Running for Fun - Glasgow Santa Dash 2014

I've just discovered the joy of taking part in a race purely for fun.

No pressure of times, position, paces or PB's, no thoughts of what did I run this in last time, no thoughts of saving myself for the big sprint finish, just starting, finishing and enjoying the bit in between.
I've  always liked the idea of taking part in a BIG Santa dash event, you know the kind of thing where everyone wears a Santa suit, dresses like Rudolf or the world's fattest least attractive Christmas fairy.

I'd tentatively suggested we could make it a Harriers away day but was underwhelmed by the response, so ultimately it ended up an Ainslie only trip, well daughter, father and 5500 other people dressed as Santa.

I was on a three line whip, to run with daughter Sarah and not get carried away and go haring off on my own from the start. There was something very surreal about queuing among a sea of red and white, mostly wearing the "one size fits nobody" suits included in your £15 entry fee. There was a great mix of young, old, families, groups and the (very) occasional serious runner in Lycra, looking for once, quite out of place on the start line of a race.
There was a non-stop pre-race commentary, by some bloke from local radio who may or may not have been famous, "give us a cheer if you're from Edinburgh"....Greeted with silence and a mass warm-up by Elaine or Lorraine, who almost certainly hadn't just flown in specially from Los Angeles for the warm up routine. all academic as no one could see her, so any careful choreography soon disappeared as we all just bounced up and down enthusiastically. Not so much a warm up as a stay warm to combat the occasional sleety flurry.

Almost bang on 9:30 a quick count down and we were off! Or rather so were lots of beards, belts, hats and the occasional part of red breeks as well as thousands of runners.

I've has experience of the joys of running in a £1.99 Santa suit before so had prudently brought string to ensure our trousers stayed up and our modesty remained intact!
The event starts in George Square and heads west  up St Vincent Street, the sight looking back down to the start was awesome, the road was simply a sea of red and white all the way back down, my photo doesn't do it justice.
The route continues on crossing over the M8 before turning left before the SECC, you head towards the iconic Finnieston crane, before turning back onto the Broomielaw. At this point Sarah pointed out 3 Santa's who had stopped and rewarded themselves with a mid race MacDonald s, now there's a racing novelty!

There wasn't a huge amount of support on the course, but I suppose that's the inevitable compromise if you're going to close off great chunks of main roads in central Glasgow, you've got to do it early in the morning before too many people are up and about. Having said that you don't need support from the roadside when thousands around you are running in Santa suits in various states of soggy disintegration. The route then turns North just before the Central Station taking you under the famous Heilanmans umbrella before a penultimate turn onto Buchanan Street, with the massed ranks dodging early morning shoppers in that most famous of shopping streets, a final right turn back onto St Vincent Street and back through the finish arch on George Square. Although my Garmin had duly recorded the 3.1 miles, Sarah and I had spent pretty much the whole time blathering away not caring how long it took us. Not a timing clock in sight we crossed the line half an hour(ish) after we started and collected our most fabulous Santa themed medal, a nice quality piece of race bling.

What a great experience, I'm sure there were a few speed demons charging off the front, but this was definitely an event mostly about participation and a fantastic atmosphere from start to finish, and certainly one I'd recommend.

I have a sneaking suspicion that our own Dumfries Harriers Santa run with 20 participants, running around Dumfries in the dark, might not be quite the same experience.

Ho Ho Ho

Berlin Marathon 2014

Although I'd built a long weekend in Berlin around the race, you'll be glad to hear I'm not going to bore you with tales of my tourist efforts I'm going to stick to the race related information just in case you're tempted to enter Berlin yourself. 

Oh who am I kidding, its a brilliant race, don't fanny around just enter it, you'll love it.

The marathon expo is held in the old aircraft hangers of the now unused Templehof airport. I had to exercise uncharacteristic financial restraint to restrict my purchases to one compression top, admittedly I'd pre-paid for both the finishers t-shirt  (cotton, dark blue) and the event t-shirt (technical, yukky grey colour). I think I described the expo at the time at pure running porn, you could honestly spend a fortune and although it was very busy, number and chip collection was very quick with no queues.

I was pretty tired from some intensive travelling and work events the preceding week so an early night on Friday was followed with some light sight seeing on Saturday and an even earlier night, with 2 good nights sleep banked I set my alarm for 6:30 on race day.

My hotel on Striesmannstrasse was about a 25 minute walk to the start area and although it was chilly at 7am, the clear blue sky heralded what proved to be a lovely warm day.

Fannying around mid-race

With every step closer to the start the number of runners converging on the Reichstag grew, with around 35,000 registered runners this is a BIG city marathon. The organisation and sign posting is very good and I quickly found my bag drop and joined a queue for my pre race poo. There was a bank of 12 or so portaloos, and having inevitably picked the slowest moving queue, a mere 30 minutes later I reached the front, having overcome the nauseating stench to get in, I turned round to discover..............yes no bog roll, after 30 minutes, fume fume! Contenting myself with a pee and a firm instruction to my colon to learn to suck I headed for my start pen. Pen E was probably around 150 meters from the start gantry, but it still took around 3 minutes to cross the timing mats.

I'd decided to pace myself at around 7:45 - 7:55 minute miles, which if everything went well would put me close to my marathon PB. I felt this was optimistically realistic given the last 2 months training mileage has been pretty low and almost devoid of road miles. I'd like to moan that the first two miles were ridiculously congested and full of slower runners who held me up, but i can't. Yes it was fairly congested but I managed to hold my target pace relatively well without too much dodging round other runners and well....what do you expect if you run a marathon with 35,000 other runners?

I can't actually give much of a mile by mile breakdown, because pretty much the entire route is billiard table flat along identikit similar wide Berlin boulevards, with support varying from good to thunderous, in fact I cant actually recall any sections that had no support at all.

There were ample water stations, all on the right hand side (water in cups) and after the first couple where runners were cutting wildly across the road, I'd figured to position myself left or right well in advance of the station.

Despite trying to ignore my bladder for the first half, by mile 15 I'd decided I really did need to pee, spotting 5 portaloos on the left I veered across only to find 3 of them occupied and the other two padlocked shut, quickly deciding I wasn't waiting I rejoined the stream (no pun intended), by mile 17 I could ignore it no more, with no loos in sight I'm afraid I resorted to an alfresco wee on the central reservation, glad I did, but it still cost me around 45 seconds.

Thereafter it was all pretty uneventful, every time I saw a camera I'd execute a flawless Johnny Fling jump, and on the big wide corners I'd be milking the crowd to make a bit more noise. Because I'd not gone off too quickly I was able to maintain my target pace and was feeling as comfortable as one can feel when trying to run 26.2 miles. Running through 20 miles I still felt good, wobbled slightly at 22 and 23 miles, my only miles (other than pee mile) which were over 8 minutes, gave myself a talking to and sped up a bit. Running back through Potsdammer Platz I reckoned there  was about 2.5 miles to go and sub 3:30 was borderline, so I tried a bit harder, dodging round a guy at mile 25 who was being stretchered away by medics, I made the last two turns onto the famous Unter Dem Lindem. Under the Brandenburg gate, quick check of the watch, Oh this is going to be close so turn on the burners across the line in 3:29:21 only 1 hour and 26 minutes slower than Dennis Kimetto, although I did run 26.5 miles rather than his 26.2!

Post Race pint & bling

You may have just run a marathon, but there is no stopping allowed with marshals keeping you moving through the finish funnels, collect your medal, right turn to grab some water, keep moving, grab a plastic sheet, keep moving, grab a goody bag, keep moving all the way back to the baggage area, bag in hand I was at last able to slump on the grass.

Grabbing and downing 2 pints of the complimentary non alcoholic lager (actually tastes quite nice) and a change of top I headed back to my hotel for a shower and a full change of clothes.

Iconic Finish

Duly changed and with such lovely weather in hand i headed back to the Brandenburg gate to see the later finishers from 5 - 6 hours 15, the atmosphere was great as was the support, and as the number of runners thinned right down towards the 6:15 cut off, the final 2 finishers walked hand in hand through the gate, followed by the sweeper bus. As soon as they were through the timing mats were switched off and the finish straight taped off, there were a few beleaguered souls came through after this, I suspect they don't get a time or a medal.

There was a marquee where you could get a race certificate with all you splits and another where for a mere 10 euros you could get your name and race time engraved on your medal, again pretty much no queue.

Relaxing post race

All in all a fabulous race experience, one I'd thoroughly recommend I've already put my name in the hat for next year, fingers crossed.

Dundee parkrun race report

Ainslie blogs are like buses, you get nothing for ages that a whole bunch all at once!

Having extended the Ainslie property empire with the purchase of a flat in Dundee, where Andrew will be at Abertay University for another 3 years, I've spent more time in Dundee in the last 4 weeks than in the previous 50 years of my life. Whilst it been great fun fitting out the flat, it has played minor havoc with my Saturday morning long runs, with a late evening drive up on Friday and a whole days shopping in prospect I thought I’d squeeze in a quick ParkRun last Saturday.

Dundee parkrun takes place in Camperdown Park the largest park in Dundee; I arrived way too early and actually did a warm up! Well I scooted off down the path, looked at my watch showing 7:25 min/miles and slowed right down before I broke something, I did a gentle loop of around 1.25 miles, just enough to warm the muscles.

This was only my second parkrun, my first being the infamous “congratulations on being first lady at Carlisle parkrun” just before Christmas last year and each event seems to have its own character and characters. One of the volunteers shouted for all first timers and gave a race route briefing, very well meaning and very detailed, but unfortunately only any good if you already knew the route, slightly self-defeating.

Looking around at several of the racing snakes I reckoned there would be plenty of people to follow and it wasn't a looped course like Carlisle so at least I shouldn't get lost.

There were a number of prominent boards with target times printed on them adjacent to the start, I naively assumed people would organise themselves close to their anticipate finish, wrong! There was a great big huddle at the start, 3, 2 , 1 GO I was about 10 rows back with about 100 people in front of me 10 wide on a path wide enough for 3. The three ladies in front of me started running, well moving would be a more accurate description, I started and immediately had to stop. A quick re-assessment told me if I didn't do something quick, I’d be miles behind the front runners before they’d gone 200m. I darted off to the left and smashed my way through the low hanging branches to get past the bunch quite successfully. The briefing had warned us of a downhill 1^st mile “you’ll be coasting” and the “the hill” through mile 2, I generally don’t do short races so had no idea what pace to aim for, I settled for faster than a pacey training run but not gasping for breath. I’d only brought my road shoes and with most of the route on ash paths or grass I wasn't 100% comfortable. I was however steadily passing people on this downhill and flat section

Dundee parkrun route

Mile 1 6:38

Just after mile 1 the route slopes up and then at 1.5 miles you hit the hill proper, although I slowed, I wasn't slowing as much as those in front of me, over this mile I overtook around 10 runners, every one of whom turned round as I approached puffing like an old steam train. Passing people is always such a positive morale booster, the field had thinned out by now and there were only a couple of people in view in front of me.

Mile 2 7:44

The route crosses itself for a downhill section of around 0.75m and I was steadily reeling in the guy in front just before the left turn at 2.75 miles and the final uphill section. This was apparently the point at which the fairies came and kidnapped my brain, having passed my #1 target I could see #2 up ahead but neglected to see the tree root that brought me crashing to earth!

What an embarrassment 3 years of trail running without a fall (the 2012 7 Reservoirs ice dance doesn't count) I managed to face plant on a parkrun. Quickly onto my feet, nothing feels broken, I’m not winded, my hands are manky with mud, but so what but target #2 is out of sight. A quick left turn, out of the trees a sharp right and the finish is around 150 metres away, UPHILL.

Dundee parkrun - route profile

Mile 3 7:12

The customary sprint finish evaded me; I did manage to increase the pace slightly for a dignified but dirty finish.

22:25 16^th overall and 2^nd MV50-55 out of a total field of 153 runners, pretty happy with that.

Collapsing briefly on the grass until I could see straight again, I checked my legs for damage, knees both bleeding through the mud and a sore left palm, I’ll swap that for 16^th any day, but I think next time I’ll try trail shoes, as there is only a short tarmac section throughout.

If I sound somewhat uncharitable towards the Dundee parkrun I apologise unreservedly. What a fantastic bunch of volunteers giving up there time so that Prima Donnas like me can get a free race on a Saturday. As for the start, well that was my fault, if I want to be at the front(ish) end of the field I should stand nearer the front, shouldn't I.

It may only be my second ever parkrun, but Saturday long runs permitting I’ll be back for more.

Cheers

Coll Half Marathon 2014

With this being our 4^th trip to the island of Coll, there was always the risk that it might not live up to the expectation of previous trips. I’m happy to say the usual high standard of Harriers away trips was both maintained and surpassed.

Day 1

As with last year part of our group had opted to travel to Coll a day before the race to allow us to explore a bit more of the island. It was a pretty bleary eyed group that met up in Oban ferry terminal for the 5:45 ferry to Coll we did however have the advantage of a relatively quiet ferry with plenty of seats and space to lie down. After a good old full monty fried breakfast, Steve and Ian opted to catch up on sleep and I settled into a recliner with my kindle, sleep being ever elusive. The trip across was uneventful and after disembarking and arriving at the An Cridhe community centre we quickly had our tents pitched, blagging the best spot in the field (nearest the loos!).

The first glitch in our plan was when Eileen and I headed to hire bikes for the day, “Oh all the good bikes have gone” said the lady in the post office, some of the old bikes are left and they are only £5 per day. Eileen managed to find a bike with working brakes and barely working cranky gears; I had to make do with a bike two sizes too small, entirely devoid of brakes but following some deft mechanical adjustments with a large stone at least I had 4 working gears.

We headed across to the hotel to book a table for dinner to be met with the bad news that they were fully booked and sadly so was the café! Having exhausted all the dining outlets on Coll we all headed to the island stores to cobble together a potential evening meal. Crisps, bananas, biscuits and cold beans looking like the order of the day.

The rough plan for our cycle was to follow the route of the half marathon (to allow Alison to see what she’d let herself in for) and check out some of the Atlantic facing beaches. I managed to provide some amusement by careering downhill, round a blind bend, brakeless into the path of an oncoming islander, apparently the look of terror on her face was something to behold as she death gripped her steering wheel!

We stopped at a couple of breathtakingly beautiful beaches, indulged in a spot of paddling and managed to find the headstone of Peter and Eileen's grandfather in Killunaig graveyard, and spent some time scraping the lichen off the headstone. There were 4 war graves in one corner of the cemetery, unknown merchant seamen from World War 2, “known unto God”, I couldn’t make up my mind if this was a perfect place to be at rest or a bleak and lonely one?

The funniest point of the day had to be the sight of Ian, who having lain down on the beach for a spot of cloud gazing, was suffering a severe case of sand ingress in the butt cheek area, trying to divest himself of said sand.

My awful bike was taking its toll on my leg muscles, I seemed to be inches from kneeing my chin with every upstroke of the pedals and with a half marathon to run I was glad when we headed back towards Arinagour and the Coll Hotel. We’d decided to reward ourselves with an immediate pint. With Alison and Eileen sitting enjoying the sun on the unfeasibly large picnic bench I headed into the small but deserted pub just after 4:30pm, it’s one and only table being empty. “If your restaurant is full, do you serve meals in here?”…..”yes”. I charged back outside to tell the girls “we’re blagging that table until they start serving food and we’re not moving”, far preferable to crisps and cold beans.

So that’s where the 7 of us spent the rest of our day and evening, we enjoyed a lovely meal, Peter demonstrated his ability to fall asleep at the table, some of us took photos of our bums (ask Ian for the proof)  and we drank too many pints and washed them down

Hydration - Coll style

with a couple of bottles of red wine, well we never really claim to be proper athletes.

We headed back to our tents in silent darkness and enjoyed a quiet cup of tea before heading to bed, the stillness and peace of the night belying the dreadful weather forecast.

Day 2 – Race Day

After a much disturbed night’s sleep with increasingly blustery wind and rain and several beer induced toilet trips, I enjoyed the luxury of a warm shower in An Cridhe and settled with a coffee and instant porridge pot and my kindle to wait the arrival of the bulk of the runners and fellow harriers Neil, Lesley and Andy on the 10:30 ferry. They arrived with the news that the Captain had announced he reckoned there was little chance of the ferry being able to dock for the return trip on Sunday. A significant number of people decided they couldn’t run the risk of being stuck on Coll and opted to head back to Oban, Lesley, Neil and Peter included.

We killed time at An Cridhe until race time, the weather precluding any further exploring, with only 90 runners heading down to the Calmac pier for the race start, down from 134 last year and 156 in 2012. I’d opted for a short sleeved compression top and club vest as the weather had improved (for Coll) to a moderate 25 mph wind and as a bonus it looked like we might dodge the rain. With Steve C being injured and Ian not race fit Andy and I were the sole Harriers toeing the start line.

As we stood on the pier with no-one wanting to be at the front I suggested to Andy that we might as well go to the front and charge down the first 100 metres, at least we’d be at the front for the cameras.

Race start on the Calmac pier

The Race

Ha! Who was I kidding, by the time we were off the pier we’d been passed and by the time we tippy toed over the cattle grid (they’d neglected to open the gate) Andy was pushing ahead and I reckoned I was about 12^th. The first two miles are uphill into the perennial headwind, so I was cautious not to go off too enthusiastically, it levels out at the two mile point and the wind switched to a viscous crosswind, I was holding my position and hadn’t been passed again and I could see Andy up ahead continuing to stretch away from me. Miles 3 through 5 were uneventful, my right ear went numb from the wind and I passed two people as the airport hove into sight I was closing down one of the local runners (you could tell he was local by the vociferous support he was getting from the course side), I decided to pass him on the downhill, which I duly did, there is a long straight slope past Coll airport and then a sharp right turn, which usually signals some relief from the wind.

A further mile on tarmac and then the road just peters out and becomes a hard packed sandy track behind the sand dunes, with relief from the wind I suddenly realised I was getting very hot and looking forward to the special water station where the road resumes.

The islanders really get into the spirit of things on race day and the Calmac ferry themed water station was handing out nips of Whisky in addition to much needed water. I declined the whisky but grabbed a cup of water. As I am incapable of drinking from a cup whilst running I opened wide and threw the contents in the general direction of my mouth, sadly most of the contents went over my left shoulder with the balance hitting my ear, Oh well.

Back on tarmac again I was glad we’d cycled the route the day before, It’s not hugely hilly (for a trail runner) with only 800 feet of ascent and descent, and the highest point en route is only 140 ft. but this section to the right turn at Cliad is deceptively tough and undulating. I was deliberately not looking behind at all but was focusing on two guys in front of my, one young chap in a grey t-shirt and a guy ahead of him in a blue Edinburgh marathon one, I was closing them down but only marginally, I’d no idea what my position was but really didn't want to slip back.

The last 3 ish miles from Cliad is pretty straight and level with a small hill just as you come into Arinagour, again familiarity from the recce was a great help. I’m not a fast runner and when it starts to hurt I tend to ease off, but this time I pushed myself on this section. I passed another guy, not Mr Grey or Mr Blue and was really starting to feel I might be able to pass them both when about 1 mile out a chap in a yellow vest went past me like I was stationary, never mind at least he passed Mr Grey and Blue too. The hill into Arinagour is only a 56 foot climb, but at this stage in a tough half it feels like Everest, nonetheless I managed to pass Messrs Blue, Grey and A N Other here. Sadly on the downhill sprint into the finish at the communitycentre, Mr Grey (who in my defence was 20 years younger than me) blew me apart; I went for my customary sprint finish but my efforts on the last 3 miles had taken their toll and it wasn't my usual lung bursting effort.

Over the line in 1:36:09 11^th overall, not an outright PB but my best on Coll by just under a minute, Andy had a fantastic run, finishing nearly 5 minutes ahead of me in 6^th overall in 1:31:15 and 1^st MV40, I found out later I was also 3^rd in the MV50 category, the first time I’ve ever been made a category position…check me out!

As I gather my breath local resident, former Scotland rugby captain and Coll celebrity Rob Wainwright commented to me, “Your sprint finish wasn’t as good this year”, I guess our “Where’s Wally?” Red and white striped club tops are pretty distinctive and memorable then?

For an island with just over 200 inhabitants you could not get a better atmosphere, everyone seems to participate either at water stations, cheering out on the course and a real party atmosphere at the finish.

I headed for a shower in the bunkhouse (£1 for 4 glorious minutes); a quick change then beer time. Whilst the smaller numbers may have been a disappointment for the organisers it did mean that An Cridhe was much less crowded than last year, when frankly it was just rammed full and just too busy. We were able to find a table and swap race tales as the weather worsened. With the beer, banter and food in full flow we spent a very convivial evening until the prize giving, it was a genuine pleasure to see Andy pick up his MV40 prize; sadly we’re still waiting for the champagne.

I wasn’t feeling too great, probably a combination of lack of sleep, race effort and a dodgy stomach, so I took it easy on the beer and headed back to my tent for a lie down before the Ceilidh, I could probably have just gone to sleep but Eileen persuaded me to put on my social hat and join in. Again the reduced numbers meant the Ceilidh was much more enjoyable with some actual room to dance this year, Trail West are a great band and the floor was full from start to finish.

I ducked out before the end and headed to get some sleep which was wishful thinking as overnight the winds were gusting up to 55mph and I spent more time fretting about whether my tent would stay up!

Day 3

Breakfast this year was provided by the Project Trust charity who are both based on and the biggest employer on Coll, with a brief drop in the wind most people took the opportunity to pack up tents having heard the news that the ferry had left Oban, just as we were making moves to head down to the pier, we were told that the ferry had turned back due to the high winds, there would be no escape today.

With wartime stoicism we bagged a decent spot in the hall and settled down, wind and rain again precluding any other outdoor activity. The Project Trust staff assured everyone they’d be fed and would have somewhere to stay overnight. I’d assumed that we’d be kipping on the hall floor, but this idea was quickly scotched “not allowed”.

It’s pretty fair to say that an extra 120 or so souls, stretched the resources of Coll to its limits, with Alex and Eileen heading to the pub, the Dumfries crew settled to kip, read and banter until we’d been fed (recycled Chilli from day 1, £5 a pop, but significantly better than crisps and cold beans). 7pm was the designated time for us refugees to be farmed out around the island, we’d managed to borrow a pickup truck from a local builder, and so 2 trips saw our group of 8 farmed out to Fiona’s house, 6 miles out of Arinagour.

We were expecting a spot on the carpet so were amazed and delighted to find we’d been billeted in a spectacular home, with no less than 9 spare beds. Although a 2^nd ad hoc Ceilidh had been arranged since the band was stranded too, we opted for a can of beer a wee half and some chat. Fiona had to get here kids off to school in the morning so with alarms set for 7am we opted for an early night with fingers crossed that the ferry would be able to dock in the morning.

Day 4

While the winds had dropped they were still pretty gusty and with our borrowed pickups fuel gauge showing fumes only, we decided to pile all 8 bodies plus luggage in for the trip

Public transport Coll style

back. Alan, Steve and I drew the short straw and endured a trip in the back with 8 sets of bags piled on top. With Andy doing his best Lewis Hamilton impression driving it’s nothing short of a miracle we made it back to Arinagour with only minor bruises and nothing broken, apparently it was very comfortable in the front seats, only disturbed by the screams from the back.

Having exhausted the available food supplies we managed to get the last table at the Coll Hotel for breakfast before strolling down to the pier, joy oh joy the ferry made it. The ferry route is Oban – Coll – Tiree – Coll – Oban, but we wanted to get on at its first visit, just in case it didn’t make it back. All in all it meant spending 5 ½ hours on the ferry rather than 3, it’s fair to say that 3 days of banter and sleepless nights had taken its toll and we mostly snoozed or read for the entire trip, which was surprisingly calm given the weather.

So that’s it, Coll half marathon for the 4^th time, what started out 3 years ago as a quick one night nip over for a race, became a 4 night adventure.

Will we be back? I honestly don’t know, I’d still recommend the race to anyone, but we may have finally exhausted its potential as a Harriers away day. We may never see the Ainslie v Duggan or the Choppy v Lesley Coll Half marathon smack downs, but then as Sean Connery said “Never say never again”

Cheers

Lakeland 50 - lessons learned

I’m not sure if I’m OCD or excessively analytical but I do find it useful to record my post-race thoughts whilst it’s still relatively fresh, mainly for my own benefit, but if others can learn from my experiences…so be it.

Preparation

Whilst my general preparation and training was OK, I think I fell down on L50 specific training. I signed up 10 months before the event full of great intentions of fully scoping the route beforehand, I even signed up for two of the recce runs and failed to attend either.

2013 was a year entirely focused on the West Highland Way race so I’d told myself 2014 would be a quiet year from a racing perspective. I’m not sure how my definition of quiet managed to include the Lochaber and Edinburgh road marathons, the D33, Highland Fling and L50 plus a sprinkling of shorter events too.

My training mileage was higher than last year but, with hindsight it was neither suited to road marathons or trail ultras and I never quite knew whether I should be training; long running or tapering.

My first recce run with club mates theoretically from Pooley Bridge to Mardale Head in February was a near calamity, appalling weather conditions; poor route choice; bad navigation; inadequate clothing; overconfidence and near hypothermia. On the plus side it gave me a very healthy respect for what the Lake District could throw at you.

Recce number 2 in April was better Pooley Bridge to the top of Fusedale out and back, even managed to do the sensible thing and turn back when the cloud closed in

Third and final recce was only the weekend before the actual race when I ran from Chapel Stile to the finish, given I ran most of this in the dark on the day, I’m so glad the route was fresh in my mind.

I had no navigation issues until just before Kentmere and then I had a couple of wobbles between there and Ambleside and one more wobble just before Skelwith Bridge, proper route knowledge might have saved me a minute or two!

Lack of reconnaissance was inexcusable as I’m only just over an hour’s drive from Pooley Bridge.

With climbs like Fusedale and the Gatesgarth pass I should have done some speed hike/ climb training, I didn't.

Equipment

I run wearing an ancient Salomon X-wings back pack, 8 litres capacity and two 500 ml bottle holders, not as fashionable as the new and almost ubiquitous race vests but it’s comfortable and I could fit all the compulsory kit in, JUST.

I wore Inov8 Race elite trail shorts with under armour compression shorts and a short sleeve Adidas compression top, I’ve worn this combination on all my long races and runs and never had an issue with chafing ever!

Socks were brand new Inov8 merino wool trail socks, I know you shouldn’t try anything new on race day, but my previous Inov8 trail socks literally fell apart the weekend before.

Shoes were Salomon Speedcross 3s, the Gore-Tex kind, my 4^th pair of these. I think they are great shoes, very comfortable, great aggressive grip and good support. The only downside is that when wet and on downhill’s I find the insole slips forward and bunches under the ball of my foot. Proper runners might suggest this is because they are too big! I take a size 11 in a road shoe and my first pair of Speedcross was also 11s, but I found them too tight on the toes, losing a few toenails in the process. For subsequent pairs I upped to a size 12 but found the insole slipping badly (only when wet), I then discovered the Goldilocks solution, Salomon do half sizes 11.5, not too big, not too small, just perfect.

The only solution is to stop and do a bit of sock/shoe maintenance when I feel it slipping; I apparently didn’t do so often enough on race day, as I ended up with a mahoosive blister on the ball of my left foot. I’m now giving serious consideration to gluing the insoles into my shoes.

For waterproofs I carried an OMM Kamelika race smock for wearing and an OMM race jacket for emergencies, I also took an OMM lightweight Sonic Smock, the sonic is OK for light drizzle but I switched to the Kamelika at Bleatarn when the rain proper came on, my Gore-Tex Paclite trousers remain unused, but previous outings have shown they are bombproof and with virtual full length side zips, easy to put on when tired and without taking off your shoes.

I run with a Buff and this proved invaluable when soaked for keeping my head cool, I carried a spare buff just in case too.

I’d give serious consideration to a set of light weight poles for next year.

I’ve used a Garmin 910xt for a couple of years, it comfortably lasted through the 50 miles, in the past I’ve used it for up to 19 hours. It’s the dogs danglies I’d buy another in a heartbeat.

Accommodation

I use a Berghaus Snowdonia 2.0 tent (now discontinued), it’s a generous 2 person tent in normal circumstances even with an inflatable mattress a double duvet and a proper pillow. What I’d forgotten was the bizarre post Ultra cramps you get and that any form of in-bed manoeuvring sets them off. I’d almost certainly go for a larger tent next time, it’s impossible to get truly comfortable after an Ultra, but a bit more space would have helped. I arrived in Coniston about 2 pm, plenty of time to get set up and chill and avoid traffic hassles.

Food and hydration

I used Nuun tablets throughout and was very disciplined with my drinking, I happily drunk from the cleaner streams too, in all I reckon I took on-board 8 – 10 litres. In addition to my compulsory emergency food I carried one packet of shotbloks and 3 gels, I used these but pretty much didn’t eat anything solid until the Tilberthwaite checkpoint, so probably a fail on the nutrition front. I tried a smoothie at Kentmere and nearly barfed, never again.

Improvements

• Thorough route recce’s for next time
• More route and race specific training (avoid the road marathons)
• Eat something solid earlier in the race
• Practice on steeper climbs

I finished in 12:10:40 so still not too shabby a time, but I know I could do better, here’s hoping I listen to my own preaching’s for next year.

Cheers

Montane Lakeland 50 Race

For my first Ultra out with the scope of the SUMS series I’d opted to have a crack at the increasingly popular Montane Lakeland 50. When I signed up last autumn I was full of great intentions of fully recceing the route multiple times, after all I had 10 months to do so. I signed up for the organised group recce runs and failed to make any of them. I eventually managed a grand total of 3 route runs, two covering the stretch from Pooley Bridge to Fusedale, the first of which in February turned out to be a near death experience. 

Eventually managing to run from Chapel Stile to Coniston only the weekend before the actual event, on the plus side at least that section would be fresh in my mind!

Notwithstanding my lack of route experience, I’ve trained well this year, with a good basic mileage, a PB at the Highland Fling 53 mile Ultra and a couple of good marathon times, I’d even bagged a 3 minute PB on the Moffat Gala Hill Race 2 weeks previously. In fact I cannot ever remember going into an Ultra event feeling quite so laid back and relaxed.

Driving down from Dumfries on the Friday I listened to the Commonwealth Games on the radio, the really upbeat vibe adding to my general mood of “I’m up for this”.

You’re race entry includes camping at the race HQ at the John Ruskin School in Coniston and by the time I arrived the playing field was already a sea of cars and tents and runners in various states of preparation and panic.

I quickly pitched my tent and headed over to register, with my fully packed and bulging race back pack. Now I’ve ran the Fling three times and the full West Highland Way race once and with no disrespect to either of these fantastic events, it was quickly obvious that the scale and degree of organisation of the L50/L100 is of a completely different magnitude altogether, with nearly 1000 runners over both events.

Registration comprised kit check; race pack collection; timing chip and weigh station with every participant having to show each and every item of compulsory kit, quite the most thorough process I’ve ever seen , including demonstrating you had a working whistle. I was just thankful that the girl checking my kit didn’t ask me to remove my spare base layers and waterproofs from their plastic bags as I’m not sure I could have a- got them back in the bags and b- got all the bags back in my back pack. By the time I was done I was positively shaking with excitement, in truth I was shaking from lack of food so I headed straight through to grab some excellent nosh from the Busy Lizzies charity that were providing catering over the weekend.

My plan was to watch the 100 mile start at 6pm grab an evening meal and generally chill out and not spend too much time on my feet. I wandered round the field saying a quick hello to Andy Johns who was tackling the L100 and to Debbie who was attending to her pre-race foot care regime and Marco, OK I didn’t actually talk to Marco as he was sleeping, but I’m sure you get the idea.

The L100 runners set off in temperature which must have been over 25C and the campus felt strangely quiet when they’d gone. I headed up to the chip shop for a suitably inappropriate pre-race fish supper a lovely warm shower and then spent the remainder of the evening lying reading and relaxing and avoiding the temptations of the pub. I love people watching and It amused me to see the curious mix of “I’m all ready and packed and I don’t need to panic” runners with the “I need to fret, panic and re-pack my bag 10 times” types, still I suppose it takes all sorts?

I got a surprisingly good night’s sleep and waking at 7am headed over to get some breakfast before heading in for RD Mark’s pre-race briefing.  The hall was wall to wall with runners, Mark gave an excellent briefing emphasising that we were not “just” running the 50, but that we were about to tackle a very big thing indeed, then it was onto the fleet of coaches to take us to the 50 start at Dalemain. I made sure of an early seat as there was one ancient coach in the fleet which looked like it had been specially taken out of the vintage museum for the day and I didn’t fancy its chances of even making it to the start.

We were deposited at the start with around 45 minutes to go before the “off”, and that's when it hit me just how flaming hot it actually was, rather stupidly I’d not put on sun cream, so 1000 thanks to the lady supporting Delamere Spartans who allowed me to steal a generous helping of her toddlers factor 50 cream…lifesaver. A quick hello to Susan Gallagher and Jo Rae and with the obligatory pre-race poo attended to I lay in the shade until the hoard moved off to the start line. 

Without preamble we were off. The first 4 miles loop around the fields of the Dalemain estate partly to make up the distance and partly to thin out the 600 or so starters so by the time we started the route proper through Pooley Bridge it wasn’t too congested. I’d chatted with Jo Rae for a mile or so on this section, Jo had a rough WHW race and was looking to banish those particular demons with a good 50, she must have got fed up with my sparkling chat as she rapidly sped off, finishing in a well-deserved 43^rd place overall in 10 hours 45 minutes, a top 10 ladies finish, outstanding.

I adopted a run walk mix on the climb up from Pooley Bridge and then ran all the way down to CP 1 at Howton mill, it was already apparent that the heat was going to be a major factor and I stopped to soak my buff to keep my head cool en route. I knew I could potentially waste a lot of time at check points so confined myself to a quick bottle refill and straight back out for the climb up Fusedale.

L50 race route

Dalemain to Howton  11.2 miles 1 hour 47 minutes

Despite it being the biggest single climb on the route, at just over 1600 feet the climb up Fusedale was uneventful, I gave a shout out to every one of the L100 runners I passed (having their names on the race numbers is a great idea), I soaked my buff at every possible opportunity and gave myself a good sloshing down with water where ever possible, boy was it hot!. Reaching the top of the climb I was in the company of Julie from Wigan and was overcome with a desire to sing “Climb every mountain” from sound of music as we headed onto the more open moorland, well people do say you have to be mad to run Ultra’s.

From here on I was in terra incognito, and would be until Chapel Stile, navigation was not an issue though as there were still plenty of runners around who all seemed to know exactly where to go, on the descent to Haweswater I passed 100 miler Andy John’s, who was having a tough time but still smiling and still moving well. Andy went on to finish in the top half of the 100 field in 35 hours 9 minutes; I’m in awe of his endurance and perseverance!

The run alongside Haweswater was airless and oppressing, but I ran with an informal pace bus of 5 or 6 people and we maintained a strong trot down to Mardale Head, only dropping out to avail myself of any available impromptu bathing opportunities. The sign at the checkpoint said WELCOME TO SPARTA, so I even managed an ah ooh; ah ooh; ah ooh (watch the movie if you don’t know).

Howton to Mardale Head 9.4 miles 4 hours 10 minutes

The Spartans checkpoint crew here were great, bottles filled, cup of soup, cup of coffee, cup of coke and on my way. I must confess that as I looked up at the comic book steepness of the track up Gatesgarth Pass I though “someone is taking the piss here”.

I didn’t enjoy the climb up, although it’s only 1090 feet it’s brutally steep, I felt a deep sense of jealously for those people with lightweight poles, they were consistently able to maintain a better rate of climb than I was. Never again will I call them cheat sticks, if it’s within the rules to use them, use them, I’m a convert.

By the time I hit the descent the field was really thinning out and I ran solo all the way down, except I didn’t run, I was finding the underfoot terrain awful, I’m not the best of descenders anyway and I was frankly terrified of either taking a tumble or turning an ankle or God forbid both.

Mardale Head to Kentmere 6.5 miles 5 hours 56 minutes

I probably had my low point at Kentmere, I was feeling mildly queasy, I’d cramped up a couple of times en route, resorting a large pinch of rock salt each time (no scientific reason that it should work, but it does). I was desperate for something really cold to drink, I grabbed a fruit smoothie and nearly hurled it back up, fruity it was, but cold it wasn’t. The Explorer Scouts manning this checkpoint were amazing; coping with every need of the broken wrecks of humanity sitting and staggering around. Another coke another coffee, nothing solid though and I was out the door, I’d pulled out my road book by now as frankly I had no idea where to go and it looked like being another solo effort.

I have virtually no recollection of the section to Ambleside other than once I get there it’s only 16 miles to the finish, but I did manage to milk the crowd in Ambleside for all the applause I could.. ….well you have to don’t you?

I felt really strong running down to the checkpoint in the parish centre although I didn’t appreciate the flight of steps up to it!

Another outstanding checkpoint crew, another coffee and they managed to find me half a cup of cold milk, pure heaven; I also managed my first pee of the day.

Kentmere to Ambleside 7.3 miles 7 hours 58 minutes

I was now running with another two 50 runners, which was good fortune for me as even with the road book I was struggling to interpret the route to Skelwith Bridge. Throughout the race so far I’d been adopting the “run when you can run” and “walk when you have to principle”, sadly there was no hiding on the flat section to Chapel Stile and although I maintained a run it wasn’t fast and it wasn’t pretty, past the huge campsite at Chapel Stile with the smell of disposable barbeque and scorched sausage alternately tempting and revolting me.

Ambleside to Langdale (Chapel Stile) 5.6 miles 9 hours 5 minutes

Despite the presence of two proper couches in the marquee, I resisted the temptation to sit down; I probably had my longest checkpoint stop here. As darkness was looming I decided to change my soaked t-shirt for a dry one and as the days broiling heat had now swapped places with a persistent drizzle, the lightweight OMM shower proof made its first appearance, but I still couldn't face solid food. I also donned my head torch, deciding I’d rather run with it on than be fumbling around in the dark for it. 

Still smiling at Chapel Stile - photo courtesy of Vicky Hart

On my recce run the weekend before I covered this section (to the finish) in 2 hour 15 minutes, taking it methodically to memorize the exact route, I knew this time it would be much slower, with the added complication of darkness. Just before the climb up to Side Pike Pass the heavens opened and I swapped the lightweight jacket for an OMM Kamelika proper waterproof, I've learned the hard way about leaving it too late to don the proper kit, once bitten twice shy. It was proper dark by the time I crested the pass and with high bracken obscuring my footfall what was runnable last week in daylight was reduced to a steady yomp in the gloom.

I’d got my line across Bleamoss wrong last weekend getting my feet soaked, so was able to get it right this time making a bee-line for the light on the unmanned timing dibber. I even managed a good strong running pace on the downhill and the farm track to the NT cottage, but thereafter the climb up and over to High Tilberthwaite Farm was mostly a steady yomp.

Chapel Stile to Tilberthwaite 6.5 miles 11 hours 4 minutes

Under any normal set of circumstances 3.5 miles in 55 minutes would be a dawdle, not today. The climb up the “stairway to heaven” and the equally torturous descent down to Coniston were always going to be a walk. I sat down at the checkpoint, more coffee, more coke and thank the Lord, rice pudding and jam, proper running food, that and a good handful of nuts set me up for the last leg. I’m so glad this section was fresh in my mind, I’d have had major misgivings about tackling it in the dark without foreknowledge and the rain had all but abated into the bargain. I neither passed anyone nor was passed on this entire section, right to through to the slate cottages where two runners with more confidence on the downhill section overtook me.

I knew that no matter how tired I was I could run from here to the finish, so I kicked off a steady 8 minute mile pace (although in my head it felt faster) I was closing down the 2 guys who’d passed me until just after Miners Bridge when a stab of cramp lanced my right quad, knowing it was too far too run through it, I pulled up and wolfed down the last of my salt, washed it down gave it a quick stretch and headed off again. I felt really strong now running down into Coniston and through a near deserted main street, past the garage, left turn only 150 metres and BANG, job done, I even managed a Johnny Fling heel kick as I went over the line.

Tilberthwaite to Coniston 3.5 mile 12 hours 10 minutes 40 seconds, 111th place

Very slick marshals guided me into the school hall, with a cry of “50 finisher” and a huge round of applause, timing chip of, medal on, t-shirt collected, sweaty hug from a delighted Jo and a stagger over to collect my post-race meal of shepherd’s pie and an ice cold diet coke, lovely.

Without a doubt the toughest race I've done, the brain boiling heat adding an entirely new degree of challenge and the sheer steepness of the climbs, never again!

I headed back to my tent with every intention of collapsing straight into an exhaustion induced coma, sadly the stench when I took my shoes off forced me to head to the showers first. Duly cleaned up I snuggled down but sleep evaded me, remember all that coffee and coke that kept me going during the day, well it kept me going till 4am too, than my tent neighbour decided that 6am was a great time to get up noisily and talk to everyone they could, 50 miles; 10,000 feet 28C and 2 hours sleep should have made for a grumpy Keith, but post-race adrenalin and euphoria won out and after a lovely breakfast sitting in the sun outside the village pub I hung around for the prize giving where Debbie and Marco made it a family double by winning their respective L100 races.

 There were some fabulous race tales and then to cap it all an Ultra “wedding” following a finish line proposal.

My bling

My mind-set at this time was still firmly in the never again camp, but with the dust having settled I've now switched into the fabulous experience I want to do it again category, I’ll be back for more.

Cheers

Dumfries Run for Health 5km...its a fun run, not a race!

Since 2012 Dumfries Devorgilla Rotary Club has organised a 5km family fun run on a looping course round the Crichton Campus in Dumfries. With a strong emphasis on participation and fundraising rather than racing, but as all us runners know, a race is a race!

Having logged 19 miles on the rugged trails of Mabie Forest the day before and with participation rather than competition the main aim, I felt I should show face at the event.

Being a serious (ha ha) runner I warmed up by running the 2 miles from home to the start, parted with my £8, all going to local good causes and pinned on my number along with all the other runners; walkers; pram pushers and an odd cyclist.

Disdaining the official warm up principally because I lack any form of rhythmic upper and lower body co-ordination, those who witnessed my attempt at a Meta-fit class at Tyndrum will back me up here, I chatted to Harrier’s Lesley, who was racing, Neil who was supporting; Mark Johnson from DRC and Steve Carroll who was handing out leaflets for our club’s upcoming inaugural Doonhamer 10K on 31^st August.

Managing to contain myself to only one pre-race pee, I was soon lining up behind the start arch with around 800 fellow participants with ages ranging from 8 to 80. Since it wasn't a race I was unconcerned that I was 20 metres from the line jammed behind several salad dodgers; a plethora of kids and a guy wearing jeans and a long sleeved check shirt.

Yeh, who was I kidding, as soon as the hooter went it was obvious that apart from the kids, who all shot off like the hounds of hell were chasing them, that the bulk of the crowd was out for a leisurely waddle round the route.

It took about 250m, some balletic side stepping and a quick jaunt onto the grass verge to eventually get some clear running space in front of me. I could see Lesley in front of me along with Mark and in-between an enthusiastic bunch of 8 to 14 year olds. As a sage and seasoned club runner, oh listen to me! I knew the kids would blow up fairly quickly and they mostly did through to the 1 mile point, all except four who were neither dying nor slowing, nor was I closing the gap.

Oh the potential indignity, I run marathons and Ultras, I’m a proper runner, I've completed the West Highland Way race and here on a sunny Sunday in Dumfries I’m being beaten by four 12 year olds. Thankfully for me at the 1.5 mile point, kid number 1 came to a complete stop and with the right hand turn uphill, kid number 2 promptly followed suit. Pushing on to save my running pride I overtook number 3 just before 2 miles and my final target detonated just after 2 miles. Lesley was around 70 metres ahead of me and Mark was even closer. Mark and I are pretty evenly matched on shorter races with race honours just about even, but I was closing him down and as I passed him at 2.5 miles we exchanged a very breathless high 5. A quick loop round the magnificent Crichton church and turn on the burners for the glory leg past the crowds on the finish straight, through the finish arch in 19:59; 6:55 minute miles, not bad for an old guy.

Okay the distance wasn't quite the full 5 km, registering 2.9 miles on the Garmin, but at least I’d only been chicked by Lesley (again) and I’d avoided the indignity of being beaten by school kids, and after all it wasn't a race….was it?