Manor Water 2019: The Sequel

The Manor Water Hill Race is set within the hills south of Peebles late in the season. The ladies take the £5 entry fee sitting in a horsebox. There are sheep dogs and farmers aplenty at the local trials which shares the field with the runners. Come by. Get down, Shep. 

This year the auburn colours of autumn contrasted with the blue sky and strong low sun. It was unseasonably warm. I was, however, well wrapped up in my ‘tick protection system’ with white compression stockings under black OMM tights and finished off in green Salomon cross shoes. Very la-di-da. It had been 11 years since I last ran this race. Where does the time go? All I remember was that it was longer than I expected, very tussocky and you could get a right good bit of speed up on the descent. The grey cloud was down last time and there was hardly any view.

About 70 runners set off at 1pm after a thorough kit check. Across the road and up into a muddy field, the runners settled into a pecking order of sorts and I skipped past a Northumberland Fell Runner.  I was behind Nicola Duncan (Carnethy), but as we climbed steadily she began to disappear and I settled in behind another Carnethy and an HBT, both a little way ahead. There was a poor track visible through the heather and reedy grass, but it was very soft and wet underfoot and I spent all my effort weaving and cris-crossing across the track looking for dry ground, but it wasn’t anywhere near. It was like changing checkout aisles at the supermarket; whichever one I chose, it was always slower than the one I had just come from. Unexpected peaty clag in bagging area. Exhausting. 

I was passed around 2 miles up by Joe Blackett of High Peak and watched him slowly pull away and join the two runners in front. I knew if I let them go, I would have no chance of catching them on the way back, so tried to dig in as we started to climb the main hill, the Scrape. I adopted a 12 step jog, 12 step walk strategy but that didn’t last and I found myself counting as I ascended. A Moray runner came past and was going well.   

Soon the front runners were coming past and, ironically that lifted my spirits knowing that the turn couldn’t be too far ahead. Messrs Donnelly and Marshall came whizzing past after a couple of younger lads who were leading the charge. I got to the top and began the descent, packing my sweat sodden cap into my bumbag. I could see the Carnethy runner ahead of two others and set about trying to make up for lost time. The scenery was stunning, but my eyes were all down tracking my footing. The track had become more cut up with the passing of the runners behind me and it was a repeat of my ascent as I searched, largely in vain, for the best line skipping left, then right to try and find some purchase on the track back. 

I caught the tall HBT runner and thought that maybe I would sit-in, but I soon realised that I was quicker, his descending a little more deliberate. I cracked on but failed to make any more progress on catching the 2 Carnethys and had to have a  little laugh when a marshall at one of the last turns suggested that the woman in front was ‘catchable’…. ‘Not if you’re breathing out your a*se’ I mused. By the final stretch I had no more ‘go-juice’ and it was only gravity that I was running on by the end. Finished around 15^th in 1:35 and about 11 minutes slower than my previous outing – that’s a minute a year slower. Unbeknown to me was that the two runners who had passed me (Dark Peaker joe and Moray man) finished 1st and 2nd V50, so if I'd been a bit quicker and lighter I could've been a contender.
 I had a short chat with Nicola and Joe Blackett over the orange squash, grabbed a bottle of beer and then made a quick exit to the car to change.  My socks were in a right state. I had forgotten to bring some clean bottoms so had to make do with a pair of overalls. I looked the part on my drive south via the chip shop and Greggs for a tea. Don’t say a word!  At least there were no cakes involved.

Rained off

My plans to compete in the Tour De Trossachs this weekend were dashed by the rain. But my eagerness got me as far as Dunbar at 8:30am before I pulled the car into a layby to check with the organiser whether it was on. She apologised but said the course was flooded. She reckons this is her last year of organising the renowned event. Lets hope someone in the Glasgow Ivy (or is it Nightingale) picks up the cudgels for next year.  I turned the car round and drove back down the water swept A1 and spent the rest of the day doing very little except watching the rain come down and being in awe of Callum Hawkin's run at Doha. Inspired, I admit that I did nip out just after lunch for 6 miles, but the rain continued and I got back soaked.
However, the weekend wasn't a complete washout. The clan and I got ourselves to Blyth Links on the Saturday morning for the Parkrun. It's frequently windy being on the sea front (well at least the once or twice I've ran it). However, it was unusually calm and around 150 of us banged around the two and a half lapper in what was a break in this weekends wetfest. I tracked the dark destroyer for the final lap but couldn't reel her in and settled for an acceptable 20:00 (14th) for 5km. Thats 77% age adjusted so still looking for about 3% or 4% performance. Certainly better than the 21 minute that was Sunderland back in July. I managed to pick up a couple of bites somehow - sand flies I think.
I ground out another 30 mile training week, so will attempt to increase it to 40 something this week. With the bikes largely being put away for the oncoming winter, I am concentrating on Manor Water next Saturday with perhaps Brampton Carlisle in November. Not sure,  but its nice to be in position to consider entering a few races again, even if I'm well off my old pace.  This time I'll try to get there in good time rather than the late start I was forced to endure back in 2008.  It'll be interesting if I can get anywhere close to the 1:24 I did back then. 
The Condor should be back next week from the bike framebuilders in Leeds where I dropped it off for a respray last month. I have some new bits to put on it for next year. It'll be like riding a new bike at half the cost.

Penchrise Hill Race

Since returning from our week in Perthshire, I have knocked out a 30 mile training week and the pace has been rising daily. My weight has remained about the same, but I am definitely getting some form back, amazing myself the other day by finding myself running on the my toes up the local bank back to the house. 

With no plans at the weekend, I decided to give the Penchrise hill race a go. It's organised by Keith Murray and held just south of Hawick. I was one of the first to arrive at the former now derelict army camp and the modest field began to assemble in the grey drizzle. There was a 5k and an 8k. 

I noticed one lad rubbing some ointment on his legs. I kept my OMM tights on as I know assume that there are hoards of ticks in the grass keen to jump on for a free ride and a wander up your legs to discover a dark sweaty crevice to bury themselves in for a quiet bit of r&r bloodfeasting. I’ve always had a strong aversion to these nasty bastids. Their lifestyle fills me with horror. Not a fan.

The Two Breweries had been the day before and I wondered if this would impact the number of entrants. I warmed up over the first mile of the course and was relieved that it seemed highly runnable. There were about 28 runners assembled and we set off at 11am. I had clocked Brian Marshall and a couple of Moorfooters in the crowd but having been absent from the hill running scene for a good while, I didn’t recognise many others. 

I had a steady first mile before tagging in with a group of 3 runners. Darin Dougal was just ahead, but my priority was to stay with these 3 as we finished the slow ascent and turned to begin the short steep climb to the sheep pens. I was last at the top of the hill but still in touch and, catching my breath, I hammered my way down the hill, catching one lad and aiming for the other two. It took me a mile or so to catch them just as they were splitting and I tagged onto the young Heaton runner who was going well. I stuck to him like a limpet and tried to keep out of the wind. We cranked up the pace over the final mile which was run in around 6min:10sec and we still had enough juice for a full out sprint along the track to the finish and delight of the small crowd at the finish line. The munching highland cows just looked on, perplexed. Heaton lad won by a short head, but I had a good go at him and was very happy with the outcome and other than a slight pain in my hip as a result of overstriding, I was all in one piece. 

A quick chat with the Moorfoots about lack of form ensued as I changed into dry clothes and was rewarded for my 2^nd O50 with a bottle of Hobgoblin.

I thanked Keith after the presentation and made my way back south of the border with a plan to return to the club training nights and have another crack at Manor Water in a fortnight.