The Annual GH Boxing Day Run

My new look - Hitler in a skort.

I was a bit concerned that it might be too soon for me to be out on Graham's famed Boxing Day Run in the Pentlands. And yet it seemed a bit defeatist to just not go in case I couldn't hack it.

The obvious thing to do was to go along with the thought that if it was too much I could make my own way back to the car.

We had thought we might arrive early for a warm-up before-hand. We actually arrived at 9am on the nose. The radio was beeping as we drove into Morrison's car park. It was a cool, misty day and there was a good-sized helping of Porties already there.

Shortly after we arrived, Michael G. appeared, already running. He was suffering a bit from the ill-effects of the demon drink. I felt somewhat liverish myself from unaccustomed rich food and drink, but not on the same part of the spectrum as MG.

As I settled into the run I started to realise I needn't have worried. Today's run wasn't going to be a race. It was great to be out there. Running uphill is still a challenge but in my head I'm now officially training for the Feel the Burns Hill Race, and if you know what you're working for it doesn't feel so bad. It was generally a very up-beat crew, somewhat noisy. I might have been noisy. I'm not exactly sure.

The map above probably gives a much better account of where we went than I could give you. It was seriously clagged in. So much so that even very familiar parts of the Pentlands seemed unrecognisable. The only reference point we had once we were above the trees and into the clag, at first, was the roar of the bypass. After we'd dipped down the other side and up onto the bigger hills there was no such reference point. (Sheep and heather don't count.) I thought we were a lot nearer the Howe than we actually were, but Graham had taken us up to the dip between Turnhouse and Carnethy. This was about half-way and we stopped for a break. For the second half we ran down Turnhouse and then up around Castle Law and down the other side on the chunky gravel road. Then over some very wet and muddy bog. I didn't recognise it at all but wasn't worried. I could hear the by-pass in the distance. Eventually we dropped down below the cloud again and it was a flattish mile or so back to the car.

12.5 miles for me. Peter ran 12.8 but then he ran his own route! Ruth ran an economical 12.28. Take your pick. I loved it. What a great day out. Better wash I guess. But as Graham pointed out, "You could pay a fortune for that mud at Stobo!" and he's quite right.