Criffel Hill Race

I suppose I was still flushed with the smell of success the day after the D33 so when a chum suggested that Andy B and I take part in the local Criffel Hill race it seemed like a smashing idea.

Fast forward 7 days and I'm the Village of New Abbey with a gaggle of wraith-like hill runners signing up to tackle the 6 or so miles and 569 metres of ascent and descent.

I realised this wasn't going to be a walk in the park when one of my Lockerbie workmates Eddie, himself a seasoned, competent and quick (but still wraith-like) hill runner said "Oh Criffel Hill race, that's quite a tough one, I've always avoided it".

Having taken the precaution of introducing myself to the sweeper runner just in case, at precisely 1 pm, the air hooter failed to sound and the field of 50 was off.

One of the less muddy bits!

The first half mile is on a single track tarmac road which allows the field to thin out with a further half mile on good single track trail with a gradual runnable rise  before you hit the slopes of Knockendoch Hill proper. You're then faced with a brutal, thigh burning, lung bursting straight line assault of 350 metres vertical climb in 1 mile. To compound this pleasure the ground underfoot is a mixture of mud, tussock grass and more mud interspersed with protruding lumps of granite.

I'm not talking here about puddles of mud, this is premier league mud, up to mid calf deep and capable of swallowing unwary small children.

I knew I was quite well back in the field and although I passed a couple of runners I was in turn passed by two other runners, an older gent who looked like Gollum in shorts and a lady who looked completely unfazed at either slope or mud.

Criffel and Knockendoch  at 569 m and 443 m respectively are joined by a saddle about 1500 m long and irrespective of weather conditions on the ground it's always blowing a hoolie on the tops. I've climbed Criffel on a beautiful warm windless summer day and barely been able to stand upright with the wind on the top. True to form as I neared the summit of Knockendoch the wind picked up, the cloud came down, temperature plummeted and visibility dropped to 15-20 metres. Shouting out my race number to the Mountain Rescue guys huddled at the cairn I rapidly tried to transition my legs from climbing to running but somewhere in the last 20 minutes the running fairies seem to have swapped my finely tuned ultra legs for a pair of Stretch Armstrong rubber ones. Coupled with blinding sweat and cloud in my eyes, I was literally running blind and whilst the mud wasn't as bad on this section there were still deep patches to snare the inattentive runner.

Coming across the saddle and tackling the last climb to Criffel itself the faster returning runners appeared out of the mist, pretty much all charging downhill with the "I've switched of my brain and I'm not worried about falling" attitude that characterises the breed. I didn't feel I was too far behind the main pack but knew that gap would open up with my more cautious life preserving approach to throwing myself down a steep hill.

Andy 22nd place in 72:31 enjoying the mud

With visibility even poorer on Criffel the summit cairn suddenly appeared, check in with the Mountain Rescue guys and it's back on the return leg. In fact I'm chasing vague shapes through the cloud as although there a well defined path , poor visibility could easily send you off course. Quickly back over to Knockendoch shouting  an apology to DRC race organiser Ranjit Thomas who was running near me for the full range of Ainslie sound effects, puffs, grunts, curses and obscenities I was subjecting him to and the descending proper starts.

I'm afraid my self preservation instincts kick in at this point, I've a choice of a headlong reckless descent and damn the consequences or take it easy and avoid face planting a granite rock... I choose the latter and several pairs of 1970s style shorts pass me on the downhill.

On one particularly gloopy section my right leg sinks in to just below my knee, I use my momentum to keep moving forward but like a big muddy Cinderella I leave my Speedcross shoe behind, plugged deep in the mud. With no Prince Charming in sight I backtrack, plonk my butt on a rock and plunge my arm into the mire to retrieve the missing muddy glass slipper. I can't even budge the damn thing it's properly buried. After a minute of slimy tug of war, Mother Nature surrenders my shoe, I pull my laces extra tight and set off downhill again, by now I've lost sight of anyone in front, but equally I can't see anyone behind me. Leaving the mud and the steeper slope behind you're back onto dry runnable trail again, a quick photo and a shout out from Alan McKean and I trying to get my smashed descending legs back into running mode, with distinctly indifferent results.

Still smiling after the race

 On the tarmac I'm convinced I can hear someone behind me, in reality it's the extra noise my mud drenched shoes are making, sprint(ish) finish and I'm over the line in 81:44, 41st out of 51 runners.

49 minutes for the outward leg and 33 for the return, not quite last but not far off it, mud caked, knackered, sore and grinning like a Cheshire Cat. What a mad race, what a mad hobby!

I'm even singled out for a special prize "First guy to completely lose his shoe In the mud", but then everyone was a winner as there was enough beer for everyone who'd stayed for the prize giving to get a bottle.

Hill running is definitely a specialist discipline within the sport of running, without being big headed I'm pretty fit, good on trails and not too shabby (for my age) on tarmac, but on both my hill races this year I've been in the last 20% of the field.

Having said all that I'd definitely do the race again and it won't put me off doing other hill races, neither Andy or I could stop smiling afterwards, great fun but totally mad.

Cheers  

D33 Ultra - 2015

For the uninitiated the 6^th running of the Deeside way 33 mile race took place last weekend, widely known as the D33 this event sees participants run from Duthie Park in Aberdeen to Banchory and back, a distance of 33 miles.

It’s both an ideal event for noobies looking to make the step up to Ultra distance races and as a training run for the longer Highland Fling and West Highland Way races.

I had a bad day here last year, in fact as I lay on the tarmac at the finish I distinctly recall saying “I will never do this bloody race again”. However the simplicity and friendliness of the event drew me inexorably like a moth to a flame and I found myself on the start line for the 4^th year.

Following a good result at the Malta Marathon 3 weeks ago, I decided I needed to focus a bit on race day itself and have a real good crack at getting a PB. I love the friendship, support and banter of the Ultra scene, but having trained and talked to a few people up at the sharper end of the field I've reached the conclusion that you need to sacrifice some of this if your primary goal is achieving a better time.

So my race plan evolved as

• Limit myself to one pint on Friday and have an early night
• Fuel up with a good breakfast before the event
• Delay arriving at the start as late as possible, to avoid getting cold and or distracted
• Don’t overdress
• Position myself closer to the front to avoid congestion in the first couple of miles
• Have something to eat every 2 miles and make sure I've drunk at least one 500 ml bottle of water or electrolyte every 8 miles (the checkpoints)
• Keep checkpoint stops to an absolute minimum, no faffing
• Don’t fanny around for the cameras
• Don’t get carried away and run with someone just because I’m enjoying their company and conversation
• Try to keep my pace between 7:30 minute and 8 minute miles for marathon distance
• Minimise the amount of slowing down that would inevitably creep in in the last 7 miles

I’m happy to report that my plan succeeded which made for a great time, but leaves the blog somewhat devoid of jokes; japes and tales!

As usual I stayed at the Inn on the Park, right next to Duthie Park on the Friday. Spent about an hour organising my backpack and drop bags, avoiding the temptation to put in too much stuff before heading down for one pint and a meal, I was duly tucked up in bed by 9:30 pm with my alarm set for 7:30 am.

Race Day

By the time I dressed and went down for breakfast I was the only runner left in the hotel, toast; yoghurt; porridge and two cups of coffee for breakfast and a leisurely walk over to collect my number and hand over my drop bags. I availed myself of the standy uppie gents’ urinal and was introduced to the legendary Ray McCurdy, before heading over for George’s straight to the point race briefing.

D33 Strava route

The weather was hovering around 5 C with a southerly wind and with no rain in prospect, Goldilocks running weather, not too hot, not too cold. I decided to pack my waterproof jacket away and run with only a short sleeved compression top and long sleeved Helly Hansen t-shirt , buff, running gloves  and beanie hat.

Ten second countdown and we were off. To describe the first mile as congested is unfair, but in past years I have found that people running 2 or 3 wide on the path meant I was slowing down; dodging round or running faster than ultimately was sensible. Not so this year I think I judged my position pretty well and settled into my planned pace before the first footbridge at 0.6 miles and with no dodging or jumping involved.

I ran with Malcolm from Buckie and had my only conversation of the day, but he was running just a shade too quick for comfort so I consciously dropped back and left him heading into the distance.

By checkpoint one I’d drunk my bottle of electrolyte, eaten several shotbloks and a gel, so refilled the bottle, replaced the gel and was away. Including stationary time I maintained sub 8 minute pace, hey! perhaps there is something in this more focused approach?

I remember someone shouting out a warning about geese on the track, but some kind person was busy herding them of the path as I passed, and I remember eventual race winner Ross Houston flying past on his return leg, he eventually went on to knock 19 minutes of the course record.

I was neither passing nor being passed much on this outward leg and although I wasn't counting the returning runners, I reckoned I was probably in the top 50 or so as CP 2 hove into view.

D33 Profile

Grabbing my drop bag from the ever helpful checkpoint staff I thrust my now empty water bottle and its refill at a random spectator, “do me a favour and fill this up for me”. As she duly complied with a slightly bewildered look on her face at being accosted by a complete stranger I shoveled in my customary rice pudding with strawberry jam and downed a small bottle of flat Irn-Bru, my longest stop of the day probably just over a minute and I was off on the return leg, with no faffing.

Half Way Split 2 hours 6 minutes

Although my half-way time was pretty similar to last years, I felt significantly more comfortable I had hydrated and eaten steadily so far, so was feeling reassured that I could sustain a decent run.

Passing a steady stream of runners on the return leg I restricted myself to “well done”, thumbs up and an occasional muted high five and kept the focus on the running.

Into CP 3 refill the bottle, two gels, more flat Irn-Bru and off again three guys passing me as I was stationary. Between Drumoak and Peterculter is pretty much the only hill on the route, I decided I’d pass the three guys on the uphill. Three years of trail running has both strengthened my legs and built my confidence. Inwardly repeating “I’m good on hills” I steadily reeled in and then passed them, with Ivor Normand of HBT saying “you’re flying” as I eased past him. In reality I wasn’t flying, I was just slowing down less than others.

Marathon split 3 hours 25 minutes

Splits

From previous years I knew that miles 27 to 30 were a gentle uphill, with my “I’m good on hills” mantra repeating in my head I continued to pass people, including a few who’d dropped to a walk, been there done that, NOT today though.

Now it was all about managing and containing my reduction in speed. Through mile 30 and it’s a gentle downhill all the way now, slight twinge of cramp in my right calf so I shoveled in my bag of rock salt to keep it at bay. Over the footbridge, only 0.6 miles to go, not exactly giving it the beans but picking it up as best I could, no-one is going to overtake me now.

Through the park gates, and start sprinting, or what passes for a sprint after nearly 33 miles. Under the arch, stop the watch, big hug from Karen, medal round my neck………..4:20:02. Done it! A 21 minute PB a smile wider than my face and I actually still feel pretty good overall.

My legs do feel tight from top to bottom so I avail myself of the sports massage, the best £5 I've spent in a long time.

Strip off my sweat soaked tops, don a dry top, warm jacket and hat and chat briefly to Carol Martin and Helen Munro, there still aren't many people about as I’m pretty far up the field (for me). I’m starting to cool down rapidly so I decide to head for home, back to the car, heaters on full blast and I’m heading south by 2 pm with a near 4 hour drive to look forward to.

This years fabulous medal

I break up the journey with a couple of pit stops and leg stretches and I’m back in Dumfries before 6 pm to pick up a message that I should have stuck around for the prize giving. I was 37^th overall and 3^rd Male Super Veteran, not my first age category place, but the first one with an actual trophy…and I missed it, Oh well never mind.

Thanks must go to Karen who stepped in as RD, whilst George has been unwell. To all the people who gave up there time to marshal; support and man checkpoints and who delivered another superb race, well done and thanks. A big well done too, to all the runners, whether it was your 1^st or your 6^th D33, running an Ultra is still a pretty big deal.

Reflections

I’m still ecstatic about bagging a PB and especially by such a margin. Any concerns I had about running an Ultra 3 weeks after a marathon PB proved unfounded and the more focused approach delivered the result I’d hoped for, in spades.

My focus shifts now to the Highland Fling Ultra in just over 5 weeks, and next weekend I’m going to have a crack at the local Criffel Hill race, another chance for me to get roundly humped by skinny hill runners and bring me back to earth.

Happy Keith, with medal and PB

First Time Ultra?

Ainslie blogs are like buses, nothing for ages and then 2 in quick succession.

Admittedly this one has been prompted by the raft of questions on the D33 Facebook page, many  from first time Ultra runners and rather than sitting at home growling at them like the grumpy old man I am apparently turning into. I thought I’d share the benefit of my past experience of running the D33 and other Ultra’s. Please note other blogs and advice are available..........

• Don’t stress too much… you put one foot in front of the other, you get to the end… it’s only a hobby……..nobody dies…………..hopefully 
• Don’t try anything new on the day If you've not already used it in training. Don’t wake up on Saturday morning thinking “what a splendid day to try out my new gold spandex budgie smugglers” 
• Adopt a Goldilocks dressing strategy, don’t wear too little, and don’t wear too much. You will be cold at the start (nerves don’t help) but you should warm up when you start moving............... my “go to” bit of kit are running gloves, buy some now!
• There will be weather, have the right kit available
• Don’t ask other people what type of shoes to wear, you will get 100 different suggestions, shoe choice is highly personal, what works for me, will probably not work for you 
• Don’t go off too quickly, 33 miles is a long way. One old stager said to me “if you think you’re running too slowly in an Ultra, slow down more!” 
• You almost certainly won’t run a negative split in an ultra 
• Chafing is an acceptable topic of conversation
• Learn to love outdoor toilet stops (just not in Duthie Park)
• Read the race website, the answers to most of the questions that have been asked on FB are already on the race website 
• Make sure your drop bag is clearly labelled with your number (available on the D33 website) and is waterproof and legible, it’s no good having a hissy fit if the volunteers cannot find your bag as its postage stamp sized label has fallen off 
• Be unreservedly nice to stewards and helpers, they are giving up their free time to allow you to run. If you are rude to a Marshal the running God’s will smite you!
• Remember to eat and drink, you can possibly tough out a marathon, you’re unlikely to tough out an Ultra unless you give your body fuel, two jelly babies do not count as sufficient fuel 
• Enjoy the experience, chat to people. Ultra running is a very sociable hobby, make new friends and enjoy the day 
• Don’t be scared about running an Ultra, the overwhelming majority of the people running on Saturday are ordinary people too, not elite athletes 
• Look after your feet, cut your toenails, your feet will probably swell and tight fitting trainers plus long nails equals black nails then no nails. I always put a good layer of Vaseline around my toes before any long run to help keep blisters at bay 
• Your legs WILL be sore, this is entirely natural, running 33 miles is big thing, it won’t feel easy
• If you are chasing a time, minimise the time you spend at water stops, or more bluntly don't fanny around
• You will have highs and lows throughout the race, don’t dwell on the lows, you chose to be here, no-one is making you do this.......keep smiling
• Your brain will give up before your body , when your brain is telling you to stop running and start walking, you can almost certainly ignore it for a while.
• The last 3 miles are downhill, it won't feel like it but they are

And finally and probably most controversially, in the run up to the race people will share “inspirational” pictures and posts along the lines of

“Running an Ultra is all in your head”

“When you can’t run with your legs, run with your heart”

“Long distance races are 90% mental; 10% fitness”

This is in fact bollocks!

If you've done the training and preparation, there will inevitably be a point where it does become mental, ignoring sore legs or keeping running when you want to walk, but.........................

If you've not done the training, sorry to burst your bubble it’s not “all in the head” you are in for a long and painful day

The best inspirational sign I've ever seen, was about 20 miles into the Lakeland 50 Ultra just before an near 1800 foot climb and with the temperature nudging 30C

"I bet you thought this was a good idea when you signed up last November"

See you all in Duthie Park on Saturday morning

Cheers

Malta Marathon 2015

The dust has now settled on what, for me proved to be a great weekend and an even better race so it's time to record and share my thoughts.

With the demise of the Lochaber marathon, I'd been looking for an early season marathon. I can't quite recall how Malta Marathon came onto the radar, but an entry fee of €30, return flights at £80 and The Intercontinental Hotel at £40 per night B & B probably all contributed.

Ten pillows per bed

With the race itself on the Sunday, Myself and Andy B arrived at Luqa International on our Ryanair flight from Liverpool just after 9 pm on Friday.

We payed €12 each for a minibus transfer to our hotel which seemed absurdly cheap, but was probably compensation for the Mad Max style of driving which saw our driver careering round the narrow Maltese streets with total disregard for any conventional rules of the road, prompting several brown trouser moments.

We arrived alive, if somewhat shaken and stirred at our Hotel, to the very pleasant discovery that it was a seriously posh affair. With more cushions on the beds than you could shake a stick at and fluffy white bathrobes to boot.

Eschewing the hotel bar and the trendy and packed local nightclubs we discovered Andrew's bar, a small, traditional and very friendly place whose regulars seemed to be mostly locals and ex-pats. With Guinness at €3.50 a can it was the ideal place for us to chill out and completely fail to put together a plan for Saturday's tourist day.

Waking up at the crack of 10am, we headed down for breakfast, another very pleasant surprise with the breakfast buffet being quite simply the best hotel breakfast I've ever enjoyed, in fact we both pretty much ate two full breakfasts.........just because we could.

The hotel concierge provided us with maps and advised that the best way to get around the island was the municipal buses, with an all day ticket only costing €1.50, yup that's just over one pound for all day unlimited travel!

With a loose plan to head to the centre of Valetta we duly hopped on a number 12 bus packed with locals, presumably heading to work, one sitting next to Andy who could have done with a slightly closer association with her soap. We plopped down on the only two free seats, revelling in our travel bargain.

Andy, sleeping as usual

To describe Valetta's bus station as chaotic would be charitable, arriving buses seem to halt pretty much where they pleased. Stopping anywhere remotely close to a pavement seemed optional and disgorging passengers in the middle of the road without regard for traffic or personal safety, to an extent that would give any UK health and safety professional heart failure.

We opted to visit St Johns Cathedral, a quite spectacular place of worship, whose custodians seems quite unabashed about selling us entry tickets without telling us the place would be closing shortly, nonetheless we managed a quick tour round. It's a cliche but my photos do not do justice to what is probably the most spectacular and ornately decorated church I've ever seen, and I've been to the Vatican!

With Andy taking advantage of his student discount card, no really he did. We next headed to the Palace and armoury museum and spent an hour looking at lots of suits of armour, swords, pikes and cannon, certainly worth a visit if you're into that kind of thing.

Mind you I am, and even I was a bit armoured out after an hour..."oh look another display case of armoured helmets, that are a tiny bit different from the other 27 cases".

St John's Cathedral

St John's Cathedral

We walked down to the WWII siege memorial which overlooks Grand Harbour enjoying what the locals assured us was unseasonable wind and rain, then headed back to the bus station.

We'd decided to head out to the Marathon start point in the ancient island capital of Mdina, which would give us an opportunity to discover if the marathon route really was as downhill as promised.

The casual Maltese approach to health and safety was replicated in the apparently random relationship between bus numbers, routes and stands but undaunted we hopped an a 212 which promised to head roughly to Mdina.

Malta is an incredibly densely populated island, with many narrow village streets more suited to horses and carts than single decker buses. The Maltese attitude to parking seems to be "I'm here so I'll just stop" with a complete disregard for pretty much every thing else. If the road is blocked so what. The attitude of bus drivers seemed to be "I'm bigger than you, now what are you going to do?", having said that everyone was very friendly and we're still alive>

WWII - Siege Memorial

Grand Harbour - Valletta

 As the bus was request stop and we pretty much had no idea where it was going we actually went right through Mdina and had to back track, but we got there eventually.

By this time the rain and wind was making any prospect of a tourist walk decidedly unattractive. We headed up a typical narrow alley in search of food and found the worlds smallest two floor restaurant. We both ordered paving slab sized portions of Lasagne, coffee and cokes and were slightly bewildered when the bill came to a grand total of €16 euros, NOT each, in total, another bargain.

Quality race bling

Two more buses took us back to the race HQ hotel and 10 minutes queuing provided race number, t-shirt, and baggage bag (a black bin sack with a small sticker with your number on it), A quick nip back to Andrew's bar, this time for food, where I failed to eat a modest pasta dish and Andy hoovered down two courses and a salad. Sensibly limiting our Guinness consumption to one each, we were tucked up in bed at the sensibly early time of 9 o'clock, with multiple alarms set for 4am.

RACE DAY

Sunday 6am and a chilly and blustery seafront at Sliema (the race finish), not liking the look of the huge queue for buses to the start we queue dodged our way onto one of the first buses to Mdina, arriving fully 90 minutes before the race start. Even with a plastic poncho and a throwaway cotton T-shirt over my running kit I was frozen, we quickly headed into a nearby cafe, which provided a welcome coffee and a loo.

Although the event advertises 4000 participants, there are actually three events

Full marathon with c 700 runners starts at 8am Half marathon starts at 9:45 Half marathon for walkers 9:45

 

Marathon route Left to right

Although all the routes shared the last 10 miles or so, the timings meant that if you were able to get through 13 miles in under 1:45, you should ahead of the bulk of the half marathon runners before the routes join.

THE MAIN EVENT

The weather had improved slightly by 8am, with less sign of rain but a persistent and swirly wind, perhaps the weather fairies were looking kindly on us?

The race is run almost entirely on closed or coned off roads. It is extremely well marshalled by police, traffic wardens and volunteers, water, energy drink and sponge stations were frequent and well stocked and manned.

Net downhill overall, but a couple of little slopes to catch the unwary

The route is also net downhill with most of the notable height loss in the picturesque first 4 miles. At 4 miles you start a series of loops round the national stadia and former RAF airfield of Ta'Qali, there are no real hills but there were a couple of upslopes which saw you running into a strong headwind. From the start I could see Andy ahead of me, the gap varying from 150 - 250 metres, but as we approached the 9 mile point I overtook him. With a brief hello and a feeling that that I might be overreaching myself I pushed on. I've been running well of late and I'd decided on the Friday night to try for a PB, if I couldn't do it on a downhill course when could I, so no chatting, playing up for the cameras and NO fannying around.

Without boring you with the details of mile by mile splits, I went through the half way point in just over 1:36. I'd convinced myself that I needed 3:15 for a London "good for age" and this was still very much in prospect. Approaching mile 20, the heavens opened and gave us a generous dump of rain. With the Maltese drains unable to cope the next couple of miles saw intermittent wading through sheets of water coursing across the route. 

The final three miles of the route is absolutely flat and follows the twisting coast road. I'd been racing and yo-yoing with an Italian lady for a couple of miles, my mile splits had been slowing so I gripped myself, gobbled down some salt to preempt cramp and for probably the first time in my running career, pushed myself really hard. Italian lady dropped behind and I focused on the finish complex up ahead. It was slightly disconcerting being passed on this final stretch by half marathoners, but not by many.

Finish gantry in sight and I started to stride out, only to discover that it wasn't the finish gantry, just extra inflatable gantry advertising DHL, one of the race sponsors...darn.

Working hard at the finish

Keep up the sprint, only another 200 metres or so, I've missed the 3:15 but nailed a PB, under the clock, stop the watch...bazinga...... 3:16:06, a near 10 minute PB; 72nd overall and 7th in my age category. Collect my medal and space blanket and bottle of water, keep moving and head for our agreed meeting spot on the adjacent church steps.

Andy finished in a creditable 3:28:01 having decided that if he wasn't close to his PB, he'd be better taking it easy and saving himself for another day.

There was a slight delay in retrieving our bags, the downside of hundreds of identical bin bags in the back of a DHL van I suppose, but again hugely friendly people manning this area.

Back to our hotel for a shower then a proper big post-race feed and an hours kip before hitting Andrew's bar again for R & R.

Overall I'd give this race a 9 out of 10, I'd definitely do it again and I'd recommend it to anyone. 

I'm ecstatic about my PB and the added unexpected discovery that I only needed to beat 3:20 for a VLM good for age place.

Plenty of  photos during the actual race too as every participant could sign up via Facebook for a free online, automatically posted photo album. Where many marathons try to charge you £20 for a single photo, Malta gives you a free album. Another example of the incredible value this gem of a race represents.

Cheers