With the main draw usually being at the weekend, Wednesday provided a bonus race – the Red Moss Kips. I spotted it on SI Entries recently and, having enjoyed the views in that part of the world for the recent Rigg Race, thought it could be a nice one if the weather was half decent.
As it happened, the weather was sensational – JACKPOT!
I managed to negotiate the use of Jack’s new GoPro to take some snaps, and elected to use the head mount to keep my hands free (in part in case of potential stumbles on descents). But that would still allow me to point my head and shoot, rather than having to turn my whole body if I used e.g. the chest mount.
Having persuaded Jamie from the Club to join me, we met at Charlotte Square at 6pm for the drive out to Balerno. We’d had a nice leisurely run round the “Doon Hill 10” route the night before, so were perfectly conditioned for this one – arf!
We chose to ditch the car in Balerno to avoid adding to the congestion up at the Red Moss, and also to get in a bit of a warm up. It seemed that others had the same idea, and indeed we parked next to Andrew from Lothian RC, the chap that David and I had had a bit of a ding-dong with a few days previously at Dechmont. It is probably redundant to say “small world!” when you are dealing with the running community in East central Scotland…
We did quite quickly get on to the subject of DRC’s first male team prize at Dechmont. As it turns out, we weren’t actually first. Lothian had 26 points to our 39, but there was a miscount which saw their fourth place runner counted instead of one of their top three. I had wondered about that when the results first appeared on RunBritain, but had put it down to the possibility that they didn’t want to award the prize to the host club. Ah well, it was accepted (by an agent acting on our behalf) in good faith, and Andrew didn’t seem overly upset.
Sure enough, the car park up at Red Moss was busy. Although restricted to 100 online entries, there was a policy of allowing free entry to anyone additional who pitched up on a bike. The fine weather must have twisted an extra few people’s arms.
We had enough time for a walk up the Beech Road (apparently also known as “the Agony of the Trees”!) so that I could point vaguely in the direction of the Kips for Jamie’s benefit – he is a Lancashire lad, and had never run in the Pentlands before. With such expert guidance there was no danger that he could repeat the error of one of last year’s runners - descending off the Kips in the wrong direction and ending up in Carlops. No siree, Bob.
Milling about on the start line, the GoPro on my head drew a few comments – one Westie mistaking it for a head torch and chiding me (good-naturedly) for an overly pessimistic approach!
We got going and after crossing the Redford Bridge over Threipmuir Reservoir, quickly hit the incline on Beech Road. I went ok up that, and didn’t feel too puggled at the top which was something. Next, after a zig-zag, came the drag out on the Red Road to the Kips.
I had walked this last summer with Jo and the kids, and my recollection was that it was pretty steady and therefore should be quite nicely runable. Which it largely was, although it went on much longer than I’d hoped. I always do more walking than I ought to in a hill race, but my plan was to try and run all the way out to the foot of West Kip proper, and then march up the last steepest section. That would mean something like 220 metres of climb run, and the last 75 or so walked, which seemed respectable enough.
And I managed it ok, taking plenty of pictures on the way. The GoPro worked well – I just needed to flick my right hand up and press the button every so often, which didn’t really disrupt my rhythm at all, and may have had the incidental benefit of dropping the odd metaphorical turd in the psychological pools of my fellow competitors. Dave Brailsford would be proud of my dedication to marginal gains. If only I could also pursue more appreciable gains through better training and cleaner living.
The heat of the sun was already starting to take its toll by the point that the Kips started to loom large. The car had reckoned it was 24C when we left it, and there wasn’t much shade available out on the course. A couple of guys even stripped their tops off and carried them. The supposedly compulsory windproof cover I was carrying in a bumbag seemed a little OTT, not least because there was no kit check beforehand, and a number of folk didn’t seem to be in full compliance. Jamie had gone for a full rucksack, but told me later that he was glad of it as he’d gone the whole hog and taken water.
I didn’t lose much ground stomping up West Kip, as most others at this part of the field were walking as well. And I tried to distract myself by focussing on the tremendous views to both sides.
My choice of road shoes over the Fellraisers meant that I took the descent down to the saddle between the Kips more cautiously than I would have preferred, but it really wouldn’t have made much difference on such a short stretch. I walked earlier than I probably ought to going up East Kip (i.e. as soon as it even looked like turning into a hill), and was promptly passed by Andrew the Lothian, who sportingly called out some words of encouragement.
Having summitted, we then descended to the col, before turning sharply left and then right towards Lover’s Loup and the Howe. This was a longer drop and I had to try to strike the right balance between gaining ground on those in front, and suffering an early retirement through a fall. This frequently meant searching off of the path for some grippier heather or longer grass. But I did manage to pass a few (including Andrew) and got quite close to the “fancy-shorts” HBT. I note that I didn’t take many photos on this section of the course.
Touching down at the Howe saw my spirits slide away quite quickly. I didn’t feel like I had recovered greatly. I was very hot and bothered (bizarrely noticing that my feet felt roasting, which I think is a first) and seriously considered scooping handfuls of water out of the Logan Burn (it’s only a 10K!!!). Which surely wouldn’t have been advisable. I also noted that the incline up Green Cleugh was more severe than I’d remembered. In a moment of weakness, I had a bit of a walk. Which saw Andrew pass me again.
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| The GoPro also offered a much better excuse for turning round and looking backwards |
We got back towards Bavelaw Castle with less than 50 metres separating the three of us, so I put in a little bit of a spurt on the grassy section before the gate to pass Fancy Pants and bring me nearer to Andrew. The pay-off being that, after he had had to slow to open it, I was close enough to him to catch the gate before it swung back shut. And the gap to Fancy Pants was now large enough that (even though I’d given it a further nudge to keep it open longer) he couldn’t stop the gate from latching. Etiquette observed, but I still managed to eke out an advantage. The potential importance of good gate management is something learned from the Fling.
Hitting the tarmac, I put a move on Andrew and legged it as hard as I could back down Beech Road. The surface of the tarmac is actually quite rough – covered in fine grit, so a tumble on it would be like falling on sand paper. I hoped for the best and ploughed on as fast as my ruined thighs and calves would carry me.
And became aware that the deficit to the Penicuik Harrier in front was reducing. I managed to overhaul him about 100 metres from the line, just as Neil/Harry G of Carnethy was crossing it. I finished a shade over 50 minutes, so he must have been under, in which case he would have won a prize of a bottle of beer for beating his age. Which seems like quite a big ask on this course – I can’t imagine more than a handful managing it.
Missing out on a beer by a mere 11 and a half minutes, I made do with a cup of water and a bottle of ginger/citrus drink courtesy of the race sponsors. I was worried that they might have gone too heavy on the ginger, but it was more subtle and very refreshing. Just a shame that I can’t remember what the hell their name is - Williamson proves to be a marketer’s worst nightmare! Jamie mentioned that his wife used to swear by ginger to settle her stomach during morning sickness, and I must say that my stomach did feel remarkably settled afterwards. I highly recommend [unknown ginger drink]!
After the usual post-race dissection (which involved Frank McP from Haddington, and James H of Carnethy), the trio of Jamie, Andrew and I shuffled off back down the hill to Balerno and the cars.
Another new race for me and, despite it being challenging at times, one that I would say is well worth your consideration.
