The Cupar 5 (2020)

I ran the Cupar 5 yesterday. Didn’t stop once. I weighed myself last week and it seems the weight loss has stuttered somewhat. However, at least the scales didn’t announce ‘no coach parties, please’ when I stood on them. If I manage a steady 10 today, it’ll be another 50 mile week. I have had a long uninterrupted spell of continuous running in the last 6 weeks. Its therefore frustrating that this virus business is threatening my salazaresque programme, the virus which goes under two names like a dark cloaked Dickensian figure with bent head, fag in mitted hand, smoking furtively around every corner. 

As I drove to Cupar I was disgusted at the amount of litter strewn along the A1. A national disgrace. I also fought to remind myself where the start was. Perhaps this was not surprising, considering I last ran Cupar perhaps 8 or 9 year ago. I ran it for the first time after the course had been re-measured and it was lengthened by 180 yards (so I read in an earlier blog). 
Arriving in good time there were various random runners jogging up and down the high street. I wandered to the YMCA on Bonnygate and collected my number. I used the facilities and ensured I washed my hands. However, opening lavatory doors afterwards is always a challenge. I sauntered back to the car and pinned on my number and went for a warm up to find the start-line.

There was a full field of 250 for this event. It is also apparently a counter in the Hawks annual handicap league thing.  With 10 minutes to go, I binned my trackies and top in the hedge and slipped the car key into my gloved hand. I wear kids knitted gloves when I run. They fit neatly and are cheap as chips to replace. I don't like wearing a matching pair, either. 
As I stood watching the field gather, a large group of Hawks spotted me and they all trooped up to shake my hand in welcome. Had the word about elbow tapping or the foot focused greeting not reached Tayside?  'What a cheery bunch' I mused as I switched gloves from left to right and stepped back another few paces.
A short announcement was made by the Fife A.C. organisers, but I couldn’t hear them, what with wearing my welders mask and ear muffs.  We were off soon afterwards and I spent the first mile trying to get my heart rate up to the requisite 155rpm. Dragging that oxygen bottle around was a bitch tho' and I soon ditched it.  I ran simply, inhaling the spent vapours of the 60 guys and gals ahead.   
I found myself in 'no mans' land after a mile, running into a brisk headwind. No good at all, so I put in a burst and tucked in behind a group with the 3^rd placed woman in. Half of them seemed to be from the PH running club. As the road stretched out, the rest of their club appeared ahead in a long string of black and red vests. A Kinross runner in green vest and headband came past and I tagged in with him, trying to find shelter. I glanced at my watch after 2 miles. I was doing 6:30’s. I told myself I only had another half mile to do before I turned and had the wind at my back. Kinross man pulled away just before the turn as a Hawk came by me and gave me some encouragement. ‘Come on you baldy old slapper’ he said’.   
I caught what looked like a Cambuslang runner near the turn. His gait was a little awkward, but it seemed to be working for him. We jockeyed hard for whatever position we were in and with 400m to go, the string snapped and I let him go. The last mile was around 6:10 pace, but that was fine given that we had a downhill and tailwind. Crossing the line I think it was about 32m:14s, (63rd) nicely under the 32:30 that I had previously planned as my target time. 
I warmed down jogging back up the course watching the rest of the field come home and then toggled back to the car. A quick cuppa in the hall afterwards (but drunk outside) and then a prompt drive home was the order of the day. The Fife Whisky festival was on in the town, but there was no chance of me making an appearance there. After all, I could probably have my own festival at home, given the various bottles salted around the kitchen. But a minute on the lips and all that…..not much whisky drinking going around these 'ere parts at the mo.