Thursday, 17 December 2009

Big Brother is Watching

By the way, I meant to say.
I've been doing a bit of running. Not much but I'm trying.
Life has been getting in the way a bit.
What with galavanting round Embra Toon with the Royal couple and the usual suspects for Festive Fun. Galavanting off to see the Pogues with my fella and chairing my first Striders AGM as El Presidente there hasn't been too much time for plodding round the town.

This week I've had two cracking plods.
Monday saw me trot out with Anne, me team mate from the Calley and Dot, founder member of Strathaven Striders and keeper of the Kingshouse checkpoint.
They had costumes to deliver, so it was never going to be far or fast. We ran the 'loops'- any one from Strathaven will be very familiar with the loops- and stopped at the first gaff. Only a pit stop with Prof & Mrs Rice then on to the main event.
Irene Wilson cried off running tonight, citing too much marking as an excuse. She politely invited us in and offered a refreshment for our trouble.
Tea, coffee, WINE??? my eyes lit up. But we are running.
Aucht well give me a large glass o red and one o those smashing mince pies. Job Done.

Tonight was the infamous Wednesday night coached session. Groans all round. We know its good for us but it stings.

Former El Presidente, (cant be named for legal reasons) scared me witless tonight. We were chatting as you do while waiting on the group to reform when there was some discussion regarding 'continental quilts'. Now this made me smile as its one of those phrases that you don't hear much any more, and it fitted in nicely with the retro theme on my FB this week. Rubik's cubes, Mr. Frosty, Al a carte kitchens etc. His Mrs and I had a giggle. He recons we're posh coz we call them duvets :)

Anyway...... he told us of a burd in his work who's being taken to court over a blog she kept over a three year period where in amongst chatter about cutting hedges was all the salaries of all the big wigs in the company!!! wtf I don't know the detail, but seems like she's looking at a stretch in the clink.
Now I have rarely blogged anything inflammatory or slanderous and don't think I could be taken to court over it but you never know.
Big Brother is Watching.

Hasta la vista
Mrs Mac x

Monday, 14 December 2009

Sweet Revenge

I go with this guy, right. Not a bad lad, recons he’s some sort of literary whiz kid who has taken the world of cyber creativity to a new level. I have been the butt of many a joke. With the truth stretched to make a piece just that wee bit funnier. Well, artistic licence is one thing, but this time it’s gone too far. I’m not one for revenge. I’m prone to sitting on the fence and keeping my gub shut. Mrs Mac bites back ;)

This week it was the bold boys birthday. Now, he’s not an easy bloke to buy for. Not one for trinkets or charms, shiny things or bling. A bottle of fruit based alcohol maybe, or water of life; but this would not suffice.

I decided on a wee surprise. A couple of tickets for the Pogues and a child free weekend in a hotel.
As he had spent the week prior on a ‘course’ (read jolly boys holiday) his liver was hurting more than his head. A crazy night on the tiles with dancing on tables til the wee hours was reduced to a Chinese buffet and an early bath. The pre birthday boy was zonked by 11pm. Hardcore, eh?
Should I be worried?

A chilled birthday morning, cup of tea and two biccys for brekky.
I was soooooo looking forward to a nice lazy lunch, glass of wine, maybe a cocktail or two and a wee snooze before the gig. Your choice birthday boy, take your pick. Mmmmmmm fillet steak, lobster, choices choices. Can someone tell me why we ended up in some god-forsaken manky chipy for a fish tea?
Should I be worried?

Picture the scene; we’re having a wee cuddle, letting our lunch digest ?!? Watching a bit of telly and having a wee doze. Heads together like a couple o’ love birds. Awwwwww sweet.
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Birthday boy jumps up and I nearly dislocate my neck with the speed he shifted at.

You woke me up!!

No birthday boy, you woke yourself up. That was YOU snoring not me.

Should I be worried?

The Pogues were immense. I was really just along for the ride. I felt like a total fraud standing there jammed up against the crash barrier centre stage.
But OMG is ever you get the chance to see them, jump at it. One of the best gigs I’ve ever been to, and there’s been a few.

Revenge is sweet. And definitely a dish best served cold.
The quote regarding Kirsy McColl, attributed to me is of course a pile of shite.

My revenge………?
for Christmas……… I’ve got him tickets……….
for Sydney Devine ;)

Happy Birthday Waterfairy.
Hope you enjoyed it x

Mrs Mac

Monday, 23 November 2009

Rockin' and Rollin'

Glad to see I’m not the only one who is taking it easy on the old blogging front. Apart from the usual suspects who are prolific to say the least. The rest of us mere mortals are taking a much more relaxed approach.

I topped off my crazy week by heading back down to London to see the BWB boxing show at the Clapham Grand on Wednesday. Excellent night; great entertainment value and some fantastic skill and heart shown by all the boys.

Funny how the first time I went along I was given a VIP pass and my very own bodyguard (a certain former Para who is familiar with the WHW) and encouraged to enjoy some drinks at the bar. This time I’m given a ‘staff’ pass and set to work. There are worse jobs I guess; looking after some sweaty firemen who has just done battle in the squared ring and need a little TLC, aw bless. I’m the girl for the job ;)

The biggest problem for me was the weather. Lovely here on the Wednesday morning. Torrential rain and gale force winds in London on arrival. Not the most comfortable of landings I have to admit. Same on the way home. Woke up in the morning to see the trees bent to a 90 degree angle in the wind. Have to admit I wasn’t looking forward to the flight home.

This bit is a bit mushy; avert your eyes if you’re squeamish.
The old ‘distance makes the heart grow fonder’ nonsense, is just that. A load of old tosh.
Distance is a pain in the arse. Cheap flights aint that cheap and ‘it’s just an hour’s' flight’ is crapola.

Decided on a quiet weekend at home with the kids. Two days of long lies in my scratcher and not much else to write home about.
An online karaoke with Captain Jack Sparra saw some crackin tunes murdered to death. The only saving grace was securing two tickets to see the Pogues in Sheffield in December. That's the way I roll ;)
Join in the karaoke-

Monday, 16 November 2009

Busy Busy Busy

The problem with blogging is this….

….when you’ve got time to blog it’s usually because you’ve got nothing better to do with your time and therefore have nothing to talk about. On the flip side when you’ve got summit to say you’re way to busy to commit time to putting pen to paper, or in this case fingers to keyboard.

Well it’s been almost a month since I blogged last, I guess that must mean I’ve been busy. And you’d be right ;)

I’m sitting here during my lunch half hour and I’m gonna type like a demented half wit to bring you up-to-date on the true life soap opera featuring Mrs Mac #2

After supporting Ian with his 24hr attempt I felt a bit inspired to do a bit of running. I managed to get out on the Clyde Walk Way on wet n wild Sunday afternoon. The route had been recommended by my Bro who is a secret underground type runner, lurks in the forums and all that.

Any way route is tops, defo recommend it to anyone who can access it. A newly completed walk way covering 40 miles from Clydebank to New Lanark. I picked the day that clocks went back and woops should really have started a little bit earlier. Running through the woods, on my own in the dark got the adrenalin going.










Back to back training nights with club has seen my mojo return with gusto.
Bit of a strange one that. I have been out of the training loop for a bit coz I didn’t feel that I was fit enough to full participate, but it was the support and encouragement from my club mates and a bit of a bollocking from Mrs Wilson that did the trick.

Then it was our Run With the Wind 10km at the beginning with the month. Loads of final dotting of I’s and crossing of T’s took up quite a bit of time. That and hanging round the house waiting for a massive milk lorry to deliver the goods.

Race day was also wet n wild. A great event none the less. Some fantastic feedback from everyone. Well done to all family members involved. Special mentions to you know who for running while suffering from a chest infection which incapacitated him so much he refused a pint (!). Also DQ who has decided that maybe he WILL “get out of bed for a 10k” after all cos marshalling is hard work. The WHW Runner for cracking his sub 40 goal and last but certainly not least our very own Princess for completing her first 10k, ably assisted by the nicest man in the world.

Next a bit of socialising. A night out in the Counting House to say cheerio to Neal Pacepusher. I had been out with my mate during the day and to say I was a little giddy by the time we met the WHW family was an understatement. My mate Scanners is the kinda girl you can take anywhere. Great social skills. Kinda freaky though that she knew someone in the company. WTF she’s a fitballer, no a runner. Got to bed at 4.30am. Hardcore ;)
Awwwwww, Airborne Toxic Event with the Pirate and the Royal Couple and RJSR & her hubby. Stupendous, incredible, fantastic, amazing; words don’t do them justice. Simply divine.





This is where the wheels fell off.
I was hoping to join the Race Princess for her Diet coke WHW training run. Quite looking forward to it in fact. One we problem. I had convinced myself it was a Sunday run. Uh oh missed it by a day, but my car had been acting up and it was gonna be expensive right? Not so, a wee reset on the computer thingumijig and I’m good to go. After the wean went to her Dads I was at a loose end. I thought about doing the run on Sunday on my own, but I really didn’t want to be Nigeled.

So can someone tell me at what point deciding on the spur of the moment driving 400 miles south of the border to surprise the Pirate was a sensible idea?
At 4pm on a Saturday afternoon, when I could have gone for a quite glass of wine, I chucked all my gear in to the now tickety boo motor and started driving.
By the time I reached Carlisle I still wasn’t convinced I was going to ACTUALLY drive the whole way, by Lancaster or Preston though I decided that it was as far to turn back than to carry on and the deed was done.

I arrived in London in 6 and a bit hours after I left Strathaven. I had been blethering to the Pirate on the way down, giving him duff information about visits to Asda and to see some friends but when I called to say I was there he called me a numptie. Now I will not be drawn on that, coz there has been quite enough discussion about numpties on the forum and blogs. To say he was surprised is an understatement. Spent as long driving round the city centre as the whole rest of the journey down to some duff info from a rather squiffy Pirate.
Do you know there are two Horseferry Roads in London? Well there IS; something the Pirate neglected to tell me.

Diddy!
Anyway, a night in a single bed in a place I really shouldn’t have been and watching the march on the Cenotaph was excellent. Well worth the mammoth expedition.

Witnessing serving soldiers who at first glance looked like cadets, followed by former soldier of advancing years interspersed by the very young children of fathers recently lost was very emotional.
Hearing the bag pipes did the job and the tears came. I was very proud of my Pirate.

So that’s it. A months round up. I’m off back down to London for the BWB Boxing on Wednesday night. A whistle stop tour and I’m flying this time.

Time to get the running shoes back on ;) mmmmmm I think I need a new pair.

Mrs Mac x

Monday, 19 October 2009

The Tale of an Old Speckled Hen

Phew…….
What a weekend!
This weekend The Pirate and I had the pleasure of supporting the WHW Runner on his 24hr Race at Tooting Bec in London.

I somehow rendered my self support by default. My bairns and I have been in London since last Friday, having taken over the Pirates gaff for our October holidays. A whirlwind week of touristy type activities and loads of together time topped off by staying up all night, outside, in the freezing cold of SW17.

We collected the WHW Runner from the airport unscathed. Having completed the 40 minute journey in merely 20!! Our Subversive Fireman sure knows how to operate the gas pedal and just as well the 1.25l bad boy goes like shit off a shovel.
Return to Chez Waterman at a more leisurely pace to feed and water our precious visitor.

Mrs Beattie had had enlightened me into the …… of WHW Runner. She advised that "The night before the race he may be tempted to have 'just one' toast to old friends. He is incapable of 'just one' so abstinence is the best approach. I'm sure his old friend would understand."
So me and you-know-who had his share, hic.
We had a rummage through his gear and had a chat about he style of encouragement he preferred. Transpires he’s a softly softly type character. Thankfully he didn’t have Corned Beef in his corner as "get a move on you soft cock blouse” widney have gone down too well!
You-know-who missed this important team meeting as the boxing was on the telly ;-)

Have some decent kip, although I have had my fair share of it during the week. Quite a few long lies for me. You can bank sleep, right? Then up bright and breezy. Pirate boy has promised WHW Runner some scrambled eggs for brekkie. But he is nowhere to be seen. I locate him upstairs on the computer blogging in his pants…… if only Ian had seen him. Good job he didn’t. The start of Subversive Supporting me thinks.

Our runner is psyched up, primed like a coiled spring. The Pirate has his head in the glory hole of a cupboard under the stairs looking for his tent! An essential piece of kit for our duties. Poor Ian was like a cat on a hot tin roof. He must have wondered why oh why he had accepted this offer of help.

Finally make it out the door and hit the road only 10 minutes behind schedule. Arrive at the track with loads of time to spare though. WHW Runner registers, and we set up camp. It becomes evident that we really should have prepared a little more. While all those around us set up their comfy tents, reclining camp chairs, gazebos, tables etc we make do with a bench nicked from the other end of the track, a 20 year old unwashed doss bag an a table still at Southwark fire training establishment. Welcome to the world of Subversive Support.

And they’re off.
Despite the pedigree of some of the other runners, we were (apparently) the only support crew counting laps. We had been advised to do this by Fiona Rennie. This is a bloody stressful exercise. You really cant take your eye off the ball. Ian had a posties red lacky band round his finger and each lap he clocked he moved it down a finger. This allowed us to take a split every 5 laps.
Factor in my nosiness in getting to know the other supporters and whoops, did we miss him?? My wee lassie came into her own, keeping a wee eye out for our man.
The Pirate was in his element blogging and taking pictures of puke.

I’ll not go into the technicalities of track running. Basically its 4 hours one way, change and 4 hours back the way you came.
The time passed incredibly quickly. Although it was extremely cold. A factor that would scupper a few runners later in the night.

Brian McIntosh and his wee smasher Eilidh came along to offer support. It was great to finally meet them. That wean shows some promise on the track and she’s not event two!

Our man planned to drink every 20 mins, eat every 2 hours and change socks every 6 hours.
It was pretty hard to keep track of how closely he was keeping to the plan coz the feed table was a third of the track away from us and they had lots of tempting goodies on offer.

Main meals were provided, however the MacWatermans opted for a fish supper. Aw man, it was superb. The waft of salt n vinegar must have tormented the runners. Not as much as the BBQ one of the teams enjoyed ?!?
Did I mention a wee glass of wine? Well, yes, we had a small refreshment. Just for medicinal purposes you understand. Internal central heating was required, and red wine is an excellent choice. I had a nice bottle of ale on offer for our runner should he fancy a wee snifter. He told me once of a race where they offer you a half of whisky before hitting a particularly steep hill. So there was method in my madness. Sadly the contents remained in the bottle for the duration.

WHW Runner knocked out the laps and although off his gold medal goal he seemed content to crack on. Words of wisdom and encouragement from WHW family members perked him up no end. But it was occasional blethers with Mrs B which had the biggest impact. It takes just one sentence from someone who knows you better than you know yourself to give you that wee lift. In that respect the Pirate and I were rendered useless.

10.30pm. The wine kicked in and the Pirate took to his bed. I’m a night time person so the weans and I were happy to be on duty ’til 2am.
It was right at this point that our man announced that he wanted his feet tended too in 4 laps time. The Pirate could not be roused, oh shit. I think I bluffed it as our man changed his mind.
He was beginning to struggle a bit. Fatigue, cold and a tendency to puke anything and everything he took onboard. This caused a bit of a frenzy as Hannah and I jogged back and fore across the track to keep an eye on his welfare. A discussion as to whether we should ring Mrs B, pros’, con’s, should we wake the Pirate….. Aucht, the pressure!! Had a word with Alan Young, who offered our man the benefit of his wisdom. Adrian chipped in when the puking was at it’s worst. He was gonna chuck it!!! No way. I couldn’t let Mrs B trust me with her man and then I go and fail her and him. What to do??? Mrs B saves the day and lifts his spirits again. He plans to run 3 and walk 1 and this plan works for a time. He begins to pink up again and looks and sounds much better.

But he’s sneaky. Some time later he announces “that’s it I’m doing 250 laps then I’m done”
I told him it was his call. I had cajoled, encouraged and ever so slightly bullied to the point where I could see he had made his decision, and he was happy with it.

I was gutted for him. But I could see that he was done. The decision me made was logical. 250 laps, 100km in 12:28:22 was some achievement.
I woke the Pirate and broke the news. His words to me, “I go for a wee sleep and look what happens” go figure.

It was a perishing cold night. The cloud cover we had all day had cleared to reveal a star studded sky. Far too cold to walk and not waste precious energy just keeping warm. To do this for another 11 hours would be crazy, and possibly medically dangerous.
One young fella was suffering really badly from dehydration and affects of the cold. He had a support crew on hand and still succumbed. I know there were a number of runners participating without support as all food etc is provided. And while I know that Adrian and his team kept a very close eye on all runners I’m glad we were there for our man.

Supporting on a track event looks on the surface like a walk in the park. Well it AINT!! Its bloody hard work. Dave said himself that he would have struggled if he was on his own with Ian.
But Team Beattie gave it their all.
Well done Ian. You made the right decision at the right time. We are very proud of Our Man.

Ps. And what of t he bottle of Old Speckled Hen?
Packed as hand luggage, the attendant at Heathrow offered the WHW Runner 3 options.

1, Recover his hold luggage and store for later.
2, Hand it over for them to dispose (aye right)
3, Drink it…

So she shows him where to sit, and appears with a cup and a bottle opener. Result.
All’s well that ends well.

Mrs Mac x

Thursday, 15 October 2009

Time for a Plan

Wow, I didn't mean to leave it so long since my last post.

I have been running quite well lately and while not eventful would have definitely deserved a mention.

However, I was involved in an incident that I cant go into at the moment, that has kind of taken over my thoughts on what sort of society we live in. A society where a a woman; in obvious distress as a result of the action of another is left to fend for herself while they (society) busy themselves with texting their mate, reading the paper or other such mundane tasks. Anything to avoid involving themselves in the situation unfolding before them.

I have been in London since Friday night. It's not been the most relaxing October break as other domestic issues have contributed to my current state of fuckedupness.

Children are having a ball though. Yesterday we spent the day at the Science museum.....and still didn't manage to see it all. FREE entry is always a draw to a canny Scot, but this place is awesome. I even heard my Lanky 15 1/2 year old laughing, and I saw him smile on more than one occasion. I have photographic evidence but that'll need to wait 'til I find the wire for my camera, doh!

My focus now lies solely on Ian Beatties epic adventure at the weekend. The Pirate and I intend to support our socks off and Ian will reach his gold medal goal of 500 laps (200km) I have been formulating spreadsheets like it's going out of fashion, with a little help from Fiona Rennie & Pauline Walker. One thing I diddn't consider was the amount of miles WE'LL cover!!!

Ian arrives tomorrow evening. the Waterman household; already full to bursting will flex at the seams. I can assure any worried reader (Ally) that Mr Beattie will have a bed to himself and not be made to top n tail with any of the weans!!
We are assured of a mystery guest for the day; a man of much education, who I have yet to meet. It's gonna be one helluva 24hrs. Keep an eye on Ian's 24hr blog for updates. We, the Luddites will attempt to keep you posted.

Mrs Mac x

Saturday, 3 October 2009

Off Road, On Road ???

I’ve been sticking to Tomo's prescription and by Jove I think it’s starting to pay dividends. To be honest I’ve forgotten the prescribed formula I’m supposed to follow but I’m managing to get out the door four times a week. I know that i'm supposed to do one ‘long’ run of up to 10 miles. Yeh yeh I know….. piece of piss.
Well not for me, I aint no natural runner. Stick a pair of white jim jams on me and wrap a black belt around my waist and I’ll have ye. But running, pah that’s hard work man!

Saturday saw me and the Pirate lollop round Horton Country Park. We were a bit short of time coz we were meeting the Downies in London Town for luncheon. I reckoned though that I had four or five in me. Eek not so. I think I may have eaten something too rich and spent the whole run bursting for the loo. The Pirate informs me it was only three. Bugger! It was faster than normal, so I guess that was good.

Tuesday short of time again. Weans home alone. Half an hour of running up and down the hills at Strathaven’s War memorial. Some guy and his dug kept me company. Well, he blethered on the phone while the wide mouthed slabber chopped mut chased me up and down the steps.

Last night I fancied something a little longer. The Glassford Loop. Home to Sawney Bean and the like. It’s not a place to stop too long. As it’s getting dark early again I took a chance coz I got home early from work.
I headed up passed the ROAD CLOSED sign. Well, I running, not driving it’ll be fine. Uh oh, slight mistake. Bloody road workers ACTUALLY working on the road and after 5pm too!! WTF. The road was all chopped up, I ran for about a mile on scallpings. That horrible unstable stuff they use to resurface the road.


Oi hen, keep to the right. They’ve sprayed the ither side.


Christ almighty it was strange. Like running off road, ON the road. Then a good bit. A brand spanking new section of fresh laid tar macadam. Virgin road. And I was the first EVER person to run on it. That gave me a wee buzz.

So no country park running for me this weekend :-(
I’m meeting up with my mate during the day Saturday and planning a long run wi ma Maw on Sunday. Although, as I type the wind is howling down the chimney and it’s lashing with rain. Winter has arrived in Sunny Strathaven. Give me Ashtead any day.

The Lanky boy son of mine still has a want to join the Army. I am still ‘supporting’ him but tried to get him to watch the Wounded documentary that was on TV the other night. He missed it but I watched both episodes back to back. All credit to the two young lads featured, as the injuries they sustained where utterly horrendous. The Pirate lives very close to Headley Court where the lads received their rehabilitation. He commented on seeing a young fella being wheeled round the town by his girlfriend in his chair. The boy, not more than 20 had lost both arms and legs.
Do the Army accept boys who wear glasses?
Mrs Mac x

Sunday, 20 September 2009

I Don't *Do* Cows

My crazy Maw has decided that *we* need a goal. Something to work towards, bit of a challenge and all that. After her last bright idea that saw us yomping down the WHW the wrong way and costing us a bloody fortune in fundraising I have to admit I was a little nervous. So while she muses over what torture filled event she’ll sign us up for we decided on a wee trot out today.

It was such a gorgeous day. One for brunch in the garden, leafing through the Sunday papers and a lazy day of chatter with a loved one. As mine is at work 400 miles away running on the River Ayr it is. My Bro was gonna join us but the poor lamb is ‘on the nightshift’.

We planned to access RAW from a farm to the East of Sorn. Dino and I noticed it last week as we rallied up and down the road. We parked the car and got kitted up. No packed lunch, just bananas, jelly babies and Maximuscle diluted correctly.
There was a half-mile walk to reach the route so we headed off through the farm.
We reached a kissing gate with a sign that announced ‘Bull in Field’ now I don’t *DO* cows but we carried on regardless. We’ll be fine, just follow the track and then we’ll be on the way.
Uh oh!,not so. We found our selves knee deep in cow shit having a staring contest with one massive lump of beef.
I asked; do you think we can get form this gate to that one before he can get to us?
I don’t care, lets get the flock out of here came the reply. Seems that Maw doesn’t do cows either.
All the while the farmer is scooting round the field on his quad. I bet he was pissin himself laughing at the nick of two burds dressed in luminous running gear bricking it over a few coos.

We finally got underway and had a very pleasant 13.5-mile jolly on the route and finished up in Mauchline. I managed to convince my Bro that while he IS a hero and a lifesaver (that’s what he tells his kids, he’s a paramedic really) he would be my hero if he’d pick us up. I’ve got this thing about running back the way you came. It was right about now our Maw announced that WE were entering a relay and he was one of the four and that the 3rd leg had his name written all over it. Control freak my Maw? I wonder where I get it from :-)

Tiaraidh an dràsda

Mrs Mac x

Friday, 18 September 2009

Cairn Table

Should really be going to bed. I have a new race to marshall tomorrow.
Strathaven Striders are having their first club Hill Run the morra.
Bill Ion has done a grand job at producing maps and setting out a number of routes to choose from. Hopefully the weather will stay kind and make for a good day. Cairn Table here I come.
Short notice but click here for more info.

I'll need to wait till Sunday to set my longish outing squared away.
Back to Ayrshire for the 7th time in 9 days!!!.... whats that all about?
Plan to run out from Sorn for a bit. I'll try and not take the detour that the Pirate took last week ;-)

It dawned on me a few weeks ago that I hangout with some crazy people that do crazy things. I have a mate though who got on my case big style when I started running reckoned I should stick to Karate as running is bad for the knees?!? Anyway, I think there is scope for him to cross over into the darkside yet. He took a challenge to compete in a white collar boxing event a couple of years ago having never boxed in his life. Looks like running aint so bad after all.



TTFN
Mrs Mac x

Thursday, 17 September 2009

Don't Mock The Afflicted

Its true, I knew it would happen eventually. DQ said there was no escaping it. It’s catching.
I have a gay knee!!

I dropped my other half off at Prestwick airport last night and rather than go home to an empty house I decided a run on the beach was the order of the day. We arrived in plenty of time, as it was possible there may be some bag searching to be done. And done it was. The Pirate has highlighted himself to Glasgow’s finest boys in blue by attempting to bring ammo north of the border on his journey here. Discussions regarding the nature of his business and whether he was in the army were had. He must have satisfied the duty polis that he was as much a threat to national security as I am to Lucy’s WHWR record.

It had been such a lovely late summers day and developed in a perfect evening for running. The beach was quiet, very few people around and even fewer dogs to get in my way. Now I’m a dog lover, don’t get me wrong. But when Rover decides to smash full pelt into your legs as you’re casually bumbling along it can get messy.
My third run in five days, uh oh I’m in danger of becoming a serial runner here, may be even accused of doing some training. I ran with the Pirate for a bit on RAW at the weekend, and then my Maw and I had a trot round the town on Monday. I noticed my knee was a bit stingy after my last effort, but was none too worried about it. As I skiddled about on the beach it became a bit of a nuisance. Pain was alleviated by running with my foot turned in, or out or by running backwards. As they say in these parts I must have looked like a right ‘warrmer’. Glad it was getting dark.
I watched the Pirates plane take off and headed home.

In other news my first-born son and heir and all round lanky big dreip has announced that he is joining the army. WTF!!! Where did that come from? Well I have an idea. The Lanky one is not known for his enthusiasm for school and I have been on his case to pull his finger out and get some bloody work done. This was met by a derisory grunt, mump and moan. He reckons I’ll stomp about and give him allsorts. Well no, I’ve called his bluff and told him I’ll support him as long as he works hard at school.
What Mother would be happy to see her son willingly sign up to being sent off to some god-forsaken country to offer himself up as cannon fodder in a war that he knows nothing about? Next stop Hamilton Army careers office. If he’s serious he needs all the facts and gory details. I asked him tonight how he’ll cope with being shouted at and ordered to clean up after himself – they don’t do that in basic training Mum, was his reply. So naive, so much to learn.

On a brighter note. I had a bit of a laugh today. Joe Calzaghe, built like a brick shit hoose boxing extraordinaire and all round handsome dude is taking part in this seasons dancing strictly with a broom up yer arse and glitter in yer hair show. Imagine hearing on the news this morning that he might miss the first show coz he’s fractured an eyelash or summit. This man is Britain’s only undefeated world champion boxer and he gets laid on his arse with a bit of sequence dancing, pure quality!!

Adios

Mrs Mac x

Tuesday, 15 September 2009

Write Up Re RAW 2009

Slightly different preparation for this years RAW. The Pirate demonstrated that he does in fact possess will power and restricted his intake of dark coloured liquid with a white foamy head to only three pints. Early to bed and up bright and breezy to pickup Rosie Bell and Irene Wilson.

Arrived in Glenbuck in plenty of time. Greeted by the sight of half a dozen blokes lined up indulging in some synchronised wee weeing. What a sight. Met many family members and soaked up the atmosphere. Good to see the Downies, with wee dug. Stan ‘the nicest man in the world’ Bland. Davie and Sharon, bouncy and smiley as ever. Notable for their absence was the WHWR Royal family, the Queen and the Princess. Talk of being stuck behind horse boxes etc didn’t wash as we all know it was down to forgetting his makeup case and the light not being flattering enough ;-)

I am delighted to announce that Louise, the race director, has graduated from a folded bit of paper in her back pocket to a real live clipboard. East Ayrshire Leisure are safe in the knowledge that any thing is possible when you give a lassie a clipboard. Although she had a wee problem with a few walkers missing a checkpoint and eventually being located in a pub. I think the Pirate may have influenced this misdemeanour.

Tea was taken at Kames, even a bottle of WKD was procured, eventually. These new licensing laws have really dented Stans habit for alchopops at 9.34am.
A loose plan of where to offer support was made and subsequently lobbed out the window. The princess and I made the fatal error of following the Race Director without actually knowing where she was headed. An unscheduled visit to Cumnock meant we had to take a rather long detour to make the first checkpoint…… we failed! Well we did meet Irene and Rosie but they weren’t our intended victims.

Roared off down the country lanes of East Ayrshire to reach the village of Sorn. Drama Queen was first to arrive, none to happy that the Princess had nipped of to the ladies room and was not on hand to tend to his every whim. A theme that was to be developed throughout the race. The Pirate was fed and watered and sent off on his merry way. Next stop Failford. A village wae a pub that offers great beer. A light lunch and a half pint of something tasty was panned, but thwarted. Dino the Princess advised there had been a major accident and the road was closed. I was hoping to run for a bit from here, so when I arrived and Big Davie the Polis offered to park my car I jumped at the chance. Quickly got changed and trotted off with the Pirate for a bit. Was really enjoying it, even thinking about carrying on til the end when I remembered I had Davie Bells car key. I had to abandon himself and head back. Being met by the Big Glesga Polis was magic. A big mooth fae a watter and I was gibbering like a budgie.
My next stop was Tarholm Bridge, this bridge hold a very special place in my heart. I planned to meet the Pirate there and was hoping to run with him again for a while.

Got a call form Davie Bell to say he'd pulled out at Stair and could I pick him up. Eeeek, I really wanted to be there as the Pirate arrived. Jumped in the motor and satnaved my destination and raced there and back in double quick time. God love my Maw and Da, they had driven down to see how it was all going, I gave my Maw my keys and sent her off to the finish with my car. Pirate boy and I ran the last section together. Not much chatter but it was nice. It was as we approached the last stretch when Mrs Mac came to the rescue. I’m not known for my map reading or navigational skills, especially if being driven at break neck speed. but put me on a long distance track moving at a more leisurely pace and I'm dynamite. Picture the scene-

We just go over this bridge and follow the river for a bit.

Ok, that sounds grand.

Right this way, follow me.

Eh, Dave this is a source to sea route.

Yes, I know.

Then shouldn’t we be following the flow of the water?

Mmmmmmm oh yeah, maybe your right (with a hint of I think your talking shite)

Oh look, there’s a RAW post pointing this way…..

And this guy used to drive tanks for a living. God help us all ;-)

So it’s all over for another year. More than a dozen of us stayed for some dinner and a few drinks. Nice end to a great day. Didn’t get chatted up by a one armed man this year but no too disappointed. Met up with the Royal couple on Sunday for a walk on the beach and an afternoon in a beer garden. I could get used to this.

I’d put this event on your things to have a go at. It’s a lovely event with good organisation and great banter. Go on, you know you want to.

Mrs Mac x

Friday, 11 September 2009

RAW 2009- pre match report

It’s the back of three in the afternoon. I’m at my desk at work. The Pirate has been collected from Glesga Toon and deposited at my gaff to ‘write a report’ aye right, like that’s gonna happen.
When I left to return to work you could almost see the giant ZZZzzzzzz emanating from his body. Well it’s been a long journey for the boy and he’s got a big race tomorrow.

I have had the pleasure of organising a wee soirée for after the River Ayr Way challenge tomorrow. Shame that a few familiar faces will be absent but looking forward to catching up with a fair few family members. Not sure what the race organisers will make of us all. I hope their illusions aren’t shattered when they discover that ultra runners can fair put the drink away and eat like its going out of fashion. Should be a giggle. And the weather wow what a change. The ground should still be soft underfoot, but the flood waters should have abated.

I have heard a quite a lot of ‘I’ve not done much’ or ‘I’m just taking it easy’ but the best I heard was a conversation between Rosie Bell and Irene Wilson.

Rosie, do you fancy a girls day out?

Eh, ok. What do you have in mind Irene?

Well how about doing 44 miles, nice and easy. We’ll take a packed lunch!!

Yep, I’m up for that. Is there a blue WKD in it for me?

Of course Lee’s doing back up. We can stop for wine anytime you like :-)

Pretty much the theme for the day.
A bunch of mates out of a wee run together. I’m really looking forward to it. Dino and I have the support cars sussed out. Better than last year at any rate.

See you tomorrow if you’re around. If not stand by for a report on the lassie with a folded bit of paper in her back pocket and a wummin wi chains roon her neck.

Cheeie,
Mrs Mac x

Tuesday, 8 September 2009

Not So Good With 3

This is the post that should have appeared two days ago.

Its been a weekend of firsts for me.
My first ever vineyard visit. My first ever Lego house visit. My first ever attempt you use mobile broadband. And my first ever KFC!!!

I say attempt, as this was not entirely a successful exercise. It was sold to me as a super dooper wee gadgety gizmo type thingumyjig that would work ‘perfectly well’ on the Virgin pendelino for our journey South. A very frustrating four and a half hours later and I was ready for lobbing the blasted thing out the dammed window. I’m on the journey back to Gods country and I’m ready for a repeat performance. This is one gadget that does not do what it says on the tin. I think I may be off to visit a well known chain of computer store tomorrow.

I’m glad to say the visit to KFC was a greater success. The Pirate decided that the time had come for me to sample the delicacy that rendered him incapable of completing the WHWR 2008. I must admit I had a brief thought of why he was so keen to expose me to such potentially lethal chicken based fast food. I have read stories of blokes bumping of their loved ones in strange circumstances. But KFC, Surely not?

For lunch I dined on a boneless banquet with a side order of corn. I'm such a newbie I had no idea what to order and left it to the far more experienced KFC connoisseur Mr Subversive Pirate himself to choose for me. I am pleased to report this was an excellent choice. the chicken was succulent and tasty. the fries were crisp and by no means limp like other fast food outlets. And the corn was some of the best I've tasted anywhere. Sweet, juicy nibblets of golden loveliness.
If i were to develop a taste for fast food, then this would be it. How glad am I that there aint one to be had in a ten mile radius of Sunny Strathaven.


My tentative return to running is still tentative. I managed three wee runs as per Tomo’s prescription. The long one alas fell foul to my regular visit to Englandshire and a date with four weans and a Harry Potter movie. Cracking film, defo recommend it if you’ve not seen it. It was SO good I managed to stay awake through the WHOLE thing, and its more than two and a half hours long!!
So, undeterred I will crack on with the plan. Three wee runs followed by one longer one. I plan to go for broke next weekend and aim for 6 or 7 on the RAW on Saturday. My delusions of grandeur have faded fast and reality has hit home. A wee trot on an important day followed by some dinner and a wee drinky sounds much more achievable.

On another note. My friend, fellow serial marshal and wag Princess Geraldinio sent me an interesting item by email today. I think it is highly likely I may invest in one before our next big event. Check it out here.

So as I travel north on a train full of women drinking red wine and eating platters of St Michael sandwiches spare a thought for me and my quest for uninterrupted internet connection. Any thing is possible.

Adios,
Mrs Mac x


So, it all becomes clear, cryptic non existent blog posts etc. I should add that as I tried to save this bloomin post on the weans new fanggled wee laptop me-doofer it wouldn't cut and paste in to blogger. When i managed to retype the WHOLE thing on my laptop it decided to reboot and I lost the lot!! I am a Luddite.
it took a step for a hint from the bloody Pirate to get me going. I'll never live it down.

I was thinking. I wonder how many folk know exactly why he's called the Pirate? mmmm I wonder?

Wednesday, 2 September 2009

Maximuscle Overdose

I know I know it sounds a bit dramatic given that tonight was only my second run in about two weeks.
I did what I said I’d do. I knew if I said it publicly then some one somewhere would pull me up on it. Debs MC, you the man!!

Monday night I forced my self out the door. That was after forcing my self into my running breichs. I know they have Lycra, but there is only SO much give. Months of living it up Pirate style without the metabolism of a Pirate has taken its toll. I’m back on the light weight Gin and diet lemonade or big girls blouse pink wine at a measly 9.5%.

Once I’d exited the warm cosy house I was met by failing light and dreich drizzly rain. Now I don’t mind running in it, I just hate starting in it. Hey ho, I was out there having a go at that putting-one-foot-in-front-of-another-at-speed thing. Not so much at speed, maybe slightly faster than snails pace. I was trotting along feeling my head clear as I did. I noticed the light was failing really fast now and the route I was on had no street lighting. Not too much of a hassle as I had on the brightest shiniest hi vis I could find. It was proper dark now and the rain was getting progressively heavier. Bullocks were making the strangest mooing noises in the fields as I past. It was then I decided maybe it wasn’t the best idea to run on a country lane in the dark on my own without a mobile. I was starting to have one of those crazy conversations with myself about how there are no murderers in Strathaven, I would be FINE. As I neared the top of the hill approaching Sandford I scared myself witless. Arrrghghg WTF who’s that scary girl staring at me??? I proper crapped it. I don’t know why I didn’t turn on my heels and head for the hills. I kept going, straight towards her, don’t ask, I don’t know why I make myself do these things. She looked like a pretty wee thing but there is something spooky about her face, I’m drawn to her. As I close in I realise my mistake. It aint a creepy Sandford wean, it’s an advert on the side of a phone box, what a tit!! I don’t know what surprised me more; realising what a div I am or that you still get phone boxes in remote parts of South Lanarkshire.

Anyway undeterred I ventured out again this evening. I’m not going mad, again. I’ve picked up on something on Tomo's blog. A programme a mate of his gave him. Summit about 3 short runs a week more that 1 mile less that 3 and a long one more than 6 less than 10. I think it might just be do-able for me. I want to entice my mojo back. Not scare the bloody thing off. It was raining again, it was darker than Monday, but I did it. It’s not big, it’s not pretty. But I’m trying.

I met Mrs Wilson on her was back in with a new member of the club, the rest of the troops hot on her heels. Had a quick blether. Delighted to hear that she and Rosie Bell have entries accepted for RAW. A cracking girls day out is planned.

BTW I really did OD on Maximuscle. First time I tried it, yuck. The Pirate gave me it once when we ran round Richmond Park. I am now the proud owner of my very own tub of the stuff with matching bottle. Given to me by my mate Wole in return for teaching him a new buzzword. So I feel the need to use the stuff. Any way the other day I made it up according to the instructions on the tub. Double yuck!! I force it down, but it’s bloody awful. Later that night I’m feeling a bit sick. Did the same tonight, but read the side of the bottle first. It has different dosage amounts on there. HALF of what’s on the tub. Can you imagine it? Death by Maximuscle. You couldne write it.

Hasta
Mrs Mac x

Monday, 31 August 2009

Cha'mone Hee Hee - Malky Jackson

My mojo is still AWOL, but it’s ok. I know where it’s at.
Mrs pacepusher is looking after it for me. Good to know its in safe hands till I’m ready to have it back.

Tonight I’ve decided I’m gonna give myself a good talking to and drag my sorry ass out the door. The weather is bloody awful. It’s raining like the sky has fallen in and doesn’t look like its going to stop anytime soon. I quite like running in the rain but I don’t like starting in it?!?, I know, go figure.
So tonight’s the night.
I really need it. Running helps me clear my head and sort all my worries.
I’ve had a busy 10 days.
Hannah’s party turned out to be a great night. After running around like a looney sorting all the tinsel and baubles, munchies and entertainment and an overpriced DJ. Collecting the Lahndan contingent from the train station and welcoming all the wee girls done up to the nines I actually enjoyed myself. The highlight of the night was my bestest buds wee boy giving his well-practiced rendition of a Malky Jackson routine!! I kid you not, the wee man is only three and not quite up to speed on the pronunciation of iconic recording artistes handles. I need to acquire some video evidence of this quality display of dancing he is superb.

Cue my sister in law and a bottle of tequila and it’s off to mine for a party. Skoosh!! bottle of wine necked and a spot of dancing on the tables. Hey ho, no worries for me I aint running 50 miles in the morning.
Round Strathaven 50 passes with out much drama. Pirate makes a sensible decision and calls it a day after 32 miles. Head down to carryout presidential duties and award the prizes. Even managed to wangle a marriage proposal, I think. Don’t fancy being Mrs Valdimir though ;-)

Monday was smashing. Lunch in the sunshine in the company of four gorgeous blokes, how lucky am I? Slight concerns about one of them though, but I’m sure you know why…..
A couple of hours lying under a tree in Princes Street Gardens was bliss. You know one of those moments where you want to freeze time.



A crazy week at work and fast-forward to a crazier weekend.
I am separated from those I wish to spend time with by 400 miles and I try to ensure that I fill my time to capacity to dull the ache of enforced separation.
Friday was my old bosses leaving do. She and her hubby are off to live in Spain in a few days. A night at the horses was on the cards but the weather put paid to any racing on a waterlogged course. So it was cocktails on the deck instead. A very civilised night as I was back home by 1am.
A slightly less civilised night on Saturday when me and the mother of Malky Jackson got on it til 3.30am. I’m getting old. 2 nights in a row have left me proper gubbed. Can’t handle the pace any more.

Another busy week but a good weekend to look forward to. Quiet, no running around like a mad woman. Just a civilised train journey with my weans and a bottle of vino callapso. I wonder where Martin Hooper the Paratrooper is???

I’ve just noticed that it is a whole year since I started writing this god-forsaken thing.
It all started with a reccy of the start of RAW. How time has flown. I could never have foreseen just how different my life would be 365 days later.

Hopefully my next post will have some running content. Fingers crossed wish me luck.

Hasta,
Mrs Mac xox

Tuesday, 18 August 2009

Where Has My Mojo Gone?

Right after the Cally Challenge is was bouncing like the revellers of the Hacienda in its heyday. Full of enthusiasm and misplaced ideas of grandeur and ability. Stating publicly that I’d like to do a bit, if not all of RAW. How then have I gone from that eager enthusiast to wine swilling, kettle chip munching couch potato? Whose activity levels have dropped below those achieved when suffering a debilitating back injury?

My mojo has well and truly upped and offed.
I knew it was a bit pie in the sky to have a crack at RAW, but I thought half of it might be do’ able. Ok, so I had a bit on an injury to overcome, but that’s sorted long since.
I talked about a lot setting goals and entering events (note the absence of the word ‘race’) none of which I have done.
Does my lack of interest in any form of competition prevent me from being an achiever? Am I doing myself a dis-service my not being goal driven? Or am I just a lazy b*****d?
My body works, my mind says I want to do it but my lassie faire attitude keeps me in the house making excuses.
I am an eternal pre contemplator. One of those ‘one day’ people.
I talk a good game. Love to encourage others to reach for the stars. Make them believe in themselves. I just can't do it for myself.

I had a long chat with Irene Wilson, founder of Strathaven Striders & WHWR veteran, a few days ago. She talked at length about the affect Dario’s death had on her. Irene is due to complete her 100th marathon next year and was toying with the idea of Marathon de Medoc as a club run so we could all celebrate with her when she achieves this momentous feat. She, like me has lost all interest; I was surprised at first to hear of this, as she is such a driven person. I’m no psychologist; I can’t begin to understand why. But at least I'm not alone. Maybe, no maybe about it, definitely- significant events such as Dario’s death make you look at things in a different light. My/our light is just burning a little bit dimmer just now.

If you find my mojo can you stick it in the post and send it back to me. I’ll be glad to be reunited with it.

Mrs Mac x

Saturday, 15 August 2009

A Wee Do In The House

This time next week I’ll be in the throes of a 12 year olds birthday party.
None of your jelly and ice cream and a game of pass the parcel. No, no my daughter has taken the throw away comment of “have what ever you want” and run with it. Quite literally.
So, the wee hall is booked up hence she now has a massive hall to fill with her nearest and dearest, and a few mates from school. The wee madam hasn’t even considered that she is starting high school in a few days and there is a whole…… new group of friends out there.
So, after work today (I’ll get to that in a minute) she whisked me of to the local party prop shop for STUFF.
Who ever knew a 12 year old needed so much junk to make their party perfect. I remember a ‘do’ in the house with a few buddies from my street and my aunties and uncles dropping by with gifts in ribbons and bows. Well, maybe not exactly, but you get the gist. We will have a spectacular festival of tinsel and baubles on show next week and I’ve not even started on the DJ. Lets hope my purse can survive.

So, work on a Saturday. Me, can you believe it? The last time I worked a weekend shift All Saints were top of the charts. Leonardo Di Caprio was still baby faced and I still thought Marti Pellow was ‘aw right’.
My new job requires me to cover the odd weekend health check event. As this was my first one I made sure I was sans hangover. Didn’t think it would be too braw if I turned up stinking of booze and trying to convince the good people of ‘Whitehill’ that 14 units really are sufficient for the week. These events are guaranteed to make you smile. Our stall (providing health checks and lifestyle intervention advice) was set up right next to the one offering chocolate covered kebabs!!

Weekend work prevented me from making my way south to the now comfortingly familiar sights and sounds of Lahndan town. Little did I know this time last year what a difference one wee email would make. Don’t forget.
Take each day as it comes.
Expect the unexpected and if you don’t live life on the edge your taking up too much room.

Laters,

Mrs Mac

Tuesday, 11 August 2009

Pirate Plans Alternative DoH Weekend


This weekend I was planning a wee spot of camping and some ultra groupie action at the Devil o The Highlands race.
A swift change of plan and I waken up on a deserted beach at the opposite end of the country.
If someone had suggested that it would be fun to make a 1000-mile road trip in 48 hours I would have laughed in their face.
So, the Pirate was handed all responsibility for our alternate DoH weekend and I remained stress free throughout.

16.54hrs and Richard Branson’s railroad carriage departs Motherwell station. I am usually sorted with some drink and nibbles for the journey, however traffic delays threatened to cause me to miss the train and I had to opt for over priced pink wine and a bag of Skips from the onboard shop. At least the wine was cold. Quickly scoffed and I get my head down for a wee kip.
Some nasty bint woke me up by sitting down next to me. Note to self- sit in the aisle seat and occupy both seats for the duration of the journey.

Half way through the journey I get a bit restless and plan another wee visit to the overpriced offy. A quick comfort stop on the way me thinks.
I can hear voices outside and deduce there must be a queue forming. As the door to the lavatory swooshes open I am confronted with a familiar face.
Oh, hiya,
hiya,
WTF HIYA!!!
Martin Hooper the Paratrooper is standing in from of me. I thought for a minute there was a problem with the train engines and he had been drafted in to propel the train forward, coz he could you know. The man moves earth when he runs, well according to Corned Beef he does. He was returning home from a week in the Lakes.

The second half of the journey passes in a flash as I am instructed by the Pirate “ better get on the p**s then”

Next day a long lie and no rush to get anywhere. A leisurely journey south, with only a slight map reading misdemeanour. And we’re on Weymouth beach just after 5pm. Crackin beach, proper seaside town. Really clean and lots of good family attractions. Note the distinct lack of tattooed f***wits as we lie down and people watch for a bit.
Find a beltin Greek restaurant (eventually) and enjoy some fresh seafood for dinner.

A little bit of subversiveness was required next. We hadn’t booked anywhere to camp so we sought out a suitable spot.

The main reason for such a long drive was to see Chesil Beach. OMG this place has to be seen. Spectacular!! We drove to the top of Portland and took some photographs. As the area is a nature reserve there is no camping ANYWHERE d’oh.

I can’t tell you where we ended up pitching our 2.4kg tent but let me just say I have never, ever, ever camped anywhere so stunning as this. It took a bit of serious dedication and some superior night vision (I was not allowed a head torch. I had to pick my way down a cliff path in the pitch dark with only moonlight for guidance)
Tucked away in a wee corner our camp was set. Red wine was drunk at midnight under the stars and with the moonlight reflecting off the sea. Very special.

An early rise and time to break camp. Breakfast of smoked salmon and scrambled egg was had at the bistro at Lulworth Cove. Fab, fab, fab. Pretty good value considering it was such a tourist trap. A wander round the visitor centre for some education and learn about how all the rocks were formed. Probably the most perfect way for me to spend a day. A short nap on the beach and some more people watching and all too soon it was time to leave.
I was sorry we didn’t have more time in the area, as Dorset is absolutely stunning. Our whistle stop tour was over. I would never have thought it would be worthwhile travelling so far for such a short break. Well, I will never say never again. An amazing weekend. We managed to cram such a lot in to so few hours but it didn’t feel rushed.
I will return, soon I hope.

Ps. Nae runnin.

Mrs Mac x

Thursday, 6 August 2009

Me, Myself and I

In the space of a day my life went from being filled with 14 people to nil.
For almost two weeks the Waterman/Maclean Brady Bunch were in full swing.
I spent most of my time feeling like I was back working for play services. Counting children at every opportunity, making sure there was an adult at the front, an older child in the middle and me bringing up the rear doing an impersonation of Mary Poppins, a very grumpy stressed out Mary Poppins by all accounts.
Just a day later and there is no child like chatter going on in my ears, no Muuuuuummmmmm or “but he did it first” Nothing, zilch, nada.

My children are off with their Dad to sunny Carluke (?) and the Pirate fireman has evacuated his weans and transported them 400 miles south.
So to anyone else this may seem like heavenly bliss, but to me its utter crapola.
I’m a sociable character, I like company. I might be a miserable mare sometimes, but in general I’m happiest when I know the kiddywinkles are close at hand and the Pirate is faffing with his blog on my laptop.
I’ve been rattling round the house like a petulant teenager.

Staying in the house on my own doesn’t bother me that much. When the weans were wee their Dad often worked away, so I got used to being on my own. The other night though I scared my self half witless, I nearly had to sleep with the light on.

As bedtime approached I thought I’d lock up the house and watch the news in bed. I switched off all the sockets down stairs (I’m a bit obsessive about that) locked the front door and put the chain on and made my way up the stairs. One thing I forgot to do was put the hall light on. As I approached the top stair I heard this almighty GROWL coming from one of the kids rooms. Oh shit!! I stood there like a startled rabbit. Trying to quickly decide the best course of action. How the f**k had a dog, a f&*kin’ massive dog gotten inside my house? Now I’m a dog lover, my own German Shepard, who aint a wee yap, is being looked after by a very kind friend. But honest to god I crapped it big style.
I ran back downstairs and into the kitchen. Opened the back door and stood for a minute. Picked up my phone and wondered to call. The Pirate? He’s a fireman; he’ll know what to do. Oh but those bloody 400 miles again. My Da? Mmmm gammy arm, if the dug gets his other one he’s goosed.

So I grew some baw’s and headed back up.
What’s that noise? Some diddy outside is revving his motor full pelt.
Then it dawned on me.
What a prize tit.
The eejit outside has one of those baked bean tins things on his exhaust. I felt like such a clown. So there wasn’t a big f*&k off dug under the bed after all. But I’ll tell you this; it took quite some time for the adrenalin to wear off and for my heart rate to return to normal.
The joy of living by ones self.

Monday, 3 August 2009

Jimmy Choos For Me Too?

First day back at work today.
Normally a day of post holiday blues. But for me it felt like I was the new girl all over again.I started my new job just three weeks before my hols. An induction period with some great help from the girl I'm taking over from. A burd who I would love to work with. I was sad to head away knowing that she would be off on her maternity leave upon my return.

Crackin lassie, mad as a brush and even given her advanced state of gestation arrived for work every day fully colour coordinated top to toe. Nails, shoes, jewellery, lippy. The lot. This is in stark contrast to the sports therapist side of her who runs on to footie pitches with a heavy sports jacket and a pair a fitba bits. Sometimes you meet people you just click with instantly, well Ann is one of them. I wish her all the best with her new bambino.

During all this time the gaffer was on holiday so I didn't meet her properly until today. I needn't have concerned myself. An equally crackin burd. I was well impressed by her.

I left a wee message on Allybea's blog whinging why I cant wear Jimmy Choos. Well, my new gaffer is like me; not exactly vertically challenged and she laughs in the face of the tallist and wears heels to die for. Maybe I can learn something her ;-)

So, a bit about running.
I've not managed much recently. A wee canter round Ashtead Common the other week. A wee donner round Strathaven including a few hill reps (for the Pirate not me). Still dogged by an ITB pain. Today I donned my kit, even though it was raining and forced myself to place one foot in front of the other a pace akin to dashing to a campsite lavy. Hail Hail, no ITB issues. Maybe I can be a runner after all. Is it a bit sad of me that I WANT to be?

Catchya,
Mrs Mac x

Sunday, 2 August 2009

Making Memories

Ah that’s better.
Tea from a china mug, summer duvet on the bed, toilet less than 20ft away and no screemin weans from the tent adjacent.
Makes camping sound like a lot of fun right?
Mmmmmm, well I have been a camper since I was knee high to a grass hopper and my wee lassie had her first encounter when she was but a babe in arms around 9 months old. I have some crackin memories of running around camping fields in my jammies and trying to locate my tent with a million-candle torch!! My Dad was always a sucker for over exaggerated advertising.

Camping with the Brady bunch was always going to be a military operation. Add in a few Welsh’s for good measure and that’s a serious amount of mobilisation required. Oh and I forgot to mention the presence of Billy the Bank and his missus and he’s in a wheelchair!! WTF, are we mad?
Holiday – break, rest, retreat, escape.
My experience was none of these. I have since learned that camping with children is – a series of tasks linked by sleep.

The site; Haven by name hell on earth by nature is a melting pot of tattoo stamped, cigarette smoking, footie shirt wearing f*%k wits with a penchant for flashing lights and bad karaoke. I might sound like a total snob but this was not my idea of a blissful family holiday. We reckoned that as we were gonna have 6 or 7 children ages ranging from 6 to nearly 16 then a venue which on the face of it would cater for all tastes would be a smart move.
The reality being the older weans ran about like eegits playing with the wee ones and thoroughly enjoyed themselves too. No need for organised clubs and activities.

Its funny though, how the mind works. A bit like childbirth. You swear at the time you’ll never do it again. But then the good things, the nice memories take hold. Like sitting on a beach miles and miles long. With a partially blue sky and a wind that could knock Nelson off his column watching children laugh and giggle as the dare each other to submerge themselves in the frosty waters of the North Sea. Or seeing the look on a child’s face when they become totally captivated by history and education. Who new archaeology could be such fun?
Life for a parent is about making memories for your children. I take a lot of pleasure out of doing that for mine and those close to me.

So, my lot are off with their Dad for a week. The Pirate and I are hoping to squeeze in a fly weekend of wild camping and WHW route bashing. Now that sounds more like fun to me. Either that or a big fluffy duvet and room service in some secluded country house hotel somewhere. What are my chances???

Mrs Mac x

Monday, 20 July 2009

It's OK to laugh too

It’s silly o’clock in the morning. Not far off the time when I posted the last.
When I posted last week I was still in a state of disbelief of the news that had filtered its way down to me.
By then I had consumed a generous amount of vino calapso on the instructions of one absent Pirate. We had spent the evening in near constant contact with only short breaks to be the bearer of bad news to our numerous WHWR family.
This is how our week was to continue.
Both of us making very difficult calls to friends, often blissfully unaware that we were trying to track them down. Enjoying family time on holiday with loved ones. Oblivious to the news we would deliver to them a few short hours later.

It’s is a terrible thing to do. Be the person who brings about an almighty blow to your almost perfect evening of merriment making and joviality.
The person who contacts you out of the blue to inform you of an incomprehensibly heartbreaking event that it stops you in your tracks.
I put myself in their shoes and asked my self would I rather know now or wait until I was home?
I’m sorry if I made the wrong decision troops but I thought you like me would rather know sooner rather than later.

I have read somewhere, possibly from Keith that it is beginning to sink in what has happened. I agree. While I still feel that it is a surreal situation, I am slowly accepting the fact that the wee man won’t be on the phone to me next week venting his spleen about some catastrophe or other.

I also like how the forum, while still full of beautiful comments and memories, is tentatively regaining its sense of humour. Over to you DQ & Tim.
I have never hidden death from my children. I have always allowed them to be aware of the sadness and that it’s OK to cry. But equally in time it’s OK to laugh also.

The Pirate and I live 400 hundred mile apart. A distance that is over come by a 4hr 24 min train ride on one Richard Branson’s finest railroad carriages. A distance that often causes friends to enquire “how does that work then?” I usually reply that it just DOES. Well this week the bloody 400 hundred miles might have well been 40,000. When you experience a week like last week you yearn for the mileage to shrink and to be comforted by your loved one. It’s just not the same down a telephone line. Patience IS a virtue.

So, Thursday will bring together many friends and family members in a place that will be alien to them. For a ceremony no-one could have foreseen. I will be lucky enough to have my Pirate next to me.

Sombre black or my pink fleece? I can’t decide.

Mrs Mac x

Monday, 13 July 2009

He has gone. We have lost him.

This evening I learned of the death of a very dear friend. A man known to the majority of the readership of this blog as the Race Daddy.

This afternoon, while out in the hills training with friends Dario Melaragni suffered a massive heart attack and died.
There is no need for flowery language or clichés. He has gone we have lost him.

Dario and I clicked right away. I guess he picked up on my weakness for saying YES and agreeing to volunteer for stuff without fully considering the implications.

He broke us in gently, Mum and Me. He gave us a checkpoint next to the shops, cool!
What he didn’t tell us was that the shopkeeper was a miserable old so and so and he would call the police to us on two separate occasions.

That same year he tried to make up for his lack of truth telling by giving my Mum his car. That sounds a bit extreme but its true. You know when you look in your goodie bag to check out the contents and feast your eyes at the latest buff? Well, can you imagine Mums delight when there, at the bottom of her bag was a glint of silver and a mat black key fob. She was thrilled, winning some sort of prize draw that she never knew she’d entered. She quickly ran round the car park to find her prize.
It didn’t take long to workout what had actually happened.
While the dumplin was filling the goodie bags his bloody keys fell out of his pocket right into my Ma’s treasure. She made a big show of it at the prize giving by presenting the back to him. I seem to remember a story of getting a lift back to Blackford to retrieve the spare set. Numptie.

The next year he decided to up the anti and hit us with a double shift through the night.
This year he topped it off by having me on duty beginning middle and the end. And glad to help I was. The thing with Dario was he asked in such a way that you couldn’t say no, he just assumed you’d do it. He used to say to me “when your in your in” “you don’t get out unless you replace yourself!” I never got the chance to tell him, I was still building up the courage……. Dave wants me to support him next year. Can I have the day off please?

My friendship with Dario existed out with the race. Although, our telephone conversations often included reference to how “the race” & “the family” helped us through tough times. As it has tonight.

I’ll miss him in my life.
He showed me a world; a way of life, a group of people I never knew existed. A world I feel part of now.
A world that will mourn his loss with many tears.
I have in my hand a glass, a crystal type glass, with engraving. It contains a generous amount of red wine. A glass I will raise to a friend lost much too soon.

To Dario,
Slainte Mhath

Saturday, 11 July 2009

53 weeks

This post is not for the faint hearted. If you are at all squeamish I suggest you avert your eyes now.
Humour me while I indulge myself.
I was once told "it’s your blog, write what you bloody well like”
Well here goes.

Today marks a year and a week since my world turned upside down. My soon-to-be-ex husband went out on a Friday night and forgot to come home. Fast forward 3 days later there I am flat hunting with him for his new pad.


As I was just coming to terms with my new found status and within four weeks of my marriage break up the second major blow struck.
My beloved Da was diagnosed with a rare bone cancer and the cards looked stacked against him. Thoughts of my own trials and tribulations seemed insignificant by comparison.
It was about this time I started this blog. Although it’s titled my road to madness, in reality it’s running that keeps the madness at bay.
A number of running buddies commented at the time that I was running like a demon. This was neither intended nor appreciated at the time. It was purely a means of release.

During this period of severe turbulence I was encouraged by my family and friends to continue with planned events and attempt to keep life “normal”.
Hence my attendance at the River Ayr thingy. An event that will have a special place in my heart forever more.
I formed a bond with a woman, who through a shared life experience could understand the rollercoster of emotions I was experiencing. Instantly I knew I was alone no longer. Isn’t it funny how you can feel an instant connection with someone?

This same weekend was to bring me the man I would instantly fall completely in love with. I tried to convince myself, somewhat unsuccessfully that it was all in my head and that it was improper of me to dare to find happiness in a time of such highly charged emotion.
Again, with the support of my family I was able to make tentative steps into my new life.
My phone bills will never be the same and the share price for Ryanair and Easyjet have rocketed.

Around Christmas time I became unwell. My body kind of gave up. All the stress of the last six months had taken its toll. And I was out the game. As you know I was to struggle with shingles over the next few months. I was feeling very much out of sorts at work too which wasn’t helping.
Having someone who would listen to my woes and share ideas and opinions was a revelation to me. I felt the time was coming to make changes.
How can a new relationship survive the onslaught of illness, ex’s and 400 miles? Well somehow, and I’m not quite sure how but it has and it is.

After the drama that was Shingles; I injured my back at work. Another bloody set back.
My training for the Calley was dealt a serious blow. Right up until two weeks before the event I was in serious pain. And then out of nowhere I felt a million times better. All the while I was being bolstered with positive messages of “its in the bag & piece of piss.” Having my Da and Dave working together on our support for the event made getting to the finish line an absolute joy.

This achievement marked a turning point for me. I felt like I had truly turned a corner. Gentle persuasion, on the verge of bullying prompted me to apply for, and successfully secure a new job. One in which I should be able to develop my skills and engage my brain a little.

So here I am a year and a week later. A new person? Probably not. Feeling more positive about the future? 100% yes.
My Da is doing really well right now. Latest check ups are looking good. He’s just taken charge of his slightly adapted new motor and is looking like a child on Christmas morning.
My children are a joy to me. Even the 15 year old who is chancing his arm.
I have a new job, which has given me a new lease of life.
And I have a pirate fireman to call my very own. If only we could do something about a distance reduction machine.

Much love,
Mrs Mac x

Wednesday, 8 July 2009

Not so witty ditty

I was going to write a really witty ditty about all thats been happening in the last week or so. but I've spent soooooo long reading all the other blogs that it's getting too late. So I'm gona make like a Race Princess and do It bullet point style.
  • No 1 son off camping with mate & family.
  • Dished out a few awards at the beginners/returnee’s night at the Striders.
  • Tried to run.
  • Failed to run miserably.
  • Family holiday for extended Brady Bunch booked.
  • Last week at work, good.
  • Last day at work, sad. Children/staff made a card, cried.
  • Got a train to Lahndan.
  • Stayed up late til 2nd eldest pirate daughter home safe.
  • Fire station open day with most of Brady bunch.
  • Wound up the high heid yin about mis quote in the paper.
  • Ate cheeseburgers.
  • Won to prize in the raffle !!!
  • Considered handing it back (only coz I didn’t think we had a John Lewis here, I live in the countryside. I know….. div)
  • Drove home from Lahndan…. Myself……in the daytime…..and it was busy!!
  • Had a water fight with the children, neighbours hate me already ;-)
  • Family movie and lottttttts of popcorn. No PirateL
  • Early bed.
  • Frantic cleaning…… not by me.
  • Most expensive pub in Surrey.
  • 2nd most expensive pub in Surrey.
  • Return from Lahndan
  • First day in new job, get a massage. I love this job.
  • 2nd day in new job, tea and cake, this job was made for me.
  • Tried to run.
  • Failed to run, miserably.

    Got that?
    Good!!
    Game over

    Mrs Mac……..
    xxx

Wednesday, 1 July 2009

Resistance Is Futile

Is it true?
Can it REALLY be?
Something strange is happening to me.
I fear the worst. I thought it might happen. Although, I did try to resist.
First sign of trouble occurred a few weeks ago when I discovered to my horror I was sporting a BLACK toenail. Good god in Govan how did that happen?

Now, being the president of a running club does not a runner make. Indeed, I am pleased to tell anyone who’ll listen that I am not a runner; I’m just someone who runs.

But now I think I’ve gone and done it.

On Saturday evening, following the Beattie's BBQ, I was meeting up with some workmates in the Toon for a few drinkies. Well they were drinking, I was driving.
When I happened upon my learned colleague Douglas, who to his credit is a sports therapist amongst other things. He was also slightly worse for wear and I was a little nervous. So I rolled up my trouser leg and asked him to take a look.
“Here mate, my leg is goupin’. Really sore at my knee, on the outside”
He launches in to some Latin drivel and I switch off. Then he ponders, puts his finger on the side of my knee and asks me to bend it.
“Is THAT sore?”
"Ouchhhhhhhhhh bloody hell YES".

“Auch” says he. It’s your ITB.
Well blow me. I first heard those three initials three years ago in Lochaber Leisure Centre when some fella who had just completed the race complained to the physio that his knee was sore. When she said it’s your ITB the guy questioned “and have I got one of them? An ITB?” “ooooooo I’ve got an ITB,” said chewing the fat stylie. Funny as, although not so good in the retelling. I have a video of it somewhere. But there is a bit of footage at the start of my Maw and Me at the wigwams with a bottle of 14.5% vino callapso. So maybe not for public viewing.

Anyway, I’m burbling on. So ITB problems, black toe nails, thinking that doing 54 miles in 23odd hours is enough to get me through RAW. I must be losing it. Either that or I am being taken over by those infectious people I choose to hang out with this weather and I am morphing in to a real live runner. Eeeeekkkk.

Ok so RAW is a bit over ambitious. I was either drunk or still high after completing the Cally. Probably both. But I do want to continue with training and I plan to set some targets for myself. Something I left in a past life when I was quite competitive. Tim & Muriel were talking about challenges they could do together. Something which appeals to me. So if I get the opportunity I’d like to put a plan into action. Just need to get the pirate to stay awake long enough to sort it out.

Catch ya,
Mrs Mac

Sunday, 28 June 2009

Put To Bed

That’s it official.
My adventures on the West highland Way are over for another year.
Ian & Allybea have had the BBQ so that’s it put to bed.
I don’t have any connection to the Devils so after the Fling, the Cally and the WHW race I’m done. Quite literally!!
Didn’t get out my bed ‘til gone 12 o’clock today. Partly down to an absent Subversive Runner blethering down the phone wanting a blow-by-blow account of the afternoon’s proceedings.

I arrived, eventually, after my sat-nav decided the Beatties house didn’t exist and my back up sat-navs’ DQ & CB gave me duff directions. It took the intervention of the WHW Runner himself to guide me home.
As I had been charged with delivering the remaining goblets to the BBQ my attendance was vital. Great to see all the usual suspects and actually have the time to catch up. I brought a bottle of “Pink Bubbles” as Dino and I have been dreaming about them for weeks. Corned Beef did the gentlemanly thing and popped the cork for us and toasted us in to the bargain. I said a few words of apology from the absent SR who was unable to attend due to a mixture of James Bond duties and the possibility of infecting us all with Swine flu.

Party was in full swing and general merriment making was done.
Dino and I put the world to rights, as usual.
Spent ages explaining “how does that work then?” …..400 miles isn’t really THAT far. Lots of chat about who’s running next year, who’s taking a break but will marshal, who’s taking a break from marshalling but might run and a newly formed crack backup team who are looking for a runner. Carpeted van included!!

Great to see wee baby Cairn, who aint so wee any more. I think he had been at the burgers before I arrived. Glad to see that DQ #2 had almost normal shoes on, but I’m sure there was some poly bag action going on there. Tell you what though, they were nothing compared to his missus shoes. That girl’s got class. Top girl Mrs Pacepusher.

Food was fantastic, Allybea is an angel. Supported by Jean and George, of course, proving indeed that “you can’t do it without backup”. Ian did say that George’s contract was a weeklong one and it didn’t stop when the running did he he he.
Those caramel cupcakes were blinding.

I have to say though that the funniest thing I’ve seen in a long time was JK putting up his tent. Now, Sharon Laws fella had theirs up in jig time and there was one “prepared earlier” so John made a start. He seemed to be at it for a long time when Allybea came in to the kitchen announcing, “John has put his tent up INSIDE OUT, everyone come and watch him lol!”
God love him, the poor bloke must have felt like a caged animal in the zoo with people pointing and laughing and taking pictures.
Got there in the end though with a little help from Neal (DQ #2) Pacepusher.

I think Dino is on commission from the Connemara Marathon. She spent quite sometime singing it’s praises and encouraging the troops that it could be nice wee get together next year. Sounded great till she mentioned it was 4 quid a pint. Now I know I’m Scottish and all that but I’m not that much of a skinflint. I do however have a subversive runner as my other half and you know how much he loves a drop of the black stuff!! Lets just say, we’ll see Dino.

Crazy George and Ian B had a long chat about their next adventure; I think it’s their 600th ultra this year. It might as well be, bam pots the pair of them. And there was a bit of chat about the River Ayr Way, which is coming up in September.

Then before I knew it, it was time to leave. By then I didn’t want to go and I was sorely tempted to take up the offer of a spare tent. I had however another engagement to attend and had to head south to the Glasgow Toon.

So, we talk a lot about the WHW family, yesterday confirmed, if it was needed, the true extent of it. I was a little concerned about being on my own. I needn’t have worried. I was made to feel at home and wrapped in the security blanket that is the West Highland Way Race Family.

Thank you one and all.

Mrs Mac xox

Wednesday, 24 June 2009

There's gonna be weather

Memories from a Race Marshal (beware! this post is huge!!)

This was always going to be a strange one for me.
Over the years I’ve gotten to know quite a number of WHW family members pretty well. Quite a few I would even regard as friends. In the beginning it was a great buzz anticipating the arrival of fellow Strathaven Striders to my checkpoint, now the list is massive. It feels like I cuddle at least half the field. Who said marshalling didn’t have its perks?

This time however I had one Subversive Runner to consider. There was some discussion as to whether I’d be allowed to abandon my duties in favour of attending to the Subversive ones every whim. I decided though that I wasn’t quite ready for surviving the testosterone fuelled toxic mix of half a dozen London Firemen and a white van!! I may be tough but I’m not THAT tough.

So, this year I have a bit of a split personality. Part marshal, part backup, and part party planner. At one stage I was doing all three at once.

This year would be my first time at the start of the Race. I normally spend the Friday night plotted up in the Wigwams wi ma Maw and a bottle of the finest grape juice we can find.
9.00pm Railway Station car park Milngavie
I get there at a silly time, as I’ve had to collect the remaining goblet delivery from the supplier in East Kilbride, just along the road from me.
SR is en route from Fort Bill where he has ditched the crew to collect the scales from Dr Chris. I arrive with my two bairns all excited and in plenty of time. He is stressed to the eyeballs, as he got lost near Drymen.

Registration over and try to get him to go for a wee sleep, but he’s like a cat on a hot tin roof.
I really enjoyed the buzz in the car park; even my 15-year-old son was getting right into the spirit of it all.

Meet up with DQ who is his usual chirpy self and after spending 10 minutes winding my wean up about boyfriends we head back outside to blether with Corned Beef, Ian & Angela Rae, Jon Steel and his mate and a host of other well kent faces.
Bump into a couple of guys from the Striders and discover that Irene Wilson has worked her magic again and convinced two unsuspecting club mates that the WHWR is the business. David Ross and Ewan are doing backup for a guy they’ve never met or even spoken too. They wander round the car park looking for a guy “with a yellow hat on”. How in gods name does she does it?

SR is getting a bit flappy. The van load of London’s finest fire-fighters are in no rush to reach the start line and with another runners kit to be packed he starts to wander round muttering to himself, I never knew there were so many expletives. Told the children to cover their ears and never to repeat anything they heard coming out of SR’s mouth.

12.30an Race briefing
Now I understand how people get confused. Mr Race Director stands in a car park wi a skirt on and shouts down a megaphone and still no one can hear. There were quite a few naughty boys giggling and laughing nervously amongst themselves as he spoke.
Lord of the Bridge took over and uttered the quote of the weekend for me. “Let me talk about weather -you’re gonna encounter some out there” Pure quality man.

And they’re off. We stood on the embankment on the south side and watched as the runners all disappeared into the tunnel and they’re gone.

Knowing I had an early start and a busy checkpoint. SR had asked if I would see him at one stop before hearing to Auchtertyre. The stop was Beech Tree. Now as you know my challenge was north to south so I’m not familiar with the early checkpoints. So he said “just follow the van”. Hmmmmmm that would be fine if I didn’t have a load of gear to collect for my checkpoint. By the time I was finished with the Lord of the Bridge the car park was empty. And I mean EMPTY. I hadn’t even paid attention to the general direction of the departing traffic. There I was a lonely figure with two sleepy kids at 1.35am stranded in Milngavie. Totally lost, my son typed Tyndrum into the sat nav and I headed north. I pulled over in a lay-by and blubbed as I text to say we wouldn’t be there. I had failed in the one and only thing he asked of me.

3am arrived at the wigwams and sorted the children out for a night sleeping in the car.
Woke up 3 and half hours later and managed to untangle myself from where the sleeping bag got caught in the steering wheel.
A quick shake down and I was off to meet Murdo Mc at Carmyle Cottage with some barrier tape he was promised. Arrived with my jammie trousers still on and didn’t even feel silly.

Back for a quick shower and it was time to set up our checkpoint. I have to thank the kindly gents who assisted my Maw and me with putting up the Eco Tent. You may have noticed the large white canopy with Strathaven Striders splashed up the side. I was quite a feat to erect but we got there in the end. It came into its own when we had three sports therapists to house too.

Really busy checkpoint as usual. Recruited an extra couple of helpers in the form of my Aunt and Uncle. Auld Chris (uncle) did a sterling job with directing the traffic, so much so he’s already booked time off next year. My kids are old hands at it now. Wee Hannah Mac is the tattie queen.

Great to meet a bunch of new people and I apologies if I was a bit distracted. Soooooooo many people congratulated Mum and I on our Cally. Loads of people I didn’t even recognise. Sorry Mrs Pacepusher, but you look different in the flesh ;-)
Thank you all.

Some people were moving too fast to stop for blether, but they didn’t escape the SCALES!!! Some people forgot it was a race and bleathered for ages. I was in the car when I heard the unmistakeable voice of Big Davie the Polis. I just had to go and say hello.

I got permission to abandon my post to track down the Pirate. It had been such a long time since I’d seen him and I had failed miserably by not being at Beech Tree. Also during our phone chats he sounded really down so I really wanted to see him. Came in to my checkpoint and got weighed in a fanfare of pirate hats. All family had donned them in his honour. Bloomin funny. Then handed him over to the crew.

Before I knew it he was off and so were we. Stopped of at BOO for 10 mins followed by a tea break at Kingy. Then off to Fort Bill for a couple hours shut eye. My sis in law Arlene and I were manning the finish from midnight til 6am. And my bro, Chris was sweeping from Kingy at 11.30. Drove him back there and hoped that I might catch the Pirate and The Hooperman there before I left. Only a chance conflab with Dot and Hils, marshals, led me to them in the back of the van. They had made great time since they left me at Auchtertyre. Shared a coffee and the pirate had a wee forty winks on my lap. Sorry if this is a bit soppy but it was nice to have a wee bit of time before knowing they were off up the Staircase. Bro was primed the Pirate and the Hooperman had to finish come what may and he was to boot them in the b*ll*cks if need be.
Raced back to Fort Bill to relive Mum. She had stepped in for me for a bit. Just as well!!! About 20 runners finished in a very short space of time (all trying for sub 24) and the poor doctor doing the bloods was overwhelmed. Add to the mix an ill runner and you can imagine the chaos. Luckily Mum is the gaffer at the blood transfusion service donor suite and jags folk for a living. I think she’s just talked herself back in to a nightshift stint next year.

Great to see DQ, Corned Beef, and Big Stoo etc when I came on shift. Not so good being sworn to secrecy re CB hair brained idea to continue up to Inverness. To say I was slightly concerned is an understatement. Panic set in when I realised he still had a tracker and it wouldn’t be a secret for much longer. All came good in the end though, Crazy Aussie Well done CB.

The night passed quickly and we were soon heading back for a couple hours of shuteye. Got word that the boys had left Lundavra. So got ourselves together and headed back to the finish. Was sorry to have missed the twins and big Davie the polis finishing.
Before long I couldn’t contain it any longer. Standing about was winding me up. Headed out the path towards Braveheart. Just before reaching it I happened upon man mountain Big Al escorting one tired Pirate. I thought it strange that he kept asking how far we had to go. Given that he has been on the Way so many times. As we reached the houses he decided he wanted to run. This is the ONLY time I have ever been quicker than him. As we approached the centre I saw all the crew, my family and lots of our friends. It was really emotional and quite a reception. Even people in the houses were cheering. He was filmed as he ran in, and I held back. As I entered the centre he was necking a rather large half that the Race daddy had offered. At this point tiredness and a rollercoaster of emotions took over and I blubbed AGAIN. What is it with this bloody race it makes me cry all the time. I was just so pleased that he was home safe and managed to banish the demons of last years DNF. Time is immaterial.

So, a strange one? Yes it was. But definitely the best so far.
And what of next year? A marshal, backup, party planner? Who knows? But I can tell you this it wont be long before the plans start all over again. The Pirate has more to give, he’ll be back, but maybe next year I will enforce an early to bed rule.

And what of the post race party. Well I enjoyed myself. A wee bit more sleep deprived than I would have liked. But a nice meal followed by a few drinkeys is always good. Glad to hear Jody has forgiven me for making him stop longer than planned at Auchtertyre. Even though he had no idea it was actually ME.
Glad too to hear that Dave is not the only one to need help with his pants. Sonic, your secrets safe with me;-)
Loving DQ’s new bag. Had a laugh with Jeff whatshis name fae Ireland re phoning his granny last year. A bit gutted that I missed Debbie MC and Sharon trying to make the Pirate dance but getting robotics in return

Two weekends, two versions of the WHW, too knackered for anything.

Thanks to everyone who made this weekend what it is. I truly do feel like I have an extended family.

Mrs Mac x