Run of the Mill Race 2013

Some of the many, and some interlopers (no, not the wee one on the right!)

Mary's photos here     Alan Gebbie's photos here     Digby's photomap here
It was with trepidation that we viewed the mist covered Ochils as we headed for Alva this morning.
It was with trepidation that we prepared for the start of the race.
Then with a sudden movement of the pack we were off. A long undulating run of about 2 miles led to the start of the hill and with a good tail wind we climbed for miles and eventually into the mist. It was a case of keeping the guy in front in sight or getting the map out.
Luckily way down the field it is easy enough to follow, but the guys at the front have to find their own way (or not, more of that to come).
The Marshals had to cope with horrendous conditions on the tops (Thanks) and as we ran off Ben Ever to see Alva appear out of the Mist, it was a wonderful view. I spent the run alternating places with the Ex President, I got him on the ups he got me on the downs, until he ran off to Alva and the finish.
A great race, and fantastic Carnethy turnout of 37 runners.
The race was won by Finlay Wild (Lochaber) from Matthew Sulivan (Shettleston) and Mike Reid of Carnethy in third.
Carnethy led the ladies with Angela Mudge first home (and first FV40) and Charlotte Morgan 2nd, Sharon Bird (unattached) was third.
Keith Burns was 1st V70.
There were 9 Carnethies in the first 20 finishers, and I was 27th Carnethy finisher in 93rd place.
Willie Gibson

The start took a lot of us by surprise. Matt was tying his shoelaces, I was waiting for the briefing, which may have been taking place but with such a large field it was hard to tell. So we were off through a very scenic dell with waterfall and beautiful autumnal trees. The narrow track spread the field out considerably so those nearer the front had a definite advantage.
As we started up the first serious ascent the clouds lifted and views of the route over rolling hills were revealed, then hidden again, not to be seen any more. The wind rose and we had the luxury of being blown uphill. Now and then forlorn marshalls appeared out of the gloom flapping their arms hopelessly in the freezing gale.
I had no idea where I was at any time which was less than competent hill navigation. Keeping in sight of runners in front became VERY important. The course was very nearly comprehensively marked except for one hurricane lashed high point where the choice appeared to be a headlong plunge or... what? With no runners in sight it was fortunate that Joan Wilson turned up, knew the way, turned right, and we followed. 200 metres on we found the route marker. The mist stung as it hit our faces and the sight of Jane & dogs on the last rise signalled the final descent, and not a moment too soon. Digby

I had to turn out for this to complete my championship tally. My thoughts on the start line were occupied by recollection of a big blob of red rain on the Met Office forecast for mid-afternoon over Ben Cleugh. With this thought, and still halfway through double-tying my laces, the race made a premature start. The long climb up the flank of Mill Glen was pleasant relief from the fast sprint toTillicoultry.
I was able to mentally list all the hazards that would have to be removed if this race were under future UK Athletics governance. I was also able to list the passage of the familiar faces I had intended to keep in front of, and couldn’t. I appreciated the tow up to Andrew Gannel from Tom Bowie, and then he was gone in the cloud. By Ben Cleugh the red rain had arrived early, transported by a roaring wind that was no longer providing uplift, either physically or mentally. Visual stimulus was now confined to the next five metres of bog, where my new Walshes were not performing as well as my old Innovates did.
Jane’s encouragement on Ben Ever summit gave me the lift I needed to finish the job, augmented by Helen’s reappearance as a growing threat for the end game. The reappearance of distant views, as always, was wonderful. I managed to hold Helen off, just, despite totally losing grip on the steep wet grass before the wood, slamming my jaw into the ground and rattling my brain.
A great afternoon’s entertainment.
Keith Burns

It was wet
Andrew Normand
It was windy
Colin Wilson
It was wet and windy
Graham Nash
Secretary, Carnethy HRC

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