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 2nd
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. 
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