Signals Relays 2025

It's been quite a while since I blogged. My last outing was the Royal Signals Relays in Mid February. This race, together with the Newburn Relays on Easter Friday, are about the biggest club events on the North East England Athletics Calendar. 

I can't quite remember how often I've run the Signals. For vets, its an Over 50 ticket for teams of 4. We run in a combined race with the Women, so plenty of runners on the course at any one time. 

I managed to shuffle in as one of four in a Morpeth team with Rob, Lee and Jason; all very decent runners. I was accompanied in the car to the event by Lornie, Cat and Linds who were variously in the women's senior teams. 

I felt pretty reasonable and collected my number  - 2nd leg. From what I heard there seemed to have been quite the discussion as to the most effective rationale in leg selection - who's to go first, who's to go last; but I don't subscribe to that, other than perhaps if you're on leg 1, you probably have more bodies around and in front of you to chase. As the race develops, the gaps ebb and flow, but generally stretch. 

This year they started the M50s around a minute behind the women, maybe longer, but I think I prefer it when we start together. 

We were sitting in around 8th position when I picked up the baton from Rob (there's not actually a baton - its just a term - so to speak). It's two rolling laps around the Hetton Lyons country park and there's a couple of good drags to deal with, although its true to say you also come down each hill after the ascent. 

It was cool and I started with my zebra arm warmers and thin kiddies wool gloves - you know the cheap ones. I find that cotton doesn't suit my hands. I soon had a grey haired runner from Crook in my sights, but I didn't want to over-cook it so it took me until the second lap to overhaul him. However, there was no-one else in sight, at least not in my race.  As it was I took it steady up the long drag around 200m from the end, and, as I came round onto the downhill and finish, I opened my stride, trying to look in control. 13.57 for 2.2 miles. Ten seconds up on 2023, but 20 seconds down on 2022. We finished 4th. Not too bad but no cigar. 

The girls did well and did even better after the race to wait 20 minutes in the snaking queue for the teas and coffees. ProTay came down from the frozen north to do the timing, so it was a big hello to Sharon for the second time in a week. 

I picked up the lurgy that's going around a week later and, although its not been a bad cold, its a clingy affair, so I was pleased to get out on the bike today for a slow 20 miles in the early Spring sunshine. Nearly finished 'The Hobbit', so I'm stroking my chin in eager anticipation of my next read.  

Bag O' Spanners

The Scottish Masters Cross Country was held last weekend in Dundee. I like Camperdown Park and thought rather than go 'tete a tete' (fnarr) with the youngsters in Falkirk, I would mix it with the oldies. My rationale was solid. I was old just like them, and am still wrestling with my competitive ego.  I just might not come last. Visoins of nearly making the the podium - laughable, I know. 

We had Master T, Marg and Lins up for the ride and after a sleety shower, the sun burst out of a grey leaden sky. It was still pretty cold. 

I got my number and bumped into 3 clubmates from the Bella club. They were all M40, so no use to me in my pursuit of Scottish Gold in the M60 team competition. The course was a 2 or 3 lapper and I was definitely not 'at the races'. I lined up. I had my hands in my pockets if I'd had any. I  commenced with faint vigour, tucking into the pack as they snaked up the first long grassy drag. There were isolated pockets of spectators, but otherwise we swept along and down one grassy bit and then grovelled up through the woods, stepping over the roots. 

I slowed and puttered:  idling mode. I was, not surprisingly, passed by a succession of folk keener than me. As we all had our age group labels on our backs, the first thing anyone does, is check out whose passing you (club) and then peer at their back with old eyes to see how old they are. If they're not in your age group, happy days. If they are, more heaps of misery.  On the second lap I let around five M60's past and had neither the interest nor energy to track them. Normally, I would have used each of them to tow me along for a good bit, but not today, no fight. I finished in 34 minutes for this 8 kilometre extravaganza and 12th M60, although the five that passed by were all within a minute of me at the end. 

We said goodbye to leafy Camperdown and we headed down to the Beinn Inn with the dog. It was dark when we arrived. We bathed, we dined and we crashed. 

More work on the core required. And perhaps a pep talk....!   

Free the (AXA) Raheny 5

I'm not a good flyer. I don't know whether to admire people who fly extensively and are impervious to the jeopardy of air turbulence, reverse thrust and the clandestine threat of the reinforced steel drinks trolley that they insist on wheeling out. I always feel I need to buy something from it to passify it, to appease the air gods. What is the Roman god of trolleys, anyway? 

So it was, last weekend, to be sure, as we took to the sky to Dublin to run the Raheny 5. The Irish National 5 mile Championships. A race that attracts 4000 competitors. A race that's got a reputation for fast times. A little bit of running tourism is what it was.

In fairness, our window of passage with Aer Lungburst was sandwiched between two low pressure systems, Eoywn and Herminia, so we had struck lucky. Cat had scouted out a small but perfectly serviced palatial next to Lansdowne Road on the south side of the City and I got a tad wet walking from the centre to the hotel.  I can add that I wasn't properly attired. We dumped the gear and the 3 of us ran four miles out along the dark, flat streets of the Suburbs for a shake-down before an evening meal in The Cow. From there we crossed the road and had a quick drink in the O'Shaugnessays. It was an early night. It was still raining outside. 

Come the morning we had a slap up breakfast and I helped myself to a pile of cheese to keep myself going until 3pm when the race was. We caught the Dart, the Dublin inner city train service to the centre. Wiping away the condensation with my sleeve, I sat peering out the window of the carriage. It was pouring. 

We had visions of spending an hour or two wandering around Dublin like the tourists we were, but the rain was so heavy, we repaired to cafe Nero. After coffee, I bit the bullet and took the gang to Primark to get a towel and umbrella. However, by this time the gear in my bag was already damp. After making a visit to Decathlon, where Ant made some purchases, we just hung around trying to keep warm. Shortly afterwards we grabbed a bus to Raheny on the north side, happy to be out of the rain again. 

We arrived very early and after picking up our numbers, we sat huddled in the corner of an old school hall trying to keep warm. As the crowd began to swell, folk were shaking the water off their winter jackets and dumping their wet bags all over the Hall. Behind us, on the low stage, was a wide assortment of housewares, such as sets of plastic plates, latte mugs and a toaster. I noticed the toaster was for the 1st F60. Crikey, I wondered if there was one for the 1st M60. If I was the lucky lad, would Michael O'Leary let me take it back across the Irish Sea without a 'extra baggage' surcharge? 

We changed into our vests and put our tracksuits back on and ventured out for a warm-up. The wind was dying down. Was it my imagination or was the rain receding also? By this time, with 15 minutes to go, the streets were jumping with all colour of Irish running vests. The Garda had closed the roads and there were plenty of supporters mulling around. 

We got back to the hall suitably warmed up and I jogged to the portaloos before the start, as there were no handy bushes to hide behind. Such were the queues, that I began to time the folk in front to see if I was going to miss the start, and I only just made it, squeezing through the gates with around three or four hundred in front of me. Not ideal. Was this going to be another start like Dribble Valley last month, where I spent ages trying to get past folk? The gun went and we began to shuffle forward. It was almost a full minute before I crossed the line, but after that I never looked back and it was full gas for 5 miles. I passed a rake of folk - always a mystery why they would be up front near the start. 

My pace was good and I felt fine. Both the wind and rain had dropped and we were cracking on. The course was mostly around the houses, with one stretch along the waterside. Difficult to anticipate the wind, but where I found it, I tucked in (as you do). 

There was a long drag a mile before the finish where I toiled, but overall it was a 32:18 for 5 miles, around 6.30 pace and 5th M60 place. I had a good dry boak at the end, much to the disgust of some of the unfortunates standing at the railings, but other than that, I was right as rain and up for a pint of the wet stuff. 

Cat did a quick 29 minutes for 15th, but both of us could have been quicker, as Ant pointed out, him being the trip team manager and all. 

We got the bus back and celebrated our runs with a set of dry clothes and a couple in the pints in the Flowing Tide on Abbey Street. The Dublin Publopedia website states that 'one barman takes no nonsense, and has been seen ejecting undesirables with considerable gusto and foulmouthed alacrity'. I don't know about that, but we were on our best behaviour. It was a slap up feed at the Old Spot on the evening. Top grub. 

We flew back the next day on Ryanhair. I didn't have anything from the trolley, cause as it came past, we were having some turbulence. Flying, eh? who needs it. 

Falkland Yomp 2025

I ran the Falkland Yomp in 2023 (link:http://runnerwanderings.blogspot.com/2023/01/). I wasn't in the best state, but I enjoyed the event and the course had a bit of everything. The youngster set the course record, but then she does that shit.  So we entered it again last year, but I had a medical, so none of us went. The organiser (Ian), however, advised that he would defer our entry until this year. That was pretty good of him - The Lomond Club are a decent bunch, so this year, we rocked up eager and ready to go. It was Cat, Marg and moi. Ant came along to shepherd us. 

There were 2 starts. One for the slowies and one for the fasties. Marg decided she would do the early start. I fancied it, but my ego hasn't quite deflated sufficiently.  The event, a 7 miler around the Falkland Estate in Fife is an adventure through Scots Pine, heather moorland and forestry gravel paths. This year,  Ian had even put on a bit of snow at the top of the hill to spice things up. Hill races are a little thin on the ground in Scotland in January. This event was oversubscribed, but we were in. 

The race HQ this year was at the Covenanters Hotel. Warm toilets provided and a small crowd. Very civilised. We got our numbers and said goodbye to Marg as she set off. I warmed up by running back to the car and then back to the start. The clothing choice was 2 layers, hat, woollen gloves and the i-rocs. Around 60 or so set off in the second group. After around 200 metres I was passed by Adrian from the Lomies. He looked comfortable and was in my age group, so I took my cue and tucked in behind him. And there I sat.  For 3 miles. We passed a few in front of us. He passed them; I passed them. I was attached like a limpet. He's a better runner than me, but I was up for a challenge. As I sat there, I fully expected to have to sit in for the whole race and take my chances in the sprint at the end. However, just as we ascended the second climb, he slowed. I assumed that he wanted me to take the lead, and I did, but he didn't follow and, not looking back, I ploughed on without any idea where he was. I finished in just under the hour. First V60 and 30 notes. Ego intact. Very nice. 

We caught up for a chat in the hotel afterwards and had a good natter. This is an ace race, and no wonder its in demand. The Youngster took another chunk out of her course record, which was impressive, and Marg enjoyed herself, so a good day all round. Thanks to Peter Bracegirdle for the excellent photographs.