shark at yellowcraigs

shark at Yellowcraigs

Just a normal selfie of M and I outside Falko's 

and NOT a smirking pic of the large people indoors horsing down cakes.

Sunday run: we drove to Gullane and sampled Falko's finest - although had to share a cheese tongue and salty bun as they were out of Raisin Brioche for the second or third week in a row. Mary had a plan for a 13 miler though it seemed fairly non-specific and involved nothing more than running East for a bit then enjoying the wind on our backs for the next bit West along the coast. We followed the JMW off road at Archerfields then through the woods at Dirleton (some chat about local Dr Neil and Harry). The woods looked terrific with the dappled sunlight coming through the leaves but the photos haven't really done it justice. We got a bit lost at Yellow Craigs looking for a specific path and spent some time enjoying the trails through the woods but again the camera didn't like the high contrasts of light and bleached out all the joys.

Didn't ask the reason for this - I'm guessing they had been to the barbers?

Mary saw a trail leading upwards to what looked like it might be a derelict castle and out of charater decided to follow it. It led up to a splendid viewpoint, giving a great panorama of the Forth from Fidra to the Bass Rock. We were both in the mood for a mooch about, and following our noses, rather than a good hard run. There was some discussion about why Mary always got to choose the route and I think the answer was that she is only bossy when running. Anyway I said I would like to revisit that path across the crops we saw for the only time during the JMW ultra. We got lost a couple of times on the way but eventually tracked it down. It's funny how in a race if you are chatting to someone or your mind wanders, you can find it hard to retrace your steps.

I hadn't really wanted to run down it, just to take a photo then cross the golf course. However Mary was off and so we went that way. There was an event happening on the golf course meaning we had to run virtually all the way into NB before managing across the fairways to the beach. Once onto the beach we turned left and headed back. Given how sunny it was we were surprised there weren't more folk on the beach.

attack of the hundred foot woman
Mary stopped to stretch stiff achilles.

Just the other side of Yellowcraigs we bumped into Cliff (ex-Carnethy) and daughter Kate.

We were pals with Cliff and Liz back at the start of all that running business, when we were still all climbers, around the turn of the millennium. Cliff suggested we go along to the Doon Hill Race (Dunbar 10mile Multi Terrain these days) and we did it as our second ever race. (Pretty sure Cliff beat me.) Great to bump into Cliff although I can't believe how grown up his daughter is. Time flies.

While Mary did some more stretches and yoga on the beach I clambered about the rock pools looking for denizens of the not-so-deep. I took a bit of a slip and not wishing to slap the camera into a rock pool, held it aloft while crashing, behind first, into 3 inches of water. Not only did I soak my shorts but I hurt the heel of my other hand (still tender 2 days later) and kidneys and arse. And pride. Not the highlight of the day.

The rest of the run back to the car was very pleasant. By the way, FMA is the Fishermen's Mutual Association and frankly I wouldn't fancy making the journey across the Forth in that...