Plean, West Districts & Thorneyford

‘How did last weeks West District Cross Country champs go ?’ I hear you ask. Well, you’re jumping the gun a wee bit. As Mrs Mac is without a Scottish Club, she couldn’t run the cross country. So as a wee treat, we identified a parkrun for her on the route between Dunkeld, the base for last weeks training camp, and Kilmarnock, the venue for the cross country. It turned out to the Plean parkrun. It is not a village I was familiar with. The parkrun advertised itself as a ‘Trail’ affair with a modest weekly turnout and some patronage from nearby Dunblane. We arrived with 15 minutes to spare and there were about 30 or so at the start. She set off with purpose. Mrs Mac said she thought she might win after leading the women for 100 yards, but was soon dissuaded after being passed by a handful of women who had other ideas. I was simply getting some early miles in and plodded around the scenic forest paths and patches of colliery spoil on an 8:30 pace. It was short and sweet and we hurried back to the car and burnt the rubber to Killie, travelling via Newton Mearns to pick up Speedy Joe and Ant. Parking 40 minutes later at the retail park, we used the facilities in Asda and then walked up to the Leisure Centre. I fancied a cuppa, but the outside catering caravan was trying to charge £2.50 for tea and I recoiled with repugnance in a lazy, slow motion speech drawling manner like you see in the movies. ‘Reeep oooaaff priii sess’.

Speedy Joe was off first. One of the favourites set off at a suicidal pace, and it took Speedy a mile to reel her in, before then spending the next 3 miles going toe to toe with her and eventually dropping her 500 yards before the end. Perfect tactics for the win and a strong performance. Needless to say, Ant and I were buoyed up by this and we both started our race with lusty determination. I had Gerry Scullion and McParland for company in the first mile and it all took a while to settle down. However, I felt light and started hopping from vet to vet, pulling in a couple of Bellahouston Harriers and a Garscube. In the process I dropped my 2 clubmates and I finished strongly reaping the benefits of the good air, expensive beer, light diet and quiet nights at the Dunkeld training camp.  I would have been 4^th M60, so there’s still work to do for next year and my anticipated entry into Supervet territory.

Not satisfied with 2 races on the Saturday, I had entered the cyclo cross on the Sunday at Thorneyford near Ponteland. It was cold and it had been raining all morning and I knew it was going to be a wet one. It was grim. We were off sharpish and right enough after a lap or two my bike was fully clagged up. The pedalling became more laboured and I struggled latterly to move the gears as they became mudbound. I stopped for 10 or 20 seconds to get my feet sorted out, the cleats on my shoe soles also becoming ineffective in the clag. I finished toward the rear of the field and was truly envious of those who had pitmen and 2^nd bikes – yes, it’s a thing – you can change your bike every lap if you have someone to spray down the bike you discard – its clearly an unfair advantage and I found myself being a little contemptuous of the whole affair toward the end. No matter. Forty minutes of cycling and another 40 minutes of washing the bike afterwards in a big puddle beside the car. How Glam! Once I got home, I had to wash it again with clean soapy water…another 20 minutes. So this weekend, after looking at the forecast, I’ve decided to abstain from the world of 2 wheels. S’pose there’s always next week.  

They're out there...

It was the Dunkeld autumn training camp this week. To kick it off I took myself and mrs mac to Bo’ness, the centre of Scottish UFO sightings, if reports are to be believed, but which they never are.

Why Bo’ness I hear you ask? Had I been drawn there by a secret force? Have I been mysteriously stressed and been found modelling a small mountain of mashed potato on our kitchen table in the wee small hours? No; instead it was another of those very terrestrial cyclo-cross events. 

We got parked up some way down the hill at Kinneil House, quite a grand setting for the event. I picked my number up and nodded to a few riders I’ve begun to recognise over the course of the season. At 10.30am we got on the course for a warm up and it seemed flattish, with no stretches where running would be required. Worse luck. The course tape wound its way around a section of woodland which was interesting. Elsewhere, the surface was very divetted (if that’s a word). With my mild improvement continuing at these events, I have begun to pick up league points, but not enough seemingly to feature in the gridding at the front, so its left to us losers to battle our way from the ‘very back’ to ‘nearly the very back’ of the peleton. 

It was a moderately muddy 40 minutes of intense cardio and I was well pleased to have remained upright throughout the whole affair. Mrs mac provided some solid support and took any number of photos in the low morning light. After loading a clagged up bike into the back of the car and chatting to a guy from Prestwick, we sat and discussed the aerial light show we had witnessed and the odd oval eyed  and almond skulled locals who were gathered around the street corners. Later, we repaired to a café in Kinross for a steak sandwich and pot of tea before heading north. Among other highlights so far this week, we’ve jogged 15 miles to Pitlochry along part of the Atholl Path and clocked up 10 miles around Tentsmuir; that is before ruining all the good work with ingesting a huge tray of chips from the Salt and Pine crepe hut. Its 2 steps forward and 2 steps back. With the cross country at Kilmarnock on Saturday and then more cyclo-cross on Sunday back home, It’ll be a busy weekend. In the meantime, I'll have a go at trying to extricate the strange metal probe I've found inserted into my privates.