Life's a snowy Labyrinth

The new year has started with an interesting mix of weather. It has carried with it a hint of menace which has developed (in the north east of the country) into something pretty adverse and, for some, downright hostile.  As long as you're not driving and are not elderly or otherwise disadvantaged, its only been a mild distraction hereabouts. We've had to crank the heating up, mind.  

As a confirmed chionophile (who knew?), plodding around the woods in fresh snow brings a welcome change of aspect and I've managed to get out a few times last week. 

This weeks efforts have been much less successful. We have had to deal with the snows frigid icy legacy which offers a challenge, at least in terms of staying upright.  I like to think I know my limitations, but breaking my foot last year suggests that even the most assured off-road runner can misjudge conditions.  

As a sporty type, its an expensive time of year and various club subscriptions are increasingly bloated with additional costly contributions to national bodies in order that they can fund whatever it is they do. 

Checking a website used by several clubs for membership, I noted the average club membership to be around twenty quid with an additional twenty quid 'tax' in some cases for the national body. The fell running membership (FRA) is 16 notes, but as the magazine and website are very good, I don't grudge this at all. I'm never very sure what a tenner buys you for Scottish Hill Running, but an improved website would be welcome. 

At a time when most are squeezed financially from all directions, I find myself looking very closely at value for money. As an old grimble, club membership doesn't seem all that relevant, but if you like to take in the odd race or find that you are interested in masters title races and the like, you're stuck with putting your hand in your pocket. This, coupled with rising costs of race entry, makes for an expensive hobby...and don't even get me started about cycling and the cost of kit. Bah, humbug. 

On a separate note, we arrived in Pitlochry last Tuesday for a fleeting visit in time for a huge dump of snow, but as I was driving and we were staying over in Perth, I failed to embrace the conditions and, instead, found myself stressed out and impatient to leave, lest we got stuck somewhere on the A9. The snow disappeared around Dunkeld and by the time we got to Perth it was freezing rain, which is the worst. 

We also failed to get our entry in on time for the Falkland Race spending all week languishing on a virtual waiting list. Given the fresh wet snow this morning, I doubt we would have even attempted the trip to Fife.  Corresponding races at the Lakes and North York Moors were cancelled, so today its a jog around the woods or maybe half an hour in the gym, or a wee cup of hot coffee in one of our many cafes. Shouldn't grumble really, but I'm old and that's my prerogative. I've binned 'The Go Between' (L.P. Hartley). I struggled with the book when I was 16 and it seems my reading stamina has not improved. Instead I'm giving 'Mr Pottermacks Oversight' by Austin Freeman a go. Apparently its an inverted-Mystery classic - whatever that means.          

Hogmanhoway 5k

We entered Steve Crams newest race, the above named 5k. He had secured most of the Newcastle University Estates roads and some of Newcastle City Streets for this evening affair in deepest Midwinter. 

The number of entrants had swollen to around 1800. This probably reflected the need for many folk to do something other than getting bladdered and eat stuff on Hogmanay. There was an accompanying elite race with around 15 in the mens and the same number in the womens races. I was not surprised to have been passed over this time for the elite race, what with just getting over the lurgy thats going around. It s been some time since I did sub 15 (like never). With a first prize of two grand, there was no shortage of fast lads and lassies who flew around the 3 lapper. The plebs on the other hand were asked to experience a different course. It was quite a tortuous affair involving swithchbacks, sharp turns and so on. This baffling circuitous route was countered only by the relative flatness of the terrain. Twenty quid got you a number and a medal, buff and 'goody bag' at the end. There was also alcoholic and non-alcoholic warm mulled wine which was very welcome, given that the temperature was a midgies-didgie over zero degrees with a perky biting northerly wind. Still on the recovery path, I was hoping for a sub-21, but it was going to require a bloody minded effort. The consequences of failing to do a sub-21 were that I would do a 21 something, so the vapour clouds which I exhaled probably gave off an air of algid apathy. I didn't bother to remove my tights and kept my woolly hat and gloves on. 

We watched the elite race, which was entertaining. I tried to run along parallel with Beattie as he darted his way to a sub 14 minute win, but even at a flat out sprint effort, I was dropped. We lined up at the Civic Centre and I dumped my trackie top, tying it to a handrail. The bloke on the microphone was trying his best to keep folk jovial as they stood outside in the refrigerator and slowly turned blue, but the wait soon came to an end and it took me only 10 seconds to get over the start line. I was joined by Mike from the club and we ran together for a while, before I pushed on ahead. However, he was, I suspect, sat just behind me and not breathing quite as hard or gurgling along with a chestful of mucus, unlike me. The field went back and forth, round, up and down the streets, the super-cooled wind channeling between the buildings to give you a helpful push or an unwelcome dose of wind chill and red nose. Around 4k, Mike came past me. However, I didn't chase him as I was done in and also unsure how far into the race we were. Turns out we were just about done and he crossed the line around 10 seconds ahead of me. It was a sub-21, but only just, and after waiting for Missus Mac, who went sub 30, we repaired to a hostelry for a modest imbibement. It was a surprise that we could get served straight away on Hogmanay, and this probably shows how frail the hospitality business is presently. Either way it was a good event and one we might do again next year.