Gypsy Glen 15/05/13
One of the few things with Gypsy in the
title that is good quality. Unfortunately the weather was still a
bit...
We were obliged to start exactly on the
dot of 7pm as the Police, working independently, were stopping the
traffic at the road crossing 600 yards into the race at one minute
past. We stood in the cool air, cooling. The evenings have been an
“interesting” mix of sun and showers – yesterday pm Johnny got
hail, whereas later on I got sunshine and blue skies. The forecasters
are fighting to see who can combine as many icons into the same
graphic. I think they might start using question marks if this
continues.
Ian McManus, setting off early, with a half devilish number.
We set off along the riverside path and
over the bridge, across the road (traffic-calmed) and into the
playing field, past the finish. Andrew and I had gone for a bit of a
warm up along to where it goes off-roady and on the way back I bribed
the finish marshal and her daughter to look after my camera and rain
jacket, with a smile. They were very obliging as long as I didn't
require photos taken. It wasn't really an evening for photos
otherwise I may have carried the camera up the hill.
Keith M: not sure why I was being fingered.
The hill from the finish line.
Someone asked in the changing rooms what the hill was called. Best not print the reply.
I was pleased to overtake a young
Carnethy who had set off a little quickly. It is a bonus to overtake
anyone on the hill. Keith said he was catching me, by which he meant
“you were rubbish running uphill.” (This much I know.) I don't know how far behind he
started but I think if the the hill was long enough Ian McManus would
eventually overtake me. Ian, I owe an apology: I saw him last
week at Dumyat and suggested he wasn't racing. He was. Only, rather
than set off at the same time as everyone, and finish a considerable
time afterwards, he takes the precaution of setting off around 40
minutes early so that he can spend the midpart of the race in
company. Good tactic, plus he allows the marshals to minimise their
time on the hill, a blessing in these conditions.
There are some woods then some grassy and heathery hills. Way, way off ahead a green vest crested the horizon. What
appears to be the top is only a false summit and after a bit of
lessening of gradient you carry on climbing to the true top. From the
finish line you can a see a hump then the summit proper. I had
forgotten this from last time I ran possibly 3 or 4 years ago. Like
stepping on the scales these days I look up old results with
trepidation – not sure if I want to know what form I was in then,
vs now. Maybe tomorrow when / if I am feeling stronger. (I checked, and in 2010 I was a full minute quicker although less wind, it was warm and no rain.) There are 2
gates and I cleverly let other folk open them. I raced to keep up
with 2 Ochils and another at the first; they got away but I let
another (all grey kit to match the sullen skies,) overtake and
manhandle gate number 2. I followed Captain Grey to the top and as
soon as it levelled off and hugged the wall in a delicate dance over
rocky grassy single track I knew I'd be overtaking pretty quickly. We
turned the far corner, the track widened and I went past looking to
see how far the Ochils were up ahead. They looked a catchable
distance and I reckoned one would be strong and one would drop
behind. Also a figure in red.
On closer inspection it was Ian in his
Tartan shorts and I didn't need to shout STAND STILL tonight. I had
already apologised for last week's barked order, however he had
understood my purpose and I think I was forgiven. I shouted
encouragements to him and it occurred that I hadn't recognised him by
any kind of aged stoop; that he has an admirably upright style and
for an old git, is going pretty damn well! The next part of
the route is glorious and I enjoyed the swooping rolling descent in
confidence inspiring new shoes. When I saw all the rain I chose the
Mudclaws over the Hokas as the hill shoes outgrip everything in the
slippy.
Andrew
Then the gate. I yanked the vertical
lever to the left and it clanged but didn't open. I did this several
times in a row before engaging my brain which I'd temporarily
disabled for the descent. There was a small latch that required
lifting, as well as the sideways yank and it opened easily. (The gate not my brain.). Are the
cattle and sheep so much more intelligent that they need more
sophisticated gates here than in the Pentlands? First time I've come
across this gate type and it wasn't just me it caught out.
The annoyance and short breather
fuelled the next half mile and I flew down the hill relishing
bombproof grip on off-cambers and slick mud patches. I did have to
slow for the river and bridge crossing, catching sight of the 2
Ochils up ahead but unable to make much impression on the distance
between us. One had fallen behind but not far enough.
Eventually there is a steep up to a
kind of sand box at the top – another curiously unique stile or
cattle deterring structure. Only its filled with mud not sand. One
foot in, one out. Then the tarmac back to the playing field. I was
pretty sure there was nobody on my shoulder. The soft applause of a
marshal. As I ran on I couldn't hear her begin again. But the 2 or
three ahead were not catchable. Then there is that last tarmac hill,
short but steep, and I was glad not to have company, and a race for
the line. Another marshal flagged us off the road and across
the wet field of grass to the finish.
Sue Ridley
I retrieved my camera and jacket from
the still very cheerful marshal and her daughter (how can they be
having fun?) as the rain turned into a bit of a downpour. Graham,
having a bit of to-and-fro with Sue Ridley, first lady, comes rocking
in with a powerful sprint, chewing up the finish line. Andrew also
gives it some welly, enjoying leaving a number of folk behind who
probably got the better of him going up the hill. I think he forgot
to pack his spare lungs. (Inhaler.)
We ran back to the hall with (I think)
the third lady who was intriguingly wearing Vibram 5 Fingers and
seemed to manage ok in them. The gravelly rock and mud bits can't have been easy. A nice touch was some cold pizza (the
best kind!) and sandwiches and biscuits just outside the hall which
more than made up for a quite short prize list. (v40 was the oldest
they went and only 2 of those in either gender.) Best of all though:
hot showers after all the cold showers. I had taken a fractionally larger
towel this week (a Nike job nearer a 7 Hills towel in size. It was a
prize a hundred years ago at a round Arthur Seat 5k that was so
expensive I wouldn't pay for the entry and Mary had to. I know that's
not logical but what can I say? I love this towel and take it to work
where I wash paint off my hands 20 times a day.)
The antidote to a bracing run in the rain.
Andrew chauffeured us back through
rainbowed skies in plenty time to watch the twats on The Apprentice.
Now you would think if you were going to be on that programme
you'd have watched a previous series, (any previous episode would be
sufficient,) and work out what comes across as arrogant, foolish,
bone-headed, gobby, pushy and unattractive. And not behave exactly
like that. You would think?
Race results may appear here.
http://www.scottishhillracing.co.uk/Home.aspx
or here... http://moorfootrunners.blogspot.co.uk/2013/04/gypsy-glen-hill-race-wed-15-may-2013.html
or here... http://moorfootrunners.blogspot.co.uk/2013/04/gypsy-glen-hill-race-wed-15-may-2013.html
Here is something entirely different
brought to mind by all those rainbows...
gypsy creams, gypsy moth
ReplyDeleteDear Yak,
ReplyDeleteI assume you are responding to the first line about things (good) with Gypsy in the title.
You could have had Gypsy Moth twice: as the aircraft and the moth (if you were smarter!). And Gypsy Kings though that is kinda borderline.
As you well know I was having a poke at the stuff that begins with "My Big Fat..." and ends with neither the travelling people nor the audience of gawping cultural tourists, looking good.
Phew good to see you left out the hot showers!
ReplyDelete