This race is aptly portrayed in the Scottish Hill Racing web site as follows: “Starts with a mad sprint from the Broughton Brewery to hurdle a stonewall, across playing fields, hurdle fence, wade river, negotiate marsh, cross road. Breathe. Then up through turnip fields before hitting the base of the steepest hill. Struggle up this and turn with juddering legs to hurtle precariously back down, and wind up for the final dash along the road to the village hall. Then catch your breath again.” However, before we get to the mad sprint at the start, I think I’d better describe how my day began…..
Up nice and early for the 12 noon start. Lesley and Sarah (youngest offspring at 16) for the 80 mile journey to Edinburgh to drop them off for shopping before the 30 miles to Broughton for the race.
Oh dear. M8 closed and a diversion set up.
AAAARGH! GOT LOST! …. Phew back on track.
Edinburgh…Traffic…Edinburgh…Traffic…Byeee. See you later.
25 minutes to do 30 miles… Pleeeeze no speed cameras.
CAN THESE GUYS NOT GO A BIT QUICKER!!!
Two miles to Biggar.
AAAARGH! BLOODY ROAD WORKS.
Biggar at last. 11:53. Five miles, country road, Lesley’s car so might make it.
Hairy five miles but only 11:57. In hall – WHAT! – they’re off to the start line (1/2 mile away)
Into car, along road, jump out, throw off jacket, pull on hill shoes, grab watch, grab gloves, no time for vaseline on feet, no time for contact lenses, start running.
AAARGH! There goes the start hooter and there are now 90 folk careering towards me on a very narrow path.
Dodge, dodge, ouch, dodge, get to the start. Pleeeeeze. Brilliant, got a number. Tie laces, strap on watch (along side good dress watch), run after the pack.
As they say, the rest is history. I caught up with the very back markers on the way over the playing field. The river was a bit deeper than last year but I didn’t really notice as I was still in a complete panic. In this phase I overtook a lot of runners. Unfortunately, when I came to the hill itself, my panic was replaced with a dose of reality and the old legs decided to remind me who was really boss.
I struggled up the hill losing a few places but at the turn I took them all back. This was possibly the slippiest downhill I’ve come up against for some time and I think the reason for the very slow times. I managed without falling and must have been one of the few who didn’t. The trick is, keep a flat foot, that way there’ll be the greatest area meeting the ground (if Andy had been there I know which part of his body would have been in negotiation with the ground).
The final few hundred yards were painful in the extreme. Like many hill races, Greenmantle finishes with a road section. The jarring on screaming muscles is excruciatingly awful. (wonder if I could have got any more naff adjectives in there).
So, I was slower than last year – but then so was everyone else. My percentage of the winning time last year was 150.4%. This year it was 146.18% so I have to be pleased, even at 73rd out of 91.
Lessons to be learned??
1. Get there in time
2. Get there in time
3. Get there in time
Finally, I couldn’t return to Edinburgh to pick up Lesley and Sarah as mucky and smelly as I clearly was. Unfortunately, there’s no washing facilities. Hmmm. The river! Very cold, very wet but hey, I can’t feel my extremities in any case!