Watergate 5k: Verdict - Misadventure

Spooling back in sepia history, I can regale you of the Watergate 5k trail race last Thursday night.  I have assiduously avoided these short events, all flat out and no prisoners. I have mainly been preferring to immerse myself in the fell and hill running scene this season tagging along with Speedy. In this theatre of running, if you slow down, or find a stretch of the course tiresome, you can slow down, you can even walk. Yes, you might lose a place or two, but frequently if you walk, the runners behind take this as a signal and they start walking. All very civilised.

I noticed a little while ago that the Scottish Vets Association was holding trials in Tollcross for the Home Nations vets cross country championships. Might I be considered? I realise that this is a fanciful notion, a dopey whim. After all, I reckon on the strength of parkruns alone, I figure around 20th or 30th in the M60 arena. I understand that if the selectors (on my radio) are undecided, they will refer to the Power of 10 website, the 'go to' website for all anorak runners; a website that likes UKA licenced events. A website that doesn’t report fell or hill running races, those soiled off-grid races I have been running all season. Well, 'running' in its loosest sense. 

My addled state of mind figured that maybe it would be an idea to populate my page with a couple of recent decent performances, should I make the radar of the Bo-selectors. I could see them sitting at their desks, pencils in their hair, adjusting their steamed up glasses as they gasp incredulously at my credentials and reach for another gin.

I lined up with Mrs Mac, the Dark Destroyer, a generous splattering of clubmates and another 200 around me. Watergate is a two lapper of a country park. Its not flat, but its not a bad course. It was a lovely night and I was confident that even though I still had Sedbergh in my legs, I could deliver a 19-minuter.  It could be ugly, but it would be my sort of ugly. There was just a suggestion of misplaced smugness as the whistle went and I pulled my cap down to its aero-position. 

A kilometre into the race and the bunch were still shaking out, thinning as we hit a left turn here, a short drag there. I found myself with Lizzie and Stephen sitting just behind Mr G, who was acting as pacer for the night. 

MizBen. arrived at the 2k mark and then there were 5 of the blue and white hoops. I felt ok and just had to 'hang-in there' I thought as I peered through the mist of sweat dripping from the end of my cap over my monobrow. 

I could see the Dark Destroyer just ahead with JJ, a target for those willing and able to move up a gear. However, my legs had other plans and promptly moved down a gear, the axles beginning to creak, the carburettors stuttering as I came over all jangly and heavy legged. I had diesel in the petrol tank and there was no way back. The 'Peth groupetto moved on and I began to lose places. The 4k marker came and went and I was still losing places. I shambled in a slow motion death march to the finish line. It was lined with a thin group of supporters, officials and helpers with groups of the already finished huddled into clans of their club colours, the post mortems already developing..  I glanced at my watch. 20.05. With a first mile of 6.15, I had capitulated to a 6.50 mile by the end of the affair. A sorry mess. But this is what happens when you spend your time avoiding interval training, track and road events. Lets hope that the selectors don't bother to look at the Power of 10 website. Best just pull on my crimplene shorts, refresh the insulating tape holding my glasses together and give it some. If nothing else I will be a target for the Neds, a stooge in a future Still Game episode.

This weekends training gig is Ben Nevis. Its been 2009 since I last ran it on a horrible wet day. Although there is little opportunity of me beating my previous 2:20 time. I was passed by around 40 coming down the hill. It was a poor run. So I have always felt that I needed to return to make a better fist of the race. If I can stay on my feet, I might even enjoy myself.  I will be joined by Speedy Joe.

After finishing Tim Moores Vuelta Skelter and Mr Cadmus by Peter Ackroyd, I am due a new read. Choices, choices.