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.