I've decided that two blogs is a blog too far, and have switched my focus to the self-build house blog that is documenting the building of our timber and strawbale house. This doesn't mean I've stopped running each day, merely that I'm not writing about each run. Races will still probably make it onto this blog. In the meantime, the bare statistics of daily runs are still being logged on the One Pound Challenge site.
The field seemed to be a bit down on previous years, but the presence of Adam Ward, Steve Fallon, Bruce Smith and a couple of handy Moorfoot runners suggested that I wouldn’t have an easy ride. I ran with Adam up the first climb, with Wull Hynd from Moorfoot a pace or two behind. There was a muggy heat that made Adam remark after less than two minute that his mouth was dry. Down the first sharp descent Adam pulled a slight gap and Wull dropped back, and on the steep climb out of the gully, Steve Fallon bounded past looking strong. Wull soon nicked past and I slowly lost ground over the next ten minutes. Next to pass, with a real bounce in his stride, was Bruce Smith, and by the time we reached the Curr, the highest point on the route at around the halfway point I had lost touch with them all, and was being chased down by Michael McGovern from Moorfoot.
The descent from The Curr is always a swine, steep and rough with long reedy grass tripping you at every step. By the bottom of the descent Michael was on my heels, and I noticed that up ahead, Wull Hynd had lost ground on the Carnethy trio. Adam was powering away in the distance and looked uncatchable. Bruce had skipped into second and Steve had overhauled Wull. I had a bit of a battle on the steep climb to Latchley Hill with Michael and we crested together, Immediately, though, he seemed to grind to a halt and within a couple of minutes I had a 100m gap. I didn’t seem to be making any headway on any of those in front, and was starting to resign myself to a semi-respectable 5th place. I was a bit concerned to see Sandy Bennet moving into 6th place, gaining on me steadily as Wildgoose Hill and Sunnyside were conquered and left behind.
Looking across from Sunnyside it seemed that Wull and Steve, running together, were suddenly much closer that they had been 10 minutes before. This gave me fresh impetus, and I knew that, with neither of them having run the race before, there was a fair chance they had underestimated the severity of the roller-coaster return leg. I pushed on to the bottom of Staerough and took a better line on the climb (local knowledge is a wonderful thing!). Steve and Wull were clearly suffering, and I passed Steve on the summit, where organiser Les Turnbull’s wife was sitting on a wall playing her penny whistle. I knew that Wull had struggled on the earlier descents, and the final drop of Staerough is a bit of a bugger, very rutted and pretty steep. I gradually reeled him in and passed him with about 400m remaining for a surprise 3rd place in 75:55. Adam had won about 5 minutes ahead, a couple of minutes ahead of Bruce Smith.
Some way back, Kate Jenkins and Cat Milller ran off the wrong side of Staerough (though not together) and paid an unscheduled visit to the outskirts of Kirk Yetholm. Kate realised her mistake in time to charge back up and regain first place, determination overcoming the effects of yesterday’s Stranraer Half Marathon. She won in 94 minutes dead.
Despite losing my crown, I was very encouraged to have come through unscathed, and took it as a sign that my miserable first half of the year is coming to a close and that I might be able to salvage something from the second half.
Selected Results:
1 Adam Ward - Carnethy - 70:56
2 Bruce Smith - Carnethy - 73:09
3 Damon Rodwell - Westerlands - 75:55
4 Wull Hynd - Moorfoot - 76:08
5 Steve Fallon - Carnethy - 76:22
6 Sandy Bennet - Carnegie - 78:10
7 Alistair McDonald - Dundee Hawkhill - 79:31
8 Keith Murray - Teviotdale - 80:38
9 John Kay - Fife AC - 81:27
10 - Michael McGovern - Moorfoot - 82:00
16 Kate Jenkins - U/A - 94:00 (first lady)
More piddly local runs and a bike ride, all designed to spare my ankles undue punishment ahead of Sunday's Yetholm Hill Race. Ankle and foot problems definitely on the mend, but a lot to do to get back to anything like race-fit.
Had a big backlog of work to tackle after the long weekend away. Got through most of it by about 4 p.m. but didn't feel inspired to get out for a run until after dinner. Grotty rain all day, and still drizzling when I took the dogs out for a 25-minute jog around the fields on creaky ankles.
Flew to Belfast and shared a hire-car with parents and Gemma and Richard for the drive to Belle Isle in Fermanagh for my niece's wedding. Fitted in a gentle 4-mile jog around the estate with Rachel on the Friday, a 9-mile road-run before the wedding on Saturday morning, a tiring 80-minutes on forest tracks and roads on Sunday afternoon (once the mild hangover had abated) and a 20-minte jog on the Monday, with very stiff achilles and ankles. Wonderful family weekend in lovely countryside. See wedding pictures here
A few days getting my legs back together after the exertions of the SIPR. Tired for the first couple of days and ankles aching again. Better towards the end of the week, with a couple of fairly sprightly half-hours jaunts around Bowmont Forest. Knackered again by Thursday, and managed just a slow jog for 20 minutes.
Thursday’s unpleasant weather had turned pretty wild through the night, and at the Friday-morning briefing we were told that the race was to be cut short to avoid the dangerous sail around the Mull of Kintyre, and would now finish at the end of the Jura leg. It was generally received as a wise decision, but there were still one or two disappointed faces around. Several boats decided not to start, among them those carrying Kate Jenkins and Dave Rogers, Manny Gorman and Stevie Bell and Christine Menhennet and Elsie Baxter, so Westerlands turned out to be under-represented this year.
I ran the Oban race as fast as I could, which was not very fast at all, trailing well behind Crispin all the way, until he waited for me for the final run-in along the road. My performance was limited by my crappy sludge-filled lungs and lack of energy, and we clocked about 2 - 3 minutes slower than last year. Crispin was looking ominously strong.
The sail to Mull was a real white-knuckle ride. The guys pushed the boat possibly slightly harder than they should have in such big seas, and at one point we very, very nearly capsized. Apparently this ain't easy in a trimaran! After only 2 hours we arrived on Mull with a lead of about 10 seconds over Phil Davies and his partner off Memec and Jill Mykura and Jackie Lee. I was feeling really shitty, and the other four just ran away from us. Crispin must have been very frustrated, but kept it under his hat, bless him. He stopped and waited for me to catch up after 12 minutes, and immediately he saw the state I was in he asked if I wanted to chuck it. How could I possibly pull the plug after 12 minutes, when the guys had sailed out of their skins to get us there so fast?
The 5-miles of road was covered through driving rain and buffetting winds in about 38 minutes, and my recollections are lost in a fog of weariness and gloom, . The track onto the hills felt a little better and our progress to the coll at 330m was slow-to-steady. We seemed to be gradually pulling up on Jill and Jackie, who had gone off very hard and were probably paying for it in the sapping conditions. Eventually we caught them on the boulder-field on the way to the summit ridge, and stayed loosely with them to the summit (where the checkpoint had been blown away!), exchanging occasional banter whenever the wind allowed us to hear one-another. I kept having coughing fits, each of which had the effect of leaving gasping for breath, as if I'd put in a 10-second sprint for the hell of it. Jill was descending superbly on the narrow winding path through the scree. A squall went over during this stretch, which assailed any bare flesh (legs and faces, mainly) with icy wind-driven needles of rain.
We were continually buffeted by an extremely strong gusty wind which sapped the energy and the spirits and had robbed my fingers of any vestige of dexterity long before the summit.
Crispin and I had a steady trundle to the 4th checkpoint, by which time J&J had disappeared behind us, but the runners from Playing FT$E had caught us. We took a lower line than the others down to the track, over miserable tussocks and a nasty traverse. The wind was STILL in our faces, which seemed a bit harsh, as it seemed to have been there throughout. The Symons brothers went charging past looking fresh as daisies and very quickly disappeared into the distance.
By the time we reached the road I was shattered, and humbly accepted Crispin's offer to carry my pack for a while. This proved to be a bit of a master-stroke, as it enabled us to pass the runners from FT$E, one of whom had given up his pack to his partner, and who looked even worse than I did. After about a kilometre, I took my bag back. To be honest, it didn't seem to make much difference, but something, possibly the comparative rest or more probably something psychological had put a modicum of life back into my legs and we pulled steadily away from our closest rivals.
Near the finish we were told that the race had been abandoned for safety reasons, and that if we held our position we'd finish in the medals. This happy news boosted me considerably - only now did I realise how much I was dreading a hard run in foul conditions with disfunctional lungs and lifeless legs on Jura - and we finished pretty strongly. This was largely due to a clever piece of psychology on Crispin's part. He'd noticed that my head goes down when I'm trailing, so he decreed that I should stay in front. It sounds basic, but it certainly made a difference. Back on board, we learned that Memec had managed to run over his runners in their dingy, trying to pick them up under sail, and that one of them, possibly Phil Davies, had been plucked from the water unconscious by FT$E, while the other runner and his rower were fished out of the briney by Memec. Later reports suggested that this story may have been a bit embellished, and that no-one was unconscious, but Steve (Blue Chip skipper) informed us that while we'd been on the hill, our crew had decided to chuck it in any case. It must have been a hard decision, as for all they knew we were still in the lead, and we knew that Steve had invested a lot of cash and energy into winning this year. Maybe the near-capsize had swung it!
We crept across to Loch Aline to weather the storm, and crashed into bed at 10:30 after a couple of games of cards. My perennially troublesome ankle had held up remarkably well on very rough terrain, which was encouraging. In retrospect, I’m pretty amazed I got around the route without a complete physical collapse, but I suppose I didn't really have much choice!
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| SIPR 2007 |
Set off around 2 pm for Oban, and stopped on the Edinburgh ring-road for a little linener up and down Caerketton Hill in the Pentlands. Nothing like as rough as yesterday, but still coughing up all manner of nasties and very drained. Met Crispin in the Counting House, had a quick feed then caught the train to Oban. Walked up the hill to the B&B chatting to my parents on the phone, which left me alarmingly out of breath. Turned in early, praying for a miracle!
Cold finally struck good and proper today, and I had such a blinding headache, which seemed impervious to drugs, that I took to my bed for a few hours in the afternoon. Slept fitfully in a sudoral mess and awoke feeling slightly less awful. Staggered out for a run in the evening into Bowmont Forest for the bare minimum 20 minutes.
Now too late for Crispin to find a replacement partner for the Boat Race, so I didn't bother telling him about the illness.
Jogged for half an hour each day, trying to keep the cold-bug at bay. Spent the 15th laying a floor in Edinburgh with Mal. Another rude reminder that most people have to work for a living! Good fun, though, despite the rush-hour driving.
Thought I'd better get something reasonably long in before the Boat Race. Steady run out over Linton Hill to Highside and back. Knackered after an hour, which wasn't very encouraging! First symptoms of a cold started showing, which is absolutely bloody typical! I almost invariably get one the week before a big race.
Lovely hard run through Bowmont Forest. Felt uninhibited for the first time in months and pegged it the whole way. Guts complained a bit afterwards, but it was well worth it, to remember that running can actually be quite fun.
Gentle trundle around the local fields, which I cut short when my new hill-shoes generated a small blister on my right foot.
First run in almost a week. Ankle feeling fine, so decided to test it with a gentle jog along the Teviot. Took Hamu along to make sure I didn't get carried away. Good fun runnig with him. Needs to concentrate a bit more on the running and a bit less on the larking about, but that'll come with time! Out for just under half an hour, of which about 5 minutes was walking or picking wild garlic, which he impressed me by identifying by the smell. Clever little bugger!
Went straight from there to collect Ellie from school, and watched the St. Mary's kids knocking tennis balls around the court in the rain in their T-shirts.
X-ray revealed nothing, which was unsurprising as the ankle has responded very well to the rest from running, and has been pain-free for several days. Cycled through Bowmont Forest again, and added an excursion down to the Yetholm Road to make sure the dog was properly tired.
Saw doctor in the morning. She reckoned the ankle-lump might be a ganglion, but booked me an x-ray tomorrow to chack for bone damage. Nicked out for the statutory 25 minutes through Bowmont Forest on the bike in the evening.
Quick 25 minute blast on the muntain bike in Bowmont Forest with Mark. He was on mine and I was on Ellies (!), so we were equally handicapped. Ellie's front suspension was a very obvious advantage on the rough stretches, where he was shaken to bits and almost unseated a couple of times.
8 miles on bike with Mark. He was on an undersized mountain bike and I was on my racer, and the bugger kept up! Lovely sunny evening. Took him via Caverton Mill to Morebattle and back through Linton.
No chance to do anything until 10pm when I nipped out for 25 minutes on the bike to Linton & back at a clip. Lump on inside of ankle bigger and sorer than ever today. Have made an appointment with a podiatrist, but not until May 14, 4 days before the SIPR, so will see a quack in the meantime.
Ankle felt horrible all day, but strangely seemed to ease a little when I took Mark into Bowmont Forest for a 35-minute jaunt and a reasonably brisk pace. Certainly no worse at the end of the run than at the beginning. Groggy morning after one whole bottle of beer and a glass of bubbly last night! Visited Rembrand Timber in the afternoon and spoke to the rather clueless branch manager about structural timber and windows. Missed Ellie's performance in the school poetry recital competition, but arrived in time to see her lift second place overall for her rendition of the Jabberwauky. Very proud!
Mark and Ruth, friends from London are here to stay for a few days with their three daughters, which makes for a lively household. Mark's a rugby player, but used to run on the hills so I took him out for a 25-minutes trot out over the surrounding farmland. Ankle objecting to the last couple of days' effort and most of the run was done at a hobble, especially when climbing or on uneven ground. Iced it when we got home, but it didn't seem to do any good.
Ankle feeling reasonably robust today. Once the haze had burnt off it was glorious and sunny. Nipped into Kelso in the afternoon and had a wonderful 45-minute run along the Teviot to Roxburgh and back. Path a bit more technical than I've ever noticed before, with plenty of twists and turns and half-buried rocks to skip around. Ankle no worse after 45 minutes than it had been after 10, which I suppose is encouraging.
Lovely displays of primroses, dandelions and forget-me-nots, and a heady smell of wild garlic, which had my juices flowing even before I ran past Springwood, where some bugger was cooking a bacon roll! Mmmmmm!
