Largo Law Hill Race 7/08/10
Twin peaks of Largo LawDespite spending most of the week feeling I could nod off if I sat in a comfy chair for 2 minutes, the thought of Largo Law got my heart racing. Mary had proposed a parkrun and I felt maybe I could do both but I was defo up for Largo Law. Last year I came second and time before that in 2007 I cycled home with booty on the bike as well. We opted to sleep through Parkrun and got up just in time to hurry across for a 3pm start. Of course pot fever is usually a precursor to placing 16th vet but hell, any course that has 4 stream crossings, 5 miles (of 6.8m) of beautiful trails and a free pint at the finish for £5 inclusive, rates 9.5 out of 10 before you even get to prizegiving.
As we drove Fifewards over the bridge (the car can now do this on its own and Mary and I sit in the back seats chatting and playing cards) there was a looming grey sky that let go a massive downpour that was forecast for 4pm but showed up and cleared off giving us much better racing weather.
We arrived with little time to spare and were nearly last to register and make our way up from the Crusoe Hotel to the start line, where we met Porty Paul and a host of familiar faces from the Fife racing circuit. Then without too much fuss we were off up the inclined 100 yards of tarmac that starts and finishes the event. I had advised Mary to belt up, as immediately you turn left there is a gate which forms a log jam and you don't want to get stuck behind slower runners through Keil's Den, a delightful riverside trail that undulates through the woody ferny loveliness. Never knowingly restraining myself at the start of a race I enjoyed a clear passage at the gate, unhindered in second place. I knew this wouldn't last as I saw there was a considerably stronger field than last year though I held out for higher than 16th vet.
Very soon the manicured cinder path leads off onto a dirt path which crosses the stream. We had wondered on the way over if the flash flood would have increased this to a raging torrent but it was pretty much a passive ankle depth at worst, and of the head-down-and-charge-across variety. I was in third and held this for a surprising length of time enjoying the singletrack path through the ferns that don't easily allow overtaking.
The guy in front of Mary made a good job of nearly headlonging it into the river. Sadly I wasn't expecting this so missed the action.
And was back on his feet by this shot.Across the road which I mistook for the second road crossing and Davie B shouted "straight across." This was about the last time I was ahead of him – “I thought you did this last year?” “Well yes and for the second time, but when I run at this pace all but the essential functions are closed down and blood is diverted from the brain” is what I didn't take the time to say.
More delightful trails, where in 2007 everyone got extra value for money being stung by infuriated wasps both on the way out and if you were really lucky on the backside too. Then across the second road where you drop down the hill turn left and pass the graveyard. People may have been offering water here or maybe not. I was wondering how much ground I would lose as we approached the titular hill. There is a long quite steep run from the farm up to the start of the hill proper in order to prepare your legs for the mashing they are about to receive.
As I went into hands on knees mode I realised how warm the day was: my hands and thighs were wringing wet and so it was difficult to get much purchase as we hiked upwards. The ground was a bit slippy in places but nothing like the mudbaths of 2007. I was pleased to be following local Davie as he would take the best line, however as we climbed it turned out several folk were anxious to show me the way and I dropped from fourth to about 8th or 10th though it was difficult to tell as number one had set off at such a speed he might well be in the next county. Brian Crooky appeared on the radar and moved off to the right as did a couple of Anster Haddies. Right it is and sure enough you crest the first top in a better position for the second summit lying off to starboard. Brian and Davie were immediately ahead as we turned the tombstone, sorry trigpoint, that marks halfway.
Davie made headway on the descent but I got ahead of Brian and tried to capitalise on the farm road descent. He tells me I opened up a good distance but he was far from throwing in the towel and by the graveyard wasn't far behind. Then the kissing gates – maybe 5 of them. On the way out I had nipped through them with Davie, he is so skinny there was room for us both to dance in and out them at the same time. This time I battered through them with Crooky on my heels and I was determined to try and stay ahead. Then a marshal directing us right and back into the undergrowth and riverside paths.
With every steep downhill I made a bit of ground over Brian. Then through the stream and a long ascent where he made up the lost ground and seemed to be gasping right in my earhole. It was like being chased through the woods by a psycho. No matter what I did he would be rattling his lungs just feet behind. Most of the path was too narrow for going past and so where it opened out I would try to raise the pace to discourage overtaking. I was probably making similar noises.
I remembered a story of a guy who as a bored kid had done the seriously irresponsible thing of rolling a snowball (it was winter in some northern clime) down a hill which gathered in size until it hit its target, a moving lorry on a dangerously snowy road. The driver stopped and chased the kid up the hill through the snow nearly catching him until he, the kid, could almost feel the angry breath on his neck, and all the time the kid knew he had to outrun the driver or would get a terrible thrashing. It occurred to me here we were; two middle aged chaps belting through the woods at full stretch as if our lives depended on it – and just for the fun of it. And afterwards a glass of water tastes brilliant.
The next descent to the last stream crossing was particularly treacherous with a pronounced camber on muddy ground that threw you off balance. I made good way across this but spoiled the lead by going into the water too soon and having a longer diagonal to run past the marshal on the other side. I had to just about barge past Crooky to keep my lead up the hill which covered the last hundred yards to the finish road. I reckoned whoever got to the gate first would also get to the line first. Just as I was planning this Crooky went past and I could only just hang onto his coat tails along to, and through the gate. As soon as we got onto the road he legged it and although I sent a message to the engine room saying full steam ahead the message came back with an out-of-office reply.
Brian, Davie and myself: photo taken by Lizzie Knox whose dad beat us all.
In the distance the Sandy Slither
As we were sitting on the verge enjoying the sunshine Brian noticed I'd lost my number – they were paper and mine disintegrated just after halfway due to excess seepage. I had however saved the remnants as they had to be handed over in the Crusoe Hotel in exchange for a pint of Tenants or Belhaven Best. Meanwhile I squirted the bottle I'd been handed down my neck and back until I realised it wasn't in fact water but clear Lucozade sports drink. Cool or what?
After warming down by jogging back to take photos we sat in the sun enjoying the picturesque beach scenery before prizegiving where Mary won first vet. It was the icing on the cake and I am just about to go and check the rose is properly chilled. Brilliant race and a great day out. Thanks to all Haddies concerned who marshalled and organised. I think I probably came somewhere in the top ten and about 16th vet.
Report and photos pb
Anster Haddies website and possibly results
Mary's Blog
