Templeton 10 miler

We drove up from Tinto to Dundee and spent the late Saturday evening walking around the shops. I bought some Homer Simpson socks from Primark. We got to the hotel and found out that there were no dinner slots until 8.15. Far too late. Speedy went out for a jog and I googled various eateries in the area. However, I concluded that we could be wandering around the town for ages and so plodded down to the restaurant to see if we could get in any earlier. I approached the affable young lady at the lectern beside the bar and dining room. I inquired when was the earliest we could get in. As I waited for an answer I glanced round to see only 3 tables occupied. 'Well,' she said 'we could fit you in now if you like?'. Yes, indeedy. 'Ten minutes will be great'. This gave me time to lop back to the room and gave Speedy the heads up. We were dined and done by 7.30. Nice. 

The following morning it was gloomy and grey, which is unusual in the land of the Silvery Tay. We were early at Clatto Reservoir race HQ. We watched folk coming and going from the car. Cheap entertainment, running sardonic commentary throughout from yours truly. It was then out and up to the start with the briefest of warm ups. 

Clad in green and white, Fotheringham from Perth was the one I thought I could track and within a mile of the start, I was sat  around ten seconds behind him. I was running with a tall younger chap in bandana, and I hid behind him sheltering from the side wind. 

As the side wind turned into a tailwind I was overdressed and feeling the previous days' exertions. At around 5 miles I slowed and bandana man moved up to the Perth runner and I found myself going all grumpy and muttering like Mutley as I saw the wee duo move ahead. It was a 30 second gap and I was on my lonesome, the gap lengthening with every mile. At 7 miles Perth put on a burst on a downhill stretch, leaving  his compatriot behind, but I was foundering and treading water. I was passed at 8 miles by a Carnegie and then just before the finish by a grey haired triathlete. 

It was 1: 14 for this hilly 10 miler and, with that time, I didn't have to stay for any presentation.  Instead we grabbed a cake and cuppa from the generous spread put on by the Dundee Roadrunners and cleared off south. Good mileage for the week. Get me that Mountjaro. Those Homer Simpson socks clearly didn't have the desired effect.