impatience ultimately over-rides and up they all come, ready or not. A few bulbs have "popped," so to speak. Softened. Gone mouldy. Started to rot. Had it. But most come up trumps and are strung up to dry.

Glee! There might be the best part of a years supply!

A mental sentry is posted awaiting the next in line.The Broad Beans.

The first, from autumn planting, swell and are ready a couple of weeks later. And over July more, from a spring planting to fill in gaps where some autumnal ones failed, are ready to harvest. Although there's plenty they don't last long!

"We could freeze some. Look, there's loads..."

Fat chance. Almost every day some more are picked fresh, given a quick simmer and stirred around with a minced clove of the garlic, chopped mint and lemon juice. Too good. All fantasies of a freezerful of the things evaporate in the feeding frenzy.

And then they're all gone. One last picking remains, to be devoured....soon. I mourn their passing....

But...already batallions of courgettes are appearing on the horizon. Each day they seem to double in size! I've overplanted somewhat and I don't think we can eat our way out of this one. (The kids aren't keen.) Into the frying pan they go as fast as they ripen, more garlic, lemon juice or maybe yoghurt. A vegetable treadmill.

"Can we give some of these away Adam?" (I'm deemed responsible, being the fool who planted so many.) 

"Are ye crazy woman! Fer chrissakes hurl them away before we go under!"

Next exciting port of call will, hopefully, be- Tomatoes.

Wave count.

Wave on! Wave goodbye to a good nights sleep.

More nice swell this week means that common sense has gone out the window. Go to work/finish work/get home/get gear, whilst avoiding time-consuming activities like communicating with the family (forgive me for I have sinned)/screech to the beach/surf until limbs fall off & eyes drop out and fingers look like prunes/crawl home/get domestic/attempt Dutiful Dad role in a bleary haze/sleep fitfully/try to undo head from vice when 5am alarm goes/wake up when in the sea again and the cold water hits/surf until brain turns to dessicated putty/go to work.....coda.

Amongst the flurry of activity, the stand-out bits were watching JC going at the little hollow lefts low-tide Bamburgh on Mon. night. Ripping, shredding, tearing, and all other wave-salad making verbage my friends! Verily I say unto thee that he was "Killing It!" And- sunshine coupled with squeaky-clean waves, again at Bamburgh, on Wed. evening. Oh Happy Day! Quite a few of us out, making the most of sets from 2ft up to....oooh...almost head-high on the good 'uns. I'd like to think I mirrored JC's Monday night antics on some mid-beach righthanders as some long peeling (more salad making!) walls were offering up scope for gee-ing up plenty of speed and space for good carving (aha, the meat course!) Good times. Hilarity reigned in the end, at least for DW and I, when tiredness started to turn the conversation a bit surreal and the "Casey Jones Whistling Butt-Plug (pat. pending)" idea materialised. Do the Chattanooga Choo-Choo and lower the tone at any event! DW said he had to leave 'cos he was getting too tired to catch any more waves but choking with laughter can't have helped.

Phoenix.

Just at the point of talking myself into this again, perhaps....

www.newcastleorienteering.org.uk/phoenix/phoenix.html

The Phoenix will be right up your street, or rather...hill, if you're sick of leading or following everyone else around a pre-marked course.

You have to find your own way and stealthily hunt down the cunningly concealed sportident checkpoints. It's great. Your brain needs to go as fast as your legs as you scrutinise your map (and perhaps compass) on the hoof. I've had some spectacular disasters because mine didn't and I've ended up blundering around various bits of the Cheviots cursing softly to myself or any of the random passers-by. Lost!

I say "random passers-by" because a variety of courses of differing lengths and difficulties (some categories can be entered as a pair) means that the competition area is soon being criss-crossed by people following their different courses or maybe the same course as you, but in a different way! Might it be safe to follow him over there, he seems to know what he's doing. If the 'him over there' is me then, on previous form in this one, the answer is 'no.'

Last year it was up around Keilderhead, and by most people's comments, a very tough year. This year it is centered at Barrowburn so most terrain should be a bit easier going. Usually 4 courses are available and you can enter for one or two days worth of punishment/fun.

 

 

The week that was....

Was filled with waves, wedding and wunning

Seven days straight with surf. Not unheard of, but not exactly a common occurrence either. The summer scenario can have a ridge of low pressure sandwiched in the North Sea which is what we got, making swell run through for the time it was stuck there. Wind directions didn't entirely play ball every day so it was a case of scouting around for places with the best approximation to an offshore, or choosing ones time of day when the winds were lower.

The 2 cleanest, although smaller days, bookended bigger and bumpier conditions on those in between. Went down to Bamburgh Mon.6th, not really expecting much on the basis of the forecast but scored 2ft to shoulder high waves which were clean and peeling. Got pounded after fluffing a late take-off on a backhander. Dinged tail rail on the board and a gash to the shin but, strangely, no wetsuit damage. The evening of Sun 12th had similar conditions at Bamburgh again and a raft of people taking advantage. Apologies to the guy I dropped in on- my fault- another wee accident resulting in more board damage pour moi. Bah! Will have to get some wing-mirrors.

Tue.7th/Wed.8th- waves were quite a bit bigger and winds too northerly for most spots. Swell was big enough to get  into Annstead Bay and give some OK clean waves. I was out both nights with AM, and also surf-stranger The Baron, on day release from his castle on the Wed. Fun stuff but a little tame.

Too knackered Thurs.9th, but probably should've made the effort and ventured a bit further south. Have seen some photos of "a certain spot" looking quite tasty at low-tide on either that day or the Fri. Good result for those that scored it! I had stuff to do in preparation for going up to Glasgow on Thurs. eve for my sister's wedding on the Fri. That turned out to be a super day on all counts and thoughts of missed surf weren't to be found in my head or even floating in the nearby vicinity.

Made it out again on Sat., once back in the locale, but things were still at bit boisterous at Bamburgh.

Punchy left goes begging amidst the mush.

Two brief sessions spent struggling with unpredictable surges bringing huge outside bombs that seemed to focus their energies right in the direction of yours truly. Rewards of rideable ones were few and far between, but exhilerating nevertheless. I saw sense eventually and bailed to conserve energy for the Coastal Run the next day- which was a good opportunity to check spots between Beadnell and Alnmouth including "a certain spot" previously mentioned.

Coastal Run 2009.

Well done to all involved on today's Coastal Run.

Not much to say about this one despite it being another favourite on the race calendar. I've participated in it.....ummm....several....ten?....eleven?.....I lost count of how many times. But, it's another NE race that deserves its popularity and status as Race Of The Year. A nice departure from your usual half-marathon turn along some tarmac somewhere. "I do like to be beside the seaside" too, but it's a bit distracting watching the waves rolling in during the course of a race! (Yes! Long awaited surf has been indulged in this week!)

Conditions often seem on a par with today's. The headwind probably slowed things up generally. I've posted times from around 1hr 33 to a pb of about 1hr 18 for the route, but my time today of around 1hr 27 was a bit down on the run of gradual improvements I've made in previous years which I'm attributing to that wind and the wetter sands than past couple of years. The wind was welcome from my point of view giving a bit of necessary cooling. Heat has been a problem in previous years but not excessive today.

With the course being basically flat my strategy for it has been to study the route, break it into 12ths and aim for 7min 30s on each 12th for an overall time of 1hr 30. Seems to work for me. If I'm ahead of pace early on it gives a good mental boost and the choice to reign things in a bit or try and keep ahead of schedule until later on then, depending on how I feel, start to race a bit. Today I was fairly evenly paced, knew I was going to get in under 1:30 barring any collapses and I reeled a few in during the second half of the course which kept me going through the bits I find tough (road section through Boulmer and last beach stretch to finish) Quite, thankfully, uneventful really!

Hope you all had a good time.

Here's some (not very good) piccies. Apologies to Simon- whose photo got accidentally deleted in processing, Sarah- who I only managed to take from behind (!), and Victoria & Nathalie who I didn't catch because I had to split with my lift back home. I would've missed the whispering swish of Claire's passing were it not for the, "Oi! Adam! Over here!"...or words to that effect. Nick seems to be pulling along a posse of admirers, is this his fan-club?

Chevy Chase: The Quest for 3:15:00...

Well...couldn't make the post race soiree at the Youth Hostel...so will just have to post my ramblings here and hope that you all had a, dare I say it, FUN day!

On the subject of fun, the Dr Seuss quotation on one of the wee signs along the Hellpath brought to mind this page from one of his books, an apt summary of yesterday.

Chevy 09-The Hellpath.

However, for me anyway, the Hellpath was where the fun, if you could call it that, ran- or rather, walked- out.

All had been going so well. To be realistic, having studied the splits, I wasn't going to get under 3hrs 15 which has been a personal goal for The Chevy, but until Hellpath CP I was well on course for improvement on the 3:20:something of last year and possibly a PB too. (How far back can we get results for the race?)

Taking it easy early soon became the sensible strategy. In fact, going down the Hellpath was where I first picked up on an updraft of heat from the earth which came as an early warning. So...steady as she goes...regular sips at the bottle and wherever else there was an opportunity for water and forget about those up ahead! DONT RACE! Keep the stride rhythm going and enjoy the boosts of congratulation from the walkers.

Cheviot Summit soon came. Despite the heat I knew my time was round about last year's and, with regard to the competition, things took a nudge in my favour. Course knowledge acts in one's favour from here and a couple of race newcomers up ahead went onward from the trig-point a bit too far. I cut across the fence asap, bore down the valley on the steepest contours before picking up on, possibly for the first time ever, the optimum line for the Hedgehope ascent which resulted in a couple of places gain for no extra effort. I knew my Cheviot-Hedgehope split equalled the best I'd done previously and the legs had dealt with the Cheviot descent much better than before. There were 2 runners ahead within striking distance and the back of my hand was less familiar than the Hedgehope-Langlee stretch.

Down Hegehope steadily, thighs still OK with that, and clear obvious track ahead. I passed one of the guys in front who was frustrated with a bad blister and wished him luck. On the path to Long Crag another waft of heat came up at me from the earth and I reigned in the temptation to try and catch next ahead, Keith Mackie from South Shields, an old club-mate from my time with them, and regular Chevy participant. But then weird fortune went in my favour again because Keith went wrong exactly where I did last year and bore too far left after Long Crag. Having recce'd this bit last week, in the fog, I knew exactly which sheep-track to follow. What stopped me from trying to hail Keith, not that he'd have heard me, was thinking that he might possibly be heading down to retire. Was this a subconscious desire of mine though...? Although I knew I'd redeemed last year's foul up on this section (4 mins better by now) I was feeling the pinch of the heat almost constantly.

But then, another bit of sweet relief! For a few minutes between Langlee-Brands Corner there was some cloud cover and cooling of the air. "OH YES!" Thought I. "Just the ticket!" Brief respite though as the sun reappeared equally quickly in all its glory. However, Brands Corner is a sort of 'the end is in sight' spot, I was still keeping momentum and at the bend in the wall where you turn down toward the Happy Valley fortune seemed to be smiling on me again. Here was yet another one of the runners ahead, standing, hands on hips, looking either wasted or bamboozled. I don't glory in another's misfortune, so asked if he was OK.

"Wassup mate? Knackered?"

"Naw. Just got myself lost."

"Straight on mate. We'll pick up the track to the Carey Burn Bridge in just a minute. About 4 miles to go. One more hill."

We ran together until the top of Hellpath, but what he hadn't said when he said he was lost was that he'd bypassed the Brands Corner CP completely! Whoops!

He though bore witness to me 'blowing-up/hitting the wall/mega-bonking' or whatever you want to call it. In fact I actually expressed my concern to him that I might suffer that fate as we ran along the Carey Burn. All the telltale signs were manifesting. The legs aren't lifting quite so high and you clip a stone and stumble. (A sprawling fall just before the footbridge, then a stumble on the stony track before the waterfall) That breaks up your rhythm and breathing. Little cramps start up. (My calves were rippling with niggles under the long socks, a really freaky feeling!) A bit of a flickering sensation across the field of vision turns to dizziness...

Maybe if I'd just walked all the Hellpath? But I got into a trot again after stopping for water then walking the first steep stretch, and thought things were still in control. But, by the gate (That's a gate, and not a wall. Ha Ha!) my head just climbed aboard the Waltzers leaving the rest of me to pay the fare. Mister Lost got into his stride again and made for the farm whilst I did my best to put one foot in front of the other and watched my watch mercilessly ticking away the precious time gain I'd made. Oh bugger!

Got to the farm. Still couldn't run. Dejected. Mister Lost must've been too. He'd had to stop at the farm gate and wait for me to stagger up so he could ask directions again! In my current state I was a bit less sympathetic.

"This IS the same way we ran out you know!?" Indicating the quite well trodden grass across the field to the left of the farm..

Off he went. And was shortly followed by Mister Blister, Keith and one other who all passed me together as I trudged miserably on. Keith offered encouragement, "Come on Adam lad. I know how you feel!" I should've tried to shout him from going wrong earlier. I crammed about 5 glucose tablets into my dry mouth and told myself I was going to start running again when 3:20 ticked over. Gordon Dixon came tappy-lapping past at a great clip on the road and that spurred me on to get going again for the last mile. The curtain somehow lifted and I was running again. Just caught Mister Blister who was down to a walk at the turn off the road, and then it was the welcoming sound of the spectators clapping before the final turn...

As to the organisation... What can I say? Smooth and seamless. It's a great event and duly popular. I'm sure that it'll be a firm fixture for me as long as I'm capable. This year I was initially too focussed then latterly too knackered to acknowledge and thank the long-suffering marshals who must've had an equally brutal day out in the heat, so I take the opportunity now. Hope some of you have time to blog up or e-mail your experiences since I wasn't there for the crack last night.

 

 

 

Chevy- Walkers Start.

The Hills Are Alive....

....With the sound of.....WRC members puffing and panting their various ways through Chevy preparations!

It's a different kettle of fish when the mists come down. Let's hope we get a clear, cool day next Sat. Whatever happens, conditions could be worse (see photo)

Just want to stick my oar in and wish all participants, organisers and others involved next week the best of luck. See you all, steely-eyed with competitive zeal, at the start.

Cheviots Easter 08

Peebles Triathlon.

Peebles Tri was third in the Borders Sport & Leisure Trust series for this year. What an idyllic setting, listening to the pre-race briefing with harmonious church bells pealing in the background.

It was Sprint distance: 750m swim/20k bike/5k run.

I had the benefit of experience at this distance at Eyemouth last season and then Gala in April and so, with prior knowledge that the bike route was mostly flat and the run wholly so, had decided this was going to be a flat-out burn as best I could manage. Maybe that approach should've been tempered a little because trying to go too quickly too soon in the swim was a mistake. Truth be told I hadn't been near a swimming pool to do any training since racing at Selkirk, nor has there been any surf worth paddling for since April. So... what improvements I had been making in the water were lost as I thrashed the first ten lengths or so and got out of puff. Eventually got focussed on the rhythm and stroke length and settled into the rest of it though without, in the end, losing much on my previous best swim time.

Made a bit of an improvement on my bike time. I'd expected this since Peebles was the flattest bike course so far, a picturesque out and back on the B7062 to the south of the Tweed. There was one hill to contend with at a 1/4 then 3/4 the way and this seemed to be to my advantage as it was there, on the return leg, that I caught the one chap from my swim heat who'd exited the pool before me. No-one else from the same swim heat managed to catch me on the bike, which was a first- and my minor victory of the day.

Onto the run, where I ended up going marginally slower than at Gala. This was a 2-lapper utilising both sides of the Tweed and 2 footbridges to form a loop. Very nice. And mercifully flat. Although heavy rain probably cooled things a little for later competitors the sun was still dishing out the degrees while I and others were running and this was where I was feeling things were ganging up on me a bit. One too many drinks at Mr. & Mrs Mosses party the night before. Not enough sleep and an early start. Having to do my own driving!!! (My treacherous chauffeur, Mr.S., had the nerve to use his camper for he and his wife to rough it and make the journey to Peebles an overnight one! ) However, just ducked in under 18minutes anyway and that was it, an overall 14th place from about 90 odd, 4th Vet, 1hr:07:43 an ever-so-slight new PB.

(I suspect Mr.S might prefer to take his good lady for company in future, rather than driving yours truly, 'cos he well and truly killed his previous best time! Well done!)

Alnwinton Fell Race.

There were masses of vehicles parked around Alnwinton village, which turned out to mostly be those of folk participating in the walking of the Alnwinton Round (Pretty much the Fell Race route in reverse from what I could gather), so my first thought on driving down the approach road was, "Jeez! Popular!" However...35 runners in total turned out to be fewer than last year.

Cool, dry conditions, with just a light breeze made for good running and we all got away up Clennel Street at the start to steadily climb the first 5 miles or so. Broad grass track gives way to hardcore forest road where Clennel St. hits and skirts Kidland Forest. Alot of felling and clearing has gone on since I was last that way so the made-up roads are much more widespread now, the same kind of thing we're familiar with on the Broadstruther approach. Not the easiest going underfoot!

Phil Sanderson had taken his usual early lead and gone away to vanishing point before the rest of us mere mortals broke sweat. I never saw him after Checkpoint1 but I'd settled into a tippy-tap in 3rd place up the first climbs and felt rather good. Kept my eye on the second-placer about 30m ahead, confident I could rein him in before CP2 and thinking I'd fall in at his pace thereafter to steady the ship a bit. But....after a bit of cut-and-thrust when I drew level, and then another wee rise, he seemed to tire and I just went with holding my own pace and hoping for the best. Eventually a fork on the road cut the route through the forest to the second checkpoint just before breaking out onto the open fell. Shortly after, at a turn on the track approaching the start of the Bloodybush Edge climb, I allowed myself one backward glance to see what ground I'd made and an empty horizon to the rear (and to the fore- Phil being long gone!) seemed to say to me that second place was my destiny for the day.

Which turned out to be the case. The racing part of the race was done and it was me and the open hills for a while after that. Lovely vistas all round from atop Bloodybush and Cushat Law. The best conditions you could hope for underfoot. Dry springy tracks (this bodes well for the Chevy!) and distinct absence of pond conditions where I've been totally mired on previous occasions. (The dip between Bloodybush and Cushat is often a short swim.) And friendly greetings from walkers looping round in the opposite direction. The clock kept on giving me a nudge to try put the foot down a bit more but I resisted that urge, not having done this race before and also being a bit cautious since I'd opted to not carry any water with me.

Straight down off Cushat Law and into the forest, onto the hard track again. Jack had said this bit was uncomfortably hot last year, partly why I'd resisted the urge to go bonkers over the fells. Good move. Heat wasn't a problem but the feet felt the slapping on the hardcore, particularly on a first steep descent. I'd been going to run in more cushioned shoes than my Walshies too... However...plod on. Winding down through the woods for a couple of miles until CP5 which comes just before the "sting-in-the-tail," a Hellpath-style killer hill about a mile and a half from home. Kept it going up that and bit my tongue on hearing the remark from a descending walker, "You must be mad....!"

("Yes! I'm totally insane. Driven so by such outstanding commentary on the desire to run up hills...")

Final descent down the last mile or so, common to the outward start stretch, and that was it. 14 miles and 2900ft worth of Northumbrian fun! Claire (1st Lady), Jack and Rob made the journey too, well done to all, and it was great there were teammates there to witness my first Wooler RC vest airing. 

 

Top Ten Inspirational Runners.

Purely personal perspective. No particular order.
1. Steve Ovett. Middle Distance track. A lot of other athletes wore him like a rucksac, for about 1300metres, until he undid the straps and jumped out to sprint past in the last 200. Master tactical racer, arguably prone to the odd mistake with that approach though. Big inspiration for me in my teens. Coe? No.
2. Edwin Moses. 400m hurdler. Any number of archive video snippets exist that are testimony to the mesmeric grace of this man's running. Putting aside the record number of race wins in a row, the various associated glories, and what he has done for the world of athletics, he was poetry in motion.
3. Usain Bolt. Sprinter. Likewise. Bang...whooosh. Just so eeeeasy!
4. Joss Naylor. Fells. (Thank you Karl for reminding me of a name here, so I didn't have to type "fell running shepherd" into the search engine! ) True grit. Embodies some of the spirit which I'm sure takes most Wooler RC members out to the hills. Seem to remember seeing something about Fell Running on World Of Sport once when I was but a lad, a strange juxtaposition to the usual football, rugby and wrestling. Would it have appeared there without this fellow following its path? I doubt it.
5. Kelly Holmes. Middle Distance track. Her double at 2004 Olympics was brilliant to watch. I love the photos of her just realising her victory in those races and bursting with the joy of the moment.
6. Bruce Tulloh. Middle Distance track. Although coming to the fore on the track in the late 50's/early 60's, this man's name came to my attention via a book he wrote later about his run across the USA. 'Four Million Footsteps' is the title to look for, and good luck to you should you try 'cos it's hard to come by!  Several runners have made a similar slog across the States, but Bruce was the first and his book had me gripped. Endurance? In short; 44miles/day average for 65 days..... Energy gel, anyone?

Surf...

Wish I could say that surf was, "like the buses..."

You wait ages for a swell and then 3 come along at once.

Better Days...

Errrr. NOT!

To carry through the bus analogy though, and assuming an average wait for a bus to be 10mins and the average gap between swells with rideable waves to be about 2 weeks, then what we have just experienced is...

50 minutes at the bus-stop without ANY traffic on our side of the street at all. Never mind buses. No cars either. No lorries. Not even a stray moped you could thumb a lift on. Nothing. Zero. Zilch. Then, on the horizon at the end of the street.....hope at last! Something looming into view that we can hop a ride on! Oh, what transport of delight...!?

What indeed?

Seems the bus company have dispensed with their clean-lined, smooth operating, easy-aboard vehicles that we love so much and what has rolled up instead isn't the Number 5 to Surfer's Paradise but rather a f#*ked up combine-harvester with a drunk driver and a conductor ready to punch your face instead of your ticket-to-ride.

All aboard?

Some of us hopped on this dismal swell, rabid with waiting for weeks on end, but it was pur....itty shitty. I got in at Embleton, rolled about for an hour-and-a-half and managed to tap out a couple of longer but crumbly waves almost to the beach from the line-up, along with a host of short bursts on collapsing sections. Just one wave pitched up a hollow few yards of a wall for a brief jolt of proper down-the-line speed. Hardly a jaded battery re-charging session though, all-in-all.

"What was the surf like Adam?"

"Blue."