Giants Causeway Trail Half Marathon

Well, as I sit nursing the gap in my gum that used to house my favourite molar, I have time to reflect on last weekends activity. The tooth extraction should have happened last Tuesday, but the dentist checked my running schedule and postponed the delight. Armed with that news, I positively bounced out the door feeling like I'd won the pools and treated myself to chips and curry sauce. Oh yes, I know a celebration when I see one. The postponement was chiefly down to our trip to Portrush at the north end of Northern Ireland to take part in the Giants Causeway off-road half marathon (https://www.26extreme.com/take-part/causeway-coast-marathon-events2024/) . Originally, I had planned to do a European event this year, but with one thing and another, this was as far as I had got. 

The flights from Newcastle to Belfast were a tenner each, but with baggage of more than a snuff-box in size, it was gonna cost twenty grand for Me and Marg. The ferry was an extra ton, but offered us more flexibility, albeit that we would have to suffer the A75 to Stranraer. Twice.  Speedy decided to come along and also dipped her hand into her pocket for fifty notes for the entry - I know, pretty steep. That's the price of running tourism, however. 

We arrived at the ferry port with 15 minutes to spare, the A75 having been shut for a 2 lorry smash. It was plain sailing to Belfast and a quick getaway to Portrush, only an hours drive up the dual carriageway. We were in our digs by six and had time for a jog around the town. The Friday saw us out for a longer run then brunch and Bert n' Bobs in Port Stewart. We nipped across to Coleraine around lunchtime for a poke around and coffee and returned later in the afternoon to Portrush for a pint in the toetie Harbour Bar, moving to the back room with the fire on and 4 tables occupied in a room no bigger than your kitchen. Class. I could have stayed there all evening. The promise of pasta and apple tart beckoned though, and it was an early night as the wind began to pick up.  

The Causeway Events include an Ultra, a Marathon, a Half and a 10k. The aim is to set them off at staggered times so that everyone crosses the line at around 3-4pm. We saw the 100 or so Ultra-runners first thing running along the promenade having left Port Stewart at 7am. The weather was blustery but mild. Speedy said it was warm. 

We took the car to Portballintrae and after a coffee in the Bayview Hotel (nice toilets; recommended), we jogged down to the race HQ where the 8 double deckers were waiting for the 400 or so half marathoners (21k for you metric types). There were plenty of tourists, but mostly irish runners. We were bussed to Balintoy. As the buses arrived and spewed their eager cargo onto the cliffs, the faces of the folk who were set to leave the place fell and they were stuck for 15 minutes. 

The coastline here is mega. Its where some of Game of Thrones was filmed. The Iron Islands, I am reliably informed. 

Soon enough we were off. The route follows the coastline and there were early stretches of sandy beach, a small seaweed covered boulder field under the cliffs and some narrow gravel and grassy paths that hugged the cliff edge. The field began to thin and I was making some progress, feeling too warm as the wind eased and the sun emerged from behind the clouds. I stopped too often to snap and video the route with Marg's go-pro. However, there was an old gadgie ahead and I didn't want to lose him. After 3 miles I passed him and fell in with a wee group ahead. However, the ability needed to take short drops and rises at speed seemed to be lacking with many and I cracked on, dropping in then behind a tall leggy bloke who looked like Andy Murray, at least from behind. He set a good steady pace.

At the 6 mile mark, we encountered the 10k runners who had just started. There were significant bottle necks in places with kissing gates and styles, but I had decided early on that it was best just to crack on, so I ditched etiquette as I hurdled fences and gingerly eased my tackle over barbed wire where it was ready to pounce. I lost Andy Murray in the melee. 

I began to feel tired around 10 miles. However, with plenty of bodies ahead and the nuances of the course to deal with, I had little time to think about fatigue and before I knew it, I was on the beach and down the gravel to the finish.  It was 20th for me and a pretty good result that means nothing to nobody. No world cup points here. Speedy managed a win against some very handy runners and finished 6th. Marg worked hard to come in a little later and we repaired to Larne for a slap up feed and a good nights kip. 

Sunday morning was a jog up the Antrim Coast in the early morning sunshine. Excellent work all. 

 

Border & Bridges Triathlon

Some time ago my cousin challenged me to a triathlon. Being in a jovial and lubricated mood, I was happy to thrust out my hand and accept. I thought he'd forgotten all about this, but last week he appeared out of the foggy abyss that's Whats-up and said he'd entered a half ironman in Shropshire. Its not until June next year.

Now, you should understand that I have never taken part in a Triathlon. True, I had a short lived duathlon career when I took part in the Morpeth Duathlon 10 years ago and took 2nd M50 place, which was nice. I also qualified for the World Age group thingy, but I had no intention of trying to repeat the run-bike-run affair in a tropical climate with strange food and insects with compound swiveling eyes and unknown intentions. 

Mulling over the Shropshire event and whether I actually, seriously, had the will to do a long swim-bike-run which would take around 6 hours or so, I thought that I should try a short event, at least, to see how my swimming has come on. 

I dusted off the time trial bike and spent 52 greenbacks on the entry for the Borders and Bridges Sprint Tri. I also paid eight quid for a day licence. The Tri', comprising a 500m swim, 22km bike and 5.7km run was centred on Berwick Leisure Centre. There were around 70 entrants and I guessed it would be worth a look. I know parts of the area quite well and knew that the bike course and run course weren't flat. 

I was up and about at 5.45am. Soon me and a eager band of groupies were off up the road at 6.30am. It was a grey still day, but not cold. Arriving at race HQ there was a distinct lack of shopper bike, mountain bike or anything that looked like it had previously belonged to Dorothy out of the Wizard of Oz, or for that matter, the wicked witch of the east. The competitors all looked pretty geared up. 

At the sign on, I was asked for my Licence. Apparently it was an attachment to the email from entry-central. Who knew? So Speedy had to liaise with Lornie back home to find passwords and what not. What a chew on. Anyway, I got in and got togged up. I had brought the naff bike pump so I had to make knew friends and scrounge a pump and fresh air for the tyres. After the briefing, I asked where my coloured cap for the swim was to be found. The marshall said it was in my bag that I received at the sign on. The bag was back in the car. So with 5 minutes before the swim I had to jog to the car to retrieve my white cap - I could have just tippexed my head, I guess - same effect. 

We had 5 or 6 in a lane and I was last off. I was concerned that I might be too slow for my fellow swimmers, but I need not have worried. The pace was all over the place. According to a source the duffers all go first, so that's good to know. I was out after 11 minutes and then spent nearly 3 minutes waving to the crowd and meeting and greeting at T1 (transition 1). Someone commented that this could be the most laid back transition they'd seen and I thought I'd better get a shifty on. 

Once on the bike I knew the routine and having been hardly on the bike in a good wee while, I had to apply myself. I was, however, positively looking forward to the steepish climb out of the Chainbridge and caught 2 riders at this point. The three of us jockeyed back and forth until the end when I pulled out some time on a short clip and arrived ahead, back at base. Taking just over the minute for my T2, I was off and gone down into Berwick where Speedy was just finishing her training session. The last kilometre was a slog back up the hill, but I crossed the line with no dramas other than a mild heave, which, by know I have come to expect when I'm in the red.  

Pleased to have finished in 24th spot and 1st vintage (whatever that means?). While I sort of enjoyed the new challenge and was pleased with the swim, I wasn't won over by the sport. If I do another it will also be a short distance sprint affair. However, no complaints to the organisers or marshalls - there's a lot of coming and going in one of these events. My brain and bod are frazzled.