What was the most memorable thing about the Vigo Valentines Tough Love 10 in 2022?
Was it discovering that Michael Hrabe hadn’t died since I last saw him in 2019? Was it seeing Mr and Mrs Sox for the first time at a race since the St Peter;s Way Ultra in 2014? Was it running the route about an hour faster than I ran it last time? Was it the wonderful volunteers that lined the course? Was it forgetting to do the dance of the lube and then had a chaffing bum hole about 10km in that is still burning right now? Was it the drive down from Scotland to take part in the Tough Love 10? Or maybe it was being back on my favourite route and having a little lump in my throat as I looked back to see a procession of lovely runners racing around me.
The answer is I’m really not sure.
But why? Well the Vigo Valentines Tough Love 10 remains a collection of truly brilliant moments and because I’ve written about this so many times I shan’t review it in depth again, you can go back and read about previous years such as 2017, 2018 or 2019 as well as listen to the podcast I put out about the event last week (Spotify player above, the Vigo overview begins at 22mins 32secs. Ultraboyruns: The Adventure Podcast available on all good and bad platforms). However, I thought I’d put down a few highlights down that might inspire you to join the race in 2023 because if you did that you would have no regrets.
I was abandoned at the start but I didn’t care The GingaNinja and ASKadventurer abandoned me to the cold at the beginning on the race, nice wasn’t it? Taking the car with them so I was left to enjoy the pre-race unfold before me (in conditions that can only be described as cold and blustery).
Cold hands, warm heart There was the cold, whipping wind that was matched only by the warm and tremendously friendly race atmosphere. Wherever you turned, the Vigo Tough Love 10 retains a real community feeling that just makes you feel wonderfully welcome.
Brilliantly organised (as ever) It is still a really brilliantly organised race with more volunteers on the course than any other race I have ever known and while I saw the organisers apologising for a bit of route confusion I’m not sure this was necessary – the route was really well marked and really well manned. Perhaps as an ultra marathon runner I am used to be being a little bit self sufficient but there is no doubt in my mind that this remains ones of the best organised races I have ever attended.
The best marshals for miles around The marshalling team – you were all also absolutely brilliant, including the ones I had to refer to as ‘arseholes’ for trying to lie to me about what was coming next on the course, cheeky little buggers.
If you thought you knew Kent then do this and think again, beautifully scenic course Absolutely cracking views of the Kentish countryside, now as someone who lives in Scotland and runs or hikes in the mountains most weekends I can say, hand on heart, that I still find the views of the Vigo Tough Love 10 worthy of attention – you should take a look for yourself, you won’t be disappointed.
Get the budgie smugglers on standby Despite being in the middle of the middle winter I’ve never run this race in anything but glorious weather and the 2022 edition provided us with sunshine and a hint of wind to keep things a bit tasty. What I know is that I was so hot that within the first couple of kilometres I was stripping to give the old body a bit of an airing, perhaps if I run in 2023 I will get the mankini out. Can I also apologise to the runner who went past me as I was stripping down – you saw a sight that nobody should ever have to witness.
Underfoot in 2022 Conditions underfoot this year were some of the ‘best’ I have ever seen in terms of being runnable but it also meant that truly filthy fun was missing, that said I took every opportunity to hammer through the mud that was there and noted that many of the runners were determined to keep their feet dry and their shoes as clean as possible – what were you doing you mad people, I do this for the mud!
There is always mud Thankfully, inspite of the wonderful conditions I still managed to get more than enough mud caked on my legs that I had to pull dried mud off my body in the hours before I managed to find a bath.
It’s a trail shoes all the way route regardless of the weather You’ll of course all be pleased to hear that my shoes managed to get suitably filthy. I’d chosen the Mango coloured Topo Athletic MTN Racer 2 specifically because they show the mud up wonderfully (see photo gallery below). It is also worth noting that some trail shoes with good grip and a bit of cushioning were the best choice I’ve ever used at the Vigo Tough Love 10 – no mistakes this year in shoe choice.
Suitable for first time trail runners and your salty trail dogs like me I came across a few first timers to the Vigo Tough Love 10 and there was no doubt that they would all be marking this one on their 2023 calendar – there was much love for this event amongst the throngs of runners.
The best 2 minute downhill anywhere The tree lined downhill was absolutely brilliant as ever, I hurtled along it with all the energy I could muster and delighted as I zoomed past several runners all of whom were taking it a touch easier than I was. It is possible that this is my favourite downhill anywhere and the reason is that the angle of descent is just severe enough to be able to give it some serious welly, the trail is well defined but challenging and it is an absolute bucket load of fun to do!
The route remains an absolute blast! The minor amendments to the route actually made things a little easier than previous years but the road climb up to the final hill felt hard, that said I really missed the final corner. However, this minor change doesn’t detract from this being a cracking route.
A hilly hello from an old friend That final hill, that final hill, my old friend, it was so lovely to see it again, was it lovely to climb it? Was it heck, especially as this was my fourth significant race in just 8 days. It was odd though, in my previous five times here, struggling up the mile 9 hill I felt like it had the upper hand but this time as I pushed my way up it I felt like all that mountain hiking and hill running in Scotland made my old, much loved nemesis feel a lot more manageable.
No time to curl one in I didn’t get toe curling cramp on the run in like I did the last time I ran the route in 2019.
A corking medal The medal this year was really, really nice and made of wood thereby increasing the green credentials of the race. The Vigo Tough Love 10 hasn’t always had truly bespoke medals, certainly not in 2014 when I first did it but this years and several of the previous editions have been absolute corkers and all sit proudly with my other 250 finishers medals.
Great camaraderie! My thanks to Philip, Michael, Glen and Mick for being out on the course and as they went past me gave me a lovely little boost that really made me push that bit harder this year. This really is a race where you can make a few friends as you’re running along because of that wonderful community feel. I also ran into a fellow runner that I had come across via Instagram, nat_runs_ who not only ran a truly brilliant time but was a lovely young lady that is very inspiring in her social media output and certainly worth looking up to say hello to.
Wonderful community support When I first ran this in 2014 one of the things I noted was that people hung around to support runners coming in and for the most part that remains a big part of the race. I stayed until the clock had been running for a bit over 2 and half hours to ensure that I cheered in some of those who had been battling the route for the longest. Vigo always feels like a race where nobody gets left behind and it is an honour to cheer in my fellow competitors.
A Mars a day helps me work, rest and get tubby The post race Mars Bar was still being given out and I think this might have been the sugar rush that got me over the final 100 miles of the A1 for the 450 mile drive home – thanks guys.
Dance of the lube Never, ever forget to do the ‘dance of the lube’. I neglected to do the dance this year and as a consequence ended the race with some rather nasty chaffing in the nether regions, please note the nether regions are not a section of the race but more my poor long suffering undercarriage.
Well I was in pieces and was mostly being held together by the GingaNinja brutalising my shoulder and the massage gun trying to crack the walnut of my bumhole – the injuries that have returned in the last couple of weeks are nasty and painful. It has taken every single iota of mental and physical strength I’ve had to make it through my 4 races in 8 days. The Vigo Tough Love 10 was the final of these 4 events and the one I knew I couldn’t miss.
There are those that will point to the fact that there wasn’t as much mud as usual but trust me if you were keen to get muddy then the Vigo Tough Love 10 would oblige you – you really didn’t have to look far. I bounded through the middle of the puddles and the mud much as I always do while others scampered around the edges (yes I’m looking at you Mr Hrabe). I ran as best as I could while managing the injuries to ensure that I didn’t end up in the back of a marshals car being ferried back to the start.
I ran the down hills as fast as I could and I pressed as fast as I could on the up, there is no doubt that I could run the race faster, especially in the conditions we were faced with in 2022 but the truth is that this isn’t about speed for me, it is about enjoyment and I enjoy this race more than any other.
I enjoyed the climb up the mile 9 hill this year more than I have ever have and perhaps it really is because I do a lot more hill hiking and running now and it doesn’t feel so horrendous – that said I still didn’t run very much of it and I was exhausted upon reaching the top. Oddly the hill reminded of when I ran the Ben Vorlich Ultra and the run up the munro – steep, unforgiving and seemingly unrelenting – the difference of course is that the ascent here is about a tenth of Ben Vorlich but the principal remains the same and I was glad to see in that in all the years of course amendments that this hill is a constant, I would miss it if it got removed.
And to the finish which always seems a cruelty as you run past the back of the Vigo Rugby Club, hearing the sound of the runners and supporters. There are some lovely trails in this final section and so even in my state of exhaustion I could still muster a bit of running movement and I pushed and I pushed until I saw the final little log leap (it was very small this year). From here I put my foot to the floor and hurtled past a group of young boys and flung myself towards the finish – in the distance I could hear my name being called out, I thought I saw Mrs Sox running across the finish to grab some photographs and at the back of the waiting pack was Mr Hrabe with that big dirty grin on his face.
What a finish and another great day at the Vigo Tough Love 10.
Conclusion I haven’t changed my opinion on the Vigo Tough Love 10, it remains my favourite race and as long as they put it on I’m going to be making the effort to come and run it. I might have moved to Scotland for mountains and races with great big bits of elevation and wonderfully wet conditions but there is something special about this race, the Vigo Tough Love 10, that keeps on drawing me back. I hope I live long enough that one day I get to run this with my daughter – now that is a reason to return… in 10 years time!
There are of course a few final things to say before this post ends with the most important thing being a huge thank you to the organisers for making this happen in such a short space of time. Thanks also to all the volunteers and marshals who used their Sunday morning to make this the special race that it is, to the community who came out in big numbers just to wish us well and of course to The GingaNinja and ASKadventurer for turning up about 20 minutes after I had finished the race – the dry robe wasn’t much use by then!
Come along and run for 6 hours, it’ll be fun they said… ha! Well I knew things were going to blow up in my face when I rolled up on January 29th to the Chateltherault 6 to discover that the weather conditions had felled a tree right across the course and the race was cancelled.
Well how annoying and how annoying for several reasons.
The first and most important thing was that the following weekend, when the event was rearranged for was also the weekend of my beloved Falkirk Ultra, albeit they were on separate days. The second thing was that having decided to go out on to the course after the cancellation and have a look round I realised this was going to be a reasonably challenging event and not one of those looped races that sends you round a flat bit of tarmac.
What I can say is that the South Lanarkshire Leisure & Culture team did their best to get the event on for the original time and it must have been a Herculean effort and inconvenience to them to rearrange it for the following week, thereby ensuring the runners got the opportunity to race.
So despite having the Falkirk Ultra the following day I knew that I had to return and give it as much welly as I could manage.
Now there were a few small issues that had cropped up in the meantime, ASKadventurer had tested positive for Covid and this meant my little 7 year old was self isolating – the knock on effect was that I hadn’t managed to go out running during this period and the previous two weeks before this had been recovering from a mysterious foot injury I sustained a hike up Scheihallion. So I hadn’t run at all since the Cold Brew Events Winter Wipeout in early January, I could already tell there was a good chance that this weekend wasn’t going to end well.
However, once more I was in the lovely Chatelherault Country Park wondering what the buggery I was doing here as the rain lashed down on the top of the car! It was a bitterly cold day, windy and wet too, not a day for running I felt, this felt more like a day for being in bed. However, I threw the dryrobe on and went to collect my number.
By the time I’d made it to the registration point my feet were already soaked and my dryrobe had taken quite a battering – it was going to be one of those days. But the organisers were in a jolly mood and handed me my shirt, number and timing tag – all very easy. It would have been easy for the volunteers and organisers to feel a bit grumpy being here for a second Saturday in succession but there was none of that and that was a testament to the positive attitude of the event.
However, despite the jolly nature of the organisers and given the atrocious conditions I decided not to hang around and I retreated to the car to try and keep warm as best as I could. During my hasty retreat I could see the starting area below me and that the wind was making keeping the starting area in one piece a challenge – you had to feel very sorry for the organisers right about now.
Hiding in my car I had some chocolate milkshake and a few other bits to get me ready for the first of four running events over the next week and then I finished getting changed. I armed myself with dry socks, dry shoes and some gaiters! And then with the starting time coming around I headed back up to the registration and hid inside one of the buildings to try and remain as dry as possible. I chatted to a couple of other runners who were also hiding from the weather but we all knew that eventually we would have to make out way out.
When we did finally risk it we were rewarded being blown off our feet and down to the start – I felt like Mary Poppins coming into land but some of the chill had died down a little and although not perfect running conditions this would be fine. A cool day is always preferable to a warm day for me.
However the running hadn’t started yet and so I hid under the gazebo with the other runners trying to keep dry and then ran into the lovely Fiona and Pauline and wondered why only Pauline was running,
‘Ahem, were is your running gear’ I asked?.
I was told that Fiona was going to be support today while Pauline ran and then they’d flip it for the Falkirk Ultra tomorrow – why didn’t I think of that? I’ll tell you why not, it’s because I haven’t got any friends or family to do that with.
Anyway it was nice to see a friendly face or two at the start, as I helped other runners grasp the gazebo to stop it from blowing away – something I had seen a picnic table or two doing just a few minutes earlier.
I suppose friendly faces are one of the key reasons I love turning up to events, there’s nothing like a good chinwag before you go and run in the rain! I always think that if you see either of Fiona or Pauline though then you know two things, the first is that this is probably going to be a tough event and the second is that you’re probably going to have a bit of a laugh.
Anyway after a surprisingly comprehensive race briefing and with little fanfare the race began.
There were probably about 50ish runners and yet it had a very jolly atmosphere amongst the competitors as they looked on at the wet and mud that awaited them.
Having tried to find my way round the route the week before with Nick, of the Ultra Scotland 50 (and Race Across Scotland 215 mile) fame, and got very lost, I found myself delighted that the route was well marked with both marshals and signage.
I ran at a very nice steady pace and wended my way round the route and observed the oodles of thick wet mud and big, wide puddles – I decided to try and keep my feet dry for the first of this roughly 3.5 mile lap. However, conditions being as they were, wet above and wet below, my feet were filthy and soaking within half a mile of the race start.
And so with wet feet and a muddy body the race really began, I plunged myself into the mud and the puddles with a regularity seen only my my shortest of training runs but I figured I might as well enjoy myself. I think the various route marshals must have thought me rather mad as they saw me leaping from puddle to puddle and having my usual succession of terrible jokes.
I never change.
What I found myself rather enamoured by was the undulating nature of the route and there was great joy to be had in both the up and downs and despite the weather.
Of course life has a way of kicking you in the nutsack when you’re enjoying yourself and within just a couple of miles of the first loop I could feel my hamstring and hip flexor – a reoccurrence of the injury that I spent most of the back half of last year trying to resolve. I assumed that I could probably run it off and when a lovely local runner came by and called me by name (rather than Ultraboyruns), my thoughts drifted from injury to, ‘who the hell is this!’ With her face all covered up in buffs it was difficult to tell but then I recognised the face of Karen and we chatted for a little while as we battered along the course.
However, with the race the next day and the return of injury I bade her farewell – I needed to try and manage my running around the route and she was flying. I hoped that we would run across one another again as the loops continued and of course we would when she lapped me.
The loop itself as I’ve said was a lovely mix of up and down but the path was incredibly runnable and the mud and puddles only enhanced a really great route. Chateltherault Country Park is also really very pretty keeps you interested as you are running around, I could happily have run this loop lots and lots more time than I did and never gotten bored. There were also lots of tree lined sections that meant that runners were able to be shielded from the worst of the weather and even in the more open sections such as near the start/finish line it wasn’t too bad after about the first hour.
It is fair to say that the loop on offer by the Chatelherault 6 is tremendous fun and it is a great winter route too because even in the worst of conditions the fact that most of it is paths through the country park means you’re able to keep going – that said there was a lot of off the trail running you could do here that would keep the more exploratory minded runner interested too!
One of the key areas on the route though was absolutely massacred – the start/finish was properly churned up and the mud was heavy around here making it slow going and even some of the tarmac run up to the start/finish had flooded – so you just had to make the most of it.
When I saw Fiona had a camera primed on the runners near the finish line I took the opportunity to take a flying leap at the flooding and found water bounding up my legs and into all the crevices that are normally watertight! OOOOO chilly willy!
It wasn’t just the puddles though that were fun it was all the lovely runners out on the course that I met and chatted with and it was watching the truly exceptional athletes at the front of the event hammering around the course like a gazelle. That’s why I enjoy these looped kind of races, seeing the same people, cheering each other on, overtaking, being overtaken and generally having a bit laugh.
I was fortunate to run into Karen again, though when I saw her she was covered head to toe in shit, her kit torn and broken from a fall she had sustained on one of her loops and I was sad to hear she had ruined her new Montane gloves -although for the most part she seemed to be in one piece and that was much more important! Despite the fall she was flying round the course like one of those gazelles and I was in awe of this and many of the other brilliant runners!
For all the fun though there was also the pain I was in and no matter what I did in terms of stretching I couldn’t make that pain go away and by the time I had completed the third loop I was agony. I stopped to chat to Fiona, to talk it through, more with myself than anyone else but she suggested I walk a loop and this was an option that I had been mulling over. However, it also didn’t feel quite right, I was cold and feeling like shit and the thought of another loop for no good reason (I wasn’t going to make the marathon distance) seemed like I’d just be running for the hell of it.
If I stopped here I could regroup – try and figure out what was wrong and get prepared for the next race, the following day and hope that I managed to run better than here.
I trudged up the now mud bath to the finish line to see the 3 hour runners about to start, they had better weather than when we began but it was still going to be a tough day for them. As I crossed the line and informed the lovely volunteer that I was done she looked at me with great sympathy, I’ll be honest I had much sympathy for the volunteers too – this had been a tough day in tough conditions for everyone but I definitely reckon I’d go back!
Distance: Loops (6 hour time limit)
Ascent: 175 metres per lap
Date: February 2022 (usually January)
Location: Chatelherault Country Park
Terrain: Mixed, good trail paths
Tough Rating: 1/5
Post race I crawled back to the car, medal in one hand and sat there for a while, the pain refusing to subside, I left my dry robe on but managed to once more change my soaking shoes and socks into something a little drier and then drove back home still wearing the dry robe but going completely the wrong way to Falkirk – bloody typical. I spent the afternoon and evening after the event with a massage gun pressed into my body that you would be mistaken for thinking I was using it as a sex toy – but no I was just determined not to have a second race negatively affected by my old and knackered body!
Conclusions The best times are often had in the most difficult conditions when you’re running because you feel like you’re achieving something and when I look back on this event I realise that it really was a lovely time, in good company on a great little route.
This isn’t as tough an event as I may have made it sound despite it being in the winter but if conditions are grim then it can feel much harder than it actually is. I really enjoyed the event and I would certainly go back and run for the whole 6 hours instead of bailing at the 3 hour mark. I was sad that injury curtailed my event because for the most part this is certainly one of the better looped events I have ever run and if you’re looking for a genuine trail loop then this would certainly qualify.
Additionally and importantly this is a great value event in a great location with a lovely medal, what more can you ask for about £30 (I don’t remember quite how much it was but it was far too cheap)? The marshalling team were awesome and good fun even in the cold and wet and the organisation was excellent, especially when you consider some of the on the day challenges and the changes that they faced – great job from everyone involved.
If you want further information on this event then you can find them via their website. and we can all look forward to this event returning next year – snow please is my only request, though not in the car park as I’ll want to get home after spending half a dozen hours out on that course!
My review of 2021 was originally intended as a festive podcast (which you can listen to at the player above or by searching ‘ultraboyruns’ on your favourite podcast platform), though time and tide conspired against me to ensure that the episode dropped well late of the festive season but I’m not going to chastise myself too much for that.
But given that the podcast circulation is still quite small I thought I would take the original script and put it into written form too and also because I’m writing this beyond the festive season and with the first race of 2022 under my belt I can be a little less of a festive grump about the whole thing.
Would it surprise you that I’m a miserable shit at Christmas?
It probably comes as no surprise to anyone that really knows me that I am something of a grump at the festive period and originally thought I would share my festive grumpiness in my end of year running review. The benefit is that I get to improve my mood by worsening all of your moods, it’s a cunning plan.
Where to begin?
I think the first thing is that 2021 has felt like something of a lifetime in itself, I am sure we all remember that we started the year in lockdown with limited movement and interaction. The idea of running a race wasn’t on many peoples agendas and it all seemed so far away. But the advent and arrival of the vaccine roll out across the UK brought with it the easing of restrictions and the opportunity to get out and about a bit more.
Once the Scottish Government started to allow us to travel outside of our region we had no hesitation in picking a nice hillwalking route to test out and found ourselves on Cort Ma Law in the Campsies, withing days of the restrictions easing and soon after races started to pop up again.
The first race
My first one of the year was the delayed, inaugural Ultra Scotland 50 (click for race review) which I think was pretty much the first Covid secure Scotttish race to take place after the lockdown and it was a hazy mix of trepidation and relief.
I hadn’t raced since the Ultra North the previous September but that had been in England and this would be my first Scottish race since the Skull Trail Race in March 2020. We’d gone down in the Rona to sleep under stars of Clatteringshaws a few miles from the start in St Johns of Dalry. There was a man playing the bagpipes beautifully that evening, the night sky was clear and the stars twinkled brightly for us and it was a wonderfully serene and delightful pre-race.
The next morning I remember lining up amongst the dozens of grateful runners, all wearing masks and all wondering what a Covid secure event meant, myself included.
But I developed a very swift respect for Wayne Drinkwater and the GB Ultras team who really went out of their way to make sure that they stayed within the rules and that the runners could compete. Now having barely been near a hill in about 6 months I really, really felt the race and injuries really fucked me over quite early on which in turn inhibited my ability to move with any pace downhill and there is no doubt that the whole of the lowlands of Scotland will have heard my wild cursing of my old disintegrating body.
I was however joined in this expedition by a lovely chap called Kieran who was having more issues than I was and while I was running all of the Covid and the associated problems seemed to just disappear. It was such a tough day out on those lowland hills but I found myself holding on and being surprisingly strong at the end. I mean don’t get me wrong I was 100% fucked at the end and I hurt like nobody’s business but more importantly I was back in business – all I needed now was more races to do.
Appetite for more?
The Ultra Scotland 50 had given back my appetite for racing so it was with dismay that there were still races being cancelled left, right and centre, races being moved to make the end of the year jam packed, which could be great fun, but an incredible challenge in terms of the actual running and logistics.
By the time May had arrived I’d seen the postponement (in some cases for a second time) of the Cheviot Goat, the Bonnie Prince Ultra, the Loch Ness 360, the Pennine Bridleway Challenge and Run the Blades, only a complete bastard could fail to have the most tremendous sympathy for the race organisers who time and again seemed to have the rug pulled from under them or where hit by forces outside of their control. This very much wasn’t about me, this was about everyone with runners and organisers alike feeling some form of pinch caused by the pandemic.
Now don’t get me wrong racing isn’t that important in the grand scheme of things but the organisers of these races aren’t making millions of pounds from putting on events and if they can’t be supported by runners or were discovering that the financial issues being caused were too onerous to bother continuing then we might be looking at a post Covid race calendar that seems a little bare.
All we could hope was that restrictions continued to ease and that races could start.
I decided that I couldn’t wait for ultra running to return properly and decided to take advantage of any and all racing opportunities that cropped up and for the first time since social media was invented I found a use for it – uncovering races.
The Sunburn 5…
An early example of this was discovering the amazing team at Trails of Fife, now I have a great deal of affection for Fife, it is a place I enjoy and any opportunity to race will be very seriously considered. Therefore, when the delayed Frostbite 5 (click for race review) was announced as running at the delightful Lochore Meadows Country Park I decided that we once more load up Rona and enjoy a weekend away in anything but frostbite conditions.
At the time I commented that it was more like the Sunburn 5 mile race than the Frostbite 5, but this event offered me an opportunity to test the injury I had sustained at the Ultra Scotland and also to test just how fast I could push myself after years of lethargy and not doing very much running at all.
We had a lovely time at Lochore Meadows in Rona, we went paddle boarding, kayaking and open water swimming, it was a wonderful Saturday – I sort of wondered why I was bothering racing and then as I arrived at the outdoor registration desk I remembered.
There was such a lovely atmosphere at the start, people glad to be back together – some of whom had clearly not seen each other for the duration of the lock down and then there was me watching it all and just soaking it up in one of my favourite places.
With time counting down though I wandered to the start line, which was a few minutes from the registration, and chatted to a few of the runners, I had forgotten what it was like to speak to another runner and just chew fat.
When the race came I found myself hurtling away like someone had put a light under my nutsack and I stayed that way for the next 5 miles, I didn’t slow to look behind me to see if fellow local runner Fiona was there, I didn’t stop to take photographs, I didn’t hesitate to push my old dilapidated body to the limit. I thundered around Lochore Meadows and when I picked up a shadow about a mile from the end I used his influence to force me to go harder, faster and stronger.
I don’t recall the last time that I pushed to the point of my lungs busting but this was it but I did remember to get the action camera out at regular intervals because this was brilliant and I didn’t want to forget it. Everything about this was just awesome, I loved being in the sunshine of one of my favourite places while being cheered on by supporters and I loved the whole experience – the only odd thing was that Covid restrictions meant we had to be given my medal before we started so it weighed heavy in my race vest but by god when I hurled myself across the line I pulled it out and proudly wore it all the way back to Rona.
For all the joy I had here though my year of racing would soon start to unravel and a fall off my paddle board at Loch Lomond a couple of weeks after the Frostbite 5 killed any hopes of my starting The Great Glen Ultra. I was deeply saddened that I was too sore to start the GGU and as the runners were setting off I was lying in Rona less than a mile away from the start trying to get to sleep, annoyed at wasting another opportunity.
I was even more annoyed when we were parked up the next night in Inverness less than 300 metres from the finish and I watched jealously as competitors completed the course. I couldn’t bring myself to go and support the runners as I was simply too miserable and on reflection I realise that this was just me being selfish but I’m good at being selfish sometimes and this was one of those times.
6 races, 9 days
The good news was that the paddleboard injuries did clear up and racing continued throughout the summer with an awesome beach race in St Andrews where I enjoyed the delights of facing a giant fabric lobster in the coastal waves. The Splash n’ Dash (click for race review) also introduced me to the wonderful Yvonne who would get in touch post race and be a wonderful addition to the circle of awesome runners I know.
I followed the Splash n’ Dash on the next day with a jaunt down to Solway Coast to take part in the marathon there (click for race review).
From getting home from one race to leaving for the next race was actually only about 5hrs and so I remember arriving at the event, after a near 4 hour drive, feeling both exhausted and uninterested in running. Some of that feeling can be attributed to the fact that I don’t like road marathons, they are as boring as shit to me and I did consider just turning the car round and heading home.
I got a bit of a second wind and met some of the local runners and also a few of the crowd who hang out with Rachel and Traviss from the Saxons, Normans and Vikings events and I realised that I might be about to have a fun day.
As I trundled along the course, taking in some lovely views across the northern England coast and most southerly of Scottish coastlines I found something I had not experienced in a very long time – a road marathon I could enjoy. This was one of the happiest races I would take part in over the course of 2021 and I would happily go back to the Solway Coast Marathon time and time again, I mean I’d probably be more keen to wear some road shoes to run it but other than that it was brilliant. This was such a small and perfectly formed event that I can’t heap enough praise on it and it had a cracker of a medal too – for more information there is a review of this race at ultraboyruns.com.
Perhaps most importantly I came away from this race with a tremendous amount of self belief and that would be crucial going into the following week where I would face four events over four days at the now infamous ‘Tour of Tameside’.
I’ve written about the Tour of Tameside (click for race review) and spoke about it extensively in the season one finale of the podcast (listen here) and it genuinely saddens me to say that I really disliked the Tour of Tameside. I think the thing is that when you travel a long way to do events you hope that they are good, or at the very least offer you something interesting and the Tour of Tameside offered me nothing positive. I found the tour tedious and energy sapping and over the four events my love of running was mercilessly murdered.
After this series of events I simply stopped running and have struggled ever since to get back into any kind of consistency, it doesn’t help that it was one of these four events that was the proper kick off of my hip flexor injury but it was so much more than that. It was the Covid security of the event which really wasn’t up to scratch, it was the crappy medals, the dull as dishwater routes and on and on.
The highlight of the event was leaving Tameside, a sad indication of how little I enjoyed it.
But finding a chink of light in every shitty experience is something we aim to do and so I found one here! The journey was made more worthwhile in that I finally got to meet the lovely Nicky and Rob who both make my highlights of 2021, meeting them, especially Nicky provided some significant solace against my anguish over attending the Tour of Tameside.
The injury that I picked up though did mean that I was a non-starter the John Lucas Memorial and that was another kick in gonads.
I was also a non-starter at the Speyside Way Ultra because of a logistical parenting issue, although injuries were still there in the background, but I was very much trying to massage them across them start lines and more importantly finish lines.
The Speyside Way DNS was different because the GingaNinja was called into surgery late to try and save an animals life and by the time she got home it was too late for me to make it to the start line and I hadn’t been able to leave the house as I was on parenting duty. It was a case of ‘oh well, can’t be helped’ and I wasn’t as pissed off about it as I thought I would be, perhaps because I knew secretly my body needed more recovery time. That said, getting to the start line of the Speyside Way remains high on my event list and I’ll certainly be looking to start in 2022 or 2023.
The problem really was that this succession of niggles, issues and complications led to a downward mental spiral that I am still addressing, but when you combine it with the physical injury stresses then it should come as no surprise that my end of 2021 was a lot less positive than the start. But as September rolled around and with three shiny new ‘did not starts’ I felt that maybe I might be about to turn a corner and knew that if I completed the Cheviot Goat and all the Ranger Ultras races I would still surpass my goal of 60 ultra marathons since March 2013.
Thankfully, it wasn’t all doom and gloom and when I most needed to find some joy in running I had a truly amazing time at the Great Perthshire Tattie Run (click for race review).
It seems that when you’re most feeling down that those closest to you ride in upon a glittery unicorn and rescue you. The GingaNinja, ASK and I were all competing in different races at the Perthshire Tattie Run, carrying large loads of potatoes and it was such a joyous thing I can’t quite describe it.
It’s one of those things that when you run such a short distance you get a massive buzz because it’s over before its started and to an ultra runner you can just soak it all in, it is a zero pressure race. The Tattie Run at just 1 mile makes you realise how much fun, running can actually be – even when you’ve got 20kg of spuds on your back.
As we left Perth hauling our swag of 32.5kg of spuds and a trio of medals I remember the faces of my two fellow runners and that will be the gift that keeps on giving.
But not all races can be just 1 mile and so there was the return to the ultra marathon distance in September and although my hip flexor remained a constant issue I had decided to run. The event was part of a grand slam series of races that I should have completed in 2020 but the old C word put the kybosh on that so I instead took part in the 2021 edition starting with the Pennine Bridleway 55 (click for race review).
The trouble was that the grand slam was taking part over a 7 week rather than 7 month period because it had been condensed together after the April edition of the Pennine Bridleway was delayed due to restrictions at the time.
I concluded that I didn’t want to wait another year to try my hand at these events and so I found myself working towards the start line of the PB55.
Now had I realised that the Peak District is about 6 hours away from where I live and that my partners working schedule meant that I couldn’t leave until she arrived home at about 9pm the night before the race I might have thought somewhat differently about doing these. However, I loaded the car with litres of coffee, chocolate and milkshake and rolled up to a very small and perfectly formed event and although the hard packed nature of the trail would be an absolute shit for my body I did indeed enjoy myself. I met so many wonderful people, I ran alongside some truly exceptional athletes and I found in the organisers a team I really liked.
What I will admit is I really didn’t enjoy the afterwards of searching for diesel during the middle of the fuel crisis, nor did I enjoy the English approach to Covid that I was witnessing, because by the summer of 2021 people seemed to have forgotten or where choosing to ignore the pandemic and that was troubling.
However, despite my reservations about returning to England I looked forward to testing myself on what looked to be the highlight of the grand slam – the Yorkshire Three Peaks Ultra (click for race review).
Three bloody peaks
The Yorkshire Three Peaks Ultra was both a little bit closer to me in terms of travel albeit with the same logistical issues but I turned up to a truly brilliant event, even better than the PB55, it was a bigger and therefore a bigger atmosphere but it just had a real buzz about it that I got right into the groove of.
I’ve already said all I need to say about how great Ranger Ultras are; some might accuse me of ‘licking the hole’ but actually they just know how to organise a damn fine event and as the Yorkshire Three Peaks brutalised the fuck out of me I realised just how much Stu Westfield and the team understood ultra running.
I delighted in the up and I delighted in the down of this race – I mean it is true to say that the injuries that had been furthered during the Pennine Bridleway really fucked me over here but that didn’t stop me from finishing the 70km version of the event with a smile, at least inside I was smiling.
Outwardly I was obviously angry as I had failed to complete the 100km version of the event and therefore my grand slam was over – something that I was really hoping to achieve but it just wasn’t to be and as I drifted in and out of conciousness during my drive home along the M74 I chastised myself regularly for that failure.
Not making the grand slam, primarily because of the injuries I had sustained in the earlier part of the year drew into question whether I would bother turning up for the final two races of the slam, there seemed little point and with the Cheviot Goat a couple of weeks afterwards it seemed like I should remain at home but with my name at the top of the ‘points leaderboard’ I felt like this was an opportunity I could grasp
On reflection and after what happened I wish I hadn’t bothered but I did.
I recall sitting in the kitchen with the GingaNinja and saying, ‘I’m top of the Ranger Ultras leaderboard, well joint top…’ The GingaNinja looked at me in a bemused way and replied, ‘but you’re a terrible runner’.
And this was were my vexation came from, I am a terrible runner and therefore I shouldn’t be at the top of a leader board simply for turning up – a point I made to the race organisers when I next saw them, which handily was just a few days after the conversation with the GingaNinja took place.
I rolled up for a weekend of running in the Peaks amongst people I had come to consider friends and comrades, old and new but I left feeling deflated and distraught about running (click for race review).
In short the first day of the racing had gone pretty badly, I had a suspected broken foot and my hips were in pieces, added to this was the ignomy of being DNF’d from the event despite finishing the first day and this meant that I couldn’t reach 60 ultras this year no matter what happened at the Cheviot Goat.
I knew that I had done something serious to my foot and I should have DNF’d at about mile 2 but I didn’t because I believed, incorrectly, that a finish on day one would count towards my ultra total – a total that I am ultimately proud of as it a testament to my mental attitude in the face of being a piss poor athlete. But to finish day one of the Peaks North & South weekend and have it not count and therefore be a waste of my effort, left a very sour taste in my mouth.
Don’t get me wrong it was my mistake and I accept that, I should have checked the rules and I should have checked the route (which was mostly very hard packed and not suited to someone as injury prone as I can be). Had the organisers DNS’d me for day two and allowed me the finish for day one I would have been very happy with that, I could have tried to get ready for the Goat and reach 60 ultras that way but instead it brought to a close my grand slam adventure in the least satisfying of ways.
That being said all the hundreds of positive points of racing with Ranger Ultras remain true and I would certainly say they are worthy of consideration – especially the Yorkshire Three Peaks Ultra. And for the most part I have nothing but the highest regard and the highest of praise for Stu Westfield and the whole of the Ranger Ultras family.
Six to eight what?
My attendance at the first day of the Peaks North & South double did though create a quandary of whether I would be making the Cheviot Goat because my foot was looking pretty grim and when I went to the hospital I was advised that a minimum of 6-8 weeks without running was in order. Well of course what I heard was 6 to 8 days and so I planned to be on the start line with 10 days of no running and careful planning to get me round.
I ordered new kit, lots of it in order to give me an even lighter weight advantage against the various injuries that had plagued me in the second half of the year, I lurked around social media as other people commented on the route, the storm, the bogs and even whether to take crampons!
I had decided I would leave it until the last second to decide if I would go and then as my bags were packed, my kit was selected and the car was ready to go the Cheviot Goat was cancelled.
The Goat was never going to be the final event of the year for me but it would be the final significant one and it was hugely disappointing not to be testing myself in the cold of Northumberland. However, whatever I was feeling about the Goat would be inconsequential compared to the distress that would be caused to the organisers and anyone else affected by the ravages of Storm Arwen.
I’m fortunate in that I will line up next year at The Goat and I will thank the whole team for their efforts because they really deserve it. I’m hopeful I’ll get to see many of them in January as I have signed up for the Winter Wipeout from Cold Brew events and I can’t wait to get out there (having now run this you can read the review here).
But before the Winter Wipeout, 2021 isn’t quite over, I have a festive 7km to run with the family in a few days time and this will be ASKs biggest race distance (click for race review) and after her outstanding performance at the rather hilly Edinburgh MoRun in November I am pretty convinced that she has what it takes to make the step up to 7km and beyond.
So 2021 hasn’t been a waste but it certainly hasn’t been a success and I’m sad about that but we live and learn, well we live anyway.
Best of 2021?
Despite the shit show that 2021 appeared to be there were several big highlights, obviously there was the general return to racing but there were some significant specifics that really made a memorable mark on me – Shaun for example at the White Peaks 50km, the time I spent with him was very, very memorable. Seeing the joy on ASKs face as she earned a second medal at the MoRun. Running into the sea at St Andrews to chase down a man dressed as a Lobster was perhaps the funniest thing I did in racing this year but the absolute highlight would probably be the time I spent with the wonderful Kieran at the Ultra Scotland 50, it was simply the most glorious few hours of running I did this year with much swearing done, lots of pain and just general big kids pissing about in the hills, desperate to finish! I suppose that’s the thing about the running I do its all solo except for when I go racing and then I delight in the people that I meet.
There is probably a lesson in that statement for me, if only I could see it…
Of course one other event took place that I haven’t mentioned here yet and this is the Craggy Island Triathlon – an event I didn’t take part in but I had an instrumental role in because my partner was racing in it and I was volunteering. Perhaps the best thing I did in 2021 was that at the end of the race, infront of everyone I chose to ask her to marry me – something that will have wide ranging implications well beyond 2021 and most people think that after 13 years it was about time.
What went so badly wrong with 2021?
I’m usually pretty good at identifying the big issue that caused the ruining of my year but in 2021 it was different, I’m struggling to put my finger on it. I mean I know the big causes of the unravelling and that was the hip flexor injury but beyond this there was the mental unravelling that began with the Tour of Tameside and that is something that no physiotherapist or rest will help.
The real shit is that I did lots of the right things for a change, my weight dropped, I did training, I did cross training, I did stretching, I went for regular physiotherapy sessions, I returned to writing the blog, I started the podcast but nothing ever really went very well, all of the races had twinges, all the efforts felt laboured and as a new year approaches I hope to leave that sense of foreboding and wheezing behind me.
What did I learn to take into 2022?
Well I’d like to say that I learnt lots from 2021 that will better inform my racing next year but the truth be told I’m such an old stick in the mud that I’ll just repeat the same old mistakes again – I’m full of good intentions that just never happen, however, I’m going to try and do the things I did well in 2021 again and avoid the things I did badly in 2021 and we’ll see if I make it through a full calendar or events.
Running in a COVID world
Running in a COVID world was initially very odd but by the end I appreciated it and I found that being in Englandshire were rules were relaxed much more quickly than they have been in Scotland I found myself rather more nervous than when closer to home.
I didn’t enjoy a lot of what I saw in England and the attitude towards Covid and I’m grateful for Scotland’s tighter restrictions and peoples desire to follow the rules. I feel that covid guidance will very significantly influence my 2022 decision making regarding the races that I run.
Best running event of 2021?
This is a tough one, especially as I managed not to start three of the events I was due to run and at the time of the original writing of this I had yet to decide if I was to run the Cheviot Goat, although that decision was taken out of everyone’s hands when the event was cancelled at the last moment because of local council declaring an emergency.
At the time of writing I would say that the highlight of the year has been the Yorkshire Three Peaks, this was a real bastard of a route and a genuine trail which I 100% loved. I was a little sad not to run the extra 30km but I’m not sure I missed much as it would just have been for time on my feet rather than enjoyment. I found great joy in the organisation and the team behind Ranger Ultras and though there was a bitterness left after being DNF’d rather than DNS’d at day 2 of the Peaks weekend I cannot deny my general love of the guys who put the Ranger Ultras events on.
I would also add that running the MoRun around Holyrood Park with my family was also genuinely brilliant and to witness was 7 year old, as the youngest runner on the course, not only finish but also finish well, was a real joy.
The only bitterness I have regarding this is that I know she could have shaved about 8 minutes off her time but we decided that we would run it as a family and that meant running at the pace of our slowest runner, the GingaNinja. Maybe next year we’ll run a few races without mum!
Best bit of kit of 2021?
I bought a shit load of kit in 2021, perhaps to make up for the fact that I really didn’t buy very much in 2020 – there were several new pairs of Topo Athletic running shoes including the excellent Terraventure 3 and the MTN Racer 2, both of which performed brilliantly in every scenario I hurled at them.
There was also the brilliant Montane Gecko VP+ 12 which was a replacement for brilliantly flawed Salomon ADV Skin 12 which destroyed the skin on my back at both the Pennine Bridleway 55 and the Yorkshire Three Peaks Ultra.
There was also much purchase of many, many running tops as I restocked my Ronhill long sleeved options and bought up what seemed like the last of the amazingly designed and garish original Oddballs training tops.
There was also the addition of the Insta360 One X2 as I looked to diversify the type of footage I shoot for the blog and the other social channels and I found this to be a lot of fun and having finally sourced a second battery for it I can start to take it on races with me.
But the best bits of kit I bought in 2021 were actually unrelated to running.
I’ve always been a bit of a one trick pony, in that my only hobby has been running, I talk running, I breathe running, I live running and I bore to death anyone I come across because of my fascination with running (and poo stories related to running). Therefore, it comes as a bit of surprise that my best bit of kit this year is probably my new paddling gear which includes a Liquid Logic Lil’ Joe river running kayak and a Pyhrana Surfjet 2.0 – these along with ASK’s love of paddle boarding means that we have another active avenue which we can explore together, although I am bitterly disappointed that the 5km New Years Day paddleboard race that I had entered has been cancelled.
Boo fucking hoo, I hear you cry! Ha! I never thought I’d say this but if you’re a runner and you’re a running bore like me, get another hobby to go alongside it, its awesome!
A couple of weeks ago I’d have said that the future is more of the same but there were issues at my race that have really given a kick in the nutsack that make me wonder if running is for me.
Don’t get me wrong, I love running, I love the long distance running and getting lost inside myself, I love the writing and podcasting that comes with it and I love sharing my adventures but the costs just keep rising and I don’t mean the financial implications (although ask me about that after my Ultimate Directions Fastpack 20 arrives from France and I’ve got a stinking import duty bill to pay).
What I mean is that my body is suffering and suffering increasingly badly and the pay-offs are getting less and less.
So when I travelled 6 hours to the Peak District and finished day one of the Ranger Ultras races and thought I had earned a finish and possibly even a medal but it turned out that what I’d earnt was fuck all other than a DNF and an exhausting 6 hour drive home, that really doesn’t help create enthusiasm for racing.
Now take out the fact that I really like the guys who run the Ranger Ultras stuff this means that their cheap as chips event was actually incredibly expensive to me with nothing to show for it, well except that DNF and a visit to the X-ray department to see if I had broken my foot… oh and the likelihood that I wouldn’t be making it to the next race.
Even if I’d had the best day out in all the racing I’ve ever done this still probably wouldn’t have been worth all the effort and I’ll be honest it wasn’t a bad day out, but it certainly wasn’t anywhere the best. If it had been an isolated incident then maybe I could just put it down to one of those things but there is no doubt that the Ultra Scotland 50, for all that it gave, left me feeling a little deflated and lonely, in the running sense.
So the future of my running has to be to do things that really, really float my boat and to that end I’d originally looked at starting the year with a paddle board race, but this has been cancelled, so instead I’ve decided to join the GingaNinja for a weekend of running – she’s doing the Kielder 10km Night Run and then the following morning we’ll be off for me to face the Cold Brew Events Winter Wipeout that I have already mentioned – although the GingaNinjas race has been cancelled and it is just my event to run now!
Then I’m doing a couple of local looped ultras in January and February followed hopefully by a return to Kent for a 900 mile round trip to race 10 epic miles around Vigo and I’ve just added in a 6hour looped event with my old friends at SVN events – so that’ll be a nice amble down memory lane.
I’ll finish up the races that have hung over from 2020 such as the Loch Ness 360 and the Bonnie Prince Ultra as well as Run the Blades and then I’ll find more of those low key ball busters I love. Maybe the Cairngorms Ultra or Glen Lyon both of which I have been keen to try, maybe the Ochils Ultra which I was sick as a dog on when I attempted it in 2019 and if Covid allows it is about time I returned to the SainteLyon, my favourite ultra marathon and the best race experience I have ever had.
Perhaps the other thing that I will doing in 2022 is finally getting my running group up and moving, it is the thing that I am most nervous about because it creates a responsibility and a timetable that I might need to adhere to but that is in the near future and should be up and running by the time the first real episode of the second season of the podcast comes around.
Keep your fingers crossed for me.
But if I only learn one lesson this year and its that I really need to run the stuff I want to rather than run the stuff that fits.
Thanks for reading, this may not have been very interesting but there might have been some things in my own musings that you are considering yourself, especially about how to deal with things going wrong. And if any of you wish to get in touch with me you can do so at email@example.com and I’m always going to be happy to chat through running or adventuring and the highs and lows associated.
Running can be lonely and if the pandemic has taught us anything it is that we need to grasp opportunity and be more open to those opportunities.
So that’s the end of 2021 and my review of it, the blog has already started for 2022 and so has the podcast. I’m sure I’ll be sharing more of my adventures via Instagram throughout the year and more episodes of the podcast will be coming later in the year – hopefully it will be a 10 episode season where I will be looking at things like wild camping with a child, my top 5 ultra marathons, kit reviews including OMM running packs and Topo Athletic shoes as well as interviews with more runners who are much like myself – just trying to get along.
In the meantime, enjoy your running and see you next time.
Below are links to reviews of my 2021 events listed above.
Let me explain the title of this post, basically 13 days before Christmas my much loved and well behaved daughter decided to go full bat poo on us and choose that very moment to ramp up the selfish and unkind behaviour and directed it, not at her parents but, at the two little girls who were visiting for a playdate.
Now we’ve seen a little upswing in low self esteem and negative selfish behaviour over the last few months and we’ve been keen to educate it away – however, education alone has not proved successful and so I found myself writing to her as Santa to express his displeasure and to notify her that she was bottom of the naughty list, I banned chocolate until January, television until February, Nintento until February and all indoor playdates and parties until the day after her 8th birthday.
I did however couple this with a learning and experience agenda that would highlight and encourage more selfless, confidence building behaviour. That agenda was set up with 12 days to go until Christmas with a requirement to reach 100 tasks complete of the 200 available.
The one thing I didn’t ban was sport, and in particular running.
I’m not stupid. I like running, she comes with me and this is an example of positive selfishness that benefits us both and so I come to the outstanding time we had in the company of Blast Running Santa Dash with just 6 days to go before Christmas.
Some months ago I contacted the team at Blast Running because I was very keen to have ASK start to increase her race distances as well as her training distances. I asked the question, ‘would my 7 year old be able to compete?’
The answer ultimately was yes, although with a couple of caveats which I assume ensure that all the relevant rules of the sport were being followed. I had zero issue with remaining with her for the duration of the race and I had no doubt that she wouldn’t finish last, nor would she need to walk any of the distance.
However, training had been somewhat haphazard because of all the injuries that I had picked up over the previous few months and she isn’t old enough for me to allow her to go running on the trails on her own. We did a couple of 7km trails runs in training but included a couple of hundred metres of elevation each time to ensure on race day she would be able to run the 7km without any bother.
The big issue would be the GingaNinja who had not really been training since the Craggy Island Triathlon and so she wasn’t 100% sure she would race, couple that with the fact she’d had the booster injection two days before and it was touch and go. Thankfully the Covid booster was mostly fine for her, although it knocked me for six and there was a big question mark for a while over whether I would recover in time for the start of the race.
Thankfully as the moist, thick fog descended upon central Scotland we were in the car and heading towards Crammond and all of us dressed for racing. We’d gone a bit early as we wanted to ensure that we got a decent parking spot near the registration point.
We pulled up with about a dozen other early risers all awaiting the opening of the registration – there was nothing to do now but admire the other athletes from the comfort of the car.
I was really surprised at just how busy the race was, but with multiple running options including a 21km, 14km, relay and our choice, a 7km, it made sense that lots of runners would turn out.
Eventually we joined the line to register and were soon pinning numbers to our fronts and changing our footwear in preparation for the off. Wityh the clock counting down to the start time of 10.15am we finally left registration point and took the five minute walk down to the start line amongst the throngs of other runners.
Despite the moisture in the air and the threat of rain on this mid December morning there was a lovely warm atmosphere amongst the runners and we chatted with some of the other guys. ASK though was a bit chilly at this point and very keen to get started and I hoped that we would be off soon as I wasn’t sure how long my little athlete would remain happy to run if she got any chillier. To create some distration from the chill we set ASK the challenge of identifying the competition in the 7km race and she scoured the numbers on peoples chests to see who we had to try and keep ahead of. She noted a few speedy looking racing snakes and identified a few runners that we might pick off if a bit of overtaking was possible.
And then it was off.
I was somewhat surprised by the pace of the runners but ASK and I were scurrying along rather nicely and then I looked behind us and noted that the GingaNinja was struggling with the pace and so I called over to the little one and suggested that we hang back a little bit and that her selfless act for the day would be to support her mum in the Santa Dash effort.
ASK took her new role very seriously and softened the pace which allowed mum to begin to catch us.
The nice thing about Crammond is that it’s flat and you could pretty much see the whole route from the start line, or you could at least figure out where the turnaround point would be and this meant that I could keep both of my little team of runners focused.
Now it is fair to say that the GingaNinja looked a little bit miffed, I wasn’t 100% sure why but I could hazard a guess that it was a combination of her 7 year old daughter having to restrain her pace combined with an annoyance about her own recent lack of training. However, we were here now and the kilometres were slowly but surely falling and all I could do was make sure that everyone had a fun time.
I advised ASK that as long as I could see her then she was free to run ahead and I would work with the GingaNinja to get her moving a bit quicker.
However, I still had to work within the framework that Blast Running had set out for us so whenever ASK would start to pull away from us or start to get out of sight I would sprint along and catch up to her, ensuring she slowed up a little bit – I’d also get her to hurl out some inspirational words to mum, because apparently when I do it I’m being a patronising prick but when the child does it it comes from the heart.
My only concern with the child was that she might burn out a little bit as the kilometres counted down but at the halfway point as we stared across to Crammond Island itself she looked tremendous and was keen to go quicker but even keener to make amends for her selfish behaviour the previous weekend and so didn’t complain when I insisted that we stay with the GingaNinja.
My only desire now was that we didn’t finish last but as the race continued it was clear that it would tight at the back of the field, now it wasn’t that we were running that slowly but it was slowly enough that we were losing ground on the runners in front of us and the runners behind were catching us.
Beyond the turnaround point we were joined for a kilometre or so by Mrs Claus and for a while ASK was oblivious to the fact that both her parents had dropped off the pace and were simply watching her running along the beachfront but then we remembered our responsibilities as parents and rejoined her.
ASK was running slowly enough and with enough confidence now that she was now chewing the ear off Mrs Claus and having been on the receiving end of ASKs verbal diarrhoeaI felt compelled to save the lady and let her continue without her little festive elf.
We were then caught by a gentleman who was dressed head to toe as a Christmas tree, there was glitter and sparkle all over the place and ASK was in hogs heaven as she looked upon this amazing sight.
The chap dressed as a Christmas tree was generous in his praise of ASK, presumably in part because she was going quite slowly, but hopefully more that he was impressed someone so young could complete such a distance. What he probably didn’t realise was that ASK was running at around 90 seconds slower per kilometre than usual.
Eventually though we said goodbye to the wonder that was the running Christmas tree and with 5km down we pushed onwards. Now slowly but surely we were pulling away from the GingaNinja and it was getting harder to slow down sufficiently to keep us together.
It was now important though that ASK stayed warm in these final kilometres because it’s pretty easy for a little 7 year old with no fat on her to get a bit chilly and then an opportunity arose…
I saw that the route was about to enter a little loop and so ASK and I began to pull away knowing that we would meet the GingaNinja again, this was a much needed leg stretcher. We started picking up the pace and ASK showcased just how much energy she still had in the tank – It was amazing to think that this was her first time racing at this distance.
‘Shall we race to the finish dad?’ she asked.
Oh how I wanted to say yes but I felt that we had come this far as a family and so we slowed down one final time and let the GingaNinja catch us and then began the run in to the finish. Thankfully there were still several hundred metres and the GingaNinja insisted that we all run it in as fast as we could, whatever speed that may be and so as we passed the final corner I shouted to ASK that she needed to sprint it in. Watching the mini-me press the afterburner was something that really delighted me, both feet were flying off the ground and all I could do was watch in awe and bark, ‘faster, faster!’
At the finish line there was a lovely noise from the crowd willing my daughter home and as she thundered across the line a giant smile erupted her face. Meanwhile I had stopped short of the finish, much to the confusion of one of the marshals but I wanted to ensure that the GingaNinja, who was about 20 seconds behind us, finished ahead of me.
There was a family cuddle at the finish, a medal, a giant sense of elation and a bucket load of relief.
What a great race!
Ascent: 12 metres
Date: December 2021
Tough Rating: 1/5
The first thing to mention is that Blast Running put on a tremendously well organised event and in the tumult of all the Covid madness they managed to make all the necessary changes to ensure that the event was complaint with the regulations. The team also managed to provide toilets, parking and most importantly a big warm welcome, as a Blast Running first timer I was suitably impressed.
The thing I am most grateful to Blast Running for though is that they allowed my 7 year old daughter to compete in a field of runners that spanned all ages and abilities and she had such an outstanding experience that we will be looking to replicate it in races across Scotland in 2022 (that of course give out medals).
I suppose the important question is how did ASK feel after this event?
Well obviously in the immediate afterglow she was 100% elated but the good news is that the afterglow lasted long into the Christmas week and she has taken heart from this performance and also from supporting the GingaNinja as she returned to running. There were no negatives on the day and no negatives in the aftermath for my little athlete.
The route was superb and the perfect Santa Dash location – an out and back with sea views and a bit of traditional Scottish weather, I really couldn’t have asked for more. I even enjoyed the little walk down to the start line, I think something like that helps to build excitement with the other competitors and it really helps build atmosphere.
The medal was wonderful and full of festive cheer, I loved this too – it’s been a while since I last earnt a festive medal and my first festive one made of wood. I shall cherish mine as a constant reminder of racing 7km with my family and I know that my daughter and other half will long cherish their medals too.
All in all I can say that I highly recommend Blast Running and you can find out more about them and their other events at their website here, I shall certainly be trying some of their other events and maybe if they’ll let me bring her along, ASK can show the running community what she’s really made of.
Thanks to Mike3Legs for the excellent professional photography
So this weekend I should be running The Montane Cheviot Goat, I’ve been excited about this for a long time now – probably about 3 years since I first entered it but was injured in the run up and so did not start the race in 2018.
I entered again only for the pandemic to delay the start several times and so we come to Wednesday, today, two days before I need to leave home and drive down to Northumberland and begin a race I have long admired.
Here’s the rub though, there are issues, positives and negatives. What do I do?
This is a race that I have long wanted to run.
The organisers have pulled out all the stops to make sure the event goes ahead after storm Arwen.
Running and racing in winter is one of my favourite things to do.
I get to use all the new gear I have bought for this event.
I get out of going to my daughters piano recital.
I get to link up with the likes of the awesome Ian Braizer and Kate Allen.
It’s another opportunity to race.
My hip flexor and abductor are fucked.
After my foot injury in the Peak District two weeks ago I have not run since.
Covid and its variants are on the rise.
Storm Arwen damage may make it more challenging both on the day and logistically for all concerned.
I am navigationally challenged.
I was advised by the doctor who looked at my foot 2 weeks ago that I need 6-8 weeks of rest from running for reasons I’m not allowed to publish in case the GingaNinja reads this. The doctor did confirm though that I didn’t fracture my foot as this would have made me an immediate DNS.
Being fucked off by the White Peaks 50km has left me in a bit of a funk about running.
There is the fear of a Goat DNF.
I haven’t run an overnight race in about 3 years.
I’m not a very good driver and fear being caught and stranded in snow with nothing but a shitload of chocolate for company.
I’m not worried about the weather or the underfoot conditions or anything like that I worry about not being able to finish or being the stupid bastard that needs the mountain rescue. In fairness to myself I’ve got good mountain skills for the most part, save for being a bit navigationally challenged (though I’ve bought a Garmin Etrex as back up to my Fenix 6X to help with that) and I can read a map to a point.
I’m more concerned about my hip flexor injury and my foot both of which may make a finish unlikely but its a proper trail race and my hip flexors stand up to trail better than they do tarmac and so maybe that might mitigate the problem enough to get me round. The foot though is an unknown that might rear its ugly mug or not show up at all.
Maybe I’m worried about nothing but the question remains ‘to Goat or not to Goat’?
Have you ever had one of those days where you think that if the ground opened up and swallowed you whole to be digested over a thousand year period that your day was probably about to improve?
Then you, dear reader, have some idea about what my day at the Yorkshire Three Peaks Ultra was like. Rest assured though, and for those that won’t be reading to the lengthy end, the Y3PU is a stunningly brilliant event, so whats the story?
Beep, beep, beep, thwack, ugh, I’m up.
There I was in my bed dreaming about being Luke Skywalker when the series of noises above meant it was about 2am and I was getting up to head to Hawes in Yorkshire for the second of four races in the Ranger Ultras Grand Slam.
As I stood in the shower I felt resolute about the 100km race I was soon to embark upon, what I felt a lot less resolute about was my confidence in my the hip flexor injury that I’d picked up at the Pennine Bridleway, a few weekends earlier, that was getting worse and not better.
Dressed, I headed downstairs for a breakfast of champions – chocolate milkshake, coffee and Shredded Wheat (not all in one bowl). I’d have liked a few minutes to relax but I focused instead on trying to push out that pre-race dump but having had three or four days of the galloping trots there was nothing doing. So, after kissing the family goodbye and having a final kit check whilst hiding under the boot of car from the hurtling rain, I departed.
Yes I departed only to be met by a closed motorway… oh joy I thought as I swung off the motorway and followed the ridiculous directions from Google. Still despite my false start I was still primed to arrive a little before 7am and if I gave it a bit of welly down the M74 I’d probably have enough time to have a second crack at that pre-race poo.
I’d usually opt for some serious singing or big happy tunes on the way to a race but for a change I was listening to BBC 5Live because it’s sometimes reassuring to listen to people mad enough to call in to be on the radio in the middle of the night because they’re even less sane than those of us who choose ultra marathon running as our sport.
Anyway, after a couple of hours of listening to insomniacs that call talk radio I swapped the fast quiet motorway driving for a spot of relatively busy dark country lanes. Now armed with about a litre and a half of strong coffee in my veins I moved swiftly, albeit it nervously. It was quite a long way from Tebay (my motorway turn off) to Hawes and I didn’t enjoy it and when the tight country lanes finally abated at the entrance to the picturesque town of Hawes I was very grateful.
I parked up in the excellent local facility and grabbed myself a bit more rocket fuel and a pouch of Icelandic superberry yoghurt! I know how to live don’t I? Thankfully now as fuelled as I was going to get I slipped onto my Japanese mattress in the back of the car and began the ‘dance of the lube’.
The ‘dance of the lube’ is where I try and squeeze my running lubrication stick in a variety of body shaped holes in order to reduce the problem of chaffing whilst simultaneously contorting my body into shapes I didn’t know it could make to ensure the lube stick didn’t end up stuck in one of my body shapes.
Ah success, my nipples, nut sack, toes, arsehole and everywhere else should once more be free from the threat of chaffing. I chose to wear kit option one for today because although it was chilly and there was moisture in the air it didn’t look horrendous. So it was bamboo base layer, long sleeved ronhill top, omm 3/4 leggings, some dirty girl gaiters, Drymax socks and an old friend to accompany on one final ultra marathon – my Altra Lone Peak 3.5 – I was dressed.
The one thing I did seriously consider though was the choice of race vest.
There were two things, the first was should I wear the Salomon ADV Skin 12 which might have been responsible for some nasty, nasty chaffing at the Pennine Bridleway 55 and second should I bother packing it at all given that Ranger Ultras seem to take kit checks very seriously and I’d only end up unpacking it all anyway.
In the end I decided to wear the ADV Skin 12 and pack it to race – both would be a mistake!
I got chatting to a lovely, and tough as anything I’d surmise, chap called Chris who was in the car next to me. We shared a bit of chat about the race, locality and the mistakes we had both made in pissing off our respective other halves. It was good to know it wasn’t just me. But with time ticking on we went our separate ways and I ambled down to the welcome and hustle and bustle of the village hall.
This was so very different from the Pennine Bridleway 55 which had been very casual, very intimate – this was a bigger event and yet despite being bigger it felt warm, cosy and like you’d arrived at your grans house where she’d put the kettle on and laid out some fruitcake. However, be under no illusion that’s where Ranger Ultras and a pleasant elderly lady comparisons end, because in the background and behind the warmth and smiles it was all action.
I was directed to the correct number collection and then warmly welcomed by the remarkably jolly Race Director Stu Westfield. I like Stu, he embodies the positive attitude that I’ve always associated with ultra running. He then directed me over to the kit check where I was asked to show my map(s), waterproof jacket, headtorch and bivvy bag.
Now I’m all for a kit check, I believe it is vital to ensure that runners going out into potentially difficult conditions have at least the basics covered but I should have learnt by now – don’t pack my kit before the check. I started emptying my race vest all over the table in search of the four key items, the interesting thing was then that when I finally managed to get my waterproof jacket out the lovely and rather thorough gent then took it out of its stuff sack to check for both the taped seams and the hood.
Having cleared number collection and kit check I took up residence at one of the tables set up in the hall to begin putting my kit back together, fold, twist, squeeze, crush, pack and relax. Some minutes later I found myself sat quietly watching the hall fill up with runners bimbling around doing their thing. I chatted to a few of the others including the lovely Shaun who had travelled about as far as I had to test himself at the Yorkshire Three Peaks Ultra and Danny who had the finest of moustaches and was celebrating his 30th birthday.
I noticed that much like the Pennine Bridleway 55 there was a big kitchen accessible to the runners and individual breakfast bits to chow down on pre-laid out for us – I didn’t partake of any of this but I know lots of the competitors did. I enjoyed this period of watching, listening and chatting – the calm before the storm I suppose you might describe it as but the storm was coming and so as the 9 o’clock start approached the RD started to gently organise the runners into the Pen-Y-Ghent 50km competitors and the Y3PU competitors and suddenly it felt like we were off.
Well it would have been brilliant if I hadn’t done something stupid with my Garmin and managed to not set it up properly and found myself running down the beautiful little main street of Hawes attempting to correct my technical error so that the watch could guide me from here to the end. Thankfully I wasn’t suddenly and unexpectedly required to navigate via the map that I had securely stowed in my pack – no, I had managed to get the GPX up and running and I was away.
Well it would have been brilliant if I hadn’t found myself as part of a tunnel or sausage roll of runners trying to get through a tiny little gap in the path – I know someone local will know what these are called but I don’t. I joke, actually it was nice to have a moments to look up and finally see the Yorkshire in all its misty, moist glory.
But to the running, the competitors, made up of all shapes and sizes jumped, leaped, stepped and meandered through the series of little gates and across fields, paths, mud and trail and suddenly we were in a race. What I knew was that there was a decent stretch, probably about 10 miles or so that made up the outward section to our first of the three peaks and this meant that post the three peaks there would be 10 miles or so to run back to the finish. Basic maths then puts me in for about 20 miles or so of hills and that meant there should be lots of trail and not too much tarmac – yummy!
What I hadn’t expected, because I am in no way familiar with the area, was how tough that outward section would be. I found myself daydreaming to a few hours in the future and what I might look like as I wearily wended my way back. However, I was also having a lovely and busy time meeting runners on the route, recounting tales of misery and woe to all who wanted listen and some that didn’t. The route really was a trail and it was amazingly beautiful, even on a day when the weather had closed in all around us I could really appreciate the magnificence of Yorkshire.
What I knew was that the ground was mostly firm and running conditions were perfect and I really took advantage of this in the early stages of the race, pushing as hard as I could and remembering the advice of ultra running legend Traviss Wilcox, ‘get through the first half as fast as you can and survive the second half’. I took this advice to heart and was sticking to it dogmatically as I pushed up the climbs as fast as I could. I gave no ground in these early stages and made good progress through the field and when we hit ground that was a little flatter I put on what I would refer to as a bit of a spurt.
Well it would have been brilliant if I hadn’t had my hip flexor give up the fight at about 1km in. I was injured, there was no doubt about it and so when I reached the flat and pushed the accelerator I was fully aware that the pain that was running through my groin, leg and hip was only going to get worse as the race wore on.
The lovely thing though was that I was really enjoying myself – something that has been largely missing from my running in recent times and with the grand slam still in play I wanted to leave nothing out here and that required me to keep my spirits up and remember why I love this.
The straight stretch seemed to go on forever but in the distance I could see signs of life and what looked like a checkpoint, no time to stop and no need either – my bottles were for the most part full and I still had a good amount of food on board so I waved at the volunteers (one of whom recognised me from the PB55) and then looked into the face of the first major descent.
This is how the Yorkshire Three Peaks Ultra really fucks with you, it lulls you into a false sense of security, for example the descent here looked pretty benign and a bit banal and without much to think about but when you considered that you would be coming back up this slow, long, ascent then it looked pretty cruel. I remember thinking that on the descent that my quads were feeling it and that I wished I had my MTN Racer on instead of my Lone Peaks because I’d have been more inclined to run harder downhill in them rather than accept the soft pillow-like feel of my Altra.
I was running with Gareth and Paul at this point and they had been excellent company and excellent navigators, if memory serves both had been here before and knew what they were talking about. As is the way though with ultra marathons you really must run your own race and so although we reached the checkpoint together I don’t really remember seeing much more of them, they must have sped away from me and that was just fine.
At the checkpoint I realised this was the last stop before the first of the three peaks and I had no intention of going up without filling the water bottles, topping up the active root and also having something to eat. I stuffed in my big fat gob a couple of the big purple ones from the quality street and a strawberry cream to help wash down the nuts.
I thanked the volunteers, left and caught sight of the viaduct that dominates the landscape on this part of the route. At 400 metres long and with 24 arches the Ribblehead Viaduct is an imposing and impressive sight amongst all the greenery and I very much enjoyed running alongside it. However, the sightseeing was put to one side as the route moved gently upwards and around, all the time moving towards the first peak of Whernside.
As you approach Whernside it really doesn’t look like much at all but it is a bit of a knacker kicker really. First of all there’s the long lonely path, punctuated only by a succession of hikers all wondering why they are out and about in the rain. I trundled along perfectly merrily albeit rather slowly, my hip was at its worst when going uphill and even the presence of my running poles wasn’t enough to mitigate the effect on my pace. Runners who had been minutes behind me were now catching me and despite my best intentions I didn’t feel like I had it in me to push.
The sight of a fellow runner just below me, Michelle, was a nice break and for a few minutes chatted about running and life and I genuinely found this the perfect antidote to the climb – if I didn’t say it at the time, ‘thanks’ it was really appreciated.
Eventually though my companion disappeared into the mist and I continued upwards and eventually was rewarded with a summit full of young adults snd a rather wet gentleman attempting to assert some control. It was here that Danny, he of the moustache, ran past…
Well it was brilliant, Danny had a real zing about him, his voice was soothing and his words were kind and as we began the descent I realised he was going to be much stronger than me and I wouldn’t be able to match his pace but that didn’t stop me trying because the benefit of running with someone so wonderfully positive might lift my darkening mood. Now I’m a terrible runner but the one thing I’m pretty good at is foot placement on a downhill and so with all the vim and vigour I could manage I started punching well above my actual ability and thundering my way down the rather rocky, muddy, slippery, step laden and mildly technical downhill.
This was a wonderful period for me and despite the pain I was in I was finding the route, the views and the whole experience absolutely amazing – the trail was wonderful but as the downhill flattened out I started to slow and the runners that I had caught overtook me once more followed by more yo-yo-ing with my fellow competitors. I pulled into the next checkpoint not long after and the sight of the Ranger Ultras signage was most welcome but I saw something that sent a real chill down my spine, a competitor who had withdrawn from the race – bloody hell and it was followed by another one who was having groin problems – it made me think of my own issues and would I find myself sat in the back of a camper waiting to be taken back to the start?
Negative thoughts are a nightmare and with two peaks still to go I needed to try and put them to the back of my mind and so filled my water bottles once more and headed out. You don’t realise how tough it is on your legs all the up and downhill until you stop for a moment and then have to get going and let me assure you that my legs did not want to get going again.
In the distance I could see Ingleborough and knew instantly that this climb would be something of a beast to overcome.
The one big positive though was that I was managing to consume food and actually was really keen on eating, I had yoghurt and kids fruit smoothies as well as some other bits and pieces to support the Active Root. The thought that occurred to me was that I wouldn’t have enough of the food I craved to get me round the course! The yoghurt and fruit smoothie pouches are especially handy as they are aimed at kids and tend not to be quite so sugary or filled with things that might upset my stomach – but they wouldn’t be available at the checkpoints. I decided I would have one of each going up Ingleborough and then the other going up Pen-Y-Ghent and then eat whatever else I had as the need arose.
I was slow going up to the steep climb of Ingleborough, slower than I had been at the first peak and I found myself carving out a path that would get me up as safely and pain free as possible. Ahead of me there were small figures dotted on the face of the climb and below me there were small faces looking up seeking a route up.
Step by step, stone by stone I clambered my way along until I overcame the first of the false summits and as I turned and saw nothing for miles but mist my heart sank a little but I was fortunate to meet a gentleman at this point, much like Danny before him, who would share some of his time with me and would play the yo-yo game for many miles. I’m sure we exchanged names but the truth is that from this point my head was really mashed and my focus was much more on the route than retaining the names of the many wonderful runners that help define my race. However, his advice was excellent and he reminded me that it’s all about, ‘see what happens at 70km’.
I’d explained about my hip pain and how it was becoming increasing excruciating to run but quite rightly he reminded that there’s no point worrying about what happens in the future – that will sort itself out as and when it comes. He clearly understood the mental issue I was having and with about 40km left to go I needed not to consumed by a desire to give up. It was therefore with an enormous sense of relief that the real top was reached and there were runners who had gone past us now retreating from the depths of the moist ahead.
‘You’re nearly at the top’ came the call and just a few metres ahead I could see the poor volunteers who had drawn the short straw of being at the top of Ingleborough to ensure runner safety. Oddly despite the wind, the cold and the moisture (I also presume they saw a share of rain up there) the guys were pretty jolly and that’s the mark of great marshalling, they could have just marked our number down but actually they were incredibly enthusiastic as they sent us on our way to the trig point a few hundred metres away.
I had intended to stop for a few minutes at the trig point but given the weather conditions and the lack of visibility there seemed little point and so I headed straight back down the alternative path and on my way to the bottom.
The descent off Ingleborough was tough going but reasonably quick but even though I was moving well and there was a small group of runners all moving together my problems continued to mount. In addition to the hip I could feel a burning in my lower back that didn’t feel like the usual back pain I get from wearing a race vest.
I’d had some rubbing of my race vest at the PB55 which had seemed really odd as it lay lower on my back than the pack sat. I was fortunate at the PB55 in comparison though because my slow moving had meant that the rubbing wasn’t too severe, however, here, now, with sweat dripping off me, my back burnt like inside of a pizza oven after a 12hr Saturday shift at Dominos! I really was having a day of two halves!
Onward and onward the little band of runners moved and much to our surprise the mist that had dogged almost the entire day started to lift and the sun started to poke its little face out. Now, as regular readers will know, the arrival of sunshine might be greeted by most of the great unwashed as a welcome sight but for my money the sun can sod off and I found myself shaking my fist in its direction, under my breath I even heard myself say, ‘oh feck off or it’s the Glasgow kiss for you’. Clearly it heard and the sunshine soon abated, although it would be back a little later.
Eventually we pulled into the next checkpoint and I ate a couple of spring rolls and as some Cadbury’s Heroes but I was feeling sick and my stomach was churning – not good but I needed to try and eat something. I downed my yoghurt and smoothie pouches for a boost and to try and settle my tummy. We would see if that would help. I filled my water bottles once more and topped up the Active Root, I felt like I was going to need it.
As I left the checkpoint I called to amassed marshals, ‘you’re the best checkpoint since the last one!’ and they were indeed brilliant and they handled the large group of runners who all arrived together incredibly well.
The little band of runners who I had been running with naturally disbanded at the checkpoint and I found myself amongst other runners, some I had already met, others that were new to me. It was here during the start of the steep climb to Pen-Y-Ghent that I was reacquainted with Graham, who despite being in lots of pain had decided against a DNF at the last checkpoint, and was pushing through.
He was a very inspiring runner to be around, as well as only being a runner for six years he was also in the midst of completing the Hardmoors Superslam, holy shit! His grit and determination was special and his climbing speed was much quicker than mine and so I clung on to his coat tails for dear life.
Up and up we climbed, slowly and steadily, being careful not to misplace our footing but a bit of a light scramble was just what the doctor ordered. As I started upward, attempting to see the summit I caught sight of a man I thought might well be Santa Claus, or perhaps Satan Claws coming to collect my dying body and soul. I called up, ‘I love your beard’. In response he raised his camera and tried to catch my fat side! Ha.
This was another amazing marshal, sat on high, up the peak, not only taking pictures but also ensuring our safe ascent to the top. Ranger Ultras clearly take the safety aspect very seriously indeed and I know all the runners were grateful for that.
Graham and I made the top and then began our descent, this was going to be tough but we were making reasonable enough time but Graham was going quicker than I was now and he started to power ahead a little bit. I started losing ground to a couple of other runners who were on the yo-yo too and as I looked back I realised I would soon be on my own and I feared that given my mental state.
I decided it was time to pull on the big boy pants and give myself the wedgie I so clearly needed!
‘Come on Ultraboy you can do this’ I thought.
I picked my feet up and started to move faster, Graham buddy I’m coming to find you – it was just about then that a young lady overtook me wearing the same coloured Salomon pack that I was, mud splattered all the was up her legs, I wondered if I looked the same from behind. I think her name was Min but I’m not 100% sure, as I say, my brain was pretty fried. For a little while she ignored me and thundered onward but I was pretty sick of being overtaken and so I set off chasing both her and Graham and within just a few hundred metres I could smell the mud beneath the lugs of their shoes.
‘Evening,’ I said as I reintroduced myself.
When you’re feeling like shit, you can’t eat, your back is burning from the rubbing of your race vest and you’re injured what you really need is some good chat with lovely people that have stories to tell. My companions were gracious enough to be both engaging, interesting and most of all willing to share. For miles we pushed to find our way back to the main path and then to the finish but such was my delight at the company I was keeping that I remembered to enjoy myself. We eventually of course did find the path and looking upwards we remembered the downhill we had all enjoyed/endured earlier in the day. My memory must have been a little bit fuzzy though because I was thinking this climb up to the checkpoint was probably no more than about half a mile.
Yes, my mind had played a cruel trick on me because the climb to the final checkpoint felt like the hardest slog of the day, just steep enough to be un-runnable when you’re absolutely ruined but not steep enough not to try. Our little trio moved as quickly as it could but the climb was draining our enthusiasm and all we wanted was to reach the checkpoint. The darkness had also surrounded us and we hurled our respective light sources on and ran by torchlight, I remembered that I hadn’t run like this since the Ultra Scotland and I have always found myself developing tunnel vision quickly when running by headtorch and so I moved between my hand and head light to ensure that I avoided the problem.
I felt that the three of us were searching the horizon for the twinkling of the marshals lights and then as we reached the tarmac I made out a slither of light and maybe the top of a car, we had reached the home strait.
I punched the afterburner button and ran with all haste into the checkpoint, there were a couple of lovely marshals there who would be out in the cold until around 1am – they really were incredible. I was hugely grateful to see John, one of the marshals I met at the PB55 again and he provided words of comfort and advice. He provided the verbal cuddle that I needed and sent me on my way armed with enough water to see it through.
My competitors had managed to get out of the checkpoint quicker than I and as I watched their headtorches running into the distance I felt a little wave of sadness, I stood on the trail for a moment stretching my back and gingerly wiping sweat away from the large angry and bloody wounds that were reaching right around my back. With my final adjustments I set out once again, this time along the flat but rocky and damp trail, I approached the trail with a surprising surefootedness and worked hard to catch the next set of bobbing lights because I had no wish to miss the turn off the trail and on to the downhill.
The running gods must have been looking down on me though as I saw what looked like a series of buzzing fireflies in the distance, at what it seemed was the turning point – yes a selection of the runners were either wondering if this was the right way or returning from the wrong way to get back on course.The GPX file confirmed that this was the point to move from the trail and I joined this posse of runners, there were so many familiar faces and there was a bit of a party atmosphere but I wanted to move a little bit quicker and so battered down the trail as quickly as I could – I could smell the finish and see the town of Hawes ahead of me.
Of course my brain being mashed I knew that there would be some more shit to deal with and I arrived at what looked like a crossroads and I didn’t fancy going wrong and so I waited for a few minutes until the party bus arrived and of course they immediately headed down the obvious direction!
Oddly the group started running, presumably because they had arrived on tarmac, oh what the bollocks. Bloody hell, my body doesn’t like tarmac at the best of times and this was not my best of times but there was a beat that we were hitting and each member of the group was pressing. There was still the challenge of the little gaps in the walls that we had to negotiate and this time I served as a bit of a doorman to allow the other runners quicker access along the route, I suppose this was my way of saying thank you to the crew who, like me, were just keen to get home.
And then out of nowhere I knew were I was, past the pub and back onto the main street of Hawes, ahead of me there was a runner or two and because I’m a complete and proper dick and there was an attractive lady who had come out of the pub to cheer us on, I put on a final, painful sprint but this time it was to the finish.
Pound, pound, pound. I could hear the sound of my feet against the pavement and I could feel my lungs burning and chest thumping as I passed the runner ahead of me and leapt up the stairs of the hall and into the light.
I’d made it, I’d made it. No DNF today.
When Stu Westfield asked if I was going back out, I gave a silent but firm, ‘no’ and so my grandslam effort would come to a rather sad end but at least I was still alive, something that I wasn’t sure I would be at various points during the event.
Injured, sick, bloodied and bruised but I had the finishers coaster to cherish, just not the 100km race finish.
Ascent: 2400 metres
Date: October 2021
Location: Hawes, Yorkshire
Tough Rating: 3.75/5
Route I’m always on the hunt for a beautiful trail race, one that minimises the tarmac and one that is filled with aching beautiful vistas and challenge. Well I am very pleased to report that the Yorkshire Three Peaks Ultra from Ranger Ultras is right up there with the best of them. The whole route was a joy to behold, some might argue that better weather would have made this more scenic but I take the opposite view – there was enough clear sky to enjoy the sight of the massive loop that awaited you but there was also something mystical and majestic about the mist, the low visibility and also the little gems such as the viaduct.
Each of the little chocolate box villages that we passed through made this feel like we had stepped back in time and Hawes was simply an exceptionally pretty place to start the race. The route had something for everyone, if you like elevation it had that, if you like technical trails then it had some of that, if you liked big stone steps (nobody does) then it had a shitload of them, if you like steep, wet, muddy, scenic or fast descents then it had all of them too.
Yes it was bloody tough but it was equally beautiful and that makes it worthwhile doing.
Organisation Last time I was rather lavish with my praise for the organisation of the race, well let me gush some more because the guys at Ranger Ultras under the leadership of Stu Westfield are amongst the best in the business. They make the logistical challenge of an ultra marathon look like child’s play and it really isn’t. I’ve witnessed what a shit show looks like in terms of organisation (looking at you Thames Gateway 100, 2013) and Ranger Ultras are anything but, they are just brilliant.
Value for Money I genuinely don’t know how they do it – the Rangers Ultra races are some of the best value events around. If you haven’t entered one yet then just do it, you will not be disappointed. These events not only quality but also amazing value, I can’t praise the value for money enough – at about £50 entry this is possible one of the best value events in Englandshire (maybe second only to the Fellsman?) and the fact they offer you a ‘free’ 30km at the end of the race seems both brilliantly cruel and oddly generous.
Awards As regular readers will know I love a medal, they are the main reason I do these ultra distances but Ranger Ultras are moving to wooden coasters and despite them being an absolute bugger to display they are much nicer than the medals. They are beautifully designed and nicely made. For those who are fast enough there are rewards to be had with trophies and the like but I’m never going to trouble those. I realise we are moving to more sustainable racing and it was excellent to see another cupless event being held but I would kill for a bit of Ranger Ultras merchandise, I mean I’d buy the hoodie and the shirt because I get the feeling that the team would make the right decisions about the kind of quality and sources they were getting them made from – just incase you’re reading this team I really like the Sheepish hoodies, one of those with a Ranger Ultras branding on would be perfect.
Volunteers and Support Everyone was 100% amazing, from the first to the final person – the volunteers and marshals showed nothing but enthusiasm and energy and as an exhausted runner that can’t be underestimated. I will say a special thank you to John, who rescued my race at the final checkpoint and who made me laugh at the Pennine Bridleway 55. I know how challenging a stint volunteering can be and I can heard to say as I run past volunteers sometimes, ‘you guys have the hardest job’ and I really do mean it. However, in the case of Ranger Ultras we must doubly mean it because we had marshals and safety crew at all the major potential stumbling points and at all the key locations that a runner would really need some support. Brilliant.
Runners I met so many runners during the race, probably more in this race than any other I have done in recent time and that may have something to do that I managed to perform a bit better than usual and so was higher up the pack than usual before dropping off. For the purpose of the blog and also politeness when you are chatting to someone for a little while I try to get the names of my fellow runners and also try and remember them but here names just dropped out of my brain like water through a sieve.
What I do know is that whether you had travelled far, were running your first ultra, were a little mountain goat, had run dozens of ultra marathons, had awesome facial fuzz or were concerned that hippy hikers might have gotten the magic mushrooms before you did, all of you played a massive part in me reaching any kind of finish line – I did not deserve to get to 70km, I wasn’t good enough on the day – but you, my fellow runners were and I thank you for my 58th ultra marathon finish.
My Race I’ve outlined my race above but between my hip, feeling sick and my back I did not deserve to finish and that’s how I view my race. That’s a shame because I had a truly great time on the route and with Ranger Ultras and am sure as time passes I’ll only remember these positives but right now I feel a bit sad about the way I raced and not finishing the 100km.
What did I learn? Well the stomach issue was just one of those things that can happen to anyone and I’m sure that next time it won’t be in play. The back issue – well there are two issues, one is the general pain I get which the physiotherapist is helping me resolve but then there is the fact that my Salomon ADV Skin 12 chaffed the skin from back and then helped my body sweat straight into it – I won’t be wearing it again, or at least not over these kinds of distances. The hip though is is the big one, especially with the Double Peaks weekend coming up, am I going to make it to the start line well there’s some question marks about that.
The Grand Slam And so because I failed to complete the 100km and only finished the 70km race I, like everyone else, bow out of the grand slam and I am very, very sad about this. I went into the Y3PU hoping that my hip would hold together for just a short 100km hop but instead it crucified me for mile after mile after mile. So with the grand slam gone I have thoughts and options that include
Not running any further races this year
Not running the Dark Peaks / White Peaks Double Race Weekend in favour of a longer recovery for the Cheviot Goat Ultra
Running the Dark Peaks, the White Peaks and the Cheviot Goat
I mean I think I know where this is likely to end up and the chances are I’ll be sitting on the start line for at least the first day of running in the Peaks but the question is unlikely to be truly answered until the night I need to head down.
I also know that Kate Allen will be at the Peaks weekend and do I really want to disgrace myself in front of a runner I have much respect for? Ha!
Conclusions There is a huge logistical challenge in my attending the Ranger Ultras events, the distance is one thing but there are lots of other factors that get in the way, not being local means I really have to think about whether I want to do it, are they worth the arse ache? Was it worth the hours of driving and the miles and miles on terrifyingly dark back roads from Tebay to Hawes? Was the wooden trinket worth needing all that coffee that would eventually come galloped out of my arsehole a day later? Was it worth pissing off a potentially nasty injury so you could enjoy the misty views over Yorkshire? 100% Yes.
This was a bold, brutal and beautiful event and for all my griping I get to sit here, writing this a week later, reliving my joy at some of those most exquisite moments I’ve had as an ultra marathoner. I fell very fortunate to have run the Yorkshire Three Peaks with Ranger Ultras because it was a classy event and the team that put it on are a class act.
Yes I’m annoyed at lots of things about this, but none of them are to do with the event – that was glorious. The issue, as always, is me, what I can tell you is that this race, much like its sibling the PB55 is highly recommended, especially for those of you who like your running hard and trail. You can find out more at the Ranger Ultras website here or take a look at their Facebook page here.
And finally if I haven’t convinced you to take the plunge on this wonderful event, well shame on me because that means I haven’t praised it hard enough. However, let me share with you a final little thing, I have now attempted 68 ultra marathons, I have completed 58 of them, I have run over 200 races in the last decade and of those 200 this one, the Ranger Ultras Yorkshire Three Peaks Ultra is most certainly in the top 10 of my favourite events. That is high praise because it shares that top 10 with great events such as the SainteLyon, the Skye Trail Ultra, MIUT, the Vigo Tough Love 10 and the Green Man Ultra, its tough to get to me to consider putting a race so highly on my list of all time favourites but the Y3PU instantly joins the club.
See you out there.
It’s worth noting that I have no affiliation with Rangers Ultra am not sponsored nor have I been paid to write this review – this is 100% independent (and probably unwanted).
I’d hurt my hip flexors at some during the Pennine Bridleway 55 (race review here) but when I saw a social media posting from fellow runner Yvonne I felt the whirring of brain cells and realised that I was going to be at Lochore Meadows with Rona during the Lochore 10km.
And so after the excitement of Craggy Island Triathlon and the marriage proposal (read about that here) I readied myself for a gentle bimble around a place I really enjoy running.
What I hadn’t expected upon rolling up to the race on the Sunday morning was that I was really, really tired. When Yvonne approached me at the start line I think I was in mid yawn, I really didn’t fancy running.
However, I was there and a chat with the truly spectacular Yvonne, adorned in her neon London Marathon 2021 shirt, who just a week earlier had blasted around the capital, was just what the running doctor ordered.
The race had a couple of hundred runners at the start line, which handily began at the motorhome parking, which I’d be visiting later in the day.
I was concerned, on the start line, that I hadn’t managed a pre-race poo and let’s be honest nobody wants to witness a middle aged man taking a dump in a lovely country park, so it would have to be a case of corking a potential monster. I could feel my guts engaging in a bit of an internal battle but with some deep breathing and the race about to started to dig deep and told myself, ‘it’s just an hour or so’.
I really did intend to go out slowly, I started at the back of the amassed runners and I made no attempt to push through the runners ahead of me but I jokingly shouted to Yvonne, ‘I can’t let you beat me’ and that was it, I’d set myself up and so I locked in a sensible pace of about 5 minute kilometres and pounded the ground.
The course was two laps of the loch and at all sides it is a delight, offering good cover from the weather, which to be fair was excellent but also good views. The route was also almost identical to the Parkrun that I had done here a few weeks earlier (only in reverse) and so I felt confident that I knew where I’d have to dig in a bit and where I could open the taps.
Within the first kilometre (and therefore also kilometre six) I knew there were a couple of small ascents to get over, which on tired legs felt harder than they should, however, I powered up the lumps and thrust myself forward to catch some of those faster runners at the front. As kilometre after kilometre fell I could feel myself moving slowly up the field and occasionally being overtaken by others.
There was a great atmosphere that ran through this event and all the wonderful marshals and volunteers were bringing big wonderful smiles to help keep us going. It was such a great experience that you couldn’t help but want to push yourself.
My problem came between kilometre two and three and I could feel my hip flexors wanting to fuck me over and they really did. But I had a choice – ease off and run slowly thereby reducing the risk of further inflammation of the injury or run like buggery and hope for the best.
In my head I heard the words and tune of ‘Danger Zone’ playing as I chose the latter. I started pushing a little harder as the route entered the muddier trail sections of the route, knowing that this was were the fun was to be had.
Puddles littered the course but rather than run through them I simply noted their location and put them in my ‘fun’ drawer for lap two when I might take a little dip or two.
As I headed to about the fourth kilometre and the way to the finish line and the start of lap 2 I noted a gentleman behind me who was running a very steady race, I joked, ‘I’ll make you earn this overtake’ but he didn’t join in the banter – he was 100% focused much more on the race than on the other runners which I understood but I couldn’t shake him. He just ran beside me or just behind me, this did have the benefit of serving as an excellent pacing and as we passed the halfway point I could feel him closing.
However, with ever step closer he took I would change my stride and put some distance between us.
The second lap had the field spreading out and it became easier to identify the next person you could target to overtake or use as your pacer. However, with my pacing shadow behind me I felt like I couldn’t slow down and who the hell knew how far Yvonne was behind me! So I pushed onwards even though my hip was burning and sending shooting pains down my legs.
As I hit the kilometre eight I could feel myself slowing and knew that my pacing shadow would soon overtake me but then a lady hauled ass past both of us and I clung onto her for dear life albeit just for a seconds but it was enough to stop me slowing.
As I watched the lady leap gazelle like along the side of the loch I saw another opportunity called Andrea (as I would later discover) go past me. Andrea was going at a fair old lick as she caught me but I managed to run alongside her for a few hundred metres and bit by bit we were chomping away at the race. I was also now well clear of my pacing shadow but a quick look behind me showed that I needed to deliver a proper finish even as a young lady Hanover Marathon shirt passed me.
I knew where the finish was and I knew that there were about 400 metres left to run, in the distance ahead I could see Andrea and a little further along I could see the Hanover marathon shirt and a couple of other runners.
Well the competitive part of me caught up and I suddenly felt urgency and blood rush from wherever it was most needed to my legs and I pushed and pushed. I called out to Andrea as I flew past her to push harder but then my feet carried me beyond her, I caught another chap and then in my sights was Hanover!
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The sound in my head was the sound of beating feet against the floor as I apologetically hurtled past Hanover with less than 50 metres to the finish and then into the finishing funnel and across the line to the safety of the finish and a medal.
At the finish a young girl or boy, I don’t recall which tried to hand me over a Tunnocks Wafer but I was too ruined to think of chocolate and so offered it back to the very helpful young volunteer. With ringing in my ears and my heart thumping I thanked the volunteers and left the finish line area.
I’d made it to the end and I was just about in one piece.
I stayed around the finish line to cheer in and congratulate some of the other runners, and because I had time I waited until some of the back of the field runners were finishing. I’ve always found great joy in cheering on those who take the longest to finish because often that’s me and I appreciate a warm welcome back as a race concludes.
I caught up briefly with Yvonne who cracked out a great time – especially when you consider she ran a marathon the week before – I have no doubt she’d have wiped the floor with me when she was fully rested, she’s a great runner. And then there was the general amble around where I met a lovely lady, I’m going to say her name was Annie from the Running Friends Scotland group and she recognised from all my silly pictures of running that I post in the group.
But now as the race wound down all I wanted was that poo that had been bothering me since before the race started, did you need to know that? No but here’s some things you should know!
Distance: 10km Ascent: 50 metres Date: October 2021 Location: Lochore Meadows Country Park Cost: £14 Terrain: Mixed (tarmac, hard pack trails, light trails) Tough Rating: 1/5 (depending on how fast you race)
Route It’s a lovely route, lots to see, lots to enjoy and you get to run it twice.
It’s a route that lends itself to first timers because it really isn’t that tough or it would lend itself to running flat out and fast – there’s space on the route, lots of places to pass and the trail itself is well maintained. Lochore Meadows is a great place and it is a great place to run.
Organisation Number collection was really quick in the main ‘Willie Clarke’ building; there were toilets available and the cafe was open for a caffeine filled start to your race. Lochore Meadows also has easy and ample parking and while you wait for the race start there are lots of opportunities to have a little explore around the wonderful park.
The organisers used the facilities well and the fact the loch is pretty much a 5km loop makes it a no-brainier to organise a two loop 10km. The ‘into lap 2’ and ‘finish line’ was nice and easy to navigate – I doubt anyone could have missed the markings on whether to complete lap 2 or head to the finish and the route markings were clear and readily available (I’d even use them to help navigate my OHs father on his folding bike round the loch later that day). All in all the team behind this event did a really good job.
There was also a lot of Active Root on the course with a useful ‘help yourself’ set up just beyond the halfway point and I liked that because I’m a big fan of Active Root. The fact that they sponsor and are at lots of races across Scotland is something that I approve of greatly, you can learn more about them here.
Value for Money Nice route, good logistics, free parking, a place to buy coffee, medal and a fabulous atmosphere. What more do you need for your £14? Really good value for money and well worth getting up on a Sunday morning for.
Awards It wasn’t a bespoke medal but there was a medal and for small races like this I can understand why they don’t want to incur the costs of making bespoke medals. What I do know is that mine will hang right next to all its siblings because I love a medal, no matter the size or shape. More importantly on the reverse it told me the race I ran and that is the important thing about this medal because it will bring lots of memories of a great event.
Volunteers and Support The support was really, really good, everybody was so cheery and wonderful but I want to draw attention to a young lady and a little boy who were stationed a little way past the first bridge crossing. Not only was the little boy cheering his heart out but he had the biggest smile on his face. Having just taken my daughter volunteering for the first time at the Craggy Island Triathlon I know how hard it can be to keep them enthused about what they are there to do. So I take my hat off to both of you and it was a delight to speak you both as you made your way back off the course with the markings – I hope that little man has aspirations to become a runner one day!
Runners Lots of runners, lots of swift runners, lots of less swift runners, it was such a wonderful mixed bag of experience and expertise. I love meeting runners and having a laugh on the course and this was one of those ones that allowed me to do that – from the lady in the Devil o’ the Highlands t-shirt that I joked with about walking the hills to Andrea who inspired me to a fast finish.
However, to the gentleman who shadowed me for much of the race I pass on my thanks and also my apologies in case I was irritating you, this runner ensured that I ran as fast as I could despite really not wanting to, his pace made my pace quicker and post race that made me feel really good about what I did at the Lochore 10km – so thank you.
And finally Yvonne – you’re a little star, a massive bundle of energy and a great runner that it was my pleasure to meet at the Splash n Dash in St Andrews and to chat to properly here. Keep it up and keep informing me of races that I can sign up for!
My Race I ran too fast, my hip flexors are fucked and I loved every second of it – I mean not while I was doing it, while I was doing it I just wanted to die. However. In the afterglow of wearing a medal round my neck for the 12th time this year I felt pretty amazing.
Conclusion Great race, really well put together with excellent on the day organisation. If you run this you will not regret it. Fast, furious and in a beautiful location – Fife has lots of great racing options throughout the year but you should consider marking this one on your calendar for 2022. Enjoy it, I did.
It’s worth noting that I have no affiliation with the race organisers or Active Root and am not sponsored nor have I been paid to write this review – this is 100% independent (and probably unwanted).
I was looking forward to the Tour of Tameside, on paper it looked like a good mix of distances and a race series with lots of heritage and in a place I had never run before. It’s therefore with immense sadness that I didn’t enjoy it, that’s not to say it was terrible, it wasn’t, but there were a number of issues that really hampered my enjoyment.
The tour consisted of four races starting on Thursday 29th July and concluding on Sunday 1st August and took place in and around Tameside. Organised by the Running Bee Foundation it promised agonising race after agonising race all in order to support charity – so far so good.
For me personally I had travelled from my sunny Scottish location to rainy Tameside in order to meet a lady from the Running Friends Scotland Facebook group. Nicky and I have chatted extensively across the pantheon of running topics and had hoped to record a podcast episode (more on that later) but it was mainly just a great opportunity to meet her.
And so on Thursday I thundered down the M74 out of Scotland’s sun soaked landscape and down the M6 into the grip of North West England for a few days of fun. I unpacked quickly upon arrival at my hotel, got my race kit ready and prepared the podcasting gear incase tonight was a good night for a record.
Race 1 X Trail 10km With the first race taking part in the evening I ambled along from the hotel down to the parking at the local rugby club. I was amazed at the amount of people who were there – I had assumed that the Tour of Tameside would be quite a small race with a few dozen runners but it turned out there were hundreds. Clearly some where here just for one day of the tour but I saw lots of full tour runners who would compete in the four races.
The start line was about a 10 minute walk from the parking and so having not being able to see Nicky I decided to head down to the start line and see what all the fuss was about. When I arrived it was even busier at the start line than it had been at the parking – it wasn’t quite a mass participation event but it was the biggest event I had been a part of since long before the pandemic began.
I was quite surprised by the way in which people were interacting even with the relaxing of the pandemic rules in England. I wandered around a bit exploring the course and trying to see where the trail was, this had the benefit of maintaining social distancing but also allowed me to experience the Tour of Tameside vibe.
But then it was time to go.
I headed to the back of the course and finally came across Nicky and we had a few minutes to chat before the race began but soon it was time to go. I hadn’t really thought about whether I would be running alongside Nicky or whether I would just go and do my own thing. But as it turned out we mostly stayed together and ambled gently around the course, which was very nice indeed.
It quickly became apparent that the best way to approach the Tour of Tameside was to just have a bit of fun with it and not take it too seriously. And so as we pushed up the hilly tarmac roads of Tameside and I awaited, with eagerness, the arrival of the trail to bring me the joy I was looking for.
The route was hillier than I imagined but not unpleasantly so and the running was interesting enough as we ambled through little villages where the locals had come out to support the competitors. Wonderful. The route though was tight in places and making progress through the throngs of runners was challenging even as the competitors began to spread themselves out. I made a nuisance of myself by making jokes with volunteers and supporters alike, always keen to mostly poke fun at myself and I am sure that runners both ahead and behind me must have found me a real irritant – wishing I would just piss off. I’m confident that the supporters near the start line who heard me calling for a change in the music from whatever shit it was they were blaring out to a bit of George Michael must have wondered what the fuck was going on.
But I’d found my fun groove and began a little sing-a-long or two, told some terrible jokes and hurled out a few expletive laden anecdotes but it wasn’t enough to make me love the race.
The key concern was that the route showed little sign of trail despite the name – I had assumed that the last minute change of route was responsible, although others suggested that the original route ran along a disused railway line, which I suppose could be considered a trail, although not my preference. and with a good portion of the run now completed we still had yet to find some good old fashioned mud or woodland trail.
The route looped in and out and down and around the roads of the villages until we ended up back at the start once more and finally we found a narrow piece of trail – this was fun and there was just enough room to go past the other runners.
Nicky was thundering along just nicely and as we approached a little bridge and I took a moment to grab a photograph or three and then it was a race to the finish – all downhill, through a tight gate – up and over and then bomb it down to the end. Boom.
And bomb it I did – I love a fast finish and I flew past several other runners and into the funnel for the finish where Nicky’s other half and the first medal awaited us.
The end of the first day and I had a lot to digest, it had been an odd race but now it was time to stretch, relax, hot bath and get ready for tomorrow. In the walk back to the car we met a young lady called Hatty who was both an absolute delight and an awesome runner and somebody that I would cross paths with several times during the next few days.
So as we ventured towards the car park with Nicky and Rob (Nicky’s other half) we chatted about life and colourful running leggings and then departed rather quickly – sadly without recording a podcast episode, but there was always tomorrow I thought and put it to the back of my mind.
Race 2 Hell on the Fell Living in Scotland gives me access to some wonderful hills and mountains which from time to time I am known to run and down. However, I tend not to run the hill races here because I feel I wouldn’t be competitive enough and I’d be guaranteed to miss checkpoints or timing points. However, the Hell on the Fell sounded like a great little bomb around some hills in Tameside and so this was the one I was most looking forward to.
Again the race was in the evening and on a cool but very runnable evening I made my way to another part of Tameside where I was greeted with a decent walk to the start line once more. Parking had been allocated at a local leisure centre but given the legions of runners, supporters and organisers this was clearly not going to be enough. However, everyone squeezed themselves in and around the local area and made their way to the start line – which was overshadowed by a couple of small hills and a picturesque reservoir – this is more like it I thought.
Nicky and Rob once more rocked up close to the starting time and took up their positions alongside me near the back just in time to hear me grumble about the man operating the PA. I’m aware that race information needs to be given out but there was a lot of that, ‘don’t worry it’s all downhill’ and ‘it’s a nice flat one tonight’, I didn’t find it funny I found it mostly tiresome but I am confident he had some fans, just not me.
Just prior to the race start though there was a disagreement between a couple of runners and I had stupidly gotten involved, I found myself in a heated exchange that I really didn’t want to be in and to be honest it really ruined the start of the event for me and while I won’t go into details I think it may have ruined the race for others too.
Still, this was a fell race and I was going to enjoy it but then we turned to the tarmac and headed down it, up it and around it. Hmmm. Now I realise I’m not a regular fell racer but I was fairly sure that fell running usually involved mud, trails, off trails, beating back the bracken, Walsh trainers and generally being covered head to toe in shit.
This was not that and the events at the start line were weighing heavily on my mind, although outwardly I was doing my best to project the happy go lucky, expletive delivering runner that I usually am recognised as.
Eventually we did finally leave the tarmac behind and climb a bit of trail and this was really good fun running, I leaped and lumbered up the hills chastising Nicky any time I felt she was starting to slip behind. The 30 minutes that we were actually on a hill, on an actual trail were really enjoyable and if the bulk of the running had been like this then the Tour of Tameside would have been right up my street but it really was just these 30 minutes that were like this.
Because we were at the back of the pack when we came to the narrow descent off the hill the pace slowed to a crawl and we couldn’t move any faster than the person at the front of the queue and so I was a bit disappointed as this would have been great to hurl ourselves down in the way the front runners had. However, once clear of the backlog we, like everyone else, began to fly down towards the end.
At this point Hatty had joined us and so I took the opportunity to mess around a bit and make aeroplane noises amongst other things, I’m sure both my lovely companions must have been wishing I would once more sod off but I didn’t I just carried on regardless. As we approached the finish the marshal advised me of a step down and I advised him that I was stopping, which must have looked strange but I was keen to capture the finish line moment as Nicky and Hatty battered towards the line. Annoyingly though another runner came thundering through and so I decided to put a little spurt on to the finish, stopping just short of the finish to allow him to cross the line before me – he must have thought me a dickhead too.
Boom, we crossed the line and collected another medal as the man on the PA system commented on my video-ing of the event. Something I noted as I entered the final day was against the rules of the race.
There was still a finish line photograph to do and then off but in all the excitement of the event, thoughts of podcasting were lost but I’d suggested ice-cream post race tomorrow to help celebrate Robs birthday and hopefully we could do it then.
Race 3 Hero Half Marathon I can’t remember my last half marathon but I think it might have been the 2013 Royal Parks Half Marathon and the half, in my opinion, is the toughest of all the race distances – it’s the one I struggle to judge in terms of pace and so I’ve found I don’t bother with doing them any longer.
Therefore it was going to take an amazing route and experience to make this one a great day. Once more I arrived early to ensure that I managed to get parking in the large field the organisers had arranged and I felt fortunate that the weather conditions were overcast and a little cooler than of late which meant that running conditions would be fine.
Not knowing much about the race I asked one of the organisers if I was better in road or trail shoes and he immediately advised road – I was glad therefore that I had invested earlier in the week in the Fli-Lyte 3 (a shoe I shall be reviewing once I’ve fully tested it).
I also had the good fortune to meet fellow instagrammer and ultra runner Karl and it was lovely chatting to him about the event and also about Topo Athletic shoes. It’s always fun meeting people from the internet, I very rarely recognise them, but my collection of Oddballs T-Shirts, wild beard and brightly coloured race packs makes me and easy spot. I’ll assume this is also how Nicky and Hatty picked me out of the crowd too!
Therefore, phew we had made it to race 3 mostly in one piece – but this was the one I was worried about. My already destroyed hamstrings, after the previous weekend of racing at the Solway Coast Marathon (read the review here) and the Splash & Dash (read the review here), were on fire and the hill race the night before had done them no favours – nor had my titting about on the route.
I knew that I had to run this one slowly if I had any chance of making it to race day 4. Although to be fair I was already having serious doubts about whether I wanted to continue with the Tour of Tameside given my experiences at the events and also in the wider Tameside area.
However, I was here and Nicky was here and that meant I was running.
We set off at a leisurely pace and ambled along the course, we passed through the village that sat just before the start line and then headed for an out and back race along a hard packed path. Annoyingly the day was now warming up but thankfully the course had a good deal of cover and we able to avoid much of it. I don’t recall what we talked about as we ran along the path but I punctured our chatting with attempts to soak Nicky as I launched myself into every puddle imaginable. This tactic didn’t start well when I found myself sliding towards the water instead of leaping into it but it was something I stuck with – although I think that Nicky soon became well educated to my sly watery tactics and knew how to avoid me.
Puddle after puddle I ran through and I’m sure it wasn’t only Nicky that I soaked but few complained and so I just happily did my own thing. I’d also taken my Insta360 camera so that I could capture the race and at one point one of the marshals told me to put it away (it would later be explained to me by the marshal that she thought it was a whip – wtf?).
The landscape and the scenery in the background was as pleasant as you can get but the route itself was a little devoid of excitement and interest, hence why I found myself leaping into the puddles and the second half of the out section felt like a real slog and mentally you knew you had to come back this way. The benefit of the out and back though is that you can cheer on runners that you have met along the way and I passed several runners that I was happy to cheer on or give support to because at the back of the pack there was some tremendously tenacious running and that deserves a cheer.
I noted that Rob was checking to see if Nicky was interested in a new PB because he was clearly keeping an eye on the clock but this is something that doesn’t really interest me and I’d decided that if they fancied cracking on for that new personal best then I’d just sit where I was and finish a bit behind them. However, I think Nicky picked up a bit of injury somewhere here and the PB looked like it would have to be saved for another day. Therefore once more the three of us just plodded back towards the finish and with me just looking to finish without incurring the wrath of my already dilapidated body.
Rob being relatively local knew quite a lot of the runners and would say hello or be able to provide interesting insights into people, places or clubs and that was fun and we as a trio would interact with other runners.
Then in the latter stages of the race I met a lady called Emma who was clearly having a crisis of confidence using terms like, ‘I’ve failed’ and ‘it’s such a disappointment’ and I immediately took her to task. The thing is, with 3 miles still to go you really don’t want to punish yourself mentally like that and so I hope that I gave her the tough love inspiration to finish.
Emma eventually managed to power her way back up to running properly and it was so pleasing to see her do so – watching her power away from me was a joy. That said I caught her on the final climb to the downhill sprint to the finish and I urged her on, well shouted at her really – I don’t really remember the final push but I remember that she crossed the line about the same time as me. Nicky and Rob were close behind but it appeared that Nicky really was nursing an unpleasant foot injury. Not exactly what anyone wanted for her and we would have to see if it would clear for the final race.
Again there were some finish line photographs and I congratulated a few of the runners I had spoken with on the way round – including Emma and Hatty. Nicky, Rob and I headed off into what I assume was Glossop in search of some ice-cream but ended up with a coffee, a poor choice of cakes and Rob feeling rather sickly after the race (not a great start to his birthday!).
Nicky and I agreed that we’d do the podcasting therefore after the race on day 4 and so ended the half marathon, I’d survived but it seemed that the rest of my little band had been given a right kicking by it.
Race 4 Dr Ron Hyde 7 mile By the time I came into the Dr Ron Hyde 7 mile I had pretty had enough of the Tour of Tameside and Tameside itself. I had considered not racing and just returning to Scotland but having gotten this far into the event I felt like I should at least finish and obviously there was Nicky to consider who I had enjoyed running with and didn’t just want to not turn up.
Therefore, I parked in the town centre, as advised, but with all my gear in the car and pretty exposed I became a touch worried when the driver next to me fitted his steering wheel with a huge stoplock… ‘is this not a nice area?’ I inquired. I don’t know Hyde at all but the man suggested that it wasn’t the nicest of places but it was too late now – I was here.
I ambled around once more, attempting to avoid the bits of rain that were hanging in the air but without going into the town hall as there were too many runners congregated with very few of them wearing masks or socially distancing. I realise that the pandemic has been hard for people but I didn’t really want to expose myself any more than I felt was appropriate.
The race was busy and had attracted what looked like every racing snake from far and wide but I did my usual and headed to the back, only really looking round to see if I could see Nicky or Rob – but there was no sign. Then I saw Nicky coming to the barrier and she was still hobbling with what sounded like a nasty foot injury, I did for a second think – ah fuck this, perfect excuse I can just go home – but she was visibly distressed by not being able to compete in race day 4 and therefore I felt it wouldn’t be right for me not to complete it.
That said I really wasn’t in the mood for it, I wasn’t in the mood for running on tarmac once more and when the race started I just tuned into my own personal little bubble, avoiding eye contact with my fellow runners and I just wanted to get this done.
However, Rob caught me up after a mile or so and started chatting but whatever it was he said it opened the floodgates to my frustrations with the last few days and I wasn’t in an appeasing mood and when a fellow runner passed comment I was rather unapologetically robust in my commentary. Ho-hum.
‘There’s no need for language like that’, she said,
‘The thing is’, I said, ‘if you know who Paul Dacre is – there is need for such language’.
As road races go this one was okay, the route itself didn’t have anything spectacular in terms of its scenery to write home about but there were some up hills, there were some down hills and there were a few bits were you could stretch your legs on. I met a young lady in the middle of the race who I joked with that I was going to make her earn her overtaking and she was a fabulous little pocket rocket of a runner who did in the end overtake me – but I really did make her work for it.
Now I was simply bumbling my way round, once more silently sitting in my own bubble and for a change focusing on just getting to the finish, I stopped only to say hello to the wonderfully colourfully attired spectator in the dungarees who I had seen the day before and had a bit of a laugh with.
As the race was winding down to its conclusion I could see that the route was mainly going to be downhill and so I pulled my big boy pants on and gave it some welly.
I ran hard along the road, I could feel the energy burning through my legs and in the distance I could see a young girl and her dad perhaps coming together to hold hands – I didn’t have the time to move around them and so shouted, ‘out of the way’ and barged through them.
In the distance I could see the little pocket rocket I had encouraged earlier and overtook her – closing a huge gap. As I went past her I turned and told her she could overtake me again but she just didn’t have a last blast of power in her legs and then another chap who had gone past me earlier thought he could race me to the finish but I still had a bit in the tank and having hit the afterburner of rage I pipped him to the line.
I slowed in the finishers funnel, ‘did you enjoy that?’ asked the marshal.
‘No’ I answered honestly.
Annoyingly I couldn’t find Nicky or Rob at the finish and after about 40 minutes of cantering around looking for them where I saw Hatty finish and Karl come in I had to leave because it was going to be a long journey to Scotland and I couldn’t risk time slipping further and further away. So the Tour of Tameside came to a conclusion but it’s not one I enjoyed writing about and I am confident you didn’t enjoy reading about it either.
Distance: 10km / 6 miles / Half Marathon / 7 miles
Date: July 2021
Tough Rating: 1/5
Routes The Tour of Tameside has been going for 40 years and I am sure that most of the people who run it, love it. I’m confident that lots of them are relatively local and know this area of the world well and love battering around their own stomping grounds. I on the other hand travelled a reasonably long way to test myself on what I thought would be awesome routes and I’m sorry to say that for me they were not.
As I mentioned earlier the second half of the ‘Hell on the Fell’ and some bits of the Hyde 7 were a bit of fun but mostly I found the routes uninspiring – the half marathon and the X trail being the least inspiring. It actually pains me to write this because I don’t want to put anyone off doing this, but I, as a mostly trail runner and adventurer, found these routes disappointing.
Who might these routes suit? Well if you enjoy tarmac running in mostly closed road situations, where supporters can line the routes then this would be a good series for you to consider.
Organisation There was a lot of organisation that went into this I would say, from the road closures to the permits required, to the actual on the day organisation and setting up the starts and finishes which were not always located in the same place.
There must have been a massive logistical effort that went into staging the Tour of Tameside. The amount of volunteers and marshals seemed enormous, the amount of toilets seemed enormous and the amount of road closures seemed enormous – I can’t fault any of that.
On course signage and marking was also excellent and that can’t be faulted.
I also liked that the parking at races 1 and 3 were supporting local community with a £1.00 donation per car, this meant that unused parking space was generating income and helping a race happen. That said the field that race 3 used for parking looked like if any more rain had come down then we might have needed a tractor to get out. I do very much enjoy it when the community gets involved in local races and this was very evident at the Tour of Tameside.
However, I did feel Covid took a real back seat at the Tour of Tameside and that was both surprising and disappointing.
Late in the day there was an email that suggested lateral flow tests should be taken for each event you attend and I did do these tests for each day but I wonder how many of the other runners did? Social distancing would have been near impossible because of the numbers involved and the amount of spectators but there wasn’t much evidence of people trying not to get too close or wearing masks even in indoor settings.
It must be incredibly difficult to balance the needs of the event against the pandemic but I’m not sure a good balance was struck here. However, I did note that race numbers were sent out ahead of time and that did at least reduce the need for queues at race starts – so it wasn’t all disappointing.
On a final note and one very large positive is The Running Bee Foundation who organise the event use these races to generate funds for charity and the winners cash award of £3,000 is given, not to the winner of the tour but, to a charity of the winners choice. In that sense the Tour of Tameside is a community project that benefits others and for that the organisers should be congratulated.
Litter and sustainability So sustainability is something we are seeing increasingly in races – numbers are not posted out, information is provided digitally, goody bags have been dropped in favour of say one good quality item such as a medal or decent technical t-shirt. Sustainability is less of a buzz word and more of an action word but I’m not sure the Tour of Tameside was quite as sustainable as it could have been, it is important to note though that if you want a sustainable race then it is the responsibility of both the runners and the organisers to make this happen and I hope in the future the tour addresses some of the issues around sustainability.
Let’s start with the good – the race handbook was digital and most communication was via email. Race numbers were sent via the post but I imagine this was a Covid issue.
There has been an increase in plastic reduction at races by suggesting that runners should carry some form of cup if you want water and while is mostly relevant at ultra distance running I have seen an increase in the idea at shorter distance races too. To be fair the water bottles are recyclable and there was clear guidance at the race about disposal to help marshals clear them away but there were water cartons spread over a very wide area, much wider than I imagine the race organisers would want and therefore some cartons might have been missed.
This brings me to the other issue – I have gotten very used to not seeing litter on race routes but here there was litter, not tonnes but enough for me to notice. Now be it deliberate or accidental it still gives runners and running a bad name and makes it much more difficult to say that races are good for the community. I’m sure the organisers will have done the best job they can in clean down but littering is something we as people, never mind runners should not do to our community.
And then there was the goody bag at the end, the tour really didn’t need it and it was a very mixed bag of stuff, the tour top was excellent quality as it was Ronhill but there were bits of plastic nonsense from the sponsors and the bag that it was all in was just more plastic. Then of course there were the bits of paper to advertise future races – I think in future the organisers and sponsors might be better finding more sustainable ways of presenting themselves to the audience.
Value for money It was about £15 per race when you break it down and for that you got a lot of stuff, there were medals each day, there was lots of marshal support, there were so many toilets, the road closures, etc. If you like racing and you don’t care about running beautiful routes then this represents excellent value for money.
Awards Let’s start with the good stuff – the Ronhill top that I mentioned above for completing the full tour is excellent. In addition to this you could purchase a range of other tops and vests (which I did) and they were also excellent quality and will be used as training shirts.
The bag, stress balls, piggy bank, cup, etc are less welcome – the race didn’t need it and I would rather the money was funnelled into the charitable aspect of the race and I hope that is a conclusion the race directors come to as well.
The other thing is the medals – there were four of them, one for each race and that’s lovely, as a runner and racer I am rather partial to a medal.
However, there was a problem, the medals are made of either glass or perspex with a sticker stuck to the reverse of them. They feel very cheap and that the stickers are not going to be in it for the long haul. I compare this to the 2015 set of medals which I saw displayed at one of the races and there was no comparison – they’ll still be going strong in 100 years but these ones I doubt will. It also comes back to the sustainability issue again, either get rid of the medals or maybe consider wooden medals which once they fall apart will simply be recycled. I wonder if the stickers on the back of the medal is recyclable?
Volunteers & support There were lots of marshals, lots of supporters and for the most part they were hugely supportive and fun, I really enjoyed laughing and joking with them as I made my way – mostly being a bit silly. There were a couple who were a bit miserable when I tried to have a little joke with them but then I suppose if I was stood for an hour on the top of a hill in the rain I might be a bit sour. Volunteers and marshals have a tough job as they are committed to being out for a long time and while the runners may be out for an hour or two the team will be involved in the set up and breakdown of an event – it can be a long day and they should be applauded.
On the whole though there was some lovely support and of course my ridiculously bright and colourful shirts always attract comments – mostly positive, although there were one or two comments that seemed to draw into question my sexuality, which is fine, I don’t mind you thinking I’m gay, I take it as a compliment.
There was one woman in particular that I must mention and I think she must have had a runner in the races and on the final day she had these wonderful dungarees on at the top of the hill and I’d seen her the previous day when she wonderful colourful trousers on – she was soooo positive and soooo lovely, I really enjoyed chatting to her as I ran past.
Special Mentions There are lots of people I could mention such as Rob, Hatty, Karl and Emma but the special mention must go to Nicky, she was very much the reason I was at the Tour of Tameside and meeting her was an absolute pleasure. She’s a great runner and only going to get better and is a wonderful human being. Despite not having lots and lots of race experience she smiled through most of it and laughed through much of it. Well done Nicky.
It was a massive disappointment to see her injured on the final day hobbling towards me, although it hadn’t come as much of a surprise having seen her the day before, I was also sorry to have missed the opportunity to record the podcast in person and will now look to organise that for a zoom call or some such in the near future.
There was so much to say and talk to Nicky about and I look forward to another opportunity to do so.
Conclusions Well I want this to be as positive conclusion as I can because although the Tour of Tameside wasn’t for me it clearly has a loyal following and is very popular year in, year out.
The charitable aspect of the tour is a wonderful thing that should be supported and the thing is that the issues I had could very easily be resolved by revising the awards given to the runners and examining how the routes could be improved.
If you’re local runner or somewhere relatively nearby then the tour or a couple of the races, even in their current format, are probably something that you do or would consider doing on a semi regular basis and I can see how that works. However, I’m not sure I could justify recommending that you travel any significant distance to come and do this.
I did have some fun during the Tour of Tameside but that was more to do with some of the people I met than my race experience and usually I’ve found that my best races are the ones were I can have a laugh surrounded by stunning scenery.
If I were to recommend any of the races then probably the Hell on the Fell is the most scenic and the most fun. I don’t enjoy writing negatively about races because I know the effort that goes in to staging them and so if the organisers wish to discuss my experience of the Tour of Tameside then I would be happy to go into further detail but it could be that the audience for this series of races is a group I’m just not a part of.
Terry Pratchett wrote that the Discworld sat atop four giant elephants that stood astride a giant turtle that flew through space. If Scotland were Discworld then the Solway Coast Marathon would be in the space beyond the edges of the known.
I had no idea what to expect from the Solway Coast Marathon but what I did know was the following;
I don’t like road marathons
I don’t like running in the summer months
I had raced less than 12 hours earlier in St Andrews
I had pulled my hamstring in the race in St Andrews
So when I woke up at 4am, after just 3 hours sleep I asked myself do I really want to drive for the next three and half hours to do a race that isn’t my usual cup of tea? I showered and put my shorts on and decided that, ‘yes – what the hell, there’s a medal in this for me’.
What I didn’t expect was to thoroughly enjoy myself and have a truly wonderful time at a stunningly good event.
I drove down along the M74 in what is some very misty conditions and I wondered if the promised sunshine might hold off long enough for the race to take place but as I drove further and further toward the marathon I could see that the sunshine had arrived and by the time I pulled into the airfield car park it was already far too warm.
Now being in England the Covid rules have been relaxed further than in Scotland but when I went to collect my number I ensured that I sanitised my hands and wore a mask, while I’m happy to be racing it was good to see that many of the runners at the start maintained social distancing and I didn’t feel like some sort of freak for following Scottish guidance over the English rules.
Number collection was swift and there were good facilities on hand to make sure that we all got to the start line having been to the little boys or girls room. Afterwards I headed back to the car, got into my race gear and then opened the boot of the car and got comfy, just watching the world go by. Despite my feelings that a road marathon was not what I needed I found myself feeling rather comfortable here and there was a lovely relaxed vibe being given off by both the runners and the organisers.
About 8.30am I headed back to the registration point where the runners were starting to congregate and after a short safety briefing we headed down the road to the start line. I met a young local runner called Claire and we chatted for a little while about our various experiences, there was something wonderfully down to earth about Claire and had she been a back of the pack runner she would have made an awesome companion but she was aiming for a sub4 marathon and I most certainly wasn’t.
When we reached the start line I wished her a cheery farewell and hoped she succeeded in her aim for the day but I knew the place I had to take up and so I headed to the back.
It was here that I met the first of many runners who would help define my day in the sunshine. Mick was a runner with a fine pedigree and, as befits a running legend, was wearing a Saxons, Normans & Vikings t-shirt which instantly put him on my radar as someone who would know Traviss Wilcox. I very much enjoyed our gentle first few miles as we talked about all things SVN and beyond. My time with Mick took away from noting how hard going the tarmac was under my feet – something that in my training runs isn’t an issue as I mostly run trails.
Mick clearly had a plan though and was keen to stick to it, whereas I was aiming to do what I usually do, run the first half as fast as I can and then die in the second half. I suppose when I think about it that’s a plan too it’s just not a very good one. So with the sunshine beating down upon me I pressed on through a few of the runners ahead of me and settled into a reasonably steady rhythm.
In the early stages we were running mostly through some of the little villages near the Solway Coast and it was full of little picture postcard scenes that made you feel like you’d stepped back to times gone by. I was rather enamoured with my surroundings and soaked it all in as I gently plodded along.
It was in these little picture postcard villages that I came across a young gentleman and what I assume was his daughter armed with musical instruments and a hose. The sound of music from supporters is something I really enjoy and the little girl was shaking her rattle like her life depended on it. Wonderful. I had seen the gentleman hose down one of the runners and clearly he was doing this for all that wanted it and so with all the gusto I could manage I shouted, ‘in the face, in the face!’ and he duly obliged – spraying my hot sweaty face with cool refreshing water. I didn’t realise it until much later in the race but the soaking of my buff visor by this lovely pair probably helped maintain my ability to run this event as despite the heat and sunshine my neck remained cool.
Now that I was all cool and feeling refreshed I turned my attention to a different issue. The trouble was that my right hamstring was already on fire and I knew that it was only going to get worse but it was joined by a wobbly left hamstring and I did wonder what I had done to deserve this kind of misfortune but regardless my time was looking okay as I completed the little 6 mile loop and started on the long journey around the coastline.
It was here that I came across one of the two most important people I would meet during the race and his name was Sachin and what a lovely chap he was. We ran together for several miles, moving back and forth and forth and back and we shared stories and philosophies and I really enjoyed chewing the fat with him. He was running with such fantastic consistency that he really helped me keep on target, when he finally meandered past me after several false dawns I watched as he slowly, consistently pulled away from me. Looking his time up he was about 20 minutes ahead of me and if he keeps running like that his times are only going to get quicker.
But it was in the weaving of being ahead or behind Sachin that I met the runner who would really define the race for me. I met Allan at about the 10 mile point and we had chatted for a little while during a period that I had scooted ahead of Sachin but then I’d lost both of them at one of the many excellent checkpoints (more on them later). Anyway I’m getting ahead of myself – as Allan approached I was looking into the distance and trying to decide if I was staring at Scotland or if I was staring at the Lake District. I decided it must be Scotland as there were clearly visible hills but Allan assured me that actually I was looking over into the Lakes and that Scotland, or home as we both called it, was in the other direction.
Allan was cool, not bullshit cool, just cool, kinda like the Fonz, in his superdry sunglasses and Highland Fling vest – when I grow up I thought, I want to be like Allan. But when we pulled into the next checkpoint neither of my fellow runners were there and so for the first time in an age I was alone.
It turned out that Allan was a little bit behind me and Sachin was a little bit ahead, I chose to keep moving forward assuming that at some point Allan and every other runner would probably go past me – no need to slow down when I still had energy in my legs.
It’s at this point that I’d like to mention the course and the checkpoints, we were now at about the second checkpoint and it was clear that there was an army of volunteers on the route, all willing you on and the checkpoint teams were just super, super brilliant. Not just in encouragement terms but also in getting you what you wanted. I’d forgetten about marathon checkpoints looked like as I have gotten so used to ultra marathon checks. The tables were pretty simple – water, cola, electrolytes and jelly babies – I don’t need anything else, they did the job they needed to and armed with 2 x 300ml bottles full of active root in my race vest I was well catered for.
That said had I not had my race vest with me then the checkpoints had bottled water that we could use. There were also lots of water stops – I lost count in the end but they were positioned between 3 and 5 miles apart and this meant that you had enough support. The organisers clearly appreciated that running during the summer months can be a challenge and were fully prepared for it. Unlike at some other races I’ve done (looking at you Vanguard Way – read the review here) there was never any hint of a lack of supplies and as I passed that second checkpoint I was very happy with the awesome support that I and the other runners were getting.
Now out on the coast I could finally appreciate the absolutely beautiful location I had come to run at. I spent much of time gazing out across the sands as I pounded the pavements, watching runners in the distance. I wound my way further and further round the route and looking at all the little nuggets of trails with their tree lined shade and thinking, ‘I bet you could have an awesome trail race round here’ and I wonder if they do?
But to the matter at hand I continued forward and up into the next checkpoint, passing two supporters who were following their runner – I think it might have been Micks partner but I couldn’t be 100% sure. However, as I trudged up the little hill in the town I was passing they offered some much needed support – although when I asked them for an ice-cream that was a lot less forthcoming! Ha.
At the top of one of the few little hills on this course there was the next checkpoint and I stopped here for a few minutes, pouring more water over my head, having a bit of banter with the wonderful volunteers and watching as Allan caught me once more.
I set off after I had refilled my now empty bottles and spent a little bit of time with Becks who was doing what good runners do and maintain a good consistent pace and with her I was able to catch up a little on some of the pace that I had lost. Becks soon left me in her dust though, quite rightly might I add and I was once more left to soak up the views. But I could feel myself slowing all the time, the gusto that I had approached the first half had now left my legs but, and this was important, I found myself still running.
Thoughts of finishing in around 4 hours had departed to be replaced by a dose of reality but I realised that I might actually be able to mostly run this one in and so I pressed on bit by bit, making my way slowly to the next checkpoint at mile 18. Somewhere along this section Allan finally caught me for the final time and we got reacquainted after our short chat earlier. He really was a top fella and the kind of person you want to sit down with at a roaring fire and listen to him tell stories of his adventures, his accent was so wonderfully melodic too and I found that very reassuring, it was like one of those velvety voices you used to get on the radio. I didn’t tell him that but I cold have listened to it all day.
Anyway we were running it in, although Allan was employing a walk-run strategy and that seemed like a sensible thing to do and so I found myself joining him and we spent the next little while chatting about adventures, races we’ve done, Daniel Kershaw and how awesome he is, the race to 100 marathons, the race to bagging all the munros and so many other things that filled me with joy. I think the thing I liked most was that he was soon to racing with his 27 year old son for the first time and that gave me hope that my little ASK Adventurer will still take me out when she’s in her 20s.
We pulled into the checkpoint at mile 18 and there were a couple of the most lovely volunteers, as is always the case I try to thank each of them, have a little joke or flirt. But there was something at this checkpoint that I noted and it was a hardcover edition of the Terry Pratchett book ‘Maskerade’ and I found myself chatting to the lovely lady who was reading it. I love a Pratchett novel, with ‘The Amazing Maurice and his Educated Rodents’ being my absolute favourite and ‘The Truth’, ‘Mort’ and ‘Monstrous Regiment’ also being firm favourites – little did I know that my fellow Pratchett fan had a little surprise for me at the finish, but more on that later.
Allan and I pressed on, saying hello to the odd runner that might pass us by or that we might pass, this was one of the friendliest marathons I have ever taken part in and I recall turning to my companion and saying, ‘you know what, I’m really enjoying this’ and I was – I was having a blast. Yes my hamstrings were ruined, the sun was baking, my second toe on my left foot was blistered and I should really have worn some road shoes instead of an older pair of Altra Lone Peak but you simply couldn’t take away the fact that I was smiling.
Allan and I dipped into the mile 22 checkpoint and said hello once more to the volunteers who were here – this was also one of the earlier checkpoints before you disappeared on the long loop of the coast. Once more we had a bit of a laugh and a joke and then we went off, crossing the little bridge and into the clapping hands of supporters and volunteers. ‘You’re doing well guys’ they cried out – now that was very nice to hear but it wasn’t true, I was dying inside and when Allan and I approached the turn to the final few miles I said, ‘you’ll have to go on without me, I might just amble the last few miles I think’. As I was saying this the ambulance that was running up and down the course came hurtling past us with its lights on and I remembered why I often run with other people during races and its because I do better if my mind isn’t fixated on my inner darkness.
As I watched Allan disappearing into the distance with less than 5km to go I made a choice that usually wold elude me, I found my inner grit and I caught up to Allan and decided that I would hang on to his coat tails for as long as I could.
We were now 40km and I had managed to hold on, Allan seemed to be struggling a bit at this late stage but there was no way I was going anywhere without him and so we kept on going together – he pointed in the direction of a couple of towers that represented the finish line and I could feel the finish. A young lady went past us in the final stretch but I was too pleased to care about trying to race her, I was just glad I was going to finish in one piece (ish).
On the final stretch a group of young chaps started to cheer us in but I advised that really I’d appreciate a sarcastic slow hand clap more and they duly obliged – cheeky buggers 🙂 and then the finish, and the people started clapping and cheering to which I shouted, ‘you’ve started too early its going to take me an age to reach you’ and a young lady told me that there was a special gift for me at the finish – I assumed she must have mistaken me for someone else as I didn’t know anyone there.
Anyway the finish was at the bottom of the hill and I said to Allan, ‘let’s sprint this one in’.
All I recall was the hullabaloo of my own voice crying out, ‘I’ve finished, I’ve finished’.
And it was done but the story isn’t over – I was handed my medal, some water and the copy of ‘Maskerade’ that the lovely volunteer had been reading, she had left it for me, and I’ll mention this a little more below as it was an act of kindness that I found incredibly heart warming.
Ascent: 112 metres
Date: July 2021
Location: Kirkbride and the Solway Coast
Tough Rating: 3/5 (mainly due to the heat)
Route The route was through a beautiful part of the UK that I had never seen before and would be keen to explore further both on the English side of the border and the Scottish. If all road marathons looked as good as this then I’d probably run more of them. The route is a curious one though and quite confusing if you’ve never run it before, the initial 6 mile loop throws you because you don’t expect to end up back near the start after only an hour out of the blocks but it really works because then when you have done the bigger loop around the coast you are rewarded with a bit of running that you’ve done before. I found I drew mental strength from knowing that I was nearly there.
Organisation I like a well organised race and this one was brilliant, on the day everything was just right, there was ample parking, there were toilets at all the checkpoints, the volunteers all knew the drill and the general feeling around the event was really positive. The checkpoints were plentiful and each of them was outfitted with everything that a marathoner might need – plus the organisers were happy to take your own bottle of something to some of the checkpoints.
What’s not to like?
The finish line was as well organised as the start and although Covid remains a shadow over events like this it didn’t dominate like it has at other events – possibly given that the rules have been relaxed a bit further since I raced back in May. That said the organisers (and runners) continued to respect the issue that Covid presents and this event was small enough that we all had space and time to adhere to regulations.
Value for money Seriously guys – you need to charge more!
£30 (ish) isn’t enough, there are races that charge so much more and give a whole lot less. I would add that I had never heard of this race before I entered, therefore it needs more marketing or more social media or something. The race had less than 100 starters and for an event that was crafted with this much care and value I think it deserves a bigger audience. This was a truly great value for money event with a really lovely medal, top notch organisation and a lovely experience all round.
This is probably one of the best value races I have ever run and that’s high praise indeed for such a tight fisted gimboid like me.
Awards The medal was a real cracker and one that sits proudly with its siblings, my extra gift of the copy of Maskerade by Terry Pratchett was an unexpected and much loved bonus.
Volunteers and support We all know that the running community needs the support of a large volunteer community and this race looked like it had it by the bucket load. There were lots of volunteers out on the course who were providing directions on an already well marked course. The checkpoint teams were exceptional and couldn’t have been more helpful. I’m a very fortunate runner and have had some great experiences in running but that fun and enjoyment is often built on the hard work and dedication of those who stand in the wet, cold, sweltering heat and worse. The volunteers and the team here were top class and deserve all the plaudits – thank you.
There is also the community to mention – people from the various villages that we passed through waving us on and wishing us well in addition to the pair with the musical instruments and hose and also the second chap who hosed my face down for me at about mile 10 or something. Cyclists, other runners, walkers, even people in cars offering words or signals of support and that really helps when you’re feeling like crap.
Special Mention I really want to say thank you to the lovely volunteer who left the Terry Pratchett book for me at the finish, I want you to know that it was a gesture that will be repaid, as I ‘pay it forward’ by doing something for someone else. I didn’t get your name, but if you read this and want to get in touch I would love to thank you personally. As I sat in my car on the journey home this thing made this race just that little bit more special.
Runners I met some awesome runners during this event, Claire, Mick, Sachin, Becks and of course the awesome Allan. Each of you played a very important and critical part in getting me across the start and the finish and I’ll be thankful to each one of you. Allan especially though, your wise words, fantastic company and endurance were the thing that made sure I ran a reasonable time for a change – I hope our paths cross again on either a hill or in a race, maybe both at the same time.
My race I ran better than usual but my hamstrings are ruined and the Tour of Tameside is going to be absolute murder.
Conclusions If you are looking for a fast, flat marathon then the Solway Coastal Marathon could be it, if you enjoy running in the sunshine of July then this could be for you. However, if like me you dislike road marathons, you dislike sunshine and heat and you’re a dilapidated old fart of a runner then this could be for you! I absolutely loved this race – don’t ask me why, it has so few of the ingredients I look for in a race, there are no hills, no trails. The thing it does have though is a stunning personality, great views and that small marathon vibe running through it.
If you were considering running this race I would say that on a cooler, crisper day this is most certainly a route that you could run a personal best and even in the heat the amount of checkpoints mean there is enough support to run fast and not suffer too much.
Could they improve anything? Yes… a bit more social media in the right places – I know there is a Facebook page for Sport in Action but I really only came across this by accident and a slightly better website with some of the awesome photographs might really help this wonderful event have more attendees. Hell I’d help them do it because I genuinely thought my days of enjoying tarmac were over but the Solway Coast Marathon defied my own definitions of what I enjoy and that is the gift that will keep on giving.
I highly, highly recommend this race – next time I’ll be wearing road shoes though! Thanks Solway Coast Marathon – you were awesome, probably see you next year.
NB: this is an 100% independent and there is no sponsorship, promotion or paid for benefit in this review, just sharing some thoughts on the race. Professional photography courtesy of Carlos Reina Photography
Stood on the beach as the other runners ambled down I could feel that sensation you get when you know that you’re about to do something brilliant. Having recently run the Frostbite 5 with wonderful Trails of Fife, at Lochore Meadows, I was confident that I was in for another belter of a race.
And let’s be fair what more do you want from a race other than to have to run out into the middle of the surf and stare down a giant red lobster? More on that later.
I had made the relatively short hop across from sunny Falkirk to an equally sunny but also rather windy St Andrews, a place I had not yet managed to get to. Therefore, when the Splash & Dash came up and I had very little planned I knew I had to finally pay St Andrews a visit and this would make a great starting point for an epic week of running.
With a marathon to run the next morning I knew that this evenings event should be taken as easy as possible and so as the start line was being set up I made my way to the back of the hundred or so runners. I had no intention of sprinting off like a startled gazelle, no sir, I was going to sit at the back, come last and bloody well enjoy myself.
As these thoughts were running through my head a fellow runner with those, ‘can’t see your eyes’ sunglasses on approached me and asked, ‘do you have a running blog?’
Now occasionally I might have said something to piss someone off in my blog writing so I’m rarely swift to admit being the author and because I couldn’t see the young ladies eyes she was difficult to read but I figured it would be fine and so I carefully answered ‘yes’.
Turns out she had read the Frostbite 5 posting, the previous race I did with Trails of Fife (you can read that here) and I ended up chewing with fat with her little group for a couple of minutes – mostly extolling the virtues of running up Benarty Hill.
I must have gotten rather caught up in chatter though as I barely noticed the start of the race and I found that my legs had assumed control and decided to thunder away with the rest of me. The afterburner was spent pretty quickly though and I had just enough juice in the engine to catch up with local legend Fiona. It is always lovely to see Fiona, she’s one of my favourite runners and a genuine inspiration – I was also very impressed with her choice of top for the race (I’ll be looking that one up and making a purchase if I too can get it in orange!) But now it was time to press on and I slowly managed to pull away from Fiona and the group of runners behind me, not something I can usually do but I thought I’d put a bit of effort in before the old hamstrings gave in.
But here’s the thing – I couldn’t find my groove and the hamstring that has given so much woe since March had clearly been pulled and the tightness was impressing on me, the need to slow down. However, there was a problem – I had picked up a shadow in the form of another runner and she was sat right in my blind spot but I knew that at least for a while I could try and use her as my own personal pacer. Therefore, every time she got within a few metres of me I would open out my stride and pull ahead of her again. I must have done this about 10 times on the run back to the start line of lap one – I’m sure she could have cheerfully put my head in one of those sandy pools and drowned me but instead she simply ran a superbly consistent pace and it was hugely impressive.
At one point I turned to her and said, ‘you can overtake me but I’m going to make you work for it’ but really what I meant was, ‘chase me, I’m desperately trying to stay ahead’. In the end of course I was overtaken but it was a fun game to play even as the sand sapped all the energy from my legs.
Despite only being a mile down the beach and back twice this felt like a very long loop and as the first lap was concluding we were ushered by the amazing volunteers into a meeting with the race mascot.
In the North Sea there was a vison of red loveliness awaiting us, it’s claws ready to snap at unsuspecting runners and a massive flag stood proudly blowing in the wind. Yes we must face the lobster in the water before the lap could conclude.
In less covid times I would have been very happy to have gone and had a little nibble (cuddle), I mean lobster is delicious, and this lobster looked very tasty indeed. However, the times being what they are, I had to settle for a cheery smile and photograph – but I’d see the lobster again on my run to the finish line.
As I am sure we all know that running through water is a real bum ache, it drains your legs, it drains your spirit and it makes everything feel tough – but running in the sea is also the greatest buzz and gives me a tremendous joy. All the time I’ve spent in the water recently has meant that I’ve become rather adept at moving reasonably quickly through moving water and so while some found it a struggle to get out of the water I was able to make reasonable progress up the beach and in to lap 2.
Lap 2 was much like the first in that the beautiful beach at St Andrews gave us an amazing backdrop whichever direction you were running in and the conditions being warm and windy were absolutely magnificent. A couple of runners passed me by, including a chap who was running barefoot and brushed me aside with ease! I could also sense that I was slowing and bit by bit the pretence of a reasonable time was being eroded. However, once past the volunteers at the far end of the course I started to work my way back – I’d found a bit of a second wind and I got chatting to another young fella who was also clearly feeling the burn. We said hello and exchanged a bit of banter that really gave me some encouragement as we entered the final run back down to the water – speaking to him at the end I think he thought he’d get beyond me but I have my little secret weapon for race days…
Yes I’m a terrible runner but there’s one piece of advice that I have stuck by through the thick and thin of racing, ‘always finish strong’.
So as my feet entered the water I pulled my knees up and cried out my love and thanks to the lobster before blasting through the water to a sprint up the beach. I did give a little half a glance behind me to make sure I wasn’t going to be overtaken by the young fella I’d done those last few hundred metres with, thankfully though but he was a few precious seconds behind, though given how much ground he made up on me he more than deserved to finish ahead of me.
However, I crossed the line and inside all I could do was smile. Absolutely wonderful.
Conclusions Trails of Fife are quickly becoming my favourite race organiser, I’ve now done two of their races and both were just the most fun filled experiences. For me part of the joy is that they aren’t ultra marathons or long distance races, I can turn up, race and have a bit of laugh. I’m sure some people take this very seriously indeed but when there’s a giant lobster insisting that you run to him in the sea, well you just can’t take it too seriously can you?
The beach setting of St Andrews was amazing and the late start meant that there was lots of parking available and most of the tourist traffic had departed. This certainly helped with the use of the excellent toilet facilities and in fact by having the race later in the day there was a lot less pressure overall I felt – more early evening races I say!
The organisation was as brilliant as my first experience of Trails of Fife and the volunteers were that lovely blend of cheering you on and making sure that you were going in roughly the right direction. The volunteers are always the stars of the show as far as I am concerned and at Trails of Fife they make you feel that enormous warmth that I find comes with these lovely local races. So my thanks to you. However, I must of course say a special thank you to the lobster for whom standing in the sea for the best part of an hour cannot have been as much fun as it looked – the sea gets cold pretty quickly and he didn’t look like he had a wetsuit on under his outfit. His good humour and commitment to the role was outstanding and my only problem was that I didn’t get to take him home and put him a pot of boiling water and have him for dinner – still there’s always next time.
As for the medal? Well Trails of Fife seem to know how to do a damn fine medal – they’re big enough to make them feel special and nicely designed as a lovely memento of your event. I’m a big fan of these races and the organisers should be very proud of themselves for putting on such fine events. Easy collection of race number? Yes. Good facilities? Yes. Beautiful locations? Yes. Amazing team and volunteers? Yes. Cool medal that you’ll treasure? Yes. Really fun route and event? Yes. Any complaints? No.
If this returns with a winter edition I’ll be adding my name to the list because this is a corker and I’ll be keeping my eyes peeled for further events from the lovely guys at Trails of Fife.
The only downside about writing this is that you may now feel the need to sign up to their races and I might not get a spot but here’s the thing – I feel everyone who loves running and loves a trail or being outdoors should do one of their events. Being as inexpensive as they are means they are as accessible as races get in cost terms and although I can guarantee you’ll love these events I will say that if you don’t have fun then you’ve probably had your fun bones removed.
Covid 19 has created so many delayed and cancelled races with medals having being purchased and monies committed and the Frostbite was probably one of those affected. However, with restrictions eased a little the organisers managed to put on a little 5 mile blast around Lochore Meadows Country Park and it was a real corker!
I happened to be visiting Lochore Meadows that weekend anyway and so the race dovetailed perfectly into my planned weekend of paddle boarding, open water swimming, cycling, running, exploring, kayaking and eating. If you haven’t been to Lochore Meadows Country Park then it is worth looking up and well worth a visit as it offers an abundance of exciting things to do all in a wonderful space.
I woke up in the motorhome park nice and early and went down to the water before the day properly got going and then headed back to Rona for a cup of coffee and the change into my running gear. The day was already scorching and it was barely 8am. By the time I was ready the organisers of the race had set up and were ready to hand out race numbers and medals – presumably one of the Covid secure systems that they had in place to minimise groupings around the finish line.
I gave in my allocated number from the email that had been sent round and excitedly took ownership of number 185 in papery form – it was lovely to be sticking a number on my shorts again. I then bimbled around the start line and the loch for a while before making the short 5 minute walk to the start line down at the golf course.
It was here that I ran into a local Falkirk legend and it was a delight to see her after all this time.
Although I didn’t say it, the last time I ran into Fiona she gave me a proper pasting at the Skull Trail Race and that was 100% fair because I wasn’t fit enough to compete at any distance, but when she came over at The Frostbite 5 to say hello my immediate thought turned to revenge, albeit a very quiet and understated revenge. Actually this isn’t true at all really – my thoughts were around the bloody scorching temperature but keeping ahead of Fiona was certainly in my head as an aim for the day.
And so as 11am approached we all headed down to the start line and spaced ourselves out appropriately, I turned around, as I often do, to look over the other competitors and noted every single one primed with their fingers ready to hit the buttons on their GPS watches. I on the other hand was fumbling around trying to put my camera back into my race vest. I did manage to get myself set just before the off and I even managed to switch on my Garmin and then like a rocket I thrust myself forward around the field that we would circle on our way out to the course.
The course itself was a lovely mix of gentle up and down with well maintained paths offered throughout and the course had been thoroughly marked and was incredibly well marshalled by cheering and presumably overheating volunteers! For my part I felt the heat of the day affecting me but I pushed on with all the energy I could muster and although I was overtaken by a few of the runners I had blasted past in the early stages I was mostly holding my own and found myself at a comfortable pace as I thundered into the main section of Lochore Meadows Country Park.
Knowing this was an out and back meant I was memorising how the course went in terms of where I would need to give it a little bit of a push and as I ran alongside the loch side I knew that the turning point had to be soon – although I had still seen no sign of the returning front runners. On I pressed and into what would be the final straight to the turning point and I could see runners approaching, one then another and another – but not as many I expected. I have very much gotten used to being at the back of the pack and so it was a surprise as I joked with the marshal at the halfway point that I was still running rather well.
I’d now warmed up a bit too and found myself cheering on the runners coming towards me and then something happened to ensure that I maintained my pace.
Behind me I could feel the hot breath of another runner which proved a little dispiriting given I thought I was doing okay and so I casually moved over and offered my breathy shadow the opportunity overtake but he didn’t.
Now whether he was being polite or he didn’t have enough in the legs to shoot past me he remained in my shadow for the next mile. We introduced ourselves and said hello but there wasn’t really time for any ‘ultra type’ chat – both of us where clearly busting a get to get back. John though provided the inspiration I was looking for and I was able to hold my pace and my position ahead of him.
Occasionally I would turn around to see where he was and he was moving from just behind to several seconds behind me and as I approached the field that we had started I had about 10 or 12 seconds on him and knew that this should be enough to get me to the finish ahead of John because I felt a sprint finish in my legs.
The field was long though and I felt myself slowing as the heat beat down upon me and against the short stretch of tarmac I started to slow significantly, I was looking downwards rather than concentrating on what was ahead and so I raised my head, looked forward and pulled myself together for a suitably flying finish.
Bounding to the finish, bouncing along like Bambi I felt amazing and hurled myself across the finish line and enjoying just a little moment of pleasure knowing that for the first time in ages I had run pretty well.
John came in a few seconds behind me and I thanked him for pushing me all the way – I would have slowed down if I hadn’t felt his chasing in the early stages of the second half of the race – really inspiring.
But what of revenge? Well Fiona made it back a minute or so after me and looked as cool as a cucumber, out for a morning stroll rather than a hard race (I looked like a fat bloated and sweaty pig in comparison). I have no doubt that had she had it in mind she would have given me another drubbing but I’ll take a finish ahead of her – just this once.
I ambled back to Rona, the motorhome, taking my medal out of the pocket I had kept it in during the race and put it around my neck, I felt a deep swell of pride wearing it and felt like a million dollars for running on that hot Sunday morning. Awesome!
Conclusions? What a great race, great location and brilliantly organised. This is one of the first times that racing has felt like it is returning and I’ll be looking forward to more events from the guys at Trails of Fife (you can find their Facebook group here) and I’m disappointed that I won’t be able to do their race at the end of June. It is races like this I feel that really being the running community together, for not much more than a tenner you get a medal, a well organised event, a classy route and the opportunity to run with runners from your community – what more could you ask for?
When I am not off doing ultra marathon events these are the types of races I enjoy the most, relatively short distance with a wonderfully mixed group of runners and an inclusive, friendly atmosphere.
Great job guys.
Video Below is a short video of the race from my perspective, enjoy.
I don’t live in the Highlands, so this isn’t a post about surviving the big snowy, icy, wet conditions that can be had up there, I’m not Scottish, so this isn’t a post about a lifetimes experience of the Scottish Central Belt and its regularly changing weather patterns. No this is a post about how I run through the winter in the Central Belt of Scotland with the minimum of fuss.
Now let’s be fair, I’m an odd guy, I’ve been described, often, as idiosyncratic , weird, a fucking nutter and all sorts of offensive and less offensive things. So what might be right for me might not be for you but this overview of how I do a Scottish winter running might be a starting point to keep you going out through the year. I’ll also be listing kit with this overview to try and show that you don’t have to have lots of fancy gear or for it to cost a fortune to get you out there year round.
History I moved to the Central Belt of Scotland nearly three years ago after the ridiculous English voted to leave the European Union (politics over). In that time I feel I have grown rather accustomed to the unpredictable and yet rather serene nature of life north of my former location.
So head to toe this is how I get ready to face the outdoors in the chillier months!
HEAD | Buff | Hat The head is the easiest bit to get right and I have a couple of items that make sense in surviving the winter here in Falkirk.
Buff Buff Traditional | £10-£30 The first is obviously a buff (or similar), it is possibly the most versatile piece of running gear that you own, intend to own or want to own. It’ll wipe your nose, it’ll wipe your arse, it’ll keep your face covered or it’ll act as a hat. I have several types for winter running – so if I’m going on a long run I’ll often choose the Buff Visor because as well as having a neoprene peak which is very soft and flexible you can still use it as a conventional buff and even still chuck it round your wrist. The peak though is the thing that gives you longer running protection from wind and rain in your eyes and can be wrung out if it gets wet! Perfect.
For shorter running more traditional buffs are used and I tend to carry a couple as they are so versatile.
Hat Big Bobble Hat £20 I’m also very keen on a hat – not always because you need one to keep your little head warm – the buff will do this but because the bobble hat always makes me feel nice. If you get a medium weight running hat then that would cover almost all scenarios and if it isn’t too heavy or bulky it will nicely scrunch up and can be tossed in a pocket of a jacket or a running vest. The Big Bobble hat pictured does not scrunch up so well but it is lovely and toasty and you’ll never say, ‘I didn’t see you coming’ while I’m wearing it.
Alternatives Rab Beanie Hat £15 | Oddballs Bobble Hat £15 | Kalenji Running Hat £6
BODY | Long Sleeved Shirt | Short Sleeve Shirt | Gilet Running hot is a nuisance sometimes, especially during the warmer weather or even on those milder winter days and so I need to have a solution that allows me to be both warm and well ventilated. The solution, as with all things for me, is layering and the three layers I discuss below offer the benefit of being easily removable, wicking and protecting me across a range of runs and a version of this would be used as my race day kit.
Long Sleeved Shirt Ronhill Core Long Sleeved Shirt | £25 A popular choice as a next to skin layer would be something like a compression top but I have never fared very well in these and prefer something that I have a little more control over and so I’ll wear a long sleeved Ronhill top. The benefits of this as my base layer means I can easily roll my sleeves up if I’m warming up too much, I can un/tuck the top into my shorts to minimise the amount of cold air that comes into direct contact with my skin and as it is usually neon in colour it offers a good level of visibility.
Alternatives Salomon Agile LS Shirt £30 | OMM Flow LS Shirt £40 | Kiprun Care LS Shirt £20
Short Sleeve Shirt Oddballs Training Top | £17 Over the long sleeved top I’ll wear a shorter sleeved shirt, usually something very lightweight to account for the fact I have two tops on and I’ve found that the Oddballs training shirts are the ideal combination of weight and durability against the various weather conditions that I’ll face. No they aren’t waterproof but they dry quickly and they have a good fit for a standard shaped man and so there isn’t a lot of spare fabric flying around to catch pools of water in. The best thing though is they are available in a range of batshit patterns and colours, are relatively inexpensive and are a perfect companion to my long sleeved top. If Oddballs ever do a long sleeved training tops I’ll be buying some!
Alternatives Salomon Agile SS Shirt £30 | La Sportiva Advance Shirt £45 | Alpkit Vayper SS Shirt £29 | Kalenji Dry + Feel £6
Gilet WAA Gilet | £45 If it rains while I’m out then the training shirts will dry out pretty quickly but for winter running you should have some form of waterproof or water-resistant cover for moist days – cold will cut through most materials in winter when it is wet and if you’re up a hill or out for several hours then even the hardiest of us will begin to feel the chill.
There are lots of options that you can go for such as a wind/water resistant jacket that will offer a little bit of protection from the elements, a full on waterproof jacket that would be best suited to those long days in the rain or for passing a race kit check but for my day to day winter running I usually take with me my WAA running gilet. The gilet offers just enough protection from the elements combined with a tiny form factor to make it great for distances up to about 13 miles or a couple of hours of running. The front of the gilet is single piece of fabric which means that the wind won’t pass through you too easily but on the back there are mesh panels that allow your body to breathe. Sadly I don’t believe they make this any longer but it was a great piece of kit when I first purchased it about 5 years ago and remains a great piece of kit. Oh
Alternatives OMM Sonic Smock £60 | Soar Ultra Running Gilet £135 | Alpkit Arro Vest £35 | Kalenji Run Wind H £10
HANDS | Overmitts | Gloves | Watch The hands are something that I never had to worry about until I arrived in Scotland and even up here it isn’t a major issue beyond the first few minutes of a run. However, those first few minutes are crucial in determining whether it is going to be a good run or not.
Wind/Waterproof Mitts Decathlon Overmitts | £15 The Decathlon overmitts are both waterproof and lightweight and have a tiny size in both form and weight. One of the key things about keeping warm is that you keep the wind out. I tend to find when running that I don’t need insulation as much as I need to keep the chill from passing through me. The overmitts provide a perfect wind protection layer until my hands have heated enough to be self supporting against the conditions and at about £15 a pair they are much more inexpensive than the nearest rivals.
Gloves WAA Gloves | £15 I’ve had a number of pairs of gloves over the years and most have been rubbish but the WAA gloves offer a thin level of insulation and combine this with still being able to use your fingers (a common problem with any level of insulation in gloves I find). There is no option to operate a phone with these gloves but I find this to be a benefit – it means I leave my phone in my pocket – but the fingers are usable enough to allow me to operate the action camera buttons should I need to. The WAA gloves are also the easiest on and off gloves I have ever bought – handy when you only wear them for a very short period of time, sadly these are no longer available at the WAA website but there are alternatives…
Watch Garmin Fenix 6X Pro | £550 A watch of any description is quite a handy thing to have – yes I happen to be using the rather fancy Garmin Fenix 6X Pro but something much simpler would be more than sufficient. I find that I don’t always track my running with the GPS or record it (I don’t use or like Strava) but I do like to keep an eye on how long I have been out for and also what kind of elevation I am running or hiking at. The watch allows me to do these things but I am not a slave to it and in winter I find it useful to remind me that I have or haven’t been out long enough.
The Fenix 6X Pro was bought as the replacement for my Ambit 3 Peak (a much loved multisport watch) with ultra marathons in mind but the alternatives offer many good features at significantly lower price points. The Polar impresses in particular and my partner has this watch because of its smaller size and lower weight as well as its many activity features.
LEGS | Shorts Whenever I post new running content to either Facebook or Instagram it will be adorned with the hashtag ‘shortsallyear’ because for me there is simply no better feeling and because my body can handle it. Not everybody can handle the cold as well as I do and therefore I can fully appreciate why you might opt for running leggings or even winter running leggings. Legwear is the most complex choice I think as they are difficult to change when you are out on a run and it’s the thing that you are most unlikely to carry a spare of so you’re stuck in whatever you choose to go out in.
Shorts Ronhill Tech Revive Twin Skin Shorts | £35 In the decade I have been running I have owned just 7 pairs of training shorts and given that I run on average a little over 300 days per year that is a lot of running for just 7 pairs of shorts. To be fair 2 of those pairs have been in the rotation for just a couple of months and 2 of those pairs have been there since 2018 – so for nearly 8 years I used just 3 pairs of Nike twin skin running shorts (no longer available) and I wore them in every possible condition. The latest additions to my running shorts armoury are Ronhill because they are good fit for me and I have had many happy adventures in their tops.
I wear twin skin shorts as a general rule because the brief style shorts are a bit like trying to fit a 500ml bottle of cola into a space designed for a 330ml can of fizzy drink. It also means that my legs mostly stay dry even if the outer fabric takes a bit of a pounding from the wet or the mud. In the cold I appreciate the next to skin layer especially given that I have a tendency to be nut sack high in wet muddy trails and worse icy waters.
FEET | Drymax Socks | Gaiters | Trail Running Shoes The feet represent my weakest point and therefore this is the area I pay most attention to during the winter months, I rotate my shoes on a daily basis and often have at least five different pairs going at once – this allows each pair to dry out fully before they are next used. Beyond this it’s about management of my feet to ensure they stay in reasonable condition for the next run
Socks Drymax Socks | £10-30 I recently wrote a piece about how I’ve evolved the set up of my kit for racing with specific reference to my feet (read about it here) and a key component of that are the Drymax socks. I’ve pretty much gone from only using Drymax during races to using them in anything other than warm, summery conditions.
The key benefit of Drymax is the warm while wet approach that means that even if your feet take a serious dunking the socks will keep your little footsies warm and relatively toasty. During a Scottish winter of running it is not inconceivable that you’ll come across snow, ice, freezing water, oodles of gooey mud, oodles of sticky mud and worse and so the socks need to be robust enough to handle all of the above and more.
During winter I tend to wear higher up the leg socks rather than the crew length ones I opt for in the summer and this also helps to keep the crap of the trail or ice away from skin which can an absolute bastard if it slices into you. If there’s one thing I want protected it’s my feet and these really help.
Alternatives Injinji Toe Socks £10-25 | Hilly Off Road Socks £10-20 |
Trail Running Shoes Topo Athletic Terraventure | £120 My first choice running shoes for the winter are my Topo Athletic Terraventure followed by the Inov8 Trail Talon 290, these two workhorse shoes will do everything and they are bombproof, they will go everywhere and nothing can hurt them. Both pairs of shoes will eat up tarmac if they are asked to but they are designed for the trail and that is where they will have the most fun and where you will get most benefit.
Footwear choice is, of course, very personal and you should only wear the shoes that are suited to you but these are the ones suited to me.
I would suggest that whatever shoe you wear during the winter that it is suited to the conditions that you are facing, If you do lots of tarmac then you don’t need aggressive lugs but if you are facing mud and hills on a daily basis then you’ll need something that can dig into the terrain. One thing that has seen me invest in is some specialist equipment for the ice and I’ll discuss this in the extras section.
Shoes don’t need to be super expensive or a super popular brand but go to a retailer (when we are allowed) and try them on, get a feel for them and listen to your feet. It took me a long time to find shoes that worked consistently but issues with my feet are no longer caused by the footwear I choose, just the conditions I run in! Do your research and you will be rewarded.
Alternatives Altra Lone Peak 5.0 £140 | On Cloudventure £150 | Kalenji Evadict TR2 £50 | More Mile Cheviot Pace £30
Gaiters Topo Athletic Gaiter | £15 Let me start by saying that the Topo Athletic gaiter is not my favourite gaiter, that award goes to the Dirty Girl gaiters that have been following my adventures since my first ultra marathon. However, I own the shoes so I might as well own the gaiters with the correct fitting for the footwear. The gaiters during winter provide added protection from the trail, there is nothing worse than stones, grit or other flotsam and jetsam getting involved with your feet. A pair of gaiters will instantly improve your running experience especially, if like me, you’ve got weak feet.
CARRY | Waterproof Jacket | Overtrousers | Light Year round I wear a running vest, I prefer it to a running belt or the Freetrain phone holder, I feel that a running vest or bag is designed to hold stuff and distribute weight across you better than any of the alternatives. Plus as a former Runcommuter I am very used to the idea of running with a bag on my back and in winter I believe that running safely requires the carrying of a few kit extras.
Waterproof Jacket Montane Minimus Waterproof Jacket | £140 I always come back to this jacket for one reason and one reason only – it has never, ever failed me. I own two of these but I mostly wear the one I have owned for nearly a decade, it doesn’t age, it doesn’t show signs of wear and its a beautiful green colour.
The Montane Minimus comes with me on those longer runs or when I head into the hills or if it really is chucking it down – how often do I wear it in the winter? Not that often, but occasionally if I’m having day where I feel a bit shit and frail then I’ll chuck it on and feel that bit more secure about going out and facing the trails.
Overtrousers Montane Featherlite Trousers | £50 This may surprise some readers but even I need a bit of help in the leg department occasionally and the thing that I carry with me are my much underused Montane Featherlite Trousers.
Now let me start by saying that these are not waterproof trousers they are water resistant and wind resistant and this is the key to why I like them so much. They are so light but never let my legs overheat and they dry incredibly quickly meaning that if I have had to resort to putting them on they are going to provide the kind of layer that I need. I own a much heavier pair of waterproof trousers that I use for hiking – the brilliant Berghaus Deluge but these would only be suitable as running cover in the most unpleasant of race situations (say something like the Spine).
This winter I haven’t worn my Featherlite Overtrousers because the lockdown has kept me relatively close to home and therefore away from the hills but in previous winters whenever I go near an area that might leave me a bit isolated these are straight into my running bag and the best thing is that they scrunch down into a tiny little stuff sack.
Light Olight Baton | £90 First off let me assure you that I paid a lot less than the price on the Olight website for a light that is the same length as my thumb (I have small thumbs). However, the important thing is that you are going to want a light if you are running through the winter – in the Central Belt it can be dark for up to 16 hours a day and that means the hours of daylight are likely being taken up with things like childcare or work or watching Netflix.
I have a number of headtorches that all work very well but I wanted something handheld as I find wearing a headtorch is a little uncomfortable (something I’m happy to put up in race conditions but not on my pleasure runs), they interfere with action camera footage and of course it can create the tunnel vision effect that can make running in the dark a lot less enjoyable.
The Olight baton benefits from being tiny in size, as already mentioned, but also incredibly powerful in terms of its beam (up to 2000 lumens) and there are three brightness settings available. Battery life is reasonable even on the brightest setting although in race conditions I think this would only ever be a spare light. The good news is that the Olight Baton can be recharged on the go with the use of an external battery pack and has a very secure magnetic charging cable that means you could chuck it in the back of your pack and leave it there to charge until you need it.
I use this extensively on my local trails if I am running late at night as there is very little moonlight that penetrates the canopy of my trail and so each step is in total darkness – this light really does lead the way. A very worthwhile purchase.
EXTRAS | Spikes | Survival Bag | First Aid Kit | Water Bottle
There are things that I have had for a very long time that form, part of my running kit and there are a few extras I have bought to face the Scottish winters – the first thing I bought as an extra was a pair of running spikes.
I am fortunate to live close enough to my local trails that if it ices up I can manage the few hundred metres of tarmac in spikes to get to the trail. Spikes aren’t the only solution to running on the ice and they certainly are not perfect but they let me keep going out even when others have been sidelined by the weather. Because I have rather large hobbit like feet I bought the Altra Golden Spike which are both surprisingly cushioned and grippy. The alternatives include the excellent YakTrax Pro or the rather expensive studded running shoes from VJ Sports, Inov8 and Icebug.
I have a plethora of water bottles that I use with my absolute favourite being the first generation hard bottles from Ultimate Direction, those bad boys have been hard to beat over the years and despite the advances in the technology and taste of the soft bottle I still prefer these beauties. That said I use my Salomon 150ml soft bottle for runs in winter up to about 21km and anything after that I’ll use a 300ml soft bottle because they are more flexible and fit better alongside the action camera that often accompanies me on runs.
I would always recommend carrying a survival bag of some description, I’ve never had to use one but on the day I do I will be extremely pleased that I have it with me. If I am going off trail or will be on my own for any length of time then this is an essential piece of kit that might well save my life and my life is probably just about worth the £10 that you’ll need to spend to get your hands on one of these.
As for a first aid kit I’m a bit skinny with this, I take a small used Compeed pack and put in it some plasters, a needle, painkillers, blister plasters and a small dressing and keep this at the bottom of my bag – again I have never had to use it while out training, although I did use it while racing on the Isle of Skye and that kept my feet in one piece until the end of the race (I say one piece my feet were fucked – you can read the race review here).
WHAT’S ESSENTIAL? I would say that of the kit listed above the essential bits are the buff, the long sleeved top, legwear, running shoes, socks, gloves and a water resistant or waterproof jacket – the rest I could have survived without but they made my daily jaunts to the trails much easier.
In 2011 if you’d have looked in my running gear drawer this is what you would have found the following;
my old ASICs trail shoes that I ran on roads and trails in | £27
my 3/4 length Nike running tights |£17
a couple of pairs of white cotton M&S socks | £3.50
a black buff that I stole from my partner who used to wear it while visiting farms | Free
a second buff I bought from a Rat Race event | £5
a pair of Saucony running gloves that fell apart after about 5 minutes | £14
a sale Adidas wind resistant jacket | £19
a long sleeved Ronhill running shirt that I still wear to this day | £21
a couple of short sleeved Rat Race overstock t-shirts from previous RR events | £10
It is also worth noting that these days I tend to run daily, especially in the winter and therefore I need a bit more kit to see me through otherwise my washing machine would never be off.
Only you can really decide what is essential for you to go running during the winter but for a relatively small investment you could probably have all the essentials that you need for running regularly and safely.
I tend to invest because my view is always that I’d rather have kit that does the job and does it for a long time and I like good value. My Montane Minimus is the best example of this, I bought the waterproof jacket many years ago for about £80 and it will probably last me another decade or more if I continue to look after it – that’s value for money and I’ve discovered value for money rarely means cheap. That said my £3, 18 year old Kalenji running base layers are still going strong and get worn often, get washed even more often and are super useful for running and other activities, so good value isn’t always expensive either!
WHERE? Where do you get stuff like this? Well that will be down to you but I like to use a mix of independent retailers, direct from manufacturers and online resources.
To make it clear I am NOT sponsored by any of these (or anyone else), I purchase all the products I use and nothing is ever taken for free or testing.
If I am looking for well made and inexpensive kit then I will always look at Decathlon because as well as having a significant shop presence I think they’re brilliant and then places like Cotswold Outdoors and Runners Need will always have something useful that the others can’t cover.
I NEVER buy from Sports Direct.
TOP TIPS I should point out that the kit and products I have listed I own and have used extensively in the cold of Scotland’s winter months, sometimes over multiple years.
The alternatives that I have presented here are merely examples of the things that I might own, might have researched or looked up as alternatives specifically for this blog and if you like the sound of them then get your research hat on and start deciding if it’s right for you. You are the best decision-maker for what will fit and work best for you, not some bloke on a blog or someone answering a Facebook/Twitter question.
And the reason I am posting this towards the tail end of the winter running season? Well it will soon be time for retailers to dispose of their AW20 kit and you might pick up a bargain or two that will be perfect for AW21.
FINALLY I do hope though that you realise that is possible to run all year round and that while you can spend an absolute fortune you really do not have to, the combination of excellent sales and the increase in the UK visibility of places like Decathlon means that choice has never been better and the quality of brands like Crane (via Aldi) has much improved in recent years. The sad thing is that the last couple of years has seen the loss of a couple of excellent independent running stores and these will unlikely be replaced – therefore please support local or independent running/outdoor stores were you can.
Most importantly of course is, enjoy your winter running and do it safely.
Much has changed in the last few months, I’ve dropped over 13kg in weight, I’ve finally grown an ultra beard, I now own two kayaks and a paddleboard, ASK Adventurer turned 6 and oh yes… COVID 19
You’ll all be aware that racing has been off the agenda for most of 2020 due to the pandemic and only in the last few weeks has it really shown any return, albeit, that return, at the time of writing, is in jeopardy.
While I realise that running events not happening isn’t the end of the world, it does effect me, but being so long since my last race I wondered if this enforced absence might have seen my racing love, wane somewhat.
Then along came the lovely Luke Gow who I’d met at the Nocturnal Ultra a couple of years ago (evening geezer) and he suggested that Ultra North in Northumberland might be going ahead and would have spaces. What a cheeky little bugger manipulating me like that…
Well of course I immediately checked out the website and given I’m susceptible to even the lightest race persuasion* I soon found myself stumping up the entrance fee. (*this seems an odd phrase on re-reading, I need to practive my writing more).
Ultra North comes from the same people who do things like The Great North Run and the Great Swim Series – as a larger events organisation I would normally avoid them – because experience suggests that the profit motivation goes before the quality of the event. However, after swimming in a couple of the Great Swim series I had high hopes that this would be one of the better ‘large’ events.
Ultra North was targeting a wide running base in its advertising as it was being suggested as suitable for both speed demons and those of us with more of a snails pace and in this sense it opened its arms to all who were willing to give it a go. With generous cut offs and lots of support – plus two race distances this was, on paper, a good novice ultra event. Perhaps on paper you’d have read this as a road marathoner and thought ‘I could do Ultra North’.
Ultimately I was quite happy that I was signing up to a race that wasn’t to my usual tastes but the question is did it prove to be better than my expectations and dud it reignite my racing fire?
We’ll get there in a minute.
Anyway we drove down to a place about an hour outside of the start in Newcastle called Bellingham and camped overnight – this meant there wasn’t a near 3hr sprint from Scotland to the start line. This enable me to have a much more relaxed approach to reaching the registration point and with all the COVID regulations in place you really wanted to be arriving in a semi relaxed state.
Weather conditions promised heavy rain so the outdoor registration system was a bit miserable but the team behind Ultra North were quick, effective and as enthusiastic as you could hope for. It wasn’t perhaps your typical Geordie welcome but these are unusual times we live in.
I collected my race number and affixed it to my leggings and then lined up, all very simple. The Eagles Arena car park had been set up to give the runners adequate space to social distance and runners were sent off in groups of 3. It wasn’t a race start to write home about – COVID has sapped the energy out of events – but this is to be expected and so as we were sent on our merry way I remembered that this is temporary and that for the first time since the Falkirk Ultra I was racing again.
The route lumbered its way through some very uninspiring kilometres which had me worried, the tarmac was hard and the roads grey and without joy – if the whole event was like this then it was going to be a truly miserable day. However, the runners, many of whom were from the north east had the lovely chatty, friendly personality I had come to expect and COVID had not managed to beat that. I both listened in and joined into conversations that passed me and that I went past. That was lovely and thankfully once we were closing in on the first checkpoint at 13km the route was becoming more interesting I started to enjoy myself.
It was in the last couple of kilometres to checkpoint one that I met the lovely Leanne who was a first time ultra runner and looking incredibly strong. We chewed the fat a bit before saying farewell as we set off for checkpoint two but I had no doubt she had a great finish in her. Her energy gave me the drive to push onwards to CP1 when I might normally have dragged my heels a bit – so thank you!
The checkpoints were very simply laid out with all the bits you could want and it was very much self help (which I prefer), a one way system through the CP and hand sanitising before you tuck in.
Now because I’m on a weight loss fight I decided not to stuff my face, so it was a small amount of cola, one chocolate pancake thing and then gone.
From here we crossed the Tyne for the first time and off for a series of climbs into the ‘wilds’ of Northumberland and the route provided those with road shoes on something of a challenge as we climbed muddy, wet, rocky trails. This was probably my favourite section but I did hear a number of the runners cursing this and describing it as tough (ha! wait until you try MIUT then you’ll know tough!). All the road running was worth these lovely little bits of trail and I was disappointed when the climbing and the mud abated. Still back to the roads and actually as I passed through little villages and lovely bits of England I had never before seen I found a great sense of joy – I’ll be honest this was mildly tempered by the soaking I had taken and continued to take.
I passed by the next checkpoint in good time and was only mildly concerned that one of the marshals offered me the ambulance. He must have misinterpreted my response to; ‘do you need anything?’ To which I had replied, ‘a lift back?’
It was in this section that I met Chris (if I’ve got your name wrong my apologies), we chatted for a bit and I encouraged us to a bit of running – he told me that the running we’d done had been the longest he’d done in a while. When I left him to carry on running I was convinced he would make it and sure enough as I was driving home I saw him coming into the final kilometre looking as determined as when I had left him. Good job fella!
I was now into the last 20km or so and was bang on time, not too fast, not too slow. I hit the third checkpoint and was in and out pretty quickly but as I left the checkpoint I noted ASK and the GingaNinja approaching and waving wildly from Rona!
I stopped mere seconds to wave at them and tell them I had to continue – they would thankfully come and see me later in the race which was a perfect pick me up at about 45km.
More tarmac passed under my weary feet and for someone who had weak glutes, no core stength, trail shoes on and very limited training in the bank this was proving a killer, not that I’m looking for excuses, obviously.
There was also the back injuries that have plagued me since about 2015 resurfacing at 20km and made the weight of my race vest feel very heavy and draining indeed. That problem is going to be a very serious issue for The Cheviot Goat in a few weeks time. Here though the problem manifested itself as severe pain across the middle of my back and so I would hoist my race vest higher up my back to alleviate the stress points.
Regardless I pushed onwards as I knew that I was now not going to DNF, even with the back pain I could push through and claim my first medal in months. It was at about 40km though that the dynamic of the race changed for me and I met a young man with a nice beard called Lewis and we got chatting during one of my regular refuelling and walking breaks. We found ourselves chewing the fat over all sorts of topics and I found his company delightful and very distracting from my back trouble.
I could have run on from him as I had the energy to do it, but I made a decision that his speed walking pace was sufficiently excellent, my back was in pieces and if we maintained this pace I’d only be 40 minutes slower than if I were running and so despite both of us clearly stating, ‘please crack on if you need to’ we stayed together and talked (hopefully) about useful, useless and running things for the final three hours of the event!
As we crossed the Millennium Bridge across the Tyne I recounted my last running in Newcastle (Rat Race’s The Wall – review here), I was even able to identify the nightclub where a drunken Geordie lass offered to help myself and another runner up to the finish despite not being able to stand herself – I have no idea if there’s a euphemism in there but there might have been at the time of the original event.
I was surprised that lots of the runners I spoke to were considering or had run The Wall, I’d urge everyone to make sure you’ve looked round at alternatives, The Wall is very expensive for what you’re getting and the north and north east have a lot of great value, great running events. Just saying.
Anyway with the wind on our back and the rain on our faces Lewis and I ambled gently towards the finish. I was now very cold, partly due to an extended stop at the final checkpoint, partly due to a gruelling 8hr soaking, so I was keen to finish but the cold and the speed walking had drained any notion of running the last kilometre.
Lewis and I waited until we could see the finish before we put on a short burst of speed and crossed the eerily quiet finish line and the collection of our rewards.
An odd day, a good day.
Ascent: Around 550 metres
Date: October 2020
Entrants: 109 finishers
Terrain: Mixed, lots of tarmac
Tough Rating: 1/5
Route This one isn’t going to win any prizes for being the most scenic but it has its moments, ultimately I think you know what you’re likely to be getting into when the compulsory kit says ‘debit card’ to buy supplies if you need them.
If you’re a fast road runner and fancying the transition to trail this would be a great route to get some testing into your feet or if you’re new to the ultra marathon scene then this won’t come as too much of a shock. The route has a lot in common with the aforementioned ‘The Wall’ in that the amount of road running is quite high. However, if you’re aware of this or have a preference for it then you’re going to enjoy yourself. If you’re an out and out trail runner then this might not be one for you.
These are also a couple of iconic moments on the route too – obviously the run alongside the Tyne is a must see if you’re coming to Newcastle and this brought back a shitload of great memories for me. Running the last bit with Lewis as well gave it a nice social element that we’ve all been missing since racing stopped.
Anyway I can’t actually be negative about the route overall, it is mostly quite good fun (well except for that shitty first few kilometres but every race has a bit like that). I would urge the Ultra North organisers to see if there are any ways to add in some of the lovely trails that lined the roads of the route – I realise this probably means greater organisation and costs but it would make for a more complete route and would certainly draw runners like me back.
Organisation I would struggle to fault the organisation, it was very well oiled. The checkpoints were well spaced out and well thought out, the marshalls were all well organised and well drilled, all instructions, both on the day and pre-race, were clear and the COVID side of things was handled with all the grace and clarity it could be. Ultra North should be commended for managing to put on a city starting event and yet maintain the required level of protocols.
A special note of course to the marshals without whom these events could not take place, each and every one of them that I came into contact with was doing a spectacular job and while it might not have been cuddles and kisses there was a lot of support and encouragement and no hint of pressure to get out of a CP. Well done guys.
Value for Money Always a tricky one, this race was about £65 which I consider a fair amount for a race. What did you get? You got a well organised, well supported race across a circular route and a medal and T-shirt where you could see were bespoke. The food at the checkpoints was plentiful, nice and varied and so, yes, Ultra North offered good value for money.
Awards Bespoke medal and shirt (size medium, that’s what a bit of weight loss will do for you). I liked the medal and shirt, very vibrant, much like the rest of the excellent event branding.
Conclusion Any runner, and I mean any runner or long distance walker, could find enough good reasons to take part in this.
It’s short enough for a a marathon runner to test their ability on a new distance, mixed terrain runners would enjoy the variety, new to ultra distance runners will find it not too challenging and experienced ultra runners will enjoy the day out in Newcastle not being covered in as much shit as usual.
It’s possibly not the event that you’ll remember as the best you ever did but does that really matter? It was a fun day out as far as I am concerned and remember I was soaking wet for 8hrs. Would I return to run it again? I would certainly consider returning – though I think the October date is much better than the original March date that is pencilled in for this and if the route was made a little more of the trail features found all over this landscape then you’ve got a bona fide hit.
Racing Fire Did Ultra North return my racing fire? Sort of – I’m now looking forward to The Cheviot Goat much more than I was – but COVID 19 has removed a lot of the fun of racing for me.
I’ve been locked down for a few days now – unable to leave the house, never mind go running. I mean I could have visited the treadmill but I don’t have a good relationship with the treadmill – we treat each other with disdain.
I’ve also been having a huge amount of fun eating toblerone and eating toblerone requires concentration and so you can’t run. When I haven’t been working, I’ve been eating and vice versa. Life is a super exciting rollercoaster at the moment.
Yesterday though I said to ASK would you like to go running in the garden?
She replied, ‘yes please, can we have a race’ and I told her that if she ran 100 laps of the garden I’d give her the virtual medal she hadn’t quite earned from her March running, and that yes we could race it. 100 laps of the garden would be enough to cover the last couple of miles she needed and she seemed happy to try it. I told her that I’d carry on and do maybe 200 laps and she seemed pretty happy about the arrangement.
The trouble is that the layout of our garden is not very conducive to running for a number of reasons;
It’s on multiple levels
The runnable bit isn’t very big
Regardless I managed to devise a route that would take in the bulk of the paths of the garden, a rock jump and some steps – all this in under 50 metres. Had I been smarter I could have used the front garden too and the two side passages wither side of the house which would have made it more like a 200 metre loop but I figured the pain of torment of such a small loop would at the very least test our mental strength.
I told ASK that we must move at slow and steady pace and that the garden was full of opportunities to injure ourselves and so we must be careful. Anyway ASK was off like a rocket and calling out to me to hurry up – I was choosing to run just behind her incase any of the garden obstacle proved the undoing of my rather slight five year old.
I had instructed both of us to put a layer on and also a buff to help keep us warm but as the laps started falling we found that both of us were wildly overdressed and quickly disposed of our layers. ASK was quick round the course, racing up the steps and then bounding down the narrow path down and making jolly good fun of the rock leap at the bottom of the narrow path.
She refused to let me pass and lead the way – even when we had water stops she would say, ‘dad are you ready?’ and then immediately step out infant of me to get a bit of a head start. As we hit 50 laps she started to slow a little bit – not on the downhill but on the steps and the climb back up to the top of the garden. I offered words of encouragement and gave her regular updates as to how many laps we had completed and more importantly, how many were left to go.
Thankfully her mid-run lull lasted about 10 laps and then she had some fire in her belly as I said there were barely 30 laps left. With all the energy she could muster I could see the pumping of her arms driving her ever forward. 10 laps to go and I called out to her that there were about 20 laps still left, because clearly she wasn’t keeping count, and as the entered the last 3 laps I finally revealed we were nearly there. She shot off but I called out to her that there were still 3 laps left – and thankfully she slowed a little bit, allowing me to catch her up.
As she passed the ‘checkpoint’ for the final time I called out to her that this was the last lap and that I was going to win. With gusto I started tailgating her around the lap, making her call out to, ‘stop it dad!’ to which I replied, ‘well go faster!’
The last 20 metres were quick as lightning and she crossed the line with a little jump in the air and a big slurp of water in the late afternoon sunshine. A very happy young lady was soon awarded the virtual medal she had now finally earned – that makes it about medal number 26 that she’s achieved and this one was in very special circumstances.
There is a really weird sensation about rolling up the start line of a race and being the only person there, I suppose this would make me the both first and last finisher in the race I was runningbut the Pike and Back (Virtual) Half Marathon had much more meaning than just a run, this was a run that filled with history, emotion and of course mud.
I left my home in Scotland at about 7am with the aim to start running around lunchtime and hopefully avoid those who might be considering running the virtual race on the course at the original designated time – it’s about a four and half hour journey and I broke this up with a swift stop at a McDonalds for a ‘nourishing’ breakfast.
I was driving the little car as it was just me travelling and as the sun beat down on the car I thought it was going to be a scorcher for the run, something I had not counted on when I had been packing my kit (I was all waterproofs and survival blankets). I arrived bang on time despite a couple of little mis-steps in my directions.
The man in the car next me glared as I pulled up next to him he tossed his cigarette out of the car and wound his window up – presumably because he believved I had arrived to lick COVID 19 all over him which couldn’t be any further from the truth.
Anyway I had a Tesco pastry and a bit of chocolate milkshake to make sure I was fully energisted and then quickly got changed into my kit. I had vague memories of Moss Bank from my childhood, although I’m not from Bolton I do know the area quite well from visits as a child and Winter Hill is a well known landmark but I couldn’t remember ever being allowd to go up it (we were not a very active family). We also used to come here when I was child to a restaurant called Smithhills – it was a dickensian themed place and for our birthdays my grandparents would take us there as a treat. This event, virtual or not was loaded with memories for me and on the day before I led the funeral to my grandmother this was rather a poignant thing I was doing (you could read about this in a separate blog post here).
I set up the navigation on my Suunto and started to amble around aimlessly looking for the start (this did not bode well for following the route). Eventually after a few minutes of groping around the park I came to a small opening in the bushes which looked like the kind of place that a race might begin – Suunto agreed and so, after a couple of pictures, we set off.
Now lets be fair Suunto and the breadcrumb trail is at best, ‘not bad’ so as I ambled up the hill towards what I considered to be the route I figured quickly that I had made a mistake – what gave this away was that I found myself launching my poor, knackered body off a wall and onto the street below and then around a few narrow winding streets and then some steps where I finally picked up what was probably the route. There were clues that this might be the route, the first was the winding river and the trail in the distance, the second was that my watch finally looked like it was going in the right direction and thirdly two fellow virtual half marathiners came thundering past me.
Aha I thought I have found my way.
Now I really hadn’t done that much research about the race or route, I’d left it to the rose tinted specs to assume that this would be something I’d like to do. I’d glanced at the elevation profile which looked like there were two small hills at about the mid-point of the route and the rest of it was pretty flat. It was only as I was about 600 metres in that I realised I had rather misjudged the situation and I had rather misjudged the route. Effectively the route was made actually made up of two tough climbs on a variety of surfaces and then in reverse it was made of a couple of hanrd going downhills and one really tough as old boots uphill that really sapped every last bit of energy you had!
The first three and bit kilometres of the route were mainly tarmac, quiet roads (or they should have been given the COVID-19 trouble), the elevation felt really tough. The toughness wasn’t just the route, this was very much a combination of a long drive from Scotland and a lack of training in recent weeks, my lack of training has been in part to COVID-19 but mainly due to the stress of work and my grandmother dying and having to do all the arrangements from this and now I was feeling it.
The road seemed never ending and I did for a moment wonder if this was a trail half marathon but then glinting in the distance I saw the outline of a gate and a route on to the rolling trails around Winter Hill and Rivington Pike. I crossed the gate and bade the cyclists a good morning as I passed by them and then continued onward and most importantly upward. At this point we had moved from the tarmac to hard packed and stoney trail. I bimbled along, stopping only to allow past me, faster moving traffic and to take pictures of the truly spectacular surroundings. In the distance I now had clear sight of the Winter Hill transmission mast and realised that I despite having been here many times before I had probably only ever seen this at a distance.
I pressed on across the rocks, the mud and the water, the route had now gone from a bit of a slog to being genuinely fun and I was finally enjoying the route – especially as the sun was shining but also lovely and cool, a perfect running day. My feet for the first time that day felt free to unleash a little bit of pace inspite of the uphill – this is why I run I thought. I found myself feeling rather jaunty depsite the situation we all find ourselves in and I could simply revel in the reason I was here – to pay a small tribute to my departed (but much unloved) granny.
I skipped down the stony path and alongside the transmittor and marvelled at the scale of the structure that had once (and may well still) send out things like the signal for Granada Television, I felt like a young boy in the back seat of grandfathers car as a ran beside the mast, the only thing missing was the twinkling red lights that adorn it as the lights go down.
I assumed that Rivington Pike could not be that far from the mast and in the distance I could see a small structure which I asssumed was the destination and turnaround point. I therefore joined a narrow piece of tarmac and wended my way downwards and started arching away from the small structure, that was not Rivington Pike – oh dear. In the distance I could see a flurry of people around what looked like a small fortification or castle – that was Rivington Pike and I was what looked like several miles away from it. Thankfully this was now downhill but my knees don’t much like tarmac and they were feeling the stress of the pounding they were taking and although my Lone Peak 4.0 are well built they aren’t suited for sustained running on tarmac.
I ran down and down, and down and down and then weirdly what felt like more down and down, yet, and this was the strange thing – Rivington Pike was up – totally in opposition to my descent.
However, eventually my downward spiral stopped and I returned to hard packed trails – here it felt very busy, lots of people travelling up to the Rivington Pike and dusty hard packed trails gave the illusion that everybody had a dry and dusty cough. It was rather interesting to watch as people covered up their faces as they walked past you or as I ran past them. I mean yes I was breathing more heavily than most of the people there but then I was exerting more pressure on my poor old body. I was mostly being sensible and passing people at a distance but one couple, who were wearing face masks, moved away from me at 90 degrees and zipped up their heavy duty winter jackets to fully cover their mouth – which I felt was a little excessive given that I was never closer than about 20ft away.
Anyway I hurled myself on to the final climb of Rivington Pike and chatted (at a safe social distance) to a local cyclist, both of us wondering why the hell we were here. I waved at him as I left him behind and continued my climb to the top which was awash with people. I stopped long enough to take a couple of pictures and then made a swift sprint down the front of the Pike knowing that an absolute shit of a hill was waiting for me.
I’ll be perfectly honest, not a lot of running was done back up the hill, my legs were absolutely cream crackered and all I wanted was to be back at the car and maybe stop at the ice cream van who was awaiting customers in the park. I was also very keen to relieve my bladder of its contents but given the throngs of people that were festooned around the route and the lack of any cover meant that I really had to tie a knot in it and hold on. It was here that I noted I had probably made a routing error on the way out and added several hundred metres to my journey as my beloved Suunto insisted that I head across the wet boggy trail. Of course this was music to my ears – get off the tarmac, get back in touch with nature and as cold mud sprayed up the back of me and my feet found themselves submerged I thought, ‘bliss’. I came across a father and son who were clearly not geared for this kind of trail and looking rather unhappy at the prospect of having to continue through this but they managed a cheery smile as I ran by them.
Soon though I was back on the path and facing the Winter Hill mast, I waved goodbye to it as I turned away from it and pushed on as fast as I could knowing that it was mostly downhill all the way home. However, as I’ve indicated the route was hard going and even in a downhill situation if you’re undertrained and exhausted then it is ging to be hard. But with the wind on my back and surprising cheeriness in my heart I ran happily off the hill and back to road which seemed so long ago now.
When I arrived back to the gate it felt like I had really achieved something and I gently ran down the road, attemptin not to punish my old nears any more than I needed to. I was so close now and in the distance I could see the park where all of this had started. Down, down, down I went – bit like a first date that has gone too well – and as I arrived back to the point I met the earlier virtual runners I felt a tremendous sense of relief. Yes I’d been slow but I’d had good reason not to rush this one – I had time and I wanted time to be able to reflect on everything that is currently going on both personally and globally. I crossed the finish line to the sound of silence, or rather the sound of nature and actually rather enjoyed it.
I’d completed the Pike and Back Half Marathon and I was pleased to have done it.
Distance: Half Marathon Type: Virtual (due to COVID-19) Ascent: Bloody Hell Date: March 2020 Location: Bolton Terrain: Very mixed Tough Rating: 3/5
I would traditionally write a full breakdown of the event but that is impossible given the nature of this one in its virtual format. What I will say is that full credit goes to the team of Time2Run Events for allowing runners to complete the event virtually – they could simply have said ‘cancelled’ but as many Race Directors have done they have looked for alternatives and we should be grateful for that.
The route was really tough, the elevation was challenging, the mixed terrain meant that shoe choice was a nightmare and if you really weren’t prepared for this then you were going to have your arse handed to you and mine was handed to me gift wrapped.
Had I not been attending my grannies funeral, and referencing the race in the eulogy I had written for the following day, then I probably wouldn’t have come down for the race I would have transferred my entry to next year, done the training and actually run much better but there was something special about this, about doing it alone, abour forcing myself to push on. I’m an ultra runner really and the half marathon distance is my least favourite race length so to come here and really enjoy myself is really quite wonderful.
There was also something joyous about finishing the ‘race’ first and last – that’ll make me laugh for the rest of my days and I feel like this is a medal I have really earned. I will looking forward to receiving the medal knowing that whenever I look at it with all the others at the top of my staircase that it will bring back a smorgasbord of feelings and that is the sign of a great thing.
The one thing I did notice was how friendly people were in comparison to the Scottish races I run, up here almost all the runners, hikers, walkers, etc have time to smile or have a laugh and a joke with you but despite smiling and saying hello to everyone I went past there was something of a lack of response. Now some of it I’ll put down to COVID-19 but I was rather surprised that the north of England, famed for its friendliness, was a little less than I’ve gotten used to in Scotland. That said, those people that did wave back or say hello or smile back at me were warm and wonderful, I was just surprised by how many people simply didn’t bother.
‘I want mummy’ came the little voice of ASK as tears rolled down her freezing cold face. But only half a mile in and half a mile to go we were not stopping.
After the Tyndrum 24 and the Vogrie 5km I turned my attention to something a little less about me and entered ASK into a family mile race in the shadow of Arthur’s Seat in Edinburgh. Given the UK and my adopted home of Scotland had just been rudely removed from the European Union I figured what better way to improve my weekend than spend time with my daughter earning another medal.
The race was part of a festival of running, there were some UK wide university XC championships on as well as a more general 5km race for the public, a toddler dash and the family mile that we had entered.
It was a chilly and windy day when we arrived at the delightful Holyrood Park and we were keen to find some shelter and our number. It was incredibly busy with runners across the various races milling around or queuing for one thing or another. Eventually we found the correct tent and grabbed our race number – I was only moderately concerned when I asked the volunteer when the family mile started that he didn’t know – but I let it slide knowing full well that days like this are stressful for organisers and volunteers.
ASK and I hid in the sanctuary of the tent for a while given that we’d had a rather convoluted journey to Holyrood Park but once warmed up a bit we headed outside to watch some of the University Cross Country Championships happening – the ladies event was well underway and we were fortunate enough to be able to cheer home some of the back markets but also head to the finish line and witness the astonishing feats of the winning ladies. Bathed in mud and caked up to their eyeballs in the brown gooey stuff I asked ASK if she would one day like to be like them. Her reply was an enthusiastic ‘ooooo yes’. Whether this was to placate a father she believes wants her to be a runner or not Is up for debate but I live in hope that she picks an active lifestyle for herself.
Anyway after watching these awesome runners and the toddler dash(which brought back lots of great memories of early races with ASK) we slowly headed over to the start line, we spoke to another family who were running and chatted about what brought us here and why our kids were keen to race, it was nice to hear another families reasons for rocking up. We lined up at the start line, spoke to other runners and wished them all luck during the event and after a short warm up we were sent into the race.
The mile has been my favourite race distance for years and years, it is fun, it’s a blast and you can turn it into a real gut buster in ways that you can’t with other distances and when ASK and I thundered away from the start we made swift progress from the back to the front. Watching my daughter striding in the way she does is something of a joy and she has both form and technique that I have never been able to master.
We were thundering down the tarmac towards the Holyrood Palace turnoff and I could see all the Scottish flags waving in the distance and thought to myself – I wonder if this is s Pro-EU rally, must check this out later. But my gaze was suddenly averted towards ASK who was slowing, I tried to gee her up with words of encouragement but then she simply burst into tears. I stopped running and knealt down beside her
‘What’s wrong’ I asked
“I want mummy’ she replied through deep wet sobs.
‘No you don’t,’ I countered, ‘you want a good time, a medal and to show this off to mummy when we get home don’t you? Mum will be so proud of you’
I gave her GoPro which always makes her feel more important when we race together and she took pictures as we came up to speed again. The little inclines up to the turnaround point was reasonably steep but I reminded her that every hill we go up we eventually have to go down and so at the turnaround we hurtled away, catching the runners ahead of us and looking to make up the ground we had lost during our stop.
In the distance I could see the finish line and there was a lovely bounce in the form of supporters on the course cheering all the children home. ASK hurled forward faster than she had at any point during the event and I told her to move ahead of me so she could finish her race with a flourish. She was flying and I could feel my pride swelling as she threw herself across the line and then promptly burst into a tears.
I once more knealt down and comforted my racing daughter who received her medal (and from me some Kinder chocolate), she was also provided with one of the Edinburgh Winter Run beanie hats which, once she had calmed down, wore proudly.
I asked her what was wrong and all she would say is that, ‘It’s too hard and I want mummy.’ We came to the conclusion that she gets a bit anxious before racing as this isn’t the first time she has cried on the finish line and she never struggles over the distances. Something as a parent that I need work on to give her greater confidence going to the start line but that is something for next time.
Regardless she soon forgot her woes and was very happy with her medal and immediately wanted to do it again.
Both ASK and I would definitely recommend going along for one of the races but it was a very busy set of races and with University XC championships going on it was made even more complicated, a little bit more signage would have helped and a larger bag drop as the queue for collection was massive and slow moving. The Family Mile and the Toddler Dash were both really nice additions and Holyrood Park is a delightful place to do it. ASK did tell me that she wanted to come back and climb (amongst others) Arthur’s Seat.
As we left Holyrood Park I decided that we would investigate the sea of EU and Scottish flags and when we reached the Government buildings we saw that it was indeed a rally about ‘Tories Out’, ‘IndyRef2’ & ‘RejoinEU’. ASK and I joined in and spoke to many of the lovely people outside the parliament buildings about our reasons for supporting them and I spent much time explaining the importance to ASK about what was going on here. All in all a good day.
In a recent Instagram post I had the caption, ‘how much kit did I take to Tyndrum 24? Yep way too much – I ended up using a tiny aount. This doesn’t even include the 10 pairs of shoes or the food either. How the hell did I think I was using all this stuff?‘ The holders of the race account replied and during the discourse I described myself as a ‘shit runner‘ to which I was told that ‘no one at the Tyndrum 24 was shit!’
Well, we are all entitled to our opinion, but experience tells me I’m a shit runner. Which brings me to this weekend where I was flying solo as the GingaNinja and Satan (ASK) were visiting Evil England and I felt like I should do something to boost my confidence after the kicking it has had recently. I dipped out Saturday and took a run around the Falkirk Ultra route and I had intended to use my Sunday for a longer hike up a hill or mountain somewhere nearby – however, I saw an opportunity come up.
There was a social media video for a race that I had dismissed a few weeks earlier – The Scurry Events Vogrie Country Park 5km – it looked muddy, it looked hilly and it looked miserable, just my kind of race. I had dismissed the race given that it was only a week after I’d been so rubbish at Tyndrum 24 and just a week before I take on the Falkirk Ultra but with just a couple of spaces available it seemed one of them was destined for me.
I signed up yesterday evening after arguing with myself for a couple of hours and decided that I should sign up for the shorter of the available distances (5km & 10km). I decided I’d take the hound with me and we’d make a bit of a day of it, do the race, have a walk around afterwards.
I woke up about 6.30am, had a quick shower, my pre-race coffee and headed out early, I figured I’d need to give the dog a bit of a walk before the race started and so at 7.45 jumped in the car and drifted down from Falkirk all the way to the beautiful and undulating Vogrie Country Park. Having previously run one of the Scurry Events races I expected that there wold be a strong organisational showing and I wasn’t disappointed as when I arrived at the gates of the park there was immediately a marshal to point me in the direction of the parking, there was then a marshal to point in the direction of the toilets and the route to Vogrie House and the registration point. Thankfully I was early enough to give the dog the required few minutes walk before I went to collect my number.
Scurry had set up three tents in the grounds of the country park near the main house and there were a collection of marshals handing out the numbers and offering a comforting smile, had they seen the course? Did they know what we silly few had decided to do with our Sunday morning? Ha. Anyway with number collected I trundled uphill back to the car to have a bit of sit down and avoid what looked like rain, nobody likes starting a race when they’re moist.
About 9.15am with no sign of the rain that felt so inevitable I headed back to the start line and saw something that was inevitable – there was Neil MacRitchie. Now the man might be an ultra running god but does he have to be brilliant at every race that I attend? (I joke) Neil is a wonderful guy though, generous with both his time and his support, which is why he is so well regarded by the Scottish running community. To me he is simply inspirational and whenever I see him at a race start I feel like I want to try that little bit harder because there is a way he looks at you that just says, ‘I believe in you’.
The question was could I return the faith – I’d find out in about an hour.
Neil and I chewed the fat for a bit and then it was warm up time for the 10km runners of which Neil was a part. I left it to him so I could enjoy watching the warm up – not something I’d be getting involved in, I like to start racing when I’m still cold – no reason to overexert myself.
Anyway with the 10km runners off the much smaller field of 5km runners moved to the start line, it was now that I worried that I might be coming last in the race – there were a number of fast looking racing snakes and as I stood at the back I thought, ‘bugger I’m going to have to give this a bit of welly’ and when the gun went off I was still considering this at the back of the field.
In an unusual change of race strategy I moved as far up the field as possible and settled into a heavy breathing but manageable pace – it was now just a case of seeing how far I could hang on for. The course was a heady mix of fast moving downhills and challenging lumps to negotiate but the early part of the course was fun as it weaved through the winter trail. I was enjoying myself very much and the course was surprisingly scenic despite the time of year, the weather was also holding out and I felt like I was running rather better than is traditional for me.
The first kilometre was down and with the second one well underway I could begin to see the signs of the back of the 10km runners in the distance – it was something I had not really considered but it was entirely possible that I might make up the five or six minutes that the longer race had started before us. While it’s true I wasn’t going to catch any of the speed goats I might catch some of the back markers and this could be an interesting challenge. This challenge that I had set myself was giving me a mental lift and I started to shift harder and faster. As I hit the river it was my absolute favourite kind of semi-boggy trail and I found myself bounding across the trail – that’s the thing about short distance running – you can hammer it and you know it’ll soon be over. Vogrie Park and the Tyne Valley 5km was a beautiful course and I was really, really enjoying it but there is always going to be a sting in the tail. The particular sting was that there was going to be some horrid ascent to endure in order to bring us back round to the checkpoint.
I’ll be honest my exertions had rather wiped me out and so I, like the runners ahead of me, slowly meandered up the hills to the point we felt we could begin running again. Interestingly, we it is to me, given I knew I was in the final kilometre I chose to push a little earlier than usual off the hill and found myself thundering those final few hundred metres and when I heard my name being called over the PA system I could feel pride in my performance today – something that I very rarely say these days, regardless of the distance.
I crossed the line to the sounds of the small gathering of supporters, volunteers and fellow finishers and quickly collected my race memento buff. I was very glad it was over but I had thoroughly enjoyed the experience and was pleased to have signed up.
Conclusions Last year I ran the Scurry Around Corstorphine which I found to be a very enjoyable event despite the weather conditions. I’d never been there before and I got to see another little piece of my new home country – the same is true of this event and I will certainly be inspired to visit Vogrie Park again.
The Scurry Event at Vogrie Park had all the best bits of Corstorphine but a better route – more genuine trail running and really, really fun up and downs. It is clear to me that the Scurry Event guys know how to put on a great event and we can only hope that they consider adding much longer distances to their repertoire before long.
Thanks also for the on course photography – the image they snapped me of me is above, it’s the one that I couldn’t possibly have taken of myself.
An area of improvement/change? The one small thing that stops me signing up for lots of their races though is the lack of a medal – Scurry have a little logo that would do nicely on a medal and they have enough races to merit making one. I know not everyone likes getting a medal but I do and I know others do. I like to look back at medals and remember the moment that someone put it round my neck or be reminded of how hard I worked to get it or use it to inspire my daughter in her own races.
The neck gaiter/buff was great BUT I already own 47 of them and there is a very good chance that it’ll be used to wipe my arse on an ultra in the future – therefore I’ll certainly have conflicting memories about it. Hell I’d even pay a couple of extra pounds to secure a medal – just something to think about Scurry as this was one of the reasons I nearly didn’t enter.
However, despite the lack of medal this is a great event at whatever distance, it is family friendly and it is a lot of fun. Have a look at them on Facebook and consider entering one of their future, excellent events.
As for me? Well, I’m still a shit runner but the groin and hip that exploded last weekend, at the Tyndrum 24, held up here today and under the pressure of going a bit faster than I normally do and that’s all I can ask for.
I’m looking forward to giving the Falkirk 8hr my full attention but today has been a good running day and I’m a happy bunny.
After four months of near inactivity the Tyndrum 24 (a looped foot race near the West Highland Way) had to be looked at with a bit of common sense. Even before I arrived I knew that running 24 hours was highly unlikely and I had joked that I might sleep 4 hours for every 1 hour of running but that’s getting rather ahead of myself.
For those of you who read my previous blog post (read it here) you’ll know that my training and racing has been almost non-existent since September and even before that it had been sporadic at best. I’d gained a shedload of weight and worse – I’d grown lazy and unfit. The truth is that I’d grown so lazy and unfit that during the 2019 festive season I had very much considered not running the Tyndrum 24.
However, after a short test of the route just before new year I decided that I would put the months of R&R and overating behind me and use the T24 to open my 2020 race account and see just how fall I had fallen.
A mid winter looped race in Scotland is always going to be a challenge – weather likely to be unpredictable, underfoot conditions likely to be grim and the cold… the cold. However, I approached this in a practical kind of way and packed up every bit of kit I could and worked out how I could stop semi regularly and rest so as to not push myself too far and risk injury and avoid failing to turn up at my next event.
In the run up it was confirmed that conditions were set to be kind and as I left the house on Saturday morning I was hopeful that the light drizzle would disappear and we’d have a lovely event.
I drove the back roads through Duone and Callendar up to Tyndrum and enjoyed the snow dusted hills and the dawn rising around me. I find driving through new parts of Scotland and the many little towns one of the delights of being here. I pulled up to the Green Welly about 8.30am and after meeting the first couple of volunteers (talking about you Andrew) I started to set up camp in the car. Here I imagined that I’d come back from the route jump into a sleeping bag – have a snooze, change and get back out – all part of the plan.
I disappeared off for a few minutes to have my pre-race poo and when I came back the window of the car next to me opened and the gentleman in the seat said hello.
Now as regular readers will know I am not a very sociable chap – except in a race scenario and so David and I chewed the fat for a while, especially over our mutual appreciation of the Skye Trail Ultra. Weirdly there was something familiar about him and much as I tried I could not place him but I’m going to guess that he may well be the David I met at the start line of the Tweed Valley Ultra in 2018 – perhaps I’ll never know.
As the clock moved on I suggested we head down to registration – which gave me the opportunity to meet up with the wonderful Linlithgow Runner, Brian.
David and I rocked up the The Way Outside site and headed into registration after a bit of a bimble around the drop bag site and a watch of the other runners milling around as they waited for the start. The site seemed well set up and there was space for runners, volunteers and supporters to move around without pissing each other off – a good move from the race organisers. With time moving on though we headed upstairs to the registration point and were processed both quickly and efficiently (weirdly it could well have been fellow instagrammer Karmac70 that gave me my number but I can’t be sure).
Anyway, ID check was done, number was handed over, car details handed over to ensure any problems could be mentioned to us during the race and then we were sent outside to grab the lap dibber. All very easy, all really well drilled.
On the way to collect the dibber (from the awesomely hairstyled Jeff/Geoff) we ran in to Brian – saved me going to look for the bugger and it was a genuine joy to see him.
Brian and I have gotten to know one another a bit over the last few months as he’s been progressing his distances for bigger challenges to come and was ready to step up again with 12 hours at Tyndrum. We did brief introductions and then headed down to the Real Food Cafe for a cup of tea and a chat in nice warm surrounds. This, for me, was a wonderfully relaxing way to start a race and as we chatted about running and races I looked back with rose tinted specs to all those races were I’ve run terribly. Ha! Still saved me thinking about the terrible running I was about to do.
Post tea Brian headed off to get ready and David and I drifted off to the car park for a final change of kit.
The next hour or so there was mostly hanging around and although friendly and conversational you could feel that runners were keen to set off, there was a nervous energy about the place and even I, the fat hobbit, was keen to set off. However, I managed to fill my time with a few photos and exchanges of strange tales with some of the other runners.
Looking round the checkpoint you could see a broad assortment of runners, mountain goats, road runners, first timers, old timers and misfits (I was in the misfit camp) – it was a real mix that had been attracted and in my experience that makes a for a good time. I’m always fascinated about what brought all of these wonderful people to a looped running event? in Tyndrum? on a cold and chilly day in January? That was something I’d be exploring with the many runners I came across during my time on the course.
After a short briefing from Stacey Holloway, the Race Director, we were off and rather annoyingly I found myself near the front and so immediately set about rectifying this and slowed my pace dramatically. During these first few hours where daylight existed I was keen to soak in my surroundings and enjoy the clear, crisp weather that’s one of the key joys of having this as my main hobby – the opportunity to see bits of the world that others do not and with loops you get to revisit the experience several times over and take in different details each time.
We ambled down the course jumping across the pools of water that had settled and a couple of short water jumps that were included as part of the entry before coming to the main river crossing. Given the heavy rain recently this could have been treacherous but actually it was fine and there were multiple good crossing points.
I was actually rather enjoying myself – I even leapt across the rocks in the run up to the bridge and then broke out into some genuine running before the first major hill that I knew I’d be hiking up. The hill brought many of the runners to a plod, myself included and this was a good chance to chat to people and wave on the speedgoats who would be crossing the hundred mile mark.
I was more concerned that Brian would overtake me on the first lap and so I plodded on – very keen to get the first loop in the bag – he could then overtake on loop 2 (I wouldn’t mind that so much). The climb wasn’t horrendous but it was significant – perhaps not in these early loops but as the day wore on this would increasingly feel hard and I noted that the ground below our feet, throughout the course, pretty much, was hard, unforgiving and unrelenting – this could be a worry given that neither my back or hips have ever responded well to sustained hard trails.
The descent from the high point of the course was going to be equally challenging but both of these seemed in line with expectations – it was the middle part of the course that looked the most challenging to me. Benign undulation and a long relatively dull stretch of path was what awaited the runners – this would be the part that divided opinion either as a rest from elevation or a chore between the interesting bits.
I battered down the mine road towards the (well used, given how many runners I saw going in and out of it) mid point toilet stop and then clambered up towards the final section of the route beyond the highly amusing medics who were preparing the fire and clearly a BBQ! Then it was a relatively single track path back towards the checkpoint which was rocky, undulating, challenging and yet very enjoyable. The short bursts upwards and the fast bursts downwards made for a bit of movement in the legs – something that felt very necessary after the grind of the mine road.
The final burst back up to the checkpoint was a gentle lollop back along the river with a rather cruel loop in the checkpoint before reaching the dibber and our dibber checker.
I rolled into the checkpoint feeling reasonable but not without concern – fitness was obviously a concern but that was feeling steady – the problem was that my groin was feeling like shit. I started on my second lap with a light burning that was going through the same highs and lows as the route but lap 2 was finished within a reasonable time and I was still moving. Hurrah! However, the pain was now fully formed and sending shooting signals down my leg and up into my back.
I started to think about my options, one lap for a medal – well that was done but mentally that would be bad – I had originally aimed for 50 miles but that was rapidly being repurposed to a 30 mile run. In my head that was still going to be a failure but a chat with the GingaNinja reminded me that having not run for months those 30 miles would represent a reasonable return.
By lap 4 those 30 miles looked so far from achievable – I was in a really poor way, this felt like a DNF in the making and not reaching the minimum ultra distance was going to be a DNF to me.
It seemed to me though that on each lap I was going to meet someone that would help me reach the minimum distance. There was a Jennifer, John, Karen, the wonderful long distance walker Paul and many more. Occasionally I’d see Brian, David, Fiona or Neil who would provide a bit of a lift to get me over another hump. There were cuddles and conversation with (I’ll say husband and wife) Andrew and Susan – each one of these people and many more provided the incentive to keep going long enough to get six loops done. I heard amazing stories from the young, the old, the speedy and the slow and each one felt like stardust that kept me going just a little bit longer.
Laps 5 and 6 were well into the darkness and there was the greatest joy as I was able to sample the night sky of Tyndrum and the beautiful twinkling of all the stars in the sky watching over us. I stood at the bottom of the main climb, alone with my headtorch off wishing that I had a decent camera with me to capture this moment – I did something similar on the single track back up towards the start need the little mini loch and felt both the joy and appreciation of freedom I enjoy to be ale to be out here. However, as I swtiched my light on during those last few hundred metres of lap 6 I knew that a decision had to be made.
And it is 100% true that I didn’t make my final decision to halt at six loops until I was almost on top of the checkpoint. I felt sad, I felt drained but this was the only decision that could be made if I wanted to build on what had been done at the Tyndrum 24.
I had very much wanted to continue as the night time running was going to be spectacular and weather conditions were such that the route was going to be good overnight but my injury woes were getting worse and I knew that at some point I would need to drive home – injured.
I hobbled into the checkpoint and saw Jeff/Geoff and his beautiful hair (he let me touch it) and exited the race with a medal and my tail between my legs – there was no pride in my finish or my distance but it was a finish.
Distance: 5 mile loops over 6, 12 or 24hrs
Date: January 2020
Terrain: Hard Trail
Tough Rating: 2/5
Route I’ve already described much of the route but what I haven’t said is that there is a plethora of stunning scenery to delight in and despite being near civilisation you can feel like you’re in the middle of nowhere too – it’s a clever place to put a race like this. However, I felt the hard conditions underfoot took away from the picturesque nature of the route but it is a minor thing yet something some runners might want to consider if you’re thinking about entering. I’d been out and tested the route over the festive period as I was in the area anyway but I’d gone in reverse to the way we ran at T24 and felt that the reverse was easier – but again it’s all opinion and ultimately you’re doing the same elevation whichever way you went.
Organisation The organisation was faultless, yes there were challenges – the on route toilet became unusable for a number 2 apparently and there was the occasional headless chicken moment as someone was running round looking to fix a problem but everything was handled well. What felt like an army of (I’ll assume) volunteers and the RD looked effortless on their exertions both at the checkpoint and around the course. The checkpoint layout, the race registration and the lap counting was all super easy and that’s high praise indeed, especially when you consider that this is an inaugural event. Tyndrum 24 should go from strength to strength and I expect it to be well supported in the coming years.
Communication Regular communication across email and social media channels was excellent, I felt it was very important that the organisers did not rely on social media as a number of races now do. The email communication means you are more likely to catch those runners who don’t use these. In the run up there was quite a lot of information being put out – I would expect that in year two this will be streamlined as the issues that cropped up (such as transfers after the deadline) will be ironed out. Great job on the communications and marketing.
Value When you think about this the race is quite expensive but not outrageous at £80 and well within the average price of similar such events – however, I believe it is excellent value for money, especially compared to its peers.
There was clearly a good deal of organisation that went into the event, there was lots of support such as a toilet on the route, ample quality parking, a good spacious checkpoint base, accurate lap timings, what felt like a load of volunteers, kit purchase options, headtorch loans, etc). There were upcycled race t-shirts and wooden medals which were a nice touch too.
Ultimately the money spent by the runners on entering the race felt like money used on the race.
Volunteers The team behind T24 were really exceptional, I’ve met a lot of great people manning checkpoints or standing out in the cold but these guys were right up there. I’d like to mention once again the lovely Andrew, Susan, (their poor daughter for having to listen to my flirting with her dad) and Jeff/Geoff – they all made me laugh.
The guys on the course – especially those by the little bridge must have been freezing but always had a cheery smile, the medics were unapologetically hilarious and annoyingly inspiring with their nice warm fire going and the lady in the big wooly hat – she was so brilliant – mostly just telling me to get a move on. Ultimately it was a great team that came together to give the runners the support they needed.
My thanks guys.
Loop v Loop I’ve run a few looped events over the years – Challenge Hub 24hr, The Ranscombe Challenges, Brutal Enduro, Endure 1250 and how does the T24 compare?
Thankfully the Tyndrum 24 compares very favourably – it felt very modern and forward thinking, it was incredibly runner friendly and supportive and it felt like an event that was put on for runners by runners. Sometimes looped events can feel like an attempt to get your number of completed marathons up (not that there is anything wrong with that) but this felt like a genuinely challenging event in its own right and you needed to prepare for it whereas sometimes lap races can feel like a turn up and give it a crack – I felt with T24 you had to want to do T24 not just another looped event..
I remember running Endure 1250 and felt that was a ‘numbers’ event where I was just putting another number on my ultra total but here I felt like runners, myself included were racing whatever clock they were facing. In another year when I was a little fitter I would feel very confident of running 75 miles or more because I wanted to and I could train for that.
As looped events go this was one of the more fun ones and sits up there alongside the Ranscombe and Brutal loops as a favourite.
Medal The medal design was very nice, and as readers will know I do love a medal, my only concern is that the thickness of the wood suggests that this might not survive much of a bash. When I compare this to say the thickness of the wood of either Ben Vorlich or the Nocturnal I feel both of these will be a little more hardy. I’d have been quite happy to pay a couple of pounds extra for a few more millimetres of wood to ensure that my memento of this event lasts for the duration of my life.
Eco No plastic cups? Wooden medals, upcycled race shirts, local suppliers – all things I can very much get on board with and I doubt you’d hear any runners complaining about this. The race encouraged users to use public transport where possible – going so far as to have a race start time that made this possible (something that just two years ago I’d have been very happy with given I didn’t drive). Issues around sustainability in running is likely to become a bigger and bigger selling point as the years go on and it is good to see a race taking a lead on issues like this.
Conclusion I suppose the conclusions come down to whether I would run the event again and the answer is a well considered yes.
Tyndrum 24 is a strange beast of an event given the location and time of year but it is a much needed addition to the UK ultra running calendar as winter running events in January, especially in Scotland, are nowhere to be found. There is a reason though why this is so and that reason is that Scotland can have hideous weather in January and the possibility of cancellation presumably remains high.
These things are something you will have to factor into your calculations when you consider entering – this year the event was fortunate to have the best possible conditions – but next year and the year after may not be so lucky. How would you feel running in the driving rain up and down hill in the dark for at least 16 hours? Or ploughing though the snow for the same amount of time wearing every last inch of clothing you could manage just to get to 30, 40 or 50 miles? I’ll be interested to see how the event goes on in a year like that.
Perhaps the more important question for you is, should you enter? I feel the answer to that is easy – of course you should. This was a really lovely event with a wild mix of runners from all walks of life and the fact that the organisation was top class only adds to the conclusion that this is a top quality event.
I’d go so far as to say that it is race worth travelling for and 100 miles across the maximum time allowed is very achievable even if you chose to walk speedily the entire thing you’d be grinding out distances near three figures.
I also feel it is worth noting that the race directorship team is new to this and should be given a huge amount of praise for the amount of work they poured into this – it looked like a labour of love and that hard work paid off with a smooth and delightful event.
My own race, as I’ve suggested, was a failure but not totally, 4 laps away from my 50 mile target, I ran for less than 8 hours and I was in so much pain that this throws into doubt my participation at the Falkirk Ultra. Mentally though there was a hint of success – despite my lack of fitness and groin/hip/back problems from less than 5 miles in I managed to hold on and knock out 30 failure lacklusture miles but 30 miles nonetheless.
As I write this on Sunday evening while listening to some made people on the post football chat on BBC 5 Live I can feel the pain rolling around my groin and hip, Every time I stand up I feel it and evry time I take a step I feel it. I made the right decision to pull out. The potential to cause further long term damage was real but I know how to solve it – I need to weigh 15kg less, I need to eat less rubbish and I need to get back out there probably tomorrow, even if it is only for a slow couple of kilometres, probably involving the hill outside my house.
Thanks T24, thanks to everyone involved and who knows maybe I’ll see you next year.
Next Next I prepare for a solid weekend of Scottish fun starting on February 1st at the Edinburrgh Winter Riun where ASK and I will attempt to bring her mile time down a little and the following day I’ll be heading to Callendar Park in Falkirk to run loops again but this time deliverately for 8 hours (both subject to my injuries calmong down a bit).
This is less a review and more a thank you to the Millar Foundation for putting on a truly awesome Superhero Fun Run this weekend.
I’m sure that many of my fellow geeks, nerds and coolios will recognise the name Mark Millar from excellent comic books such as Kick Ass, Kingsman: The Secret Service and Superior as well as more instantly recognisable names such as Spider-Man.
Beyond comics though he founded the Millar Foundation with the aim of providing transformative opportunity and community in the place he grew up. What a thoroughly decent idea and well worth an internet search to articles about the projects the Foundation is involved in or click here to see the photographs from recent events
This latest event was just the kind of thing that a running and comic book obsessed father and daughter would be very attracted to. And so we went along.
When we rolled up to Drumpellier Country Park the sun was shining wonderfully but thankfully it wasn’t too hot as being in superhero garb was a little different to my Ronhill and La Sportiva technical tops. We had traded in our usual monikers for a crack at being Supergirl and Mister Incredible (some might say that’s no change for me – I jest) and we delighted in a bit of cape swooshing as we left the car park.
As we ambled along the path we were picked out by the local press photographer for a quick snap and then directed to the registration point. All was lovely, everybody hugely welcoming and there was some delicious fruit juice, bottled water and bananas available to the runners pre-race. Awesome.
We were half an hour early so Supergirl and I sat enjoying our fruit juice and admiring the many wonderful costumes on display.
As it was ‘Batman Day’ (The Caped Crusaders 80th birthday) there were lots of dark knight detective themed characters but there was a significant amount of Captain America, Hulk, Supergirl, Wonder Women, Spider-Men and Supermen ready to race. I did catch sight of a couple of Deadpool runners and even one Gecko from PJ Masks, it was an eclectic and wonderful mix.
Before long it was race time and after a bit of a warm up from the team at the local gym we were thrust on to the course. The race kicked off at about 11 and I had taken up my customary position at the back of the pack and had instructed Supergirl to take it steady as this was her longest race to date.
As the gaggle of superheroic runners set out we began to find our stride and it wasn’t long before we began overtaking all manner of caped competitors. The key for me, in the run, was that Supergirl maintain a sensible pace and run consistently throughout the distance. Many of the young people running were prone to bursts of speed and then being forced into walking as they had expelled all their power. No such issue confronted us and we gently ambled our way through the field and down the tarmac path with it’s wonderful views across the lake.
It was about a half a kilometre in when the tarmac turned to woodland trail and both Supergirl and Mister Incredible were much happier – both of us kicked on a little bit and started to target runners ahead of us, picking them off one by one. Occasionally a runner from behind would overtake us and we enjoyed watching the spirited displays of running from the young and old. The effort was really very inspiring and that was such a great message for my daughter to take away. There is something powerful about seeing kids, not much older than her, both succeeding and struggling but fighting for that finish and the reward of the medal.
As for the course – the news was good – for all the runners as the path was lovely and dry with a mildly spongy feel to it which gave wonderful bounce as you ran. Had Supergirl not been with me I’d have happily done half a dozen loops here. But instead as a dynamic duo we steadily ran through the woodlands and said hello to many of the other runners and as we approached the turnaround Supergirl put on a little spurt – determined to claim her medal as quickly as possible.
The distance to the finish was quickly disappearing and we were flying. I was incredibly proud of her performance and then all of a sudden, as happens with ASK, she lost concentration for a second and was sent sprawling across the trail.
We immediately stopped running and tears fell down her little face and I took right hold of her in a big hug and said the thing I always say when she falls, ‘what do we do when we fall over?’ To which she always replies, ‘we get back up and keep going’. I dusted her down and checked that there was no serious injury or bleeding and checked she was fine to continue…
With the tears dried we picked up the pace – Supergirl though wanted to hold my hand – she was keen not to fall again – so together we came to final turn and the sound of the finish line PA system blared music in our direction. The lovely volunteer at the final corner made note of my delightful backpack that I was sporting (I was carrying a teddy bear on my back brought home from school for the weekend to go on adventures – and my daughter wanted the bear to race).
Supergirl decided that now we were back on tarmac she no longer needed the company of Mister Incredible and hit the afterburner. With around 250 metres to go Supes started her sprint finish, both feet off the ground and arms pumping – my little superhero crossing the finish line to collect a most well earned medal.
Great racing, great event.
Distance: 2.5km (2.7km GPS measurement)
Time: 18 minutes of moving time / 3 minutes of crying and dusting ourselves off
Thanks must go the Millar Foundation but also the Drumpellier Park Parkrun team who made the event happen – the volunteers of the Park Run team really worked hard to make sure everyone had a great time and it was.
The nice thing was that the whole event was free and there was a lovely sense of community and that will certainly have helped to bring people out but given how many people got dressed up I feel this was simply the kind of event that draws families out to do something fun and active, together.
I hope this runs for many years and I hope it inspires other towns to run similar events – they don’t have to be free – they just have to be on. The fun run at the recent West Lothian Running Festival (read about it here) for example was a lovely and well organised event too and these things really do bring people together. I feel it important that our children and young people are able to participate in events like this to ensure that being active is a habit and not a chore.
And in closing I’ll simply say that I look forward to donning a bit of spandex next year for this wonderful event.
My legs were burning hotter than the pits of hades and the wind was howling like my nightmares but I was undeterred as I thundered towards the finish line.
After my exertions 6 days earlier at the Ambleside Trail 60 the thought of returning to running seemed a sensible choice and I’d seen the Tufty Trail Race advertised one evening and thought, ‘oh that’ll be fun a week after an ultra’.
The race was housed in the local village hall at Strathmiglo – a picturesque village in the north of Fife and surrounded by beautiful views. The Falkland Trail Runners were incredibly well organised and number collection was lovely and simple.
I took up residence in the hall in the hour before the race and watched as the runners rolled up. There were a lot of flimsy looking running vests and short, shorts that were entering the hall and I now wished I’d looked into the race a bit more as I suspected it was a bit hilly and the collection of mountain goats in front of me was more than a bit intimidating. Thankfully as my gaze wandered I noted other, like myself, less super athlete types and the atmosphere was both friendly and casual.
At a couple of minutes to 2pm we were ushered a few hundred metres to the start line in a field just up the hill from the village hall and after the race briefing and notices we were thrust up the field.
There were about 80 runners and all were looking for a clear way through the churned up farmers field as we sped away.
I concluded that I could stay at the back and just bimble around in my own good time or I could have a go despite my exhaustion. I chose the latter and hurtled as fast as I could upwards but I could already feel my legs burning and so it was with great joy that I heard the sound of cow bell and the start of a reasonably significant downhill.
There were runners who used the descent to gain ground on the runners ahead – but this would have been folly for me and so I trundled along, maximising what little energy I had.
I could clearly see the way the race was intended to work, uphill, around the trails a bit and then blast back to start. When we hit the trails proper – about a mile in – I pushed as hard as I could, which to be honest wasn’t very pushy but you get my drift. The good news was that the trails were genuinely beautiful and another day I would very much enjoy exploring them but for now I was keen to reach the turnaround point and stop the succession of fast runners from telling me, ‘well done, keep going’. Truth to tell I was envious of the wonderful stride of these amazing runners as they galloped along the route.
I may have moved like an old asthmatic donkey but I was still moving and I found myself in the fortunate position to be able to pace myself for short periods against other runners such as the lovely lady from Grangemouth Triathlon that I chatted with and this distraction allowed me to go faster – both mentally and physically.
However, the route had a final treat and that was a gentle climb back into the farmers field – here I met John who provided a cheery outlook for the final push. He, like me, seemed to be there for the fun of it and we briefly pounded the ground together before I found the afterburner…
Upon entering the field it was all downhill – and unlike at the start, when the descent came, I showed no sign of restraint – I opened the taps and hurled myself towards the fastest finish I’ve managed in ages. Both feet found themselves at a cruising altitude as I bounded to the finish and the sound of the tannoy and the throng of runners and supporters cheering as I crossed the line!
I’ll take 40m 51secs as my time, it might not be fast but it sure was fun and I still had more than 30 wonderful athletes who finished after me – that’s what I consider a race well ran.
Check out the Falkland Trail Runners, they have some fun looking events and they were a tremendous bunch putting on an inexpensive, wonderful, late summer run. Plus the bespoke medal, post race refreshments, great facilities and car parking were all very welcome.
Can’t wait to run another Falkland Trail Runners race.
In times of turmoil we seek summits and points of vantage to gain clarity of vision.
When I was younger I would go to the Lake District to climb a hill and breathe clean air and give myself greater clarity. Given I didn’t drive (or ride a bike) I would often find myself in places you could reach by public transport and so Ambleside was a popular choice for a young man with a busy mind.
Roll forward a decade or two and my mind remains busy but I’ve added both a driving licence and an ability to ride a bike and so when I saw the inaugural Ambleside Trail 60 on the ultra event calendar I decided that this was for me.
The race was being organised in conjunction between the long established The Climbers Shop (find out more here) in Ambleside and charity The Brathay Trust (find out more here) – both well respected pillars of the community.
I therefore had high expectations for the event.
When looking at the Ambleside Trail 60 on paper you’d be forgiven for thinking that it’s rather easy and with a tad under 2,500metres of climb it all seemed perfectly respectable. The problem comes is that when deciding to do this I had conflated the shortness of the distance and relatively low ascent numbers to think this was going to be easy. How wrong can you be?
But anyway let me add a bit of context to proceedings – I’d had an excellent July, training had gone well and I’d come off the Ben Vorlich Ultra feeling pretty good and without injury. The truth is I’d felt so good that I’d returned to training the following day and was looking forwarding to maintaining my running mental strength by taking part in the Thieves Road Ultra. In typical fashion though disaster struck and I took a nasty tumble running up a hill and put a bloody big hole in my knee and this was supplemented by a shitty infection that I couldn’t shift. However, with August 10th approaching I knew that momentum was on my side and I’d be okay(ish) to race but it seemed my August ultra curse was set to continue and the race was cancelled due to the potential for adverse conditions.
What happened next was that race was reorganised for two weeks later, my illness got worse and on race day I spent about 8hrs on the porcelain throne. This time it was me cancelling the race and so I rolled up to the Ambleside 60 with very little training but a lot of chocolate eating done.
As I’ve said I’m a huge fan of The Lake District and Cumbria, it’s a truly spectacular place and so I was very happy to be there on a beautiful morning watching the world go by.
Strangely for an ultra it was taking place on a Sunday which meant I’d had the luxury of bimbling around the Lakes the day previously taking in the delights of Ambleside and registering with the event organisers at The Climbers Shop. Registration was both quick and easy and the lovely organisers were on hand to answer all of my ridiculous questions. I was also mightily impressed that race sponsor Rab (I assume) threw in a warm beanie which is likely to make its race debut later in the year. It was here that I bumped into Ed, a fellow competitor from Ben Vorlich and it was lovely to ‘chew the fat’ with him for a few minutes and catch up about what had happened at the race end. However, we soon parted and I found myself at a loose end but with lots of wonderful outdoor stores strewn across the town – I decide me to make hay while the sun shone. Lunch was a delicious spicy chicken baguette with a slab of honeycomb cake and this was followed by short trips to Kendal and Keswick to make the most of my stay.
I had the luxury of having a six berth dorm room all to myself at the waterside YHA in Ambleside and I went to bed early to try and get as rested as possible. Kit was prepared, breakfast readied and I knew where I was going in the morning.
The organisers had suggested the pay & display car park in Ambleside, which given it was a few minutes from the start, made good sense. With water bottles now filled I headed to the start in Rothay Park and silently soaked up the friendly, banter atmosphere. I’ve grown rather accustomed to knowing runners at races, wherever I am, both here and abroad – so it was something of a surprise to not see any faces I knew. I wandered around a little bit before setting amongst the throng of ultra runners all keen for the start.
We were all instructed to dib our chips at the start which had been attached to us at registration. I found these mildly intrusive as they never felt very comfortable around the wrist and I fretted about them working loose and ending up in a puddle of mud somewhere on a hill. Thankfully it never did work loose but I found it uncomfortable compared to some of the alternatives that I’ve had to wear. That said the system was simple enough to use and the setup both at the start and at checkpoints was well thought out.
With an 8am start looming we were all corralled into the starting area and after a short briefing and some words of encouragement the 175(ish) runners burst forward and out of Rothay Park and into the wilderness. It’s fair to say that a number of ‘trail’ races that I’ve been part of have actually had quite significant amounts of road or tarmac involved but this experience was very different. From the near outset there was trail and nature surrounding the runners.
As we wound our way through the first few kilometres it was clear that this was going to be s tougher day than I had originally imagined and as I looked down at my faithful Suunto I could see the elevation metres quickly stacking up. Those first few miles were easily the simplest on the route and with excellent route marking even I couldn’t go wrong. We wended our way through the variety of trails, up and down hills and along some of England’s finest scenery. For the most part I was making good time against the other runners – using my preferred tactic of ‘go as fast as you cN for as long as you can and then death march it in’. I made sure I was taking on board regular fluids and even a little food from early in proceedings as this would ensure I could still take on everything late in the event. I topped up my intake with some Active Root, which is about the only electrolyte style supplement I can stomach, and this kept me level and stopped significant dips – something to consider if you’re running well.
I ran the first 15km pretty consistently and covered around 600 metres of climb – despite the recent rains the ground was in good condition and the route was runnable. Although I had poles with me I had decided that I would refrain from their use until I really needed them and despite the ascents I didn’t feel I needed them in the firs quarter of the event. The views were delightful and this was very much The Lake District of my youth – some places dragged up long forgotten memories and it was a very pleasant experience. It was here that I met Deborah – about 2.5 miles from the first checkpoint. We chatted for a while, as we bounded forward and this was such a pleasant experience that I barely noticed the run into the checkpoint.
Checkpoint one was brilliant with the marshalling team all dressed as chefs with big chef hats, the team were incredibly well drilled – timer, water, food, out, out, out! I was very impressed with the team and the organisation of the event on the whole, if I were to take a guess this was not their first rodeo. The quality of the food on offer was brilliant and as I left the checkpoint I felt buoyed by the energy the team have thrust upon me. In the distance I could see Deborah disappearing and continued my journey alone.
The second section was going to be tougher with the first 600 metres climbed this meant that there was still around 1700 metres to climb and around a marathon to do it in. 2 hours down – 12 hours to go. I knew that the first significant climb was soon to be upon us and in the distance twinkling like little neon and Lycra clad stars were a succession of slow moving runners as the route moved up a gear in toughness.
It was now that the route threw challenge after challenge at us, the trail had moved from being mostly runnable to being filled with big lumpy rocks, it was wet underfoot and it changed from soaking to dry making your shoe choice irrelevant in the face of the varying conditions. I threw open my poles for the first time and began the slow journey upwards, happy in the knowledge that I had built up a reserve of time in the early stages of the race. However, as I looked ever upwards it was with a deep sense of foreboding – this was the first and easiest ascent and it was far from easy.
I decided that given I still had some strength in my legs I would do the climb in bursts and so would have a short stop and then powered up the next couple of hundred metres, stop and repeat. This technique helps me with the fatigue my legs get from the constant ball achingly monotonous striding of hiking up the hills (something I knew I would be forced into later in the day). My lack of training in the last month and the over eating was also playing a significant part now in my performance – runners were passing me as I struggled with the up hills and the beating my feet were now taking. However, I knew that on the downhill as long as the path was relatively runnable I would be able to make up some ground. Where some runners are guarded about running downhill too quickly for fear of a fall I am usually pretty surefooted and confident in my own ability. Therefore once the peak was reached I felt that I had little choice but to open up the taps a bit and go for it.
My descent was as quick as my ascent was slow and I found myself able to catch some of the runners that had managed to overtake me and I felt with nearly 1,000 metres of ascent done and about 20km in distance done I was feeling confident and then the ridiculous kicked in – I slipped. Bang down – on my back, on my arse, on all my weakest points. The two young runners ahead of me turned and shouted to find out if I was okay and I waved them on but I was far from alright. My back, which is troubling at the best of times, had shooting pain running through it and I had cut my hand open in several places and was bleeding. I picked my muddy form off the floor and cursed my own stupidity – I ran down to the little stream and put my buff in the water and wrapped it around my hand attempting to soak up the blood. I had been very lucky, within a few minutes the bleeding had stopped and I managed to clean up the various gashes that now covered my left hand – the realisation was dawning upon me that this route was going to give me a good kicking before it was finished.
I pushed onwards through the next few kilometres, slowing a little to account for the worsening running conditions, the rocky terrain became incredibly hard going and in my opinion it felt more like fell running than it did ultra trail running but it all added to the complexity of the challenge of finishing. I finally reached the halfway point and was greeted by the most welcoming committee of marshals, supporters and runners. Given I was so far from the lead it was no surprise to see my fellow racers in various states of distress, I grabbed a bit of grass and threw my bag to floor and motored over to the food table and stuffed my face with the delicious sausage rolls with the amazing pastry (I’m going to assume veggie but don’t want to know as they were so delicious it would disappoint me to know I’d been eating something mildly healthy). I drank as much tea as I could handle, grabbed a bit of soft chewy cake, filled my water bottles and then followed the other runners out of the checkpoint.
It was here that I would make the relationship that would see me cross the finish line, though it did not begin well but I’ll get to that later.
From CP2 we were presented with a climb up Stake Pass, a beautiful climb and no mistake but a technical, rocky ascent that required maximum concentration all the way and its windy nature meant that you felt progress was even slower than it actually was. I used my brutish bursts of power to push myself up the pass and once more in the distance before and ahead of me I could see the swathes of runners slowly climbing to the summit. I kept telling myself that this is something I enjoy when moments of doubt would creep into my thinking but the reality was that my feet were burning from the damage that rocks underfoot where doing.
My feet are brittle at the best of times but the damp conditions coupled with the rocks were crippling me, the only plus I could find was that my Lone Peaks combined with Injinji liner and Drymax socks and my beloved Dirty Girls Gaiters were working overtime in protecting me from the worst of the route.
About halfway up local legend Keith passed me with his wonderfully consistent pace and all I could do when he went beyond me asking, ‘alright?’ I responded with, ‘had better days’ but Keith may have misinterpreted my joke for sincere annoyance and he simply shrugged his shoulder and pushed on. I thought nothing more of it really but like the cut of his pace and thought if I could keep up with him I might well be alright – but he, like many before, was soon gone.
I retreated the comfort of the nearest rock I could find and grabbed some food from my race vest and looked longingly into the middle distance as dark and detrimental thoughts crept across my furrowed brow. ‘More than halfway’ I thought, ‘but my feet are bruised to buggery, my race vest is heavy and worse than that my back and arm was on fire from injuries both old and new’. However, the sight of runners closing in on me made me get off my backside and hurl myself up the hill and eventually I made it to the summit. I could see some of the runners who had made it past me and so I picked Keith as my target – if I could catch him before the arrival of the next checkpoint I would continue.
The route off the pass was as unrunnable as the route up with rocks jutting up from every angle and care required about just where the hell you were putting your feet. If you were less cautious you might have avoided the path and run straight down the hill – but given I had no idea where I was or how far behind the next runner was – I did not fancy falling off Stake Pass. With all due care I made it to the bottom and leapt through the thick nasty smelling mud and crossing streams with all haste attempting to keep my feet as dry as possible. In the distance I could hear the clatter of Keith’s running poles and I realised I was catching him – having a target to aim for had made the journey much more focused and much easier and as I caught him I opened with the much cheerier line, ‘I’ve been chasing you down for ages – thanks for the incentive’ and from here a new race friendship was forged.
Keith was a bit of a running veteran and with 20 more years on the clock the than me he had well earned the right to legend status. He strode purposefully through the route, questioning the runability of some of the course but all the time remaining strong in his continuous push forward – I like Keith very much and over the next few miles we got to chatting and getting to know one another a little. But as is the rule in ultra marathons you run your own race and he reminded me of this several times as he suggested I not wait for him or that he would be waiting long for me. However, we were both moving at about the same speed ad so it turned out neither of us could shake the other one.
Something I was very glad of.
The road to CP3 was hard and long, we had come off the hill and now it was just finding the checkpoint, hoping that we would make the cut-off and then pushing through as fast as we could up the biggest ascent on the course – Lining Crag. While we both looked and probably felt a bit shitty we both also seemed to gain a newfound mental strength from each other – I certainly did from him and when I started to leave CP3 Keith joined me for some further adventuring.
The strange thing was that despite our low speed we were starting to catch people again and in the close distance we could see runners who had long left me behind and, though I shouldn’t, I was buoyed by seeing other runners finding this a challenge or perhaps I was simply developing a second wind that might carry over the Crag.
Sadly my second wind was very short lived and as I began the ascent I felt every bone in my body scream for mercy, even with the first few hundred metres being relatively gentle this was a climb of false summits and false hope.
One of the great things about Keith was his wide and varied local knowledge, this meant that he was able to be accurate in his assessment of our situation, so when we approached the scramble up to the crag I knew that this was not the summit and that there were further smaller climbs to come. The scramble was actually surprisingly simple and the change of pace on the legs was welcome, I enjoy scrambling although I don’t do it very often as I am terrified of heights. So I finally reached the safety of solid ground that wasn’t going to try and kill me I was very grateful. We made good time as we crossed the high ground and started to overtake people again and other runners came past us as they picked the pace up a little. On reflection it was nice to know that we were still in a race, often at these type of events you’ll find yourself alone for hours and hours and not knowing where in the race you are, here the numbers were just right to be able to have significant time alone but also know that you could still catch someone.
We knew that the final checkpoint was at about 53km in and so it was with a little dismay that the ascent to the top of the crag had pushed us forward a mere 2km of the 12km we needed to run. Running remained hard going over the rocky paths and went as fast and securely as we could but both Keith and I were losing our footing at regular intervals and many of the runners had soggy bottoms but perhaps none got the soggy bottom in the way I did.
While crossing a boggy path I lost my footing and into the mid thigh depth mud my leg went, the trouble was that my other leg followed me in and as I fell in my whole body lurched backward in some attempt to create the muddy equivalent of a snow fairy. Keith turned to face me, barely disguising his amusement at the predicament that I found myself in. I managed to stand in the mud and could feel the vacuum attempting to suck my shoes in but I carefully extracted one leg and then the other with no significant loss. I was caked in mud from head to toe but I had clearly picked the right kit for the event and my wonderful new Runderwear long boxer shorts and Raidlight Freetrail shorts soon dried off and despite being in 3 foot of wet, shitty mud my feet remained warm and toasty.
After picking myself up we headed along the remainder of the route down to Grasmere with little further incident, but we were aware that the final climb and descent had taken much, much longer than anticipated and I was keen to finish as I still had hours in the car driving back to Scotland.
I noticed that both Keith and I were rather quiet as we landed in Grasmere, tiredness was clearly playing a part but seeing the race organisers at the final checkpoint gave us a bit of a life and knowing that we were less than 10km from the finish was the mental nourishment we needed.
We had been quite quick in the checkpoints up until this point but we stayed a little longer in Grasmere as Keith knew both of the guys from The Climbers Shop (I’m going to go with Mike and Gill but could be wrong). Gill had been at the registration and she clearly remembered my idiotic face from the previous day and the