Tilli 10K

Brilliant (definitely not) low-key race comprised of an out and back along the cycle path.

Aly & I picked Christian up en-route and learned of his mad chia seed, home-brewed pre-race shake mix – as I sipped at a cold espresso I’d forgotten to add warm milk to.

Keith had commented on the Facebook post declaring his attendance, so we deliberated on who else from Porty might be in attendance and were met by Shery, Yana, Jonny, and George. A good turnout for a 10K an hour away!

Christian and Aly had experience of the route. Christian running it during the worst ice blizzard to ever hit Tillicoultry and Aly running it last year in polar opposite – fresh legs will have a good time – conditions.

The forecast for today was relatively mild with a 20kt SE’ly wind. Which sits wonderfully right behind you on the out and straight down your gullet on the way back.

We arrived at 9am and joined the toilet queue immediately. This is where the experience of a race is particularly useful, because when we left the toilets, the queue was 20+ deep.

Registration was slick. Number collected, then we were directed to a table at the opposite side of the hall to collect a beer. Ales, Lagers, Alcohol-Free and more, options aplenty. The temptation to open it pre-race was quelled by the knowledge that a 10K is among the most puke-likely of race distances even without a beer.

3, 2, 1, we were off.

A congested start took a while to even out. I could see Christian well ahead pre-start and hoped he could find a gap to push for the PB we knew he was in shape for. I couldn’t spot Aly, but knew she’d find a tactical spot amongst the crowd.

Within a few hundred metres a fawn fell out of a tree to our left and let off an absolute howl of a scream, which provoked a scream of the exact same intensity from the group of us running past. The fawn could’ve run anywhere, and I had visions of it wiping out a runner ahead. Thankfully, there was no more drama. As it ran off parallel to the path never to be seen again.

A short descent, a bag-piper, a mad-man dancing in a tunnel, then we were over 2.5 miles in. The front runners started passing us on their return leg as the narrow track turned to single file to allow both groups to pass safely. For anyone focusing on a time, this section would present a challenge. Overtakes had to happen in gaps, which meant reserving enough energy to surge when a gap opens up. As we closed on the loop the gaps became fewer and far between but the loop did arrive and with it, a water station.

10K, no thank you.

Aly would never let me live it down. And given I can’t see her, I can’t take the chance that she might see me.

I pass Shery close to here, as Jonny and Christian pass us on their return leg. Both looking strong, Jonny encouraging Shery as he kicked even more mud up from the course onto his back. Jonny finished the race looking like he’d just run Falkirk XC.

The loop was pleasant.

Almost refreshing.

The wind still behind us, a side street turning into a trail. A timer at half-way. “Nice idea,” I said in my head. Little did I know how useful a particular Keith McQueenie would find it when he got the triangle of death on his garmin before even hitting halfway. In those final crunch miles Keith had to rely on the kindness (and honesty) of strangers to offer the accurate distance and times for him to gauge his effort. It’s hard to motivate tired legs to move. Harder still is fuelling them with ‘trust’. People lie.

I am one of those.

Fighting the wind, I felt my legs warm up and gradually increased my cadence to a level that felt manageable.

A few runners offered words of encouragement. We passed the piper again. Crazy disco man under the bridge was still partying. Then with 1.20 miles to go a runner asked me how far was left.

“Less than a mile.”

Then I prayed for them.

The final stretch feels like it’s downhill. Then, as if 10K isn’t hard enough, the course forces this abrupt zig-zag onto the runners, followed by another finishing straight.

Somewhere here I saw the beard of George Easdale pass me. Only afterwards did I find out he’d been on my tail before half-way. Which meant I was hunted and caught.

The world of 10Ks is savage.

I saw Aly, Jonny, Yana, and Christian all finished and cheering us in.

Medals were handed out, Mars bars were eaten. Soup, bread, tea, coffee and biscuits were on offer at the finish.

Barry Ferenbach had made an appearance, departing quickly before I’d finished. I can only assume he had taken two mars bars and was making a quick getaway.

Inside, Christian, George, Aly and I stood at a table eating soup and chocolate biscuits (well, maybe the biscuits were just me). Keith walked by with a protein shake. His jacket and bag on, looking every inch the athlete I aspire to be.

I wish I’d brought a protein shake.

Digesting it within 30 minutes of exercise primes the body for recovery.

Keith is a smart man.

We finished our post-race scran and departed. Christian, Aly and I heading back across the road to the car.

Christian with a 10K PB and Aly with a Tilli 10K course PB.

A brilliant end, to a lovely Sunday morning run.

Oh, wait!

“There’s Keith again.”

I say as we depart the car park.

“What’s that in his hand?”

“A greggs sausage roll.”

A hero’s hero.

Race Report : Alan Risk