Nairn's Oatcakes Hill Race at the Gathering 2009 26/07/09
I love a man scowling in a plaid skirtA Highland Games in Edinburgh. In the middle of a Clan Gathering. I kid you not.
Now although my cynical gland welled up at the thought and threatened to spill over into my sarcasm node (right beside the bile duct,) I had long ago unknowingly entered this race and so with the weather on the mend I went along hoping for small attendance and large prizes. Unfortunately there was a pretty strong (if modest) attendance and I realised avarice had lured me into a sound thrashing as well as a loss of any moral high ground.
The route didn't go here.Talking of high ground... I blanched as I saw the route map for the first time. Ever the critic of the lame international cross country courses over the pancake flat ground beside Holyrood while there is so much material for an interesting course over there.... well unfortunely Martin Hyman had designed the course over a fair amount of this material.
We set off in the direction of Haggis Knowe before picking the steepest ground from there to the shoulder of Arthur's Seat above the Dry Dam. From there we would descend to Dunsapie Loch to run, not along the tarmac, but down on the wet stuff next to the water for a couple of hundred yards, before turning up the ascent to Whinny Hill which we crossed with steep slithery downhills to St. Margaret's Loch. Which we ran round the back of, then up and over the small bump at Haggis Knowe they made such a fuss of in those televised cross country courses. Then do a second lap. I don't know why a second lap. We had it pretty much sorted and could've handed out the prizes after one lap.
I was surprised to see Ben was up for today's jamboree. He seemed to quite enjoy it though talked about "pacing" himself. Tsk tsk.
I gave him these old Walshes for the xc last season and I'd like to think there was some of the magic left over in that bounce.
Due to an HBT AGM some boggies were on their 3rd race this weekend.Two laps it was. A lot more walking in the second lap. And sweating. The first lady Sue thingy from whatever City of Edinburgh are calling themselves these days came past, and then I'd catch her on the descents. Alastair (17y/o) from Lothian was ahead behind ahead behind ahead depending on who was doing a slow jog and who was hands on knees looking at the ground stomping up on burning legs. It was deeply unpleasant.
Ian is a champion.
Murray came first today. He is holding the goody-bag red bottle from yesterday's 10k where he was 4th in 32minutes.Oh I forgot the start – as we left the enclosure Jamie Thin's wife called from the spectators, “where are the kids?” Jamie, at the front of the pack shouted back they were up on Haggis Knowe to great amusement from the other runners. Unfortunately it seemed to give him an added incentive and he took off up the first climb like a man possessed. That first climb, left of Hunter's Bog heading directly for the summit is a killer. We were guided onto the ridge edge which is the steepest part of this ascent and I only ever come up here when I'm feeling tip top. In fact I hardly ever come up this way. Its just horrible. I think I probably ran (jogged) most of it first lap but don't have a clear memory of it.
Meanwhile overhead, a seagull, giant from gorging on unemptied bins terrorises the spectators.Second lap and Jamie and Bruce Carnethy had long since disappeared, along with any chance of an Oatcakey v40 prize. Bruce had made a joke about a proper race involving trying to eat 3 oatcakes while running. At the beginning of that awful climb I tried to will myself elsewhere and just motor up with a disengaged brain. There was also a Lochaber dude in the mix, who was faster on the way up and slower going down. In the second lap unfortunately he was faster going down as well. We all kind of exchanged places but nobody looked commanding. Ivor was strategically placed to offer best wishes as we ran past Dunsapie; I'm afraid I might not have returned the compliment. Topping out on Whinny Hill during the second lap I tried to rally the troops for a push to the finish. Alastair Lothian was hogging the singletrack and going top speed. I felt if I could just edge ahead life would improve. I went left but no dice, then going to the right of him and speeding up noticed there was big drop immediately ahead with no time to pull up. I jumped what felt like quite a distance bouncing freely on my legs but unable to get them to go at the speed my upper body was now travelling. I dropped a shoulder as I went down and did a roll through the deep grass, the impetus throwing me back up onto my feet from where I legged it towards to the path. A nearby marshal said softly “most spectacular so far,” and we went up the small hill Mary and I call Hell Hill. From there it was another steep slither and skitey descent down to the road. I had lost the enthusiasm for overtaking Alastair but did enjoy his footslide wobbler as we both went past Sue whatshername again.
As I ran I did a quick body-part stock-take and realised I had got away with the fall earlier. I also went ahead of Alastair once on the road though I was remembering something he said earlier. As we went up the hill from Dunsapie I had gone past saying “last hill.” He had returned “second last hill.” (We both prefer the downs funnily enough.) I thought maybe he was breaking up the ascent into 2 parts. However at St Margaret's Loch I realised the course, instead of heading directly back to the finish was going for a last gasp up Haggis Knowe. I felt like neither Bekele nor Radcliffe as I struggled up, over then ignominiously down Haggis “apocalypse” Knowe and across the road and over the line. I watched as Alastair sprinted past a couple of runners – ah the folly of youth. Or maybe just the speed.
In the background, the ridge up which we ran twice.2 things slightly cheered me up. 1 Bernie Devoy, (who is in the process of joining PRC and ran 2.46 at Edinburgh and is in my age group) could tell I needed a lift so generously allowed me to finish ahead of himself. Thanks Bernie, much appreciated.
And 2 The return of the King. Tony Stapley, Off Road Tony came out of retiral for this race. Finding the longer races or anything involving roads, (then anything involving running) was killing his knees he had stopped racing. However he couldn't resist this short local off roady. Unfortunately when you don't train (he has pretty much stopped running) these things hurt even more. However Tony managed round and it was a delight to catch up with him as ever. Hopefully he will have as many comebacks as Frank Sinatra but not at the expense of his knees. He is putting his energies into Tai Chi these days.
Following the race I had a wander around the Gathering 2009. First I met Janet (Portobello's Bionic Woman) with her twin sister and pal and of course new daughter Brook in the buggie. Janet is looking very well and proves you don't need to be a celeb or have a personal trainer to get back in shape after having a baby. End of the year before she thinks about running club again.
BrookNext I met a few friends from the past who were also having a scout about. (This Gathering was actually working.) I showed them pictures of humorously rotund folk I had been discretely taking, I suspect Americans. Though hey I should have just openly taken their pictures; what were they going to do, chase me?
It occurred this invented Gathering was maybe a cunning plan to lure wealthy Americans to a rainy windswept Edinburgh in order to bolster the local economy. Plenty of whisky, tartan and things older than 200 years. They can't get enough. And have some runners run up a hill while they are spending money. And some well fed ginger guys throwing heavy ironmongery. Lots of heraldic swashes. I was really warming to the Gathering. It cheered my cynical heart. On the way out I bumped into John Blair not long back from doing the diametrically opposite fantasy which is Disneyland, Florida.
"We need more bling Hamish!"Thanks to Martin H for the rather unpleasant course, and Robin Morris for organising it all. Prizes were bottles of Talisker. I didn't even get close. Well done to those who did.
Report and photos pb
The national characteristic: well fed ginger guys throwing heavy things
Pure Scotch
