Bakonyi Zarándok futás - Wacky Races

I have been in Hungary for Easter visiting Kata's family.  On Easter Monday I took part in a race that Kata found for me. It was described as a 14km trail race with a 500m ascent. The only part of this which turned out to be true was the 500m ascent part. 

Jumping for joy at the start

We drove to the race finish where race registration was held and in typical fashion made it by the skin of our teeth. Turns out we weren't the last people to turn up though because we ended up giving a lift to the start line another runner who was even later than us and had missed the bus that transported us all to the start (it was always our intention to drive there rather than take the bus). So the race was point to point, starting in the village of Bakonybel and finishing in Zirc. Standing at the start line I noticed I was one of about 3 runners wearing shorts, most were covered head to toe in thermals. This worried me a bit and I had visions of being stuck at the top of a hill and being overcome by hypothermia or exposure. I consoled myself by choosing to believe that this unseasonably cold weather had just freaked out the Hungarians and that as a hardy Scotsman used to the freezing Springtime conditions, I would be fine.   We were informed at the start that this was the first time that they'd held this race and I joked that they were "testing it on us". How prophetic those words turned out to be. As I mentioned, the distance was (supposed to be) 14km on trail. Well first of all, if that was a trail race, I'll eat my hat. My sweaty, running hat. At some sections there was no path whatsoever and we had to just make our way through the forest as best we could, negotiating the bouncy, overgrown, tangled forest floor. The first 5km reminded me of the Inversnaid section of the West Highland Way, which is to say it was tough going. I remember running towards a log that blocked our path and trying to decide whether I'd be faster going over or under it.  The route was marked out in two ways. 

1.  There was a permanent route markers for walkers painted on to posts and trees at intervals along the way. 

2.  Where the route was not obvious, there were blue ribbons tied to trees or bushes or whatever. 

Except there weren't. The organisers must have been running short of blue ribbons and so they were obviously rationed. A few times I found myself standing with my hands on my hips looking about for some indication of the correct direction. Sometimes I caught up with another runner doing the same, or another runner running back towards me because he'd gone the wrong way and was retracing his steps. The first time I went off-piste I realised quite quickly and managed to correct this after only a round trip of about 100 metres. This was at about 3km and I thought that it'd be the story of my race. I was wrong. The second time I got lost it was me and a guy in a yellow top on our own. He was slightly ahead of me when he stopped, turned to me and said something in Hungarian. Once I'd managed to get across to him that I had no idea what he was talking about by pointing at myself and saying "Skót" (Scottish) and "nem tudom" (I don't know) a few times, he sighed and resigned himself to the hopelessness. We ran together back the way we came before eventually finding a blue ribbon on the other side of the road and more importantly, a stream of about 10 runners that we had been comfortably ahead of running ahead of us. We set off in chase. This pack of about 10 runners would show up again.  I was disgusted by this point believing my race to be ruined. I had been doing well up to this point and making good time towards the front of the field.  I had no option but to keep going so keep going I did. I really wanted to get ahead of the runners that I had lost my place to so I made that my motivation. I actually caught them in quite short order (in about 1km or so). We were about 9km into the race by this point and I was knackered with the effort of catching up. On a relatively easy section of the race I looked behind me and saw the pack of 10 behind me. I worried that with 5km to go they'd be able to beat me in a sprint to the end due to their steady pace versus my energy sapping burst of exertion.  Turns out this was to be the least of my worries!  

Ready to go in Bakonybel

Not long after, running up a dirt track, yellow top guy (who'd also made back his place) came running back towards me. Oh no!  I stopped. The pack of 10 stopped. We all looked at one another. Some Hungarian was said. The Pack of 10 found the blue ribbon first as they were closest to it and started running in the right direction.  This was getting ridiculous. I had to pass them again. I had to!  And time was running out with only about 3km to go (although I knew my Garmin would be out due to all the detours of the 14km route taken). I wasn't polite about passing them either. The trail was narrow and as I caught and then sprinted past every one of them I think I actually grunted or shouted as I ran past a few due to the  effort and pain of sprinting uphill and taking a long way around. But I was ahead of them all again and in a short time and I noticed Yellow Top was as well.  The end was in sight now. I guessed I had about 15.5 or 16km to run taking into account the additional distance I'd ran. There were two more points in a wooded area where Yellow Top and I stood, hands on hips, looking for the correct path. We took an educated guess one time, and the second I spotted the blue ribbon, pointed, and shouted "jo" at him. This means "good" but it's all my Hungarian could manage and I got the point across.  Next thing we could see the village where we had been about 2 hours before to register. The run down onto the village was steep and my legs were running ahead of me. Yellow Top got ahead of me at this point but I was fine with that. He and I had practically ran the exact same race. 

Underway... 

Kata later described the end as an "anti-climax" and I can see her point, but I was just glad to reach it. In the end I was only ("only") just over 1km out. I heard that even the race winner crossed the line and then immediately started ranting about the disgraceful route markings. I'm glad it wasn't just me. Apparently a lot of constructive criticism was delivered from almost the whole field at the end.  

Out of puff

I remembered back to the start and joking that they were testing the race on us.  I also remembered being worried about dying of exposure and noted that I had in fact finished in my t-shirt having started in a wind proof jacket. The jacket actually came off pretty quickly as I was so warm. Kata told me that some guy asked her about the "Number 10" that she was taking to and that had kept passing him.  Well that was me obviously. I was wearing my Men's Health 10k shirt which has a big, yellow 10 on the back. The guy wanted to ask Kata about me because he'd noticed I ran such a hard race. Now I type this, I actually remember him shaking my hand at the post-race soup session. So that was nice. 

Nice medal, sweet tea

Despite the frustration, this has the potential to be a really good race.  Some of the feedback the organisers received was that this wasn't supposed to be orienteering and that the rubbish route markings ruined the rhythm of the race. Well I couldn't agree more and it did a heck of a lot more than "ruin my rhythm". I'm glad I ran it.  I got over my annoyance pretty quickly and I suppose it was comforting to know that the blame wasn't with me. We also got an awesome medal with a Hungarian flag coloured ribbon and generous helpings of soup and scones at the end.  

Better luck next year, guys. 

'Cel' means that this is the finish line

300 - "This...Is...Sparta!!!"

This..Is...Sparta!

OK, it's not Sparta, It's Edinburgh, but still...300!

Today I hit the landmark of 300 days of consecutive running.  I celebrated in the only way I know how – by running to Old Chain Pier in Leith.  This was the site of the celebration for day 50 which seems like a very long time ago now.  About 250 days ago I suppose!  Today is also Rachel’s birthday so it was a double celebration.  

I was recently asked, “So is that you a runner now?”. Good question.  What makes one a “runner”?  Well I’ve had a think about it, and apart from running every day for 300 days and covering a total distance of 2,176 kms (1,352 miles) during that time, apart from that I have decided that I am indeed a “runner” and this is the criteria I based the definition on.  

• I have a separate set of “running keys” that don’t jingle.
• I own 4 pairs of running shoes (5 if you include the Nike shoes that ruined my heel at Alloa – I don’t include them).  
• 2 of those pairs are identical.
• I have a box in which to keep race medals.
• I often wear a suit and a digital watch to work in the office (much to Kata’s chagrin).
• I know instinctively with a margin of error of less than 100m, how far 1km is. 
• Not only is spitting on the pavement acceptable, but snot-rocketing too!
• I’m a man and I wear tights out in public 
• I have often found myself outside in horizontal sleet wearing shorts and a t-shirt. 
• I randomly find safety pins in the washing machine.
• I often shower 2 or 3 times a day. 
• My biscuit tin is full of energy gels
• When buying shorts, the most important factor is the type and location of the pockets
• I constantly and to some greater or lesser degree, have a sore foot, ankle, calf, thigh, hip....
• And I keep a bag of frozen peas in the freezer specifically for icing injuries.  
• When I’m not running, I am thinking about running, talking about running,  reading about running, or blogging about running. 
• I know that it’s 3.47km to the park unless I go via the river path then it’s 4.18km. 

I think that’s conclusive.  If maybe 3 or more of these criteria apply to you, and you aren’t currently institutionalised under The Mental Health Act, then you are probably a runner too!

These people are all runners. 

End of March

End of March and a decent month too.  I ran 219km which was the most since last August if you don't count the 10ktober madness.  It helps that the weather is (slightly) improving and it's not so dark anymore.

Count:	31 Activities
Distance:	219.51 km
Time:	19:05:52 h:m:s
Calories:	17,290 C
Avg Time:	36:58 h:m:s
Avg Distance:	7.08 km
Avg Speed:	11.5 km/h
Avg HR:	140 bpm
Max HR:	174 bpm

Kilomathon 2015 or "How I Chased the Banana and Failed"

On Sunday I spent my morning chasing the banana.  Although this sounds like something that George Michael might have been convicted of, it was actually a 13.1km race from Ocean Terminal in Leith to Murrayfield Stadium in the west end of Edinburgh.

A familiar route

The banana in question was the runner who overtook me at the 1km distance and stayed ahead of me for the duration of the race.   My indignation at being overtaken by someone in fancy dress was tempered only slightly by the fact that underneath the foam suit, he did look like a runner.  I mean to be fair, Mo Farrah could probably have beaten me wearing flippers so sometimes you have to accept when you're outclassed.  Sunday was not that day however, and I made it my mission to catch and overtake banana man.  The title of this blog update will already have removed any suspense  pertaining to the outcome, but I will say that my determination to catch the banana undoubtedly improved my time significantly so I am for perhaps the first time in my life, and perhaps not for the last, indebted to a man dressed as a fruit.

And the race....

I ran Kilomathon last year before any of this running every day for a year nonsense was even conceived of.  I quite enjoyed it.  As the pre-race announcer told us as we were standing in our pens ready to go, "It's a great distance for those training for half or full marathons, and for those that have ran 10km and are looking for another challenge".  It did occur to me that this guy had just redefined "preaching to the choir" as the people he was addressing were standing there in their running vests, making last minute adjustments to their Garmins, and waiting on the staring pistol.  Maybe he was trying to recruit some of those spectating to run next year?  But it is a good distance and I know the course very well.  Very well indeed.

Banana just out of shot...

We got underway at 08:30 at Ocean Terminal in Leith (Kata informs me that we started 2 minutes late) and after only about 1km joined the cycle path that I am extremely familiar with.  We stayed on this cycle path for about 9km and so only left about 3km from the end.  This is the same cycle path that makes up probably the majority of my lunch time runs, after work runs, weekend runs, etc.  I run several routes on the cycle path network and Kilomathon took in nearly all of them.  It was strange and comforting to be racing is such very familiar surroundings.  There were a few hairpin bends where we had to practically stop and start running again so it wasn't a fast course. Also, although not hilly, we did start at sea level in Leith so we were running gradually uphill the whole time (my Garmin says the elevation was 81m).  My Garmin was not recording distance very well at all.  At the 6km marker I was out by 100m, by 8km I was out by 200m, by the end the Garmin measured my distance as 12.8km - 300m short.  Anyone that knows the cycle paths will know that when you are not running through tunnels or under bridges, you are enveloped by a canopy of trees and this no doubt is what caused the inaccuracies.  Having such an intimate knowledge of the course, I could go on and on about it, but I won't.

And the crowd goes wild

What is worthy of mention is the atmosphere, or lack thereof.  Honestly, the old joke about there "being more atmosphere on the moon" doesn't do justice to the Kilomathon that started at 08:30 on a Sunday morning on the day the clocks went forward and followed the cycle paths.  It was like a library.  I don't think I heard a single word the whole way around.  Not many spectators in this area of Edinburgh.  A few dog walkers, but that's about it.  The silence was only punctured by the occasional marshal (thanks marshals!) shouting encouragement.  It was therefore a bit surreal.  Running in silence around the cycle paths, it could have been a normal Sunday morning run for me (if I ran on Sunday mornings that is).

I've shaved and had a haircut!

Kata and I at Murrayfield Stadium

Time wise I did good.  I was aiming for 58 mins which was 4:26 per/km pace.  Last year I finished in 1:02:38 but I knew I could beat that easily.  In the end I ran into Murrayfield stadium and completed the race in 55:38 which placed me 58th out of 1397.  Not bad!  I did promise Kata a sprint finish but wasn't able to deliver on my promise due to being knackered after all the banana chasing.  I did finish quite strongly though.  Because I knew that my Garmin was out by hundreds of meters, it was hard for me judge how I was doing in the last couple of kilometres.  I knew I was on track for my 58 minute goal, was doing OK and probably better than I thought, but I didn't let that comfort slow me down and I pushed on as if my Garmin was correct to the nearest millimetre.  Last year I remember feeling like a hero running into Murrayfield, but I didn't get the same buzz this time.  I also didn't hear Kata who was apparently shouting for me - her voice must have got lost in the echo of the bowl shaped stadium.

My hands are in the air like I just don't care 

A good, but quite surreal race.  Not sure if I'll run it again or if twice is enough.  Now that I'm a club runner (ha!) I missed the National Road Relays to run Kilomathon and if it's the same next year I think I'd rather run the Road Relays.

See you next year?  Or not?

Alloa Half Marathon

On Sunday I unexpectedly got a last minute place at the Alloa Half Marathon.  I was really pleased about this because after my 70 minute Lasswade 10, I was keen to test myself on a half marathon distance.  My half marathon PB was set last August in Haddington and was 1:41:31.  If I extended my Lasswade 10 time out for another 3 miles, that would be 1hr 31 mins so I knew I could beat my Haddington time.  Unfortunately though, running isn’t arithmetic and so I would have to go out there and prove it.  I set myself the target of finishing Alloa in under 1hr 35mins.

My first PB in any distance for ages

The morning of the race was chaos.  Kata and I needed to leave at 8am, I woke up at 7am (plenty of time) and that’s when it all started to go wrong.  No hot water in the shower for some reason meant Kata had a head full of soapy hair, I woke Kata up too late to start with because I was making her breakfast.  It was Mother’s Day so as well as preparing for the race, I was packing the car full of flowers and gifts and a smart change of clothes to go out for dinner later. The upshot was that I forgot just about everything including  the Mother’s Day cards… and my trainers!!!!  The learning point here is to pack the night before a race, which normally I would but I spent the night before the race in the pub drinking 5 pints of Belhaven Best.  I’m sure Wilson Kipsang prepares the same way.  I therefore ran in my Nike Free Runners that I tend to wear walking about the streets of Edinburgh, and usually to and from races in case my race shoes get wet.  Not ideal, but I thought it’d be OK.  It wasn’t really OK.  

So we left Edinburgh at 08:15 (without my trainers) and thanks to Kata driving like an espresso fuelled Michael Schumacher, we made it to Alloa in good time to register.  Turns out I would have had plenty of time to go back for my trainers when I realised I’d forgotten them. 

We bumped into Rachel and James before the race.  Rachel suggested that we go for a wee warm up jog so we did.  Everyone was very optimistic about a PB – the course was pretty flat and the weather was ideal (a bit chilly but no wind worth mentioning).  Rachel and I elbowed our way to near the front of the pack so as not to get caught up amongst the slower runners right after the start.  There were nearly 2000 starters and negotiating the back markers for the first mile could have severely dented our PB chances or at the very least slowed our times.  We got underway after the starter’s pistol sounded (got to love a race that starts with to the sound of small fire arms) and headed off into the streets of Alloa.

Pre-Race with Rachel - Note my rubbish shoes

One of the first things I noticed was that amongst the things I had forgotten this morning I could now add, ‘change my Garmin from kilometres to miles’.  I like to keep the pace setting in kilometres because that’s what I’m used to and the numbers mean more to me, but in a race measured in miles it’d have been nice to have had the distance setting on my Garmin the same.  Ah well.  I knew that I was going to run about 21km so I knew that I needed to run four and a half minute kilometres to get in under 1hr 35mins.  Sorted.  I completed my first 1km in 4:01 so if anything I was maybe going a bit fast.  That always happens at the start of races so I wasn’t too worried about it.  Next kilometre was 4:11, the next one 4:08.  I felt good so I just went with it.  I actually completed the first 10km fairly easily in 42:54 and my 10km PB is 42:30 so things were going great.  

The first problem I encountered was at 4 miles where I realised I was getting  a blister on my heel.  My Nike Free Runners were letting me down.  My heel was moving side to side inside my shoe and there was nothing I could do about it.  It was sore of course and burned for the next 9 miles but I didn’t spend my whole time crying about it.  Sometimes I was aware of it, sometimes I wasn’t.  It was what it was so I got on with it.  I’ll spare readers a photo of my blister.  I once posted a picture of my suspected broken toe on this blog, but I will draw the line at blistered heels.  Suffice to say that my right heel is now mostly blister.    

You can clearly see how crumpled and useless the right heel is. Not the running shoes for me.

We passed a road sign coming into (I think) Sauchie that said, “Watch Your Speed”.  This amused me.  Where were the photographers for this perfect photo opportunity?  We reached Tillicoultry (near Stirling) and the streets were lined with supporters which was fantastic.  Big thanks to the good people of Tillicoultry because it really helped.   Some were out on the streets cheering us on, some were handing out jelly babies, others watched from their gardens, wearing  their dressing gowns and wondering what the commotion outside was that woke them up before lunch time on a Sunday.  I even heard a shout for “HBT!” as I passed.  

At about 7.5 miles, a guy in front of me collapsed.  Coming into Alva, we passed a roadside garden area  with grass and flowerbeds.  The runner in question aimed for it and collapsed onto the grass.  His legs buckled, then the next thing to hit the ground was his chest.  It didn’t look good.  There were marshals on hand quite quickly so no need to stop.  Due to the route of the race (it ducks down a side street, around a traffic cone and then back on to the main road again, presumably too add distance to meet the half-marathon requirement) I passed the scene again about 1 minute later and he was still on the ground, moaning.  I hope he’s OK.

Heading home

Due to the number of runners taking part there were always a lot of people around you.  My recent races have been smaller and often you find yourself isolated, but there was no chance of that happening on this occasion.  I recognised the same vests and faces reappearing around me at points through the race, either as I caught them again, or they caught me.  It was a good size of field, not to crowded, but big enough to feel like an event.    

There was quite a steep hill at 10 miles but it was short.  I read posts on the internet after the race complaining about the hill.  As we know, all things are relative, but come on, that wasn’t a hill!  Not really.  It was steep(ish) but it was barely 50m.  There was another, longer, but less steep hill at 11 miles but honestly neither of these hills would be worth mentioning if it weren’t for the fact teat the rest of the course was like a bowling green.  The stage of the race from Tillicoultry to Menstie is quite mentally gruelling as it’s a long, flat, straight road.  It’s a 4 mile slog.  During this section of the run you can see The Wallace Monument which made me wonder where on Earth we were going and if we were going to be turning back towards Alloa soon – last time I saw The Wallace Monument was during the Stirling 10k.  

I took some water at the final water station (mile 11 I think) and as I took a sip from the bottle, the army cadet girl that handed it to me shouted at me, “Don’t waste that water, get it down you!”  I was sorely tempted to bounce the remains of the wasted bottle of water off her forehead.  Her advice wasn’t the type you like to hear when you are 11 miles into a 13 mile race and your body and mind are resisting every step forward.  So big thanks to (most) of the marshals and helpers who gave up their Sunday so as we could run round in a big circle for a few hours.        

 Pictured from the front and rear

At one point I let myself believe that I might actually be on for completing the course in under 1hr 30mins, but at mile 10 I gave up on what was to be a fair a ridiculous ambition.  My breathing was becoming laboured by this stage and I had to consciously get it back under control again.  I was still easily on for the original target and when I saw the 12 mile marker I realised I had 11 minutes to complete the last mile – it was time to light the cigar and get the bubbly out of the fridge.  In the end I completed the last mile in less than 7.5 minutes and ran home in a PB time of 1:32:48.  A 9 minute PB!   I was exhausted.  I had run fast.  My face was purple, my legs were like jelly, and my blistered heel was on fire.  It’s very rare indeed for me to finish a race and feel like I did really well and to the best of my ability, but Sunday was one of those rare occasions.  However, I did almost consider a DNF at 13 miles when I saw runners who had already finished milling about in the fabulous bright pink race t-shirts! Only joking – the t-shirts are cool, unique, and I will wear mine proudly.  Rachel and James also both got a PB and ran really good races.  A very successful day all round.  Alloa Half-Marathon is a good, fast course and I would definitely like to run it again. 

James and I feeling smug

The shirt clashes with my face

Finally, and I only mention this because I was discussing with my dad on Sunday whether or not this would happen, but 5 runners finished in just over 3 hours.  Well done to them – I know from bitter experience how hard it is to run for that length of time.  I finished   268^th out of 1660. 

Update

I read that the runner who collapsed is in hospital and recovering well. He received life saving assistance at the scene.  Good luck to him. 

7 HIlls

It is said that like Rome, Edinburgh is built on seven hills.  The hills is question are;

·         Calton Hill

·         Arthur’s Seat

·         Braid Hill

·         Blackford Hill

·         Corstorphine Hill

·         Craiglockhart Hill

·         Castle Rock

I believe this claim of “Edinburgh being built on seven hills” to be quite tenuous.  For example, the New Town was completed in about 1850 and prior to that Edinburgh was built on 1 hill – Castle Rock.  Expansion of the city limits in the 20^th century meant that we could now include the likes of Corstorphine Hill into the mix, and I am sure that if we are including Braids and Craiglockhart, then there must be a number of other hills that are being ignored.  Anyway, “built on seven hills” sounds good and since when did anyone ever let the facts get in the way of a good sound bite?  Maybe we could steal some other Roman wisdom?  

“When in Edinburgh, do as the Edinburghers do”

“Edinburgh wasn’t built in a day.”

“Edinburgh was founded by twin brothers raised by a pack of wild haggis.”           

What the seven hills claim does do, is give us an excuse (if one were ever needed) to run up them all.  There is an actual 7 Hills Race that takes place every year, and on Wednesday myself and an intrepid bunch of nutters ran that route.

My Garmin's representation of The Seven Hills

Three of us including Keith whose idea this was left work at 17:15 and headed out to bag our first hill, Calton Hill which was close by and relatively (all things are relative) small.  I have ran up this hill many times and to consider it small goes against the grain somewhat.  It is steep, but there is pavement all the way to the top.  The top of Calton Hill affords you the standard view of Edinburgh that has been photographed more often than Cindy Crawford.  It is however photographed, painted, and admired for a reason, it’s spectacular.  When we got to the top the sun was just beginning to set. At about 17:30 on Wednesday, this was the most recent in a series of 1,000,000,000 versions of this photo.

It's a classic for a reason

The three that started from work became seven as we met the other nutters.  Once we had gathered our little group together, we headed off downwards in the direction of Arthur’s Seat. 

One down - Calton Hill

Arthur’s Seat is the biggest hill in Edinburgh at 251m (823ft).  It is reached from Holyrood Park and although there are many suggestions, no one knows for certain why it’s called Arthur’s Seat. Arthur’s Seat is a hard climb and although it makes up one of my regular running routes, I usually stick to the road that runs around it and peaks about 50m from the top.   On this occasion we were heading for the very top and took a direct line right up the side.  It was tough going.  I have recently signed up for a race up (and back down) Ben Lomond and Arthur’s Seat will be perfect training for this.  Still relatively fresh, I pushed myself up and ran the vast majority, only walking at the really steep and rough terrain.  The top was extremely windy and we didn’t hang about too long to bask in the glory of our achievement before heading off to Blackford Hill.  The run down Arthur’s Seat was tough due to the steep, slippy, rocks and I thought at the time that this would probably be the hardest and least enjoyable part of the run – how naïve and wrong I was!  

Two down - Arthur's Seat 

Arthur's Seat - View from the top 

The run to Blackford Hill was fine and my legs were still strong.  This was to be the last hill that we completed in anything like daylight and it was about now that I really regretted not having brought my head torch.  I was ill equipped generally and had grossly underestimated the difficulty of the run.  I had no torch, no food, and no water.  Blackford Hill was a relatively (there’s that word again) gradual climb, and at the top one of our group dropped out (Caroline).  It was always her plan to drop out at this stage due to a sore calf and fear of a stress fracture, so fair enough really!  There are stairs (of sorts) leading down from Blackford Hill and in order to try to speed up my descent I avoided the stairs and went down the sides.  This was to be a mistake as only a superhuman display of balance and agility on my part avoided my slipping and finishing at the bottom in very good time but on my backside!

Three down - Blackford Hill (probably)

Blackford Hill - View from the top

Team photo on Blackford Hill

Next up was a short jog up to Braid Hill.  It was by now getting properly dark and some of the group had turned on their head torches.  I could still see in the dim light but knew that very soon I would need the help of my better prepared fiends.  Braid Hill was quite steep but quite short.  We reached the top without any problem and had a pit stop to shove some chocolate into our faces.  Thanks to Keith for donating a row of his Cadbury’s Fruit & Nut to my cause!    We were now four hills into the seven and I was feeling fit and smug.  They say that pride comes before a fall…

Four down - Braid Hill

Next up was Craiglockhart Hill.  Frankly I can’t remember anything about this hill.  I’d never been here before so had no reference point and it was dark.  I vaguely recall the ascent being wide and gradual and I don’t think there was a cairn or trig point at the top.  I think there was  a bench and a barking dog.  

Five down - Craiglockart Hill 

The next stretch was the lowlight of the run.  The run from Craiglockhart to Corstorphine was long, boring, and draining.  As I mentioned, I had no idea where we were and was struggling to imagine how we would get to Corstorphine from here.  The answer was….eventually.  The route took us along paths that went by The Corn Exchange, Asda, and generally running along the side of roads and trying not to get run over when we needed to cross.  We just about managed this.  During this stage of the run, I was tired physically and mentally.  I had recently ran up Corstorphine Hill and knew that what lay ahead was a pretty steep and slippy climb.  The descent of Craiglockhart hadn’t improved my mood as without a torch I struggled and was so slow I nearly lost the group but thankfully Brian realised I was struggling and waited for me.   

After what seemed like an age we reached Corstorphine Hill and the climb wasn’t as steep as I remembered.  We approached it from a different side and so essentially started the ascent from half way up.  It was pretty spooky at the top and I was trying not to think of The Blair Witch Project.  I failed!  I stuck close to Carrie and her head torch so as to avoid taking a tumble over rocks or tree roots.  

Six down - Blair Witch Corstorphine Hill 

I wasn’t exactly happy to hear the discomfort of my friends, but some moaning had started from some others and I have to admit I was relieved that it wasn’t just me that was starting to struggle.  I knew that we were six down and had one to go so felt motivated to keep going.   The good news was that we had only one hill to go, that we were going to be running under street lights from now on, and that the last hill was a short climb.  The bad news was that it was miles away and that we would just about have to run past my flat to get there!  

I was flagging seriously on the way to Castle Rock.  When we reached my flat I really wanted to DNF and go home.  I was perfectly happy to fail at this stage feeling that I wasn’t wimping out, but that I had given it my all.  I was inevitably pushed on by my friends and was told in no uncertain terms that not doing hill number seven was not even an option.  They told me the usual lies that runners tell one another, “you’ll be fine, it’s not far.”  We were practically standing outside my flat.  I know where the castle is.  I know how far it is!  

So onwards and upwards (literally).  When the castle came into sight perched on top of that famous volcanic rock, it looked like Mount Everest.  I was nearly there but it looked as far away as ever.  Somehow, legs burning, chest tight, I made it to the top and completed The Seven Hills route of 26km (16 miles) in a respectable 3hrs 5mins.  

Seven down - Castle Rock

One final jog (aaarrghh!) to the pub for a well deserved pint (or two) before heading home. In the pub the barmaid took one look at us and asked how far we had cycled.  Cycled?  CYCLED?  Did we look like cyclists?  Couldn’t she tell the difference between the sensible polyester and lycra clad runner, and the ridiculous  fluorescent spandex of the cyclist?  I very nearly suggested out of pure indignation that we took our business elsewhere, but I was REALLY thirsty. Thanks very much to Chuck for picking us up and taking us home.  I have rarely appreciated a lift so much.  I’m glad that I did this run but it hasn’t inspired me to run The Seven Hills Race.  Maybe doing the route again in a few months in daylight would be better?    

Team photo outside Edinburgh Castle

Not a cyclist

The End

Epilogue

My original plan was to go back to work after finishing the run and shower there and get changed back into my suit.  I was so tired in the end that I didn’t, so I woke up in the morning suit-less and ran into work!  I am very glad I did.  I ran a 7.5km route along Water of Leith…..and I saw a kingfisher!  I have never seen one before but I’ve always wanted to.  I hoped one day I would be lucky enough to see one in real life and on this morning I did.  I say the incredible iridescent blue as it flew by and I thought it looked like a kingfisher.  It landed on the other side of the river on a tree, about 20 or 30 metres away.  As it turned to profile I could see the recognisable orange breast and long beak.  Stunning!  Amazing!  I knew it was too far away to take a photo with my iPhone, but ever time I crept a bit closer to try, it flew to the next tree in the opposite direction.  It was watching me watching it!  So if I hadn’t ran the seven hills I wouldn’t have seen this amazing bird.  What a city I live in where you can climb seven hills in 3 hours, then run along a river and see kingfisher.  I wonder if you can do that in Rome?  I am so lucky.  

Have you seen this bird?  I have :-)

Lasswade 10 Results

The results are in and I am confirmed at 1:10:48.  91st out of 347 is an improvement on 431st out of 571 from last week, although it's pointless really to compare Lasswade 10 with a National Cross Country Championship.

Here's a link to the results.

And here's a stolen action shot.

Pretty much the whole route looked like this

And just in case we forget why I am doing all of this in the first place, Lasswade 10 was Day 269 of The Most Runningist Year Ever and here is the latest log.  

Lasswade 10

Pre-Race

This blog update is another race report and unusual in that I have started it before I have actually run the race.  I'll finish it when I get back. 

The race starts at mid-day but frustratingly registration closes at 11:15.  What am I supposed to do during the 45 minute gap?  I am sure if I turned up at 11:45 I could still register but I am not going to chance it.  I suppose if everyone (400 runner limit) did that then it would be chaos and that's why they ask you to be there so early.  So that's why I am up at 08:30 on a Sunday.  I have had my pre-race porridge already (I'll have a banana later) and I will leave the flat in about 2 hours.  

Here is a link to the race details....

The race is 10 miles on B and C class roads.  I read the thoughts of some runners that posted on Runner's World forum after last year and one of them said, 

"Slight uphill start before dropping down into a glen. There is then a long steep climb up the other side after about a mile. It's the hardest climb I've ever done in a race - there, I have warned you!"

Hardest climb sounds intimidating, but I have ran the Harris Half-Marathon and the uphill can't be as bad as that, can it?!  Also Penicuik 10k has a really steep and long uphill straight after the start so I have ran races with tough uphills before.  I will consider myself forewarned, but I am not overly concerned.  I have checked out some photos of previous years and it looks like it's road shoes.  It is categorised as a road race although I think that there is some trail.  I'll find out soon enough.  

The first water station is at 6.3 miles so my plan is to use an energy gel and to take it at 6 miles.  This is about 10km distance and the water will help to take the taste away, so it seems like a good time.  Must try to remember.  The last time I ran a 10 miles race was Dunbar and I forgot that I had my energy gel (Not used to using them) and I only remembered at about 7.5 miles.  

You can see from the route map and height profile that is is pretty much going to be hilly with two big   climbs at 2.5 and 4.5 miles.  

Is it better to know in advance or to be blissfully ignorant?

OK, so I am prepared as I can be and it's sunny outside.  I am optimistic and I'll be back about mid-afternoon to resume typing and report how I got on....

Post-Race

I'm back, and it's done.  For the second week in a row I am asking myself why I don't take up another hobby, an indoor one.  I used to be fairly decent at squash.  I spoke to Kata after the race on the phone (she's in Morocco) and I could barely hold the phone my fingers were so cold!  There were hail stones that stung my face, and sleet that tried to break my morale.  At the top of the steep hill after 2.5 miles, we turned left into the wind where just when you wanted to catch your breath, the gale force wind was making it very difficult to breath at all!  In the club house afterwards I over heard a conversation that went something like this,

"What about that weather?!!"

"It wasn't that bad actually."

"Not that bad"?  Seriously?  Only in Scotland could this weather be considered "not that bad".  I think it was "not that bad" possibly on the basis that it wasn't hailstones for the whole 10 miles and there were brief periods of sheltered respite.  

The race in itself went well for me.  The route was much like every other road race in a small town or village where you start in town, run a loop around some farmland, and finish back where you started in the town.  It was hilly (that's hilly, not undulating as the website claimed) but not too bad.  It certainly didn't compare to the Harris Half-Marathon in steepness, length, or spirit-crushing.  

The sun was briefly out to shine on my glory.  My hair evidences the previous and predominant nature of the day's weather.

The race as purely roads, no trail.  I don't know why I thought it might have included trail.  I think I just can't remember the last time I ran a pure road race so had forgotten that they existed  I heard someone describe it afterwards to me as a road, hill race.  Ha ha!  Sounds about right.  The guy that said this was actually talking to me and called my 'HBT' like it was my name.  He said, "How'd you get on HBT?".  I don't mind, I am just amused.  

I await official results but I recorded myself as finishing in 1:10:49.  This is slightly annoying as after a few miles I set myself a target of finishing in 70 minutes, then after 9 miles I misread my watch which was covered in sleet and judged I had no chance of finishing under 70 minutes so perhaps didn't grit my teeth and really go for it which I otherwise might have.  I instead set myself the new target of sub 75 minutes which turned out to be very achievable.  Still, it's a good time and I averaged 4:28km pace which for a hilly 10 mile race in hailstones and sleet is pretty good.  It means I should be targeting under 1hr 35mins for a half marathon - must try to run one soon!

Not much of note happened during the race I'm afraid.  I was nearly flattened by a girl running from Gala who kind of cut a corner by going across the grass then launched herself back not the road almost on top of me - this was all in aid of overtaking me.  She did apologise to be fair.  Also, in the home stretch, the guy in front of my moved out of my way to give me the racing line because I was faster than him.  That was terribly nice of him and actually did give me a bit of an incentive to push on as he had made way for me so I supposed I had better make sure I finished strongly.  I was very grateful of the amazing support again and there were a few shouts for 'HBT' as I ran by.  The marshals did a great job of standing in the freezing conditions and pointing out which way to go which wasn't always obvious without direction.  Well done them.  And well done to Lasswade AC for organising the event and also the free buffet at the end which was very welcome and most appreciated.  I'd definitely run this race again and recommend it to friends.  10 miles is a good distance.  Oh and I got a medal which I always love.  

HBT vest accessorised with gold effect medal

The event was a huge success for HBT's women who took the first 4 places.  Won by Rachel, and with Eilis second, I think it's fair to say that the girls easily secured the women's team prize for the club.  

Most winningist