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.
Inverness 5k 2025
by Russell Turner - 12:15 on 10 March 2025
The drawback of a 5k race is the number of kids taking part, if the Inverness 5k is anything to go by. “Half of today’s entrants are under 18,” the day’s microphone man announced proudly before we set off, which meant around 750, most of whom appeared to be of junior school age. The little blighters were everywhere.
Race day in Inverness Leisure Centre was the usual scrum, made worse because I had to queue for the 5k bib (HM ones are posted out), then join another queue to deposit baggage, then join a further queue to access the centre toilets. I gave up after a while and tried the portaloos outside, which was a wise decision: the queue was shorter, quicker, and the time was spent chatting with a woman in a Wee County vest who’ll also be running Alloa this weekend.
From there it was a short stroll to the start line where we waited for the distance from the slowest half marathoners to grow (they set off first) before we were allowed to go. Fun runners and families had been advised to start at the back; I set myself around a quarter way from the front, eschewing my usual humble positioning, but still found lots of kids in the vicinity. The hooter sounded; the racing snakes dashed off at incredible speed: the video of the start appears to be speeded up at that point. I lumbered past a minute later; the last runner passed after five minutes. I was almost with the elites.
The first half kilometre is narrow, but despite that, and nine-year-olds zipping past me and zig-zagging across the course, I began with a good pace, effortful but sustainable (I hoped). Less happy was the boy crying his eyes out at the 1k mark, being comforted by (presumably) his father. Huge grazes on both knees meant that a running career might be over before it began.
Shortly after that we crossed Ness Bridge (a proper road bridge) to come down on the other side of the river, where I was passed by two small boys who became very familiar: their race plan seemed to be to run as hard as they could until they had to walk, then repeat, so we encountered each other several times.
The second kilometre passed equally speedily, but the course narrowed again after turning off the road on to the riverside walk. Congestion increased a little, and there were several sharp turns on to bouncy footbridges that connect the Ness Islands. Spectators urged us to keep going. The final bridge put us back on the original side of the river, though heading away from the finish. Runners had spaced out enough that congestion was no longer a problem but a path surface raised in places by tree roots meant we had to watch our feet.
A U-turn at 4k returned us to proper road and allowed me to pick up the pace slightly for the final push, ending with a half circuit of the leisure centre running track. I crossed the line slightly short of 5k, so kept the pace going for the required few seconds, much to the bafflement of spectators. The race wasn’t chip timed so I was relying on the Garmin, which showed a very satisfactory 28:23. If the course had all been road I reckon I’d have made it in under 28mins.
I collected a modest medal, a water bottle which I gave to a child (I don’t hold grudges), a banana and some flax seeds and downed a couple of cups of water, then battled through the scrum outside the centre to get inside for my bag, where I found some welcome peace and calm: the first of the half marathoners, and the bulk of the 5k runners, were still to arrive, which meant I could collect my baggage in seconds and find a seat to eat one of the over-priced snacks on sale nearby.
Wisely, I’d not attempted to park at the centre, where departing traffic was already backed up. Instead, I walked the mile to where I’d left Grandson of Seat and was able to watch returning half marathoners suffering on a day that had begun mild and windless and was now almost warm. I didn’t regret missing the race; the forecast for Alloa is still, dry and cooler. That’s more like it.
The time may have come to recalibrate by HR zones (which haven’t changed for a few years). Despite a proper effort, my HR didn’t reach zone 5, which suggests it’s now set too high. Maximum yesterday was 149bpm; in the past (some time ago, admittedly) I’ve topped 160. So either my heart can no longer reach such heights, or I wasn’t trying hard enough.
I’d considered today doing the run I missed because of the Glasgow trip but have decided against it, even though I feel recovered and my slightly stiff leg seems to have been loosened by yesterday’s exertions. It’s an easier week ahead of the Alloa HM. I’ve been looking forward to this. Let’s hope it’s not an anticlimax.
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