Holidays!

Oh dear oh dear. Not even half way through the year and I have used more than half of my annual leave already.

Last time we spoke I was just in the process of missing Philiphaugh hill race having jiggered my knee again. On the next Wednesday I went a run up and over Corstorphine Hill to see if I could get away with doing the Oldhamstocks Flower Show Hill race on the Saturday. I took Peter with me and we were delighted to find we could interact with the zoo animals for free. My poor knee was iffy though, turning to a decisive sore later. So I forgot about Oldhamstocks.

Instead we went a cycle along the coast and then returning inland.

 

The clouds gathered for a day of rain the next day. Peter hates the rain but I went out for a run which was stilted for the first 2 miles but then gathered momentum as something that was balled up in my leg relaxed and eased. It was a good feeling. The next day we went running round Gullane and my legs were a bit shocked that I was asking them to run two days in a row - I've been spoiling them all year in terms of rest days - but I didn't do myself any more harm. There was lots of standing around waiting for Peter to take pictures of butterflies but it didn't really matter.

The next day I generously shared my hot new route to the Pentlands with Peter who could have been more grateful. The day out was only slightly marred for me by there being no cafes.

Then the next day I dared to run in the Lammermuirs. This is potential death for knees so I was pushing my luck, but my luck held. About 9 miles and no real problems. Happy days.

I had a day of not doing anything at all, because rest is meant to be good for you. The next day I had chores to do in town so I did them on the hoof. Peter came too but he wasn't very happy. It wasn't pretty and there were no butterflies. We came back through town because I had to go to the bank. The place was jam-packed with tourists, like flies in a jar. Flies in a jar? Well I don't know - lots of swarming activity, no discernible goal.

CONSCIENCE - Ahem, these are people you're talking about with individual lives and hopes and dreams.

Yeah, I know, I know. That's why you shouldn't have big crowds of people. They're much easier to hate.

I was happy to get a number of chores done.

It was getting near the end of my holidays though, and I'd had a big running mileage week - 24 miles!

Not long ago I considered 30 the bare minimum number of miles to run in a week. If there's one thing time teaches you it's that it's best to be a bit flexible.

Anyway, I'd been having a good holidays, but had not really gone anywhere new. The secret cycle route from Gilmerton to Roslin is fairly exciting but I found I wanted even more.

I've been eyeing route 76 around the Forth for some time, thinking it would be a big day out but I'd like to do it. I ran this past Peter who wasn't all that keen but said he'd give it a go. It took us a while to get moving yesterday though so it seemed wise to ease back on the scale of the day a little. I'd found a post on-line from a chap who'd cycled some of route 76 but cut across the Forth at the Kincardine Bridge and come back on the other side. We set off to do this.

Fate was clearly smiling on us as we found a pair of magical spectacles just at the entrance to the grounds of Hopetoun House, which fitted me perfectly. 

You wouldn't really want to do this route on a road bike. I don't think Sustrans are really clear about what they consider a "route". Still it was pretty good and took us to completely new places. I haven't even begun to photo-document it adequately. The thing was the pocket on the side of the rucksack I was wearing is snug for my camera and it's a hassle to get it out.

The route through the grounds of Hopetoun is sometimes gravelly, sometimes muddy. It winds around the house and then goes into the woods most of the way to Blackness Castle. We'd taken this route before so there were no surprises. After Blackness, however, we didn't know what to expect, and were treated to a pretty good trail right on the edge of the Forth until Bo-ness. At Bo-ness things got confusing. The signs for route 76 led us up to Kinneil House and the Antonine Wall - which was interesting looking but the path just disappeared. We tried mountain biking through the fields and woods at the back but never picked up a good trail again and had to back-track - so went on the narrow and busy A904 taking the Gate 10 entrance to the beautiful Grangemouth. Both of us wanted to take pictures of the surreal and ugly landscape at Grangemouth but we both wanted to survive too, so there are no pictures. We got through all this, having lost all faith in the way we were following but then found ourselves in lovely country-side again - with the unlovely name of "Skin-flats".

All the way we'd had a west wind in our faces - which was intentional - so we could enjoy the second half of the journey more. It was a great relief to make it to the Kincardine Bridge, knowing that after that the route would be less ambiguous and the wind would be behind us. It was after 4pm and we thought we might have missed our chance for a cafe stop - but we stopped in Culross and were rewarded with quaint streets which I must have been too lazy to take a photo of - and an excellent cafe called the Admiral where I had coffee and almond and citrus cake. I honestly can't believe I didn't take photos of that either.

Peter wasn't that keen on this adventure at the start of the day but he cheered up as we went. For much of the Fife coastal path he regaled me with stories of the run he did from Stirling to  North Queensferry. Just before the road immediately below, he told me, he had accidentally strayed onto MOD ground. He had scaled the razor wire without thinking and was minding his own business when 20 or 30 troops started towards him with a mixture of bayonets and Tommy Guns. "Halt! Halt!" They commanded, but just then a small patch of blue sky seemed to break off and as it drew closer he realized it was a cloud of a gazillion common blue butterflies. (Which as he would tell you, are not common at all.) Before he could say "Well I never!" the blues had latched onto him with their lengthy proboscises and transported him clear through the air and away from the battle scene. 

Before we set off I had joked that if we happened to be coming back over the bridge at about 2020hrs we would witness the full moon rising in the east. It wasn't that time when we crossed the road bridge to South Queensferry and set off home through the grounds of Dalmeny, but it wasn't that far off.

When we got in we were tired and jolly hungry. The end.

Gullane, Lovely Hills, Bad bottom, Gullaneagain

Oh dear. I am just realising I haven't blogged last weekend, and I have to because I've got some cracking photos. Tie up your laces tightly because this is going to be a longer one.....

Last Saturday I think we went to Gullane, but I forgot my camera, so this is my only record of it. This is how cold it was outside and how toasty it was getting in my room before I reluctantly got ready and went out into the f-r-e-e-z-i-n-g cold.

I had creaky knees and all kinds of complaints and I was suggesting to Peter that maybe we could ask Sheila Cochrane that organises the Feel the Burns Hill race to give us deferred entries to 2019. I didn't know how I was going to get any training in and certainly couldn't see how we'd get a recce before the race. Peter told me finding my way round the course would be easy and there was no need for a recce. I don't know if that's true but it was what I wanted to hear. When we got home the forecast for Sunday was looking lovely - bright and sunny and very little wind so I thought creaky knees or no we should go to the Pentlands. I was oh so glad we did! It was very, very cold in the car-park at Flotterstone but we got a scone and a coffee each out of the Pentland Hills cafe there and that gave us the courage to set off.

Halfway up Turnhouse I was warm and the layers started to come off.

Despite not doing much hilliness since The Skyline and Manor Water, I found my legs were quite happy.

 

By Scald Law the view was getting pretty special.

We went over the Kips and down the Drove road and found the path up Hare Hill was covered with thick icy puddles.

Then on the way up Black Hill we found the small pond half way up was iced over too. Initially we were cautious in case it gave way, but after some careful testing, at least one of us gave ourselves over to it whole-heartedly.

This is what happened to Narcissus. I wondered if he would ever drag himself away.

 

It was a lovely day out and reminded me how much I like getting out in the hills. Made me want to do more. But meantime....

My stomach, which can be a bit rubbish, hadn't really been right since the Water of Leith Half. I tried to go easy on it and expected that it would get better. It wasn't great last Sunday after the run. As the week went on it got worse and worse however and by yesterday I was having to go to the toilet with alarming and unpredictable urgency. Going to work I was dosed up on Loperamide and I thought I would survive the day - which I did, but the cycle home, which I couldn't hurry because there were icy patches all the way down the cycle path, was a touch and go affair. Having survived the cycle and nearly home, I got off my bike to cross at the lights and the whole thing got worse to the extent it is a near miracle that I in no way besmirched my undergarments. Peter arrived home just minutes after me and expressed his amusement as I emerged from the toilet with my coat and helmet still on.

Damn this really wasn't good.

Being a nurse, I have a number of patients who have IBS and it has occurred to me before that I also have it. I have never really wanted to give myself a diagnosis though. I'd heard about the Fodmap diet which has produced some good results for people with IBS, but I'd never gone into the detail. I thought my diet would probably be okay. One thing I knew was okay was brown rice. I knew this because a patient of mine was telling me that her doctor had been suggesting some alterations to her diet and as she put it "he wants me to eat FUCKING BROWN RICE" with a look on her face which might have suggested he had asked her to do a pole dance.

I used to get horrifically constipated,  particularly when I was travelling. A story I will never tell is of when Peter and I were trekking in the Himalayas as acclimatisation for doing the Everest Marathon. Where most of the people had had the liquid shits for days and days, I, for some reason, was holding on to my left-overs. My stomach got larger and harder and harder until one day the 'weather broke'. The sherpas had helpfully made us a hole in the rocks with a tarpaulin over it so we could get a bit of privacy. I produced an alarmingly long snake of many colours, like a magic trick, nearly filling up all the space and leaving none for anyone else. I was relieved when I exited the tent and there was nobody waiting and I got as far away as I could as quickly as possible so nobody could point fingers.

Anyway, in recent years I've gone the other way. Yesterday felt just too out of control so I thought I'd have a look at the Fodmap diet and see what they were suggesting I shouldn't be eating...

OMG onions and garlic and yoghurt and apples. I live on the stuff. You shouldn't eat too many sweet potatoes either. Which I do. It kind of made sense of what was happening. On Tuesday I made a big pot of vegetable stewy stuff with loads of onions and garlic and loads of sweet potatoes....and I'd also made a big pot of stewed apples because stewed apples are supposed to be good for your tummy - but not for IBS apparently - and I had stewed apples with yoghurt and honey - both of which aren't good. I think I can eat all of those things when my tummy is calm but it wasn't calm and it made it worse.

So I'm hoping I might have a solution. I'll give it a try anyway. So I had to forego a scone at Gullane today - which was a shame. It was a nice day anyway.

There were these absolutely clear jelly-fish which we'd never seen before. Peter wondered what the point of going so minimal is.

I just had one unscheduled stop on our 8 miler - but there are toilets at Gullane beach now, so it wasn't a problem.

So that's it. We're there. I know what you're thinking. "Thank you for being so candid!". It's alright. You're welcome. We'll see what tomorrow brings.