Flot Trot June 2007

Whilst the competitive brigades were out at various events, ten of the lets-run-while-we’re-chatting group agreed it would be a good week-end for gliding across the Pentlands to the Flotterstone Inn. We had been a bit concerned about the weather, as most folk suffer in the summer heat, but the previous day’s downpours suggested a different weather threat. The warning had gone out – we wouldn’t go if it was snowing (heavily). On the day the weather gods were good to us, and everyone else who was out running that morning.

The good thing about starting at this side is that sensible folk like us could drive up to Threipmuir car park, warm-up jog to the avenue up trees, and then warm-up walk up it. Before we’ve really started we’re at the highest point with a scenic 9k downhill glide before us.

The previous day’s rain was evident, and some very white trainers got an early christening in a big squelch. Parts of the gravel path were a mini-stream. The stream-path became a tarmac single-track road with only the occasional puddle. “See us? Puddles, we laugh at puddles!”

We saw another runner standing by the edge of one of the reservoirs… “Is that one of us?” one of us asked. “No. He’s not wearing a fleece round his waist” I commented as the rest of the group demonstrated synchronised fleece swaying.

Down the hill at the far end we start to notice signs of approaching civilisation, … kids shuffling along with that distinctive dragged-out-by-the-parents-walking action, … folk wearing pink. Before we know it we’re in the shade of the Flotterstone Inn car park, gleefully informing everyone within hearing distance, including a busload of hikers, that we’d just run over the hills.

We had a 2-minute wait for the Inn to open. “You ran too quickly” I suggested. Time for drinks, Time for food. Time to relax.