Ras Yr Wydffa

With the Snowdon Mountain Race shortened last year, Mrs Mac developed a deep seated desire to complete the full 9.5 miler after her initial 2023 taster. Speedy was privileged to get a call up for the Scottish Team and I was voted as best driver for the intended trip, and, strangely, I also found my name down on the entry list. 

Mrs Mac hasn't managed much training in recent weeks so, in preparation, we rocked up last week to a local low key trail race. We hadn't pre-entered but I was assured that there were entries on the line. It was 17 quid for UKA members; 19 for others. It was a warm muggy evening as we approached the organisers table. We had our names and ages taken and received our numbers. 'That'll be 40 quid please' advised the young lady as she looked up. I looked a little nonplussed, then inquired why the inflated charge. There seemed little debate and that's what she wanted, I think because that was the 'enter on the line' charge. However, for some reason, I bridled at this rampant runflation and handed my number back. Mrs Mac considered the developing situation, and then, to my relief, handed hers back. The scene reminded me of the advert where the bloke tries to buy onions, only for the vendor to say that he only accepts crypto currency.  What a load of Malarkey.

We went instead back home via a chip shop and pub where we enjoyed the life of Joe Public for an hour and spent some, but not all, of the 40 quid the run was going to cost us.  I admit, chip shop and pubs are not destinations that any self respecting athlete should be frequenting, but my self respect is a little down in the polls right now and, anyway, a 'bonding' session is a term used routinely for this sort of deviancy, is it not? 

With 800 extra calories on board, our small troop took off at 9.30am on Friday and we made our way to Llanberis. We arrived just before four in the afternoon and the sun was high, the mighty slate mountains looking down on us as we let ourselves in the end of terrace cottage we had booked for the 2 days. It was right on the course along the road that leads up to Yr Wyddfa, all 3500ft of it. After unpacking, it was a steady 4 mile shake down along the lake followed by a short refreshment and pasta. The forecast for the next day was bleak for July, but not apocalyptic with steady rain but light southerly winds and we were hopeful that we would get to run the full race course. 

We rested on Saturday morning, letting our porridge and bananas settle, before picking our numbers and t- shirts up at a local church. Speedy was no 13 and I recommended she wore the number upside down. However, she's not superstitious (at least with regards to that number) and we wandered back to the cottage for a last minute cuppa as the crowds and air of anticipation began to rise. 

A light drizzle had arrived as expected as we warmed up next to the start, Mrs Mac picking up a new lightweight waterproof at Pete Blands stall in last minute prep for the start. My experience last year (where I found out it was gun time that counted at the finish line and not chip time) meant that, this year, I was starting as close to the start line as possible and we were soon off, the international runners streaking away in front. 

The steepest sections of the race are the first mile and the fourth, and I knew I had to work hard to get up the hill in good time in order to take advantage of the long runnable descent. I was sitting behind an irish runner and kept close to a bloke from Horwich. He kept walking-jogging and this reflected my 'style'. He might have also been M60 so I didn't want to let him go. There was water on the course at two water stations and even though I was completely saturated, it was welcome. 

We moved higher up the hill and soon the paths had become rivulets of brown gravelly water. There were, as ever, loads of walkers peppered about the place. What a treat for them. Four hundred mental runners coming at them from all angles. Soon enough the leaders started tearing down past us and Speedy looked like she was doing well. I got past Horwich man near the top and rounded the turn with the Irish runner. I hoofed on then down the hill, passing an ascending Mrs Mac who had beaten the cut-off. On the long descent I managed to pick off a good handful of runners which is excellent for morale. 

Ant gave me a shout near the bottom and that spurred me on but it seemed a long way down. However, it only took 30 minutes and I hit the tarmac with little reserve but determination to avoid getting caught on the mile run-in to the finish. Irish girl came past easily as gravity reverted to normal, but she was not in my age group and I gritted my teeth for 1:38 on the line and, as it turned out, 1st M60. I was convinced that the phenomena that is Bingley's Ian Holmes would have been 1st, but he's still in his late 50's. He still managed 1.22. Speedy finished 9th (again), a great result considering her episode of lurgy a fortnight ago. 

 

We opted to go to the presentation and, in doing so, missed Mrs Macs glorious return. It was raining heavily at this point, but there was no sign of her new waterproof..... 'Keeping it for good?!' 

It was a 30 quid token for the race and a free curry in the evening. .

Note to self: don't drink beer immediately after eating red onions. Taste buds all over the place. 

All in all a decent weekend.  

I'm in Aberfeldy next month for a friends meet-up. In browsing the race programme for races, I came across the Kenmore trail race on the Friday evening. Six miles. Ideal. The price? Thirty five notes. Give us a break!

      

Hit and Mist: Bottoms Up Cup

Training for Snowdon this coming weekend has been a bit hit and miss, what with work and this blidy rain getting in the way of my leisure activity. I had 2 days work near Lewes on the south coast this week. The work was ok, but the driving was truly awful. The A1 and roads all around Peterborough were jammed up going down and the M1 was almost all 50 mile-an-hour road works all the way to Sheffield. Eight hours down and nearly as much on the return trip. 

I watched Parkrun on Saturday and, in the afternoon, Speedy and I took off to run/shuffle up Scald Law and the Cheviot. It's a 3 mile ascent of 2000ft; not huge or greatly steep, but short of going north or west, we're a bit limited around these parts for big hills. We got soaked and nearly lost as the clag descended as we ascended and on the way down we took the wrong path in the thick swirling mist and rain. We retraced our steps, found the right path and I was happy to get dry gear on after 80 minutes in the rainy wilds of July. No prizes for being a mountain rescue statistic.

Later, I was skimming the events page of running events and I noticed a 5km Bottom Up trail race on Sunday morning at Washington, which is about half an hour from us. 

We duly loaded up on Sunday Morning and got down early to buy a 'enter on the day' special. Thirteen notes. Around 120 lined up for this rock around the park and urban woods affair. The dark destroyer was their with Barns the dog in support. 

The start was seriously narrow and there was a bike sportive coming through in the opposite direction. Coupled with wet and slippy conditions, I tried to get the start moved 60 yards further up, but the organiser was happy to tell me that they were looking at this for next year, but just not today. Thankfully no one got flattened, but it wasn't very clever. 

After a fast start, I settled into a good pace. I could still see Speedy ahead after a mile but the twisty-turny nature of the course as it weaved its way around the park and wooded corridors and underpasses left me disorientated and around 2 miles I lost a couple of places on two small clicks where I slowed, and the passing youngsters powered on up. I kept them in my sights and at 6.45pace, with a final spurt of 5.45 for the finishing straight, I finished 13th. 

It was a nice wee cup and 50 bangers for Speedy as first lady and several cups of tea and a square of carrot cake for me. I was first m50/m60 and enjoyed the event. Ok, not the best field, but so what. The sinuous nature of the course occupied my brain. Staying upright on my posh trainers as we traversed greasy tarmac and soft gravel stretches took my mind off the hard graft I was putting in. Finished in 21:10 in the end.  

The published results initially omitted the names and details of all those who entered on the day, but after I texted someone, it was sort of amended. Given that the winners of both male and female races were enter on the day, it was the least they could do. However, on the day a great wee club event and recommended. 

https://www.trailoutlaws.com/event_results/bottoms-up-cup-results-2024

       

Black Rock, Eildon, Benarty Triple Lock

Its been a fortnight of exertion. Sometimes the best way to get fit is just to race. They say 'what doesn't kill you makes you stronger'. I don't know who 'they' are (someone said Nietzsche), and I am certain that what doesn't kill you could still cause appreciable damage. I never regarded it as a truism, but never had the energy or mental capacity to challenge the ditty. 'Misery loves Company'..there's another one. Anyway, it was, of course, the Black Rock 5 at Kinghorn which was attended by 1200 runners in their plummage and old trainers. Great fun and very wet this year. I had my adidas long-shorts on and they clung to me as they became wet. This had me looking down more than once to check I was still actually wearing the shorts. 

Speedy got some poundage for 2nd place, but nothing for moi, other than sand in my pants and a half an hour wait and 30 bangers at the fish in chip shop. You can't help your chin falling when the guy in front of you orders 14 fish suppers. They did famous business at the chipper.  A couple of pints later and I fell into the tent. 

Saturday arrived and it warmed up as we took Marg and Ant to the Lochore parkrun in the morning and dined famously at the park cafe on sausage rolls and hot drinks. It's a great venue for outdoor sports. 

Afterwards we drove to Melrose for the Eildon 3 Hills Race. I was nut-bushed after a disturbed sleep the night before and found myself a park bench for half an hours kip in the sun. There was a good turnout at the Gala Harriers event and after getting counted into the pen we were sent on our way. I wanted to stay close to Keith Murray of Teviotdale, but as we ascended I was baulked on the narrow heather track by a group of Saltwell Harriers who had come over the border in their red and white strips for some sun and sarsaparilla. 

At the top of the first hill it was all go and I passed 4 pretty quickly on the gravel toward the 2nd hill which is only a wee one. I pushed on, unhindered, to the third hill and descended on the main path passing a Gala blokey and Keswick lady and began catching the Teviotdale runner whom I spied ahead.  However, the gap was still around 15 seconds and I made little inroads. He told me later he was chasing Carnethys Gilmore who was a little way ahead of him and won the M60. Speedy won her race after a crisp performance and collected more poundage and a trophy that needs a good clean. The recce last month deffo helped.

This weekend was a local parkrun on the Saturday where my time came down again and is, at last, beginning to look respectable. The Sunday came and there was only Me and Mrs Mac making our way up to the Benarty Trail Race, a Brian Cruickshank production at Lochore (again!). Speedy was down with the lurgy and Ant was doing the lemsips. 

With a field of around 90, it was just under 5 miles and I held onto 5th place until the end of the 2nd mile. However as we dived into the woods and up yon big hill, I couldn't find the wattage, the heart rate was maxed out and a posse of 3 young pretenders cruised past.  I made no impression on the curving descent but tracked them all the way back to the finish for 8th place and 1st m60. It was apparently the ARC Scottish trail race championships, so I got an extra medal and 2 cans of Tetleys, which made me feel like a Champion!  

On the way back we peeled off for a cafe stop at Rankins in North Queensferry and afterwards it was back down the road. All and all full on busy. 

There are two different types of people in the world. Those that want to know and those that want to believe and those that want to run...oh, that's three then. I think I'll leave it there.                     

Scottish Trail Race Championships 2024

It was a snap decision to enter the Scottish Trail Championships a fortnight ago. Its how I celebrate my birthday. A chance to get back to Perth, a chance to thrash myself around the lower reaches of the forest at Birnam and meet up with all the like minded folk who the public deem a bit nutty. 

A double header weekend. It was the local Parkrun on Saturday on a hilly wee course in Morpeth. This saw me finish in just over 21 minutes in my new expensive Asics trainers. Boing, boing.

Sunday: After bailing out of the Ibis Budget in Dundee first thing, we arrived at the Scout Hall in Birnam with plenty of time to spare and I got my number from Andy Douglas who was helping out. Organised by ProTay, Sharon told me this title race was her baby. She advised that it was a tough wee course. We had a wander to the Gallery at the heart of the village and sat outside with a cuppa. The sun was out, albeit there was a cool breeze. I doubted that the wind would be an issue running through the woods. I had both road shoes and studs with me, but gambled that the course would be sufficiently dry for the former. I have also been training in road shoes up on Simonside on the edge of the Cheviots and feel happy enough with them on gravel. 

Around 70 had pre-entered for this off-road 10k and there were a good lot from Cambuslang, Edinburgh AC and Central and a smattering of others from around and about. There is, questionably, no awards for M60/W60s vets for this race. I find that odd considering that there were more over 50's entered than there were seniors.  Needs sorting. 

Around 55 lined up at noon and were sent on our way into the wilderness. The course was a mix of wide gravel forest track, short bouldery 'technical' sections and narrow winding cut-throughs across grass, fern lined leafy and sun dappled glades. All in all, very nice. 

The first bouldery section downhill saw me getting past a few including Dave Thom who was picking his way down the stones. It takes me a good while to get my heart rate up, even after a warm up. Thom passed me after a mile or so. I tried to stay with him but dropped back a little. I was then caught by an Edinburgh AC runner Phillip as I was catching his clubmate at the same time. Janet Dunbar, also sporting the blue and white vest caught up with me and suddenly we had a wee posse, all sweltering and struggling with the very uppy-downy course. It was then a Fife runner, Aitken who came past.  I realised I was slipping down the rankings and had better dig in. I regained this wee group on the descents, but spent the ascents clawing my way at the back and holding on for grim death. Extreme yo-yoing. 

I have developed rather an unwelcome death-rattle, the rasping type cough that old men have sometimes when running and while it doesn't bother me so much, it does announce your presence to your competitors in front. Its not something to nurture. Not any sort of advantage.

After around 7k, it crossed my mind that I should let the posse go, but I was buoyed up by the faint hope that the last mile might be bouldery and could suit me, and, going by the earlier observations, some of the other runners were clearly not descenders and not at all comfortable running on the rockier stuff. The marshalls were out where needed and included Des C and Angela M. 

Sure enough, as we turned right I recognised the rocky path that forms the back end of the Birnam Hill Race and was instantly rejuvenated, leaving my would-be captors at speed. I even had the temerity to catch Louisa Brown of Garscube who had been well ahead as well as gaining on Phillip of Edinburgh who had passed me early in the race. With a kilometre to go it was back into the forest on the track and I checked back a couple of times as my heart and internal organs were in meltdown, but there was no-one behind and I allowed myself to breeze to the finish feeling that I had at least salvaged some pride in what could have been a very lowly result. Forty eight minutes, 33rd and 7th O50 and a choc ice afterwards was my reward. We were soon in the car and heading south to get back for the Blaydon race where my taxi and photographic duties awaited. Good day out.   Photos by Mrs Mac.  Link to Fotos -  https://photos.app.goo.gl/odUEEWrXfpnNTijPA

Pilgrimage to Goatfell

It felt like a pilgrimage. A three hour drive to Irvine, an overnight stay at the harbourside, a morning drive to Ardrossan, the ferry to Brodick and then a half a mile walk to the hall, race HQ, for the mighty Goatfell Mountain Race. I think it should be re-branded 'Mountain' not 'Hill' as it sits proud on the edge of Arran with a 'come and get me if you think you're hard enough' attitude. A beacon for the intrepid racers and dozy public alike. 

I paid a visit to the Harbour Lights for a nightcap on the Friday night when we got to Irvine to watch the end of the Raith Partick match. Many of the punters were evidently less interested in the game,  numerous bodies lingering in and across my line of sight. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise, given the result. 

A light sea-haar threatened as we passed a rather nasty looking single vehicle crash on our way to Ardrossan. Speedy Joe and I arrived in good time and parked the car. It was a cuppa in the terminal before boarding the compact McBrayne ship. Boatymcboatface.  We got our race numbers on the boat. I was happy to get out on deck during the voyage due to the very questionable air quality circulating around our seats. Nobody was putting their hands up for this anti-social behavior. There was no view on the trip out with the damp grey clag gripping the sides of the ship, but it had cleared to reveal the island as we began our approach. 

Last year when I ran this race, I was overhauled by 3 runners in the last mile on tarmac after my legs went all Rowntrees. This year I planted a pair of road trainers at the bottom of the track to Goatfell where gravel meets tarmac. My plan was to change quickly from fell shoes to the road shoes. Studs offer no bounce on road surfaces. I needed all the help I could get.

I replaced my waterproof trousers from my bumbag with 2 bottles of water. This was also a first; me taking water up a hill. However, it was hot, cloudless and windless and I knew we were going to cook. Speedy had done Ben Lomond the week before and said there was no water on the hill. I knew there was a stream on Goatfell, but its at the bridge near the bottom. 

Around 130 or so set off and I took up my place toward the back. The run-in was bearable with a 7.05min. first mile. However after the second mile through the forest I had begun to walk. When you walk, the folk behind you, for the most part, also take this as a signal to walk and I enjoyed a period where no-one came past. I did hear a lot of heavy breathing so they were close enough.  I decided early on that the heat was such that I needed to manage my body and it would be better to keep my energy for the descent. 

The hill was busy with walkers of all shapes and fashions and I shipped a few salt tabs on the way up. I kept a bottle of water handy for Speedy. With this race being a straight 'up and down' affair, I knew she would pass me at some point. As we ascended, a chap behind insisted on a bit of 'merry banter' with fellow runners and the passing public and it did my nut in. I'm afraid I was rather curt with him when he tried to engage me, when I turned and in a rather sour tone said that 'I wasn't interested in a chat'. It didn't deter him, maintaining his commentary to various as I sat in front and then behind him toward the peak. In the meantime, Speedy had come past on the descent going well and duly took the water bottle: jobs a good 'un. I thought.

At the top the view was apparently splendid, but my mind was on other matters. I binned 3 runners straight away, 2 of them looked like they were M60's or perhaps they had just had a heavy night at the Harbour Lights. A younger lad got past me early on, but I tracked him all the way down and he ran out of steam toward the bottom. Another younger guy was catching us.  Onto the road, I glanced back to see both runners around 15-20 seconds behind. I dived to the side of the road and changed shoes - probably losing around the same amount of time as I had on them and, as I set off, they were almost on top of me. The road shoes had bounce and were fresh and cool. I put my hands in my fell shoes as I carried them and realised how hot they (and my feet) must have been. The new shoes also gave me a psychological boost and I began moving away from both runners. At the junction ahead, the Marshall lauded me on the shoe change strategy and I began wondering if the change also had an effect on the psyche of the runners behind. 

I plugged on toward the finish and felt the last sparks of energy ebb away. I was done in. Entering the field, it was a lap on grass left to do and I was caught and dropped by one of the youngsters. Collapsing over the finish in around 2 hours, this 10 miler in the sun had drained me. I spent several minutes splayed out on the grass before the inner thigh cramp struck and it took another minute or two to stand and recover. It was a nice spread of cakes. I am certain that I won the competition for most cups of tea drank. I caught up with Will Horsley of NFR who is running again. 

Speedy won her race and I finished 2nd M60, losing to a Musselburgh chap who I had spied passing me near the top. He was well ahead and regardless of strategies, I wouldn't have caught him. More training required. However, I will enjoy the beers I won. It was an ice cream afterwards where I got chatting with an old just retired couple on holiday from Louisiana. It was back onto the ferry at 4 and the long drive home later in the evening, via the chippy in Dalkeith. Good work, but exhausting.

   

    

 

The Rehab reaches Deuchary

The rehab continues.  After another Parkrun on Saturday, I was still intact and had shaved another sliver off my 2024 5k times. Such was my excitement that I was happy to rock up at Dunkeld the next day for Adrians Deuchary Hill Canter. Forty eight hours earlier I had sat and stated for the record that my racing days were over, that my body needed a break and that I should park the ego and accept my decrepitude. 

Run, yes, good :)

Race, no, bad :(

Me and Speedy Joe arrived early. Sufficiently early for me to get my number and have a catch up with ProTays Sharon and Partner.  I was all for the joining with the early start group who set off half an hour before the main race. There were 7 of us and I led from the gun. I ran with purpose but my lungs weren't bursting. The route had been altered to accommodate cows in a field. I also recalled going off course last time round, so I was wary. However, Adrian had done a sterling job on the tape and route marking. The sun made a brief appearance and, as always, I was overdressed, but stuck to my task and reached the hilltop in an hour. The Marshalls seemed surprised at my quick appearance. I looked back down the hill and saw a lad not far behind me. Best get a move on. Ooops, not racing...remember! 

I trogged back down the hill and came to a junction which threw me. The sign was pointing right, but the tape said left. There was also a straight-on option. I stopped for a good wee while to let the blokey catch me. We decided if we were going to get lost, we would do it together and we went left with the tape. It proved the correct option and I was soon on my own padding across the gravel and hard packed forest tracks. I was caught with about a mile to go by the eventual race leader who passed me at a fair pace. I felt a few tweeks of cramp in my calf, but at 11 miles I didn't have far to go and finished in just over 2 hours. Pretty pedestrian and well down. However, I was pleased with the run and with no after effects other than some blood blisters, I think we're going in the right direction. 

With only 40 finishers, this race deserves much more and coupled with the soup, tea etc and prizes galore afterwards, its a cracking wee race. Speedy got back as first female after also having to stop and cracking herself on the face with a deer gate - daftie. We were a box of chocs and a bottle of malt better off on the way back.

 

 

 

The exercise-ist

Bless me father. I'm making some progress at last. I know you'd want to know.  Two sports massages banked and stretching every day peppered with gym or swimming is sorting me out. No hills yet, mind. 

I felt goodish as I lined up at the Elder Park run on Saturday. I happened to have a social in Glasgow over the weekend and with it being such a beautiful morning, I took the clockwork orange into Govan and walked to the Park with Alma from Reigate. From her accent she sounded Australian, but I didn't want to ask. As I warmed up, Chris Upson appeared from out of the early Spring foliage. I wasn't phased, however. I had to run my own race and wanted a sub 23, and was probably up to a sub22 given that there are no hills on this course. Right enough, I clocked 21 minutes and left the park smartly with a spring in my step. It was a fancy lunch from one till 5pm at Exchange Square. The meal was first class and the company entertaining. I gave myself a high-five, keeping away from the alcohol. I even elected for a mocktail at the Blue Dog as the gang took up the back of the bar. We left around 7pm and I celebrated by making a whistle stop visit to The Griffin, a pub which on another visit, I will have a proper mans pint of frothing ale. 

Making the most of the weekend, I breakfasted on Sunday on scrambled egg and tea. We mosied along the streets to Glasgow Green for the 10k. Marg was doing the 5k. It was drizzling and the organisers had taken 40 quid off us for the experience, promising a medal at the end. I bridle at the cost of some of these things.

It was cool and grey as I mashed up and around the park, clocking 21 minutes again for the first 5k. Having not done 6 miles since December I worked hard on maintaining my old mans shuffle during the second half of the event but slowed to a 23 minute second half. As I turned the final corner, the large coffee I had had at McDonalds made itself known and exited in a fashion that reminded me of the exorcist, even as I was gagging for air and trying not to let my head swivel round so much. Hopefully the blokey at the end with the camera failed to capture this caffeine projectile art installation and, by the time I got to the finish, in a touch under 45 minutes, I had got it back together and was smiling, albeit with brown teeth, watery eyes and a snotty nose. I know, I know, too much information. We didn't need the priest after all! It was back to the hotel for a shower and the train south. What a palavar.