A few weeks ago, the Bearded One and I ran the Dunblane 7.5 Mile Road Race and at the end (at the top of the vertical climb to the finish) we were handed cards that gave us a discounted entry for the Bannockburn 10k.
As we had just run probably my hilliest run ever (not really but it felt like it 3 weeks post VLM) I assumed that Bannockburn would be flat. So I jumped at the chance to test my legs on my usual type of terrain.
Oh Bean. Oh. Ginnie. Bean.
I specialise in Drama Queen, so it wasn’t really actually “hilly” but there are two ‘challenging’ climbs that, when you’re really up for running a PB, definitely throw a spanner in the works.
Having spent the week riddled with anxiety, I had all but given up hope of sub 57 minutes. However….
The weather was perfect. Overcast, slight breeze, not toasty. And for once I dressed appropriately with shorts and a Tshirt. This wasn’t without faffing though, I can assure you. There were two outfit changes in the car park. Two.
You start off downhill which is a real treat and loop round a course where the downhills are actually rewarding. Unexpectedly, my calves didn’t immediately request that I stop what I was doing and go back to bed. Nope! Everything felt… Dare I say it…. Smooth and strong.
I started in the middle of the field for a change and actually didn’t get overtaken that much at all. If I did, despite being as agile and able as a breeze block uphill, i began to reel people in from 4km.
And this leads me to The Nasty Man.
I won’t name the club he was running for, but never in my short life of races have I experienced such rudeness from a fellow runner.
He, ahem, had gravity on his side for the downhills. So he’d race past me and then walk the up-hills. Every time i jogged past him I heard “fuck sake”.
Now. I know it sucks to be overtaken. But there’s no need for that at all.
I assumed he hated being chicked so I let him get ahead and when I could no longer hang back because my pace was going up and I was feeling strong, I passed him again. This time he properly let on that it was not ok. “Jesus Christ!” He shouted.
No idea why. Perhaps in a moment of running-induced euphoria he envisioned the actual Jesus Christ. Who the fuck knows.
I carried on towards 8km and the turn onto the main road towards the finish.
He literally sprinted past me. And pushed me out of his way. Onto a busy road.
And that was it. No fucking way pal. I may have called him a dick. I definitely then kicked it up a notch and chicked him to fuck. He was 500m behind me at least, once I turned the last corner to the finish.
There is absolutely no need for that kind of attitude. I didn’t hear him react to anyone else overtaking him so one has to assume he didn’t enjoy my bright pink trainers. But just because he’s racist towards pink trainers, doesn’t mean he can behave like that.
I had been running sub 6min kms for a while. The up hill sections were under 6:40/km. so I knew I had a sub 60 in my legs. Something told me to switch my Garmin screen to elapsed time as I rounded the corner to the last 300m.
That gives me less than 90s to run 300m.
No problem for Mr Bolt, but for chubby Bean with dodgy calves this would be a challenge.
I was so focused on the finish line that I totally missed Bearded One cheering me over. All I could say was “water. Water” when I crossed the line and I was so hypoxic that I couldn’t open the bottle.
Shit the bed. Not a PB but my 2nd fastest 10k ever, when my fastest was on flat terrain. By the skin of my teeth.
By the time I had pulled myself together, Brian had found me and put my medal on me (my hands couldn’t open the bag!) and I was happily inhaling a macaroon bar.
The race was really well marshalled, well supported and well attended with over 500 people of varied abilities taking part. It’s the 3rd year of the event and it’s already a well-oiled machine with a 3km race for kids and a 1km fun run.
The fun run was easily one of the most entertaining things I’ve ever watched. From the dad bringing up the rear carrying his tiny baby son to the dad frantically trying to stop his toddler from deviating from the track, failing, then picking up the mid-tantrum-child and carrying him to the finish. Must sympathise with the child, here. Quite often I actually decide half way through that this was a terrible idea…
We opted to buy t shirts, because I need some 10k t shirts to complement my collection of marathon ones. (HAHAHAHA. Ha. Amazing) and they were pink (not purple, Brian. Soz).
I would thoroughly recommend this race for anyone who lives locally or a Wee bit further afield. Nice Sunday out in the countryside and a Wee bit of bling to boot.