Nae Fur Coat

I was up for today's race, the Moorfield 5km, starting at the Beehive in Glossop. As it was organised by a bunch of fell runners I wasn't expecting an easy one. After a quick hop on the train, I jogged up to the start on Hague Street in Glossop. It's a beautiful road, just on the edge of the countryside. I nearly bought a house there but as its on the top of a steep hill, I didn't fancy riding it everyday.

The race was very low key with nearly as many marshals as runners. Everyone was very friendly, but they did look like lithe hardened fell runners, with the majority wearing vests demonstrating allegiance to running clubs in very hilly places. I had my nice red Manchester Tri one on. It was 'enter on the line' and I paid my money...."£5 please" the guy on the registration table said. "F**c" I thought....I had £6 and it was £2 for the train home. Oh well.

The tiny field lined up outside the pub and the fat landlord said "in your own time....go!" and we were off. Within 500m I was in no-mans-land with the fast ones moving off into the distance. It was a steady road climb, hard but not overly so. My mind started to wander, wonder how I was going to get home. "Snap out of it Kirkland" I thought seeing the guy in front was not gaining on me. I pushed on hard and started to catch him slowly.

The road descended steeply through Moorfield just as I caught the guy, a Stockport runner. I tried to relax into the hill but it was just too steep to be comfortable. He passed me again and soon had 10m on me. Turning at The Royal Oak at the foot of Snake Pass, I passed him again, opening up a gap and thinking I could now catch the guy in front. Although I'm getting thinner and stronger, 84kg means that I'm best on fast slightly downhill sections, which this was.

I turned left, with just over a mile to go. I knew the finish would be uphill but did not expect to be faced with an almost vertical climb. Well, maybe just in excess of 20% but hard enough. The Stockport runner started to gain on me quickly. I brought out my secret weapon....imaginary walking poles, drove hard with my arms and was determined not to stop running. The Stockport guy was now walking but at a pace faster than me. He drew level just as we hit the top. I kicked hard...not him...it's a running expression, and soon opened an insurmountable gap. I collapsed in a heap just over the finishing line after 24min23sec and in 9th place. There had only been 15 runners but I was delighted.

This was a race of purity. I suspect running is a lifestyle, part of their being, for my fellow runners. Everyone seemed to know everyone but they were all welcoming to the bald Scottish stranger, despite him quite clearly being a triathlete. I went into the pub to get my gilet and was surprised to see a few having pints of ale! It was 11:30am.

Then reality hit.... I was going to have to run home, 6km in the hills. My legs coped for the first half but then started to hurt in a way that suggested I should walk. I walked. I was pooped when I got home and had to lay down with my eyes shut for 10 mins. Then I stuffed my face, listened to Radio 4 and promptly fell asleep.

I awoke and ate some more then watched some shit TV on iplayer....The Voice, which I strangely enjoy. It was then off into Manchester for swimming. My knee was still playing up in the kick set but everything else was good. Think Nina is right...time to move up a lane when I'm leading it feeling comfortable and everyone else is hyperventilating. A few of us went for a coffee afterwards which I defo needed.

Manchester on a bank holiday! Carnage. The train was full of drunks. I had to work hard to not feel like a sanctimonious Daily Mail reader. But it wasn't pretty. High heels can look nice but not on ladies who have just had a skinful. It was multi-generational too with the older ones seeming worse. I can just imagine my Great Granny Thornburn saying in her faux Morningside accent...."lost the fur coat and certainly no knickers". I'm at the front of the queue to criticise the government and the 1% but much of the 99% don't do themselves many favours either.....