The Lowther Trail Race

There was some mid-week discussion as to whether the Lowther Trail Race was something that me and Speedy fancied. I remembered the castle, but couldn't remember the course. At 13 miles, I should have had. 

I had a vague notion of running along a slowly rising long draggy and wide gravel path and another mental snapshot of a section of wet reedy grass and a river crossing, but beyond that I was stumped. I checked the results and found my name down in a set of results from 2017. Surely I had blogged about it. However, on checking the blog, there was no mention. What did all this amnesia mean? Was it a good sign? 

There were no entries on the day, but the pre-entries were held open until the night before the event, so on Saturday lunchtime we committed the 13 quid each and checked the forecast. It looked like it could be a hot one. A quid a mile. Thats more like it.

My time in 2017 was just under the 2 hours so I had an idea that if I finished around 2 hours or so it would be acceptable. We left the house around 8am and drove to the Estate. Until recently the Castle facade and some low walls were all that remained of the buildings, but someone has recently put in a bit of money and its changed since I last didn't remember it. 

We got our numbers and used the communal cafe toilets. Very avant garde I must say. A set of non gender assigned cubicles. People were visibly confused. We initially had bumbags, but after checking that there were actually water-stops, we ditched these and decided to travel light. 

It was, after all, a trail race. There were around 150 or so present and I reminded Speedy to take the first 3 miles super steady what with the mercury rising and the skies clearing to reveal strong warm sunshine...who knew...summer!?  

We took off down the grassy slope heading away from the Castle onto a wide estate path and then past a church and old bridge. Half the congregation were peering over the low stone wall and the kids hanging off the iron gate in their best sunday gear, watching the stream of misfits take on the best the Lowther Estate could throw at us. We ran through Askham village and then the road began to rise - yes, here it was, the long draggy gravel path. 

The path rose for around 3 miles before we were confronted on the ridge with a stunning view of Pooley Bridge and the north end of Ullswater. It was awesome, and had I not been chewing on trying to track a spidery looking old gadgie 15 seconds ahead, I might have stopped and taken a photo. 

On the way down off the ridge it became grassier with more heather as we crossed the moor. I sat in with a high stepping tall runner who looked like he was out for a jog. Lolloping across the heather. Needless to say I wasn't lolloping and he soon lolloped his way ahead. After around 5 miles spidery gadgie had extended his lead on me and I relinquished any hope of catching him. This put me in a better mood and after a water stop at 6 mile and the river crossing at 8 miles (squelch, squelch) I took some comfort in there being less mileage ahead than there was behind. At around 9 mile, we came to a craggy outcrop and I decided to take a couple of snaps. I asked the runners behind to look lively and make it look like they were enjoying themselves: click. The wee group ahead fragmented over the next mile and toward the end there were a few runners caught and a few passed by. The ones that I caught were down to a shuffle and had clearly overcooked it in the early stages. It was 1:57 and 3rd M60 over the line. A short sprint was required when an Eden Runner had the temerity to try and pass me. I had to snap myself out of my dreamlike heat riven plod-bubble and he soon ate my shorts. 

Speedy did well for 2nd to Hannah Russell. We all collected a bottle of beer. The prize-winners collected a further 3 bottles - I commented that this was probably not something that should continue - giving alcohol out to athletes. What hope is there for the next olympics. A gold medal and a bottle of brown ale? Anyway, consider yourself updated.     

Darlington 10k

 I'd never ran the Darlington 10k before. When the Dark Destroyer (Lornie) advised us that she fancied a run around her gaff, we thought we'd jog on down and see what was occurring. Its an early Sunday morning affair with a 2 looper around the leafier parts of the the town.  It was around 20 bangers to get in, but at least there wouldnt be any proper hills and the roads were closed. Bonus. Last year there were 3 or 4 who went sub 30, so it must be flattish. 

We parked up just outside the town centre, up some side street, and I looked back fondly as we walked away from the car wondering if it would still be in one piece when we returned. There was already a good crowd assembling when we reached the shops and arcades and we grabbed our numbers and took in the spectacle. Those wearing bright club vests, all those fluorescent platform boat-soled carbon shoes and all that money spent, gymsharks in their body hugging gear and slick backed hair and some locals who, bemused, were accidentally caught in the carnival crossfire and were only on their way to Greggs for a bacon sarnie and a coffee.  I noticed on my mid town warm up that there are at least two Greggs in Darlo city centre. That's how they roll down there. 

There were 7 pens for the runners (no, not parkers) and after a mile warm up in cool below average temperatures, I mosied surreptitiously to Pen 2. It felt about right. I had a target of sub 43, but secretly (and I can tell you this now..) I would have been disappointed with a 42. Forty one minutes seemed a realistic time.

Off we trundled and I soon got into my stride. When you've got to keep the gas on for a good wee while, it soon takes it out of you and with a crowd of around 1800 runners, there was quite a bit of tooing and frowing. I tucked in behind a green vested runner with Mark printed on his back - he might have had something to do with Northallerton. He was tall with grey hair and had a nice even pace. However, after 4 km it was just too even for me and the elastic snapped and I began to drift back. 'Come back Mark', I cried inside. Beyond that, there was not much to report; no dramas and a workmanlike 41.05 for 4th M60 on gun time, but 3rd on chip time. Lornie had finished just before me, in 41.10, her having set off in the first wave and Linds was there to give us support at the end. We repaired to the nearby coffee shop, truly Neros for Heroes and found a seat and ordered before the throngs arrived. All in all not a bad day out. Lornie was 5th senior and seemed happy to get a voucher.  We all got a t shirt, but none of us went to Greggs.

'Blimey, its Blisco'

 

After 6 months of denial, I have bought a set of new scales. The last ones were a little unsteady. Unreliable scales are a waste of space. Over the late winter and spring, I put my generous body shape down to swimming twice and, occasionally, three times a week. There was not much running mileage going on and this was coupled with creeping biscuit and beer intake. Fair enough, I had some reasonable race results, but most (or all of them) were off road, where placings tend to be of more interest than times.

As I gingerly mounted the sleek glass 'speak your weight' machine, it just spluttered and said 'you're having a laugh, fat boy...put that cake down.....welcome to this years slimmers club'.  

It was no wonder that I struggled up Blisco Pike on Saturday at the UK fell running championships. It was so steep that I didn't bother to look up to check out who the various runners were who were passing by on the ascent. It was so steep that I didn't even bother to look back or look around to take in the stunning scenery of the North Lakes. What a tedious slog.

My first mile along the rising tarmac was around 9 minutes, but in this short steep (AS classification) event of 4.5miles, my second mile came in at 26 minutes. The last wee bit to the top was a scramble up a couple of rocky outcrops and I nearly got my fingers stood on by the guy in front as he faltered trying to get his grip. It took 40 minutes to the summit, a 2000ft rise. 

At the top, I clambered around the ridge trying to work out a reasonable line downhill, I wondered if I still had Snowdon in my legs, having spent last week wandering around with Doms. Maybe I shouldn't have been surprised. With the sun shining after a grim wet morning I tried to make a fist of it on the descent and went hammer and tongs at it against a Mercia Runner called Mark (or at least thats the name his supporters were shouting). He took the grass, I was on the path, but it was too little, too late and while I got him on the lower slope, he caught me later on the tarmac. It was 13th M60 and just over the hour at the line. Looking at the finishers, I might have been 4th-6th possibly, although I accept these short steep hills and scrambles are not my forte. 

Anyway, yesterday was a 10 miler and with another 6 miler today and a swim booked for later, the flab fightback has begun. I've a 10k this weekend which will make a pleasant change.  Get those calories burnt. On the book front I easily made my way through 'The Restraint of Beasts' by Magnus Mills, a short quirky delight. But its on to 'Dispatches' by Michael Herr, a sobering read about 60's Vietnam.   

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