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.