Black Rock 5 23/6/06
As the PRC clan gathered at the community centre who should saunter by but
Willie Murray, taut and tanned from the Costa del Crime where each morning
he runs along a nudist beach averting his eyes from the aerobics class where
fifty German schlongs swing to the rhythm of Ola Cucharacha.
But it was oh, so different in Kinghorn. A grim breeze skimmed off the
Forth and sullen clouds gathered over the 700-800 hardy souls prepared to
not only to run through wet sand but go up to their knees in water around
the Black Rock, and all for the sake of a bottle of beer and a banana.
Over the years I've run against Willie on many occasions and despite the
(obviously) substantial difference in our ages, he has always managed to
keep his spindly shanks going faster than mine and turned in some very good
times.
At the start I was a few paces behind him and kept it that way up the steep
hill and over the brow, managing to just catch him going down onto the sand
whereupon he scuttled ahead by about twenty metres. Around the rock and
back and I had the feeling I was still in touch, but then I saw Zoe a little
ahead of Willie. How she got there I don't know, because I was sure I had
spoken to her behind me as the whistle went. Willie went past her but I was
gaining on them both and had almost reached Zoe when she shot ahead on the
climb off the sand and began to pursue and then overtake Willie up the long
uphill stretch.
I battled on behind them, gasping for air, my lungs as useful as a pair of
Ryanair sickbags. Uphill has never been my thing. On the flat though I began
to pull Willie in and I knew that with gravity on my side I could catch him
on the steep downhill just before the sting in the tail. I passed him with
what I thought was considerable aplomb but was unable to catch Zoe who
darted up the final hill into the gate having run a well-judged, competitive
race.
What went on at the front of the race I have no idea but as a perennial
midfield runner I have learned one thing: Winning isn't everything - BEATING
WILLIE MURRAY IS!Report Douglas Young
Its
a strange type of masochism - sprinting over pretty grim
terrain; yet the combination of beach and tarmac brings 750 runners together for a short race and a long evening outside a pub chatting away until the late train returns us back over the bridge to Edinburgh. Somehow the hardship of the race is forgotten and the free beer is remembered. And I'm sure HBT in league with new sponsor the Ship Tavern hijacked the 10 o'clock train so we all had to stay and wait for the eleven o'clock train - outside the pub. This we reluctantly did - which meant we also saw the prizegiving which featured Julia as 5th woman, Gillian as 1st LV45 and Mary as 3rd LV35. Bottles and envelopes all round.
Also good to see Kenny back racing - I thought I recognised him going past towards the end of the sandy stuff but since he wasn't wearing a PRC vest and didn't say hello I assumed it was just a hallucination on account of the oxygen deprivation.
Wandered around for a bit taking photos but missed loads (even Mary). The new sponsor worked well with what looked like a reasonable BBQ and a couple of beers later I was reduced to a blethering fool. Don't get me started on Scot Rail, barriers, cheap day returns etc. Can't remember the race much except thinking I might catch Gerry once we get back onto dry land... Not a chance.
pbResults here
Photos Peter BuchananSome more photos just in from Andrew and Julia Henderson...
