Superquaich 2: The Farce Awakens

(courtesy Anth Robson)

Sunday saw the return of Superquaich; Superquaich Two. A trigger for an appropriate sequel title: The farce awakens; Welcome to the Jungle: Fury Road , yadda, yadda... 

I had had a pretty poor nights sleep fueled by a late fish supper and a couple of beers, an intermittent sweat about whether the car would be o.k. where I had parked it and the periodic shouty noises in the hotel corridor in the wee small hours in one of Dundees once finest establishments. They keep the windows closed to keep out the streetnoise, but the air-con is a poor second place to fresh air. 

Everything was still intact in the morning and we traveled to Lochgelly and blagged our way into the Marshalls car park within Fife Cycle Park. I had, after all, volunteered to Marshall a couple of races; but, ultimately, we were not required. We hauled the bikes off the roof rack and bolted on the wheels and took in the landscape of tape and plastic pegs. 

We picked up our numbers and watched the women warm up. They were off at 11.30am. A field of around 20 bolted off after the starting whistle and soon were spread out all over the course. There was a short sandpit where Speedy came to grief and a short steep click at the other end of the course, but generally it was head down-erse up along the soft mossy grass.  Speedy did remarkably well to finish 10th and seemed to enjoy the 50 minute thrash.  

I joined in the 45 men in the mens B race. I was feeling abit naff. Another Dundee Thistle rider was in the field and we nodded at each other. There is a gridding system in operation and I found myself on the 2nd row. I can't start quickly and braced myself to be overrun, which I duly was. However, I got into my stride after a couple of laps and a couple of spills and worked my wee sox off to pass and catch anyone remotely near. The course had become well cut up by the time we got on it and it sure was a slog. However, I collapsed over the line exhausted and pleased it was done. 

I didn't wait for the bike wash that was on offer and slinging the bikes back on the roof, we were off and relieved that we had done o.k. 

No medals, but this is cyclo-cross where you can gauge your success by how much of Fife's native clagg you can carry off in your knobbly tyres, the sticky brown mud caking everything in the car and a bit more.

Marg did the fotos and Ant did the videos, so we're not short of evidence that shows that we must try abit harder next weekend at Strathallen.     

Superquaich

Morning All. The big news is that its not raining; well, at least, not at the moment. The running has been patchy in the last month with a poor week following a good week. I find myself having to stop every so often when I'm out. Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it in the words of Bueller. However, its more to do with managing my diminished energy resources and trying to maintain the myth that runnings fun in your 60's.  

I dodged a bullet at the weekend when I was due to run the last leg of the Royal Signals Relays for an over 50's team. The course was too icy. ice, ice, baby. I had secretly been out the night before with my ice gun giving it large on the course. However, it's lush to see blue sky and light after 4pm. 

As an alternative, we've been investing in the world of Bikes. Speedy got a new gravel bike last month and I've spent all the housekeeping on getting 2 bikes serviced. This is to ensure that we are in good shape for the 2nd Superquaich, a series of 3 late season cyclo-cross events. 

Speedy opened her account at Falkirk last month. It was a long day but a good laugh. I took part in the B race. I was surprised to see Des Crowe there and we had a right old battle - a battle of the ragged grimbles. This weekend its Lochgelly for Round 2. Should be a hoot. In preparation, we've been out a couple of times now on the bikes. I can see me reverting to a ride today rather than a run. Its a lot more fannying about getting ready for a bike ride than a run, but a damn site easier once you're out. My new years resolution of packing in more races has shriveled in the rain like the gaunt and bedraggled plan it was. Still, running is about the only thing that I can rely on to keep my weight in order, so I can't ditch it altogether.  

Elsewhere I am making steady progress with David Granns 'The Wager', a tale of shipwreck, murder and mutiny. Ahoy me land lubbers. Nearly time for another cup of grog.