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.
X-Border 10k 2025
by Russell Turner - 12:18 on 03 February 2025
The epic journey began on Saturday, the day after a two-hour long run, when I drove Grandson of Seat (now closing in on 100,000 miles) from The Rural Retreat, via a brief break at Perth, to the M6 Travelodge at Todhills, between Gretna and Carlisle. I know how to live. I’d have chosen somewhere more classy, but Carlisle accommodation wasn’t convenient and Gretna’s unavailable or too costly. I guessed the Travelodge would be basic, but at £25 (breakfast not included, 30mins free wi-fi) I couldn’t complain. Nor could Matchgirl, who’d chosen to stay home with cats.
Unpacked and rested, I ventured out again to check tomorrow’s route to the start line. This involved driving away from it, then back up the M6 from junction 44, because the Travelodge is southbound only. Fortunately it’s a short journey. Junction 45 led to Gretna’s Caledonia Park Shopping Village, where the X-Border 10k would finish, then to a handy Indian restaurant – a bold decision the day before a race – and the Co-op next door where breakfast necessities were purchased.
Back at the Travelodge, I passed time with the Kindle (Mick Herron’s Slow Horses series – recommended) and pondered on what to wear next day, which would be cool and possibly rainy. I was still undecided at 11pm, when I first attempted sleep, and at 2am, when yet another group of residents came chattering and laughing down the corridor. Some people…
My alarm went at 6.45; an hour later, I left having plumped for the usual current combo of T-shirt and long-sleeved top, plus tights, gloves, neck buff and head buff. Assembly point was at the finish, from where shuttle buses took us to the drab start point at Kingmoor Park Industrial Estate in north Carlisle. With 30 minutes to while away before the 9am start, I joined a group loitering in the lee of a building, hoping to escape a chill breeze, from where we could watch the racing snakes performing sprint warm-ups and many more people queuing for the toilets. Attire ranged from vest and short shorts to heavy tops and beanie hats, plus one guy in a Christmas jumper which I presumed he’d discard before running.
At 8.55, 1,500 runners (less those who didn’t turn up) gathered on the start line to be serenaded by a piper, buzzed by a camera drone, and feel the first drops of rain. I took a modest place three-quarters of the way back. Then, we were off: the rain faded, the breeze was behind us and all was well.
The route, it can’t be denied, is not an exciting one: along the B7076, part of the former main road. Parallel with it on the right is the M6, which replaced it; on the left, flat dull countryside and the distant Solway Firth. Colour came from the pack of participants ahead and around; noise from the motorway traffic and the occasional toot of support from one of its constituent parts. This was the first year of a closed-road course; it’s not wide in places so I wouldn’t fancy running it with cars whizzing past.
This, I told myself, was a training run, not a PB attempt. Even so, I set off a little faster than needed, then speeded up despite the minor undulations caused by road and rail bridges, coming unstuck around half way when I walked up one of them. A couple more breaks were taken, but as the marathon plan would have had me running 60 minutes of pyramid intervals I felt I was entitled. A feeble retrospective excuse.
Six miles in, a nasty little climb (which I ran) featured traffic backed up in both directions by stewards to allow us to move from one side of the road to the other and reach the turning into Caledonia Park, which had opened for shoppers a few minutes earlier at 10am. Runners weaved through several twists and turns, separated from retail enthusiasts and race supporters by temporary barriers, before sighting the finish arch. We were done.
Except for queuing to get into the hall where we received water, medal, banana, Haribos and shirt (in that order), then battling through the crowds to get away. I’d intended to stay and watch more finishers, and maybe take advantage of some of the shopping bargains my medal would bring, but rain had returned, the breeze was no longer behind me and I was cold and sweaty. Instead, I found the car, changed into a dry top, and headed back to the Travelodge. Just a handful of runners were still to finish, which meant no traffic hold-ups. By midday I was showered, packed and back on the road north. I can confirm that the all day breakfast at the Taste of Perthshire in Bankfoot is still excellent.
The usual questions: did I enjoy it and would I do it again? I did enjoy the race, despite my poor pacing, the hanging about at the start and the scrum at the finish. If I lived closer I probably would repeat the experience but not with a 540-mile round trip. That said, I wouldn’t dissuade anyone else from having a go. The biggest disappointment was the lack of a Welcome to Scotland sign when we crossed the border. Maybe I just didn’t see it.
I didn’t break the hour, but as I didn’t set out to do so that’s OK: just another training run, the first of Week 5 before 12 miles on Friday, then 12 weeks to the Edinburgh Marathon. I’ll be ready.
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