Happily Ever After
Life in The Rural Retreat with a beautiful wife, three cats, garden wildlife, a camera, a computer – and increasing amounts about running
Earlier posts can be found on Adventures of a Lone Bass Player, where this blog began life. Recent entries can be found here.
Balmoral 5k
by Russell Turner - 10:05 on 28 April 2024
A 180-mile round trip to run a 5k – my first 5k race! – may seem like a waste of time, but when the road passes through some of the most spectacular scenery in the Cairngorms it’s worth the effort. The twisty road after Tomintoul is particularly dramatic, featuring vast moorland fringed with grey, occasionally snow-flecked, peaks. Great stuff.
After two hours and 10mins of driving I arrived at the turning into Balmoral Castle in a good mood, further improved by unexpectedly swift access to the estate. Queues can be huge, I’d been warned. Stewards directed me to parking area 2 – one of several fields; fortunately the ground was firm – from where a mile’s stroll, via the castle itself, took me to an event village which boasted sponsor and charity marquees, baggage and massage tents, a variety of food vans and a huge number of people, many of them families who’d set up tents and other ways to claim their space. Very Glastonbury.
The first schoolkids’ race had already taken place when I arrived, evidenced by the number of medal-festooned pre-teens wandering around. I familiarised myself with the village layout and start line, looked for and failed to find any familiar faces (Matchgirl was home wrestling with tax problems), then found a quiet place to loiter out of what was becoming a chilly breeze. At least the sun kept appearing and there was no rain.
After leaving it as long as I could, I put my jacket in the pack I left with the baggage ladies of Crathie School (suggested donation £1) and wandered over to where an enthusiastic warm-up was being conducted. I did my own thing until there was a general move to the start where I positioned myself with the 30-minute finish group. At 12.30 sharp we were off.
The first 1.5k was a touch cramped, run on an estate road about four or five people wide, so it took a few minutes to find a rhythm. The congestion eased after rounding the out-and-back cone, and eased even more when we encountered the only real incline (around 20m over 400m), causing a few over-optimistic starters to walk.
I kept running, but only vaguely aware of my speed. I’d switched the Garmin from miles to kilometres, which is what the RTTS training plan requires, but failed to adjust the pace setting too, causing much arithmetical confusion. I had enough spare brain capacity to work out that I was probably ahead of 30min pace – how far ahead was a mystery.
There were 1,035 competitors, 60% female.
By now we were running on a forest track, through which we could see the castle and the event village, encouraged over a couple of minor inclines by spectators and their bemedalled offspring. I kept going, resisting the temptation to ease off as we passed the castle, with less than half a kilometre to the finish line, which appeared around the final bend. I crossed in 28:15, which five days after a marathon seemed an acceptable time. With less congestion and a flatter route I might have been even quicker.
I collected a chunky medal, a terrible white T-shirt, and failed to find a goody bag. No matter. I retrieved my bag, donned the jacket – the wind was still cool – then returned to the finish line to watch the 40-45min finishers arrive, all shapes, sizes and ages, some walking, a few sprinting, expressions ranging from cheery to exhausted, some enjoying a jolly day with friends, others grimly determined, but few taking it as seriously as the junior 2.5k runners I’d seen earlier.
By now I’d decided against doing the 10k. I could have completed it, even with the notorious hill at 3k, but after running the 5k much faster than the 35mins I’d anticipated it would not have been fun, although I might have felt different with a running companion or a pacer. Instead, I returned to the food vans, was repelled by the queues, then walked back to the car, chatting with a local guy and his young son, both wearing medals, and left. A bonus was that I wasn’t caught up in the huge jam I expected later when everyone tried to go home at the same time.
Traffic control was still in operation, which meant I couldn’t drive straight back on to the main A93. Rather, I had to take the winding back road beside the River Dee before emerging at Ballater. That was no hardship. Food was finally found at The Old Fire Station tearoom in Tomintoul: some very tasty broccoli and stilton soup and a cheese and bacon roll. Splendid. I emerged from there to be assaulted by light hailstones, turning to rain as the elevation fell. The journey home was still a good one, despite some anxious drivers who were clearly unused to Highland bends.
All in all, it was a good day out. I’d certainly recommend the event although I doubt I’ll return alone. Today will be a day of rest; RTTS training begins on Monday. There’s no let-up for us athletes.
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