Red Moss Revolution 23/06/10
Let them eat CAKE!
‘Outside the midges were back in control of the world’, was a phrase that stuck in my mind from a recent Yak Hunter Blog. Moving from the west coast principally for insect avoidance reasons, I’d not thought about them for years. Clearly Balerno is in the West of Scotland. Red Moss being the Nation’s Finest - The Centre of Excellence for Midge Breeding. We really need to celebrate things that we are good at, I thought, as I scratched and itched my way to the start, mouth firmly shut.
The organiser (Jamie Thin) had climbed up a signpost, and along with issuing the usual verbiage of great import, was coolly flicking away a swarming killer black cloud, who were keen to make a new midge supercity somewhere down his gullet. ‘1, 2, 3 and 4, Go!‘ Unusual format but let’s run with it…’HBT! HBT!’ was hollered in my ear for the second time in as many days. ‘Oh, gies peace, an wid ye jist no shut et!’ HBT indeed (and all this stuff about real ale, membership forms on beer mats, and scrappy brown vests with quirky graphic typeset). So ears ringing, and running down a letterbox wide slot, (and no regard to race etiquette), a quick sharp elbow to the right, got the message delivered (if only).
Too busy for me. Too tight for me. ARRGGHHH. Need to breathe. Need to run! I didn’t like the claustrophobic start and I had to do another ‘leapfrogging’ manoeuvre between runners, (narrowly missing Shery), which gave me a good break. I allowed myself a good leg stretch (Done less than zero running since the Seven Hills), and locked onto the tail of the leading group. A nice clean fast paced road run, which became less nice as a long slow hill appeared. Switched to ‘hill mode’ (button located beside red ‘panic’ button) and with good uphill strides managed to pick off a few stragglers.
Turning into moorland, the gradient was quite relentless, and the group soon fragmented (ie I fell behind), as we circumnavigated the hill before continuing the ascent. Held my position well, then a noisy metal gate, an immediate sharp left, then onto the main ascent. Tough going here, had to really dig in, but managed to keep up the momentum. Got another two.
At the summit, the path (trainer width – which caused your legs to cross awkwardly) split in two, (the left looking higher and longer), then merged into a mental mêlée of a downhill chase over the most inappropriate of underfoot surfaces imaginable. My mind switched to ‘don’t break an ankle mode’, however my body and legs paid scant disregard and in gay abandon charged downwards, arms flailing like broken windmills, eye-brain-foot co-ordination was set at maximum, as random spots of the surface were selected to take 80kg at full speed. Scary stuff.
Not photoshopped - Bert; hills! (Some folk will go to any lengths for 10 championship points.)
I liked the crunching of the dead heather (never seen this before), but found the deep heather, requiring a high knee movement, was tricky. ‘This is really tough work’ I again thought, however the incline steepend considerably and we mercifully sped downhill between the summits. I was clearly thinking of a nice (large) post race glass of chateuxneuf-du-pape, when my right leg disappeared into the boggiest of boggy marshes, YUK! And I was momentarily horizontal, saved only by the forwards momentum which extracted the leg (and the other to knee depth) out of that mingy messy manky mire. ‘Big man down’ Scott F shouted, manically laughing as he used me as a human bridge for a ‘clean crossing’ (It felt like it anyway – and was he carrying RD’s Basil Brush Pencil case I wondered spotting a flash of colour (I maybe wrong but I doubt it)).
Regained a bit of dignity on the uphill stretch as I passed two others: Albeit brown, wet and a bit stinky. (HBT? HBT?) From the next crest it should have been my best stretch, the back of the race being broken and I was going well with fuel still in the tank. The terrain, however, was very fast, very steep and very uneven. It was mental.
A red top (a Moorfoot maybe), had gone up into the heather, and had ‘beaten out’ at least four grouse, which noisily flew into our path. He swore audibly. Then the eejit, jumped back down (trying to cut in front of me), missed the path went head over heels nearly taking out Scott F and myself, and was mercifully stopped by a barbed wire fence. Ouch! That was a sore fall (two others behind had stopped to help). Then a blacktop in front took a similar tumble, spreadeagled onto the path in front of me, his head offering a good purchase for my next stride (I wouldn’t even think of it!). This section was exceptionally difficult and dangerous, but most around me had a very kamikaze attitude.
I realised I was having ankle support issues fairly quickly. It was a revisit of the ‘Fly Walk Park’ in the 7H again. The fast diagonal (sloping right to left), which makes my right foot overpronate to such an extent that I may as well have been wearing tartan carpet slippers than a pair of Salomon Crossfire 2’s. Each right stride came with a sharp shooting leg length pain. F**K! I screamed, and I pulled back letting Scott F and another pass. My body was frantically jabbing the panic button, but my mind was logically trying to justify that only 50% of the strides were unbelievably painful and the other 50% were fine. I just stuck it out and let time and tide haemorrhage, and let other runners effortlessly pass, like I was in that slow motion running dream again. My favourite.
I tried to kick diagonally and right into the slope to counteract the problem, which partially worked as I was able to gain back a meagre position. Then finally down to the reservoir and the flat. This should be good anklewise, I thought, as I dug each stride downwards and again to the right. Gimme a break! I was able to recover another position from a Ferranti, but then Michael Fullerton shot past. I know I could have drafted in, but not in these useless slippers. This was rubbish.
Ian's 2 feet (left)I made steady but agonizing progress along this flat section, through the trees then out, but had three surgers on my case. ‘No way guys, not even with this ankle’, and delivered a precise but painful counter surge, giving me back a good 10 metres. F**K, that was sore! This ankle is going to need attention big time. Focus, Focus! Keep pushing, Keep pushing! Hold the breach!
‘Must be the last bit, coming to the trees again, seeing people’ I thought, but had momentarily lost my drive (and energy - payback of a countersurge), and I let a blacktop go. I cursed. Then a Fifer levelled off. ‘Okay Redstripe, are you good to go?’ 200m. Finish line. I usually love this bit, but this time I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth, and kicked up into sprint mode.
Rachel outsprinting Lisa Gamble to the line.
We crossed the line together. He was able to power up well, and held it (although was squealing like a pig with the effort ). I hadn’t noticed the finish line and slammed full speed into the blacktop, nearly knocking us both out. I apologised.
So we’d come full circle. The revolution. Back to the world controlled by the midges. I spent the rest of the time moaning, hobbling and clutching my ankle. Speedcross 2 are now consigned to the bin, and I’m off to Run and Become. The race? Around 43.30, but with fit for purpose footware, I can do MUCH better than that.
Hill running is the new black. That race was fabulous!
Report – Ian McMillan
Action photos many thanks to Bob Marshall full set here
Mary's blog
Organisers report and results to follow here Results a bit wobbly so if you spot any errors let me know and I'll pass that on to Chris Upson who has uploaded Jamie's results to the Scottish Hill Runners site.A couple of points of interest: Kate Jenkins won the womens race "fresh" from coming 7th overall and first woman at the 95 mile WHW race 4 days ago. In Jamie's report linked here he mentions Portobello had the most runners. I'm so proud - a hillrace and PRC are the majority club! Very well done to those who wouldn't normally go for this sort of race. See you all at the Slither! (Less climbing, more beach.)
Reservoir Bogs
I ended up deciding to take the afternoon off from work, which meant that I could ensure I'd be able to get to the race on time and also watch the football beforehand. I enjoyed the race *much* more.
Met Ian at the incredibly early time of 5.45pm. Either he anticipated a more difficult journey through traffic, or he does this deliberately to build free time in to his day in which to construct race reports in his head. (How else do you explain how he delivers them all so quickly after each race?!)
Anyway, no traffic issues, and we arrived a bit more than an hour ahead of kick-off. There weren't many other people in the car park, just a couple of dog walkers and a couple of runners who were even more keen than we were. Red Moss is a race I've heard good reports of not only from club runners such as Peter and Douglas, but also from my brother-in-law who's run it 4 years in a row now (as of this week). I was prepared for the midges and even pretty well prepared for the off-roading having done Black Rock 5, Dechmont Law 10K and Seven Hills in the past couple of weeks, which all had some interesting challenges... Decided on trail shoes rather than hill shoes as I expected most of race to be on trails and had only been warned of one truly steep downhill. Had also been warned of the bog, and my trail shoes are older and grottier than my hill shoes. I think that was probably the right decision but of course I won't know for sure until I run it again in different shoes...
Anyway, managed ok on the opening section where everyone charged off and there was a bit of light rough-and-tumble while some people tried to get ahead... I didn't want to go off too quick and found it was easy enough to get past people on the steep uphill - it was spectacular how much some people slowed up by. Through the gate and on to the trail and grass. Fantastic stuff to run along, love this kind of thing - like being on holiday! (If, like me, you tend to holiday on Scottish islands and try and fit in a couple of runs. Not that much like a Spanish beach, obviously) Must have got carried away as at one point on the uphill I even overtook Bert. (He said to me at the end that this was exactly the spur he needed, something like 'Christ's sake, I'm being overtaken by Sandy, Come on Bert!' Cheers for that, coach...) Anyway, a few hundred yards and he was back past me. I stuck behind him until the top of Hare Hill but then he was off and I never saw him again. And I can't use my shoes as an excuse cos he was wearing road shoes! A few people came past me on the downhill, descending isn't my strength. And it might have been a bit easier with hill shoes but it actually wasn't that bad. Just a short steep section and then into the bog.
There's only one way to run through a bog and that's quick steps and don't stop moving! Ben Carter had caught up with me on the downhill and we were together on the steep uphill on the other side. First point of walking for me. Might have been able to run but not sure I'd have been able to go quicker than walking pace and besides it was a narrow trail and those in front were walking. When the trail widened out I was past them though. Gentle uphill seems to be my kind of thing... and that long downhill along the hard trail was just brilliant fun! Ben obviously enjoyed it too - came past me a couple of times and before stopping to tie a shoelace each time. Trust you weren't show-boating Mr Carter..?! Final time he came past, we were nearing the bottom and closing on a couple of brown HBT vests. Come on Sandy, let's catch those two, said Ben. Well you know what, we both did... great stuff. The first one was easy enough, but second one was much harder and by time we crossed over the dam/reservoir/whatever it was getting harder to keep the pace going. But on and into the forest and tearing through the trail there, got another bit of energy from somewhere and thought it can't be too far to go now. Coming out of the forest with the light changing, a minor disaster. Turned my left ankle on a hard uneven bit of ground. Trying to right myself, turned my right ankle too. It's a wonder I didn't end up sat on my arse, my ankles must be made of rubber. But it slowed me down, had to limp for a hundred yards or so before everything felt ok again.
(Those of you who haven't read Richard Askwith's excellent 'Feet in the Clouds: a tale of fell-running and obsession', I thoroughly recommend it. Apparently the great Joss Naylor said "If you ever want to do anything on the fells and you're suffering with some ailment, you've just got to shrug it off." Even better, the author's friend Gawain, struggling with chronic Achilles tendon problem; "It's giving me some pain, but I think all this scree-running's doing it a power of good..." So yes, basically, fell-runners are mad, but I digress...)
I did manage to pick the pace back up and spent the final 4 or 5 hundred yards along the track trying to get back to Chris who'd passed me, but he was finishing too strong and I couldn't make up the ground. But I held off the runners behind me... could hear footsteps, but never looked back just opened up my stride and raced round the corner for the line. Must have been similar for them as it was for me with Chris - had an Ochil runner come and shake my hand - Well done he said, trying to catch you but you were too strong.
Great Porty turnout, and great chat in the car park with runners of all creeds. (My brother-in-law knocked 2 minutes off his time for the 4th year in succession. Watch out for him winning it in 2019...)
So, another fantastic race, and this year's championship card is proving to be a superb selection. Sadly I couldn't make the Slither on the Friday because Mrs M had plans, sounds like it was another belter. But thinking about Maddy Moss in a couple of week's time - anyone else been given a taste for the Bog and Burn races..?
Report Sandy Macdonald
