Pentland Skyline 2017

So at last Skyline day came around yesterday. In order to distract myself from thinking about it and not go for some foolish run the day before (it's easy to do), I signed up for a dreams workshop. It was pretty good actually, thanks for asking. 

I didn't sleep all that well the night before the race, which was a shame. It was a cold, grey steely day - not very inviting. I used to be used to the whole adrenaline-fuelled, tension-rising thing of races but I now no longer am, and I don't really like it. Everything went fine though and we got parked up in plenty of time. The list of things that can go wrong gets shorter right up to the start-line. I even managed a pee in the gorse 10 minutes before kick off, so come start time everything was as good as it could be.

I didn't bother warming up beyond a 60 second jog beforehand, because the race is long enough. The first couple of miles felt pretty awful as a result though. I reckon I need 3 miles for my engine to start working properly. There were some narrow bits right at the start so the first run up past the ski-slope was quite start and stop - frustratingly so, but there was nothing to be done, so I tried not to worry about it.

By Turnhouse I was feeling fine - in a smoother rhythm. Andrew Stavert came barrelling past on the road down to Flotterstone but I went past him again on the uphills. The thing that was foremost in my mind was respect for the distance, and just how bad you can feel if you do too much too soon. Peter and I have done these hills (Turnhouse to West Kip) so frequently recently that they seemed very manageable. I know every twist and turn of the paths and I know how hard I can go at them.

Summiting West Kip. Photo courtesy of the powers of facebook and John Viv Busby.

I had been a bit worried about the cut-off time  for the Drove Road of 2hrs 15 mins. I've lost all my Garmin stats for old races so wasn't sure what was reasonable. I thought I remembered that it was 5 or 10 minutes over the 2 hours when I tended to get there, but have no objective proof. I arrived at the Drove Road water station in just under 2 hours though, which felt reassuring. I was surprised to discover that Richard Hadfield was just behind me and while we exchanged a few words (I wanted to re-tie my laces, drink water and eat a bourbon cream), Andrew Stavert barrelled through once again, very focused, only pausing to grab a drink and discard it, and then taking off hard down the Drove Road. Richard wanted to keep him in sight and took off too. I finished off my water and bourbon cream and didn't bother trying to stay in touch. Both of them would take me apart on the road and I wanted to give my tummy a bit of time to absorb the water.

Mrs Doyle was just so excited she was going to get water and a lovely biscuit too!

My tummy wasn't really for absorbing cold water and a bourbon cream on the way down a bumpy track and the whole lot came back on me in a painless, if rather unpleasant brown fountain of biscuit and acidic water. I was glad there was no-one near me as I spat it into the nearby reeds. I didn't feel sick or ill, so wasn't concerned in that sense, but I'd made the decision not to carry water, which meant it looked likely I'd be feeling pretty dry before the race was over.

Hare Hill is a tussocky hell and I hate it. There's nothing that I consider runnable after you get to the top and make your way across the boggy, heathery waste to the descent. I did my best though. The organisers had set a route to keep the landowners happy, and I quite liked that because despite three recces I never found a satisfactory way across it - so at least an enforced route took the pain of decision-making out of it. I arrived at the board with red and white tape at the top of the descent but wasn't sure which way we were intended to go. I followed a couple of young guys to the left but then corrected when a woman down in the Cleugh shouted up that we should be further to the right. None of this was fast but it gave my muscles a change at least. Coming off West Kip I'd started to feel that I was too old for all this. My hips were hurting, and my knees, - just in an achy way. The different terrain in the 2nd half, although taxing, was softer under foot and demanded a different gait and this eased my legs up.

So Black Hill - we got directed to go through the gate before heading up, which I wasn't all that happy about because I had the earlier route pretty much down. However, it was fine. The route up there has deteriorated in the last few weeks with too many recces and the rain so the running was a bit slippy, squidgy and uneven but not bad. There was a female marshal at the top of the hill and she was making a big fuss of the runners. "Here comes number 52!" She shouted at me. "Number 52 is looking VERY  good. VERY good indeed!". I couldn't help but smile. 

The bog at the top of Black Hill is kind of legendary. I'd almost be disappointed if it was dry. The far side of Black Hill has recently had its heather cut and I've been finding that this has made for the best running down towards Bell Hill there's been for years. I enjoyed seeing people who clearly hadn't recced waste their efforts on the muddy and uneven path when the short heather at the side was almost perfect running and cut a really nice economic route to the bottom. 

Going back up Bells Hill is never easy. I'd hoped to have a caffeine gel at this point to give me courage for the last 4 hilly miles home, but with no water and already having a slight headache I just couldn't risk it. I had an isotonic gel with me too and I thought maybe I could chance that, as it shouldn't make me more dehydrated, but it was bowfing -  some kind of concentrated, super-sweet berry horror. I offered it to a fellow traveller, who wasn't interested, and so I emptied it out on the grass.

By this time I was fairly predictably going uphill better than those around me and then getting passed on the downhills. I have no idea what happened in real terms of how many I passed and how many passed me and stayed past. I was getting to recognise a few people though.

At the foot of harbour hill there were some people out with jelly babies and stuff. I asked if they had any water - and they said "No, that chap just had the last of the water" indicating a ginger haired guy just ahead. I thought that was more name and shame than he really needed! I said not to worry, but a tall young guy who I'd swapped places with a few times offered me a shot of the contents of his camelbak. This seemed a very good-natured thing to do and I thought 'Well why not'. We were perfect strangers but I had to get close in enough to get a right sook on his tubing! I couldn't get any at first until he twisted the mouth-piece for me. We tried to keep moving at the same time. I got a little bit to drink, some half sweet half salty electrolyte stuff. It didn't quite solve my fluid balance problem but the interaction was heartening. He said well done for keeping running up the hills and I explained I was just trying to run half and half to keep going for the last bit. He hadn't run it before so wanted to know if we were nearly there. I said yes, we were on the last stretch. The ginger-haired water-stealer said that we weren't. I could sympathise with that point of view, but towards the end of the Skyline it's best to think either good thoughts or nothing at all. Take it from me.

Nearly there!

So then that long roundy hill with the metal thing on top. I was walking and jogging up that hill when I came across Camp Jones, which consisted of Mary Lye and a tent on a slope out of which was issuing gales of laughter. God knows what was going on in there. Now Mary, God love her, had some actual water, which she let me have, and then she ran up ahead of me to take a picture. I reached deep down inside to see if I could find a smile. It is a matter of wonder to me how I manage to look just quite so like Mrs Doyle off Father Ted when I'm out in the hills.

And then it was just the last few hills. I saw what I thought was Andrew ahead and I tried to take a sneaky higher route so he wouldn't see me. If I could just get past him without him realising I could probably beat his ass. But Bert Logan and Amy Kerr were at the top of the hill and started shouting out to us. Stavert woke up out of his trance and started to run again. On the downhills he was uncatchable, and I didn't even try.

I found out later that Richard Hadfield had gone past 5 minutes before.

Amy got me just after my smile was over!

Andrew awakes.

I could see from my watch that it was now likely that I was going to make it under the 4 hours unless I did something stupid. The most likely stupid thing to do would be tripping and taking a header down the path, so I avoided all of that kind of thing.
The significance of 4 hours was just that I'd always kept under 4 hours, even in my slowest Skylines. This had been more by chance than planning, but I didn't want to break it.
It has been 7 years since I've run it, and I haven't done much in the way of hills in the intervening time, so there was no real reason to think I should be able to do what I used to do, but that didn't mean that I didn't want to.

So it was a very pleased and tired me that got to the finish line in 3.57.

Lovely summery weekend.

Earlier in the week it felt like autumn was coming...cooler mornings, berries coming out and the flowers disappearing...but this weekend it has been back to summer. Maybe even more enjoyable because it's on its last legs.

The creatures du jour on Saturday were dragonflies. They sat very obligingly for photos too.

The sun came and went but it felt hot all the time and me and Mr B. were sweating profusely.

 

 

We used to draw grass like this in primary school.

 

I thought this rock looks like a seal - Peter says it's a lion with something in its mouth.

Why so angry Mr Crabby?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So then Peter was off to do the Badinsgill Round. I'm tentatively thinking about doing the Pentland Skyline this year and I've been trying to get some hills in - so I thought about doing this too, but I've got a bit of an irritating cough. It seemed more appealing to go out in the Pentlands at my own pace than go and try to thrash out a run at race pace. Plus, despite Peter telling me that Baddinsgill is "a lovely runnable race", I distinctly remember him telling me after he did it the first time that it was really rough under foot.

So I set off for the Pentlands myself, parking at Flotterstone and setting off up Turnhouse from there.

We ran Turnhouse, Carnethy and Scald Law on Wednesday, then ran round South Black Hill and went back the way we came. It was a tester to see how bad it felt. My legs and feet were pretty stuffed by the end of it but it wasn't too bad. It wasn't so bad it put me off. So this time I thought I needed to get round to the lower, rougher hills that are nearer Edinburgh. So I did TH, C and SL, - skipped S. Black Hill (you can get too much of a good thing). I did the Kips and went down the Drove Road and over onto Hare Hill. After a promising start on Hare Hill I lost any trace of a "way". I knew where I was headed - you can get your bearings by spotting the path up Black hill - but I had a nasty, lumpy, sploshy "run" to get there. There must be a better way. I need to go back.

Likewise on Black Hill. It all started so well - all the uphill stuff - and then I think I turned too early and missed the summit and ended up wading about in waist deep heather. Eventually I did find the old path - which was really, really wet. It nearly always is. And then things seemed to improve massively running down the other side. The heather had been trimmed beside the old peaty path that has got horribly rutted from over-use. All was good until half way down or more - and then I kind of lost it again, doing some lolloping through high ferns and hurdling over heather. I came out further right than usual so I was more or less at the bottom of the path that goes up Bells Hill.

Bells Hill was to be my last hill of the day. There were a couple of runners ahead and I made a point of gaining ground on the slower of the two. I could tell he was hating it. It passed the time and helped me to tolerate the horrible calf aches on the nasty steep bit.

Why was the flash going off?

I stopped to try to get a photo of this handsome dung beetle, but he was much too quick for me. Seconds later he's disappeared completely under his dung pile. I guess I could have rooted him out with a finger, and I think Peter probably would have, but I lost courage.

After Bells Hill I took the path down to the road and back to the car park. Easy running except that my feet didn't want me to land - especially on the rocky bits. I tried to reason with them. "How do you expect me to run if I don't ever land?". But they weren't listening. They just kept saying ouch. So I stopped listening to them too. I was wearing Inov8 x-talons and they were beautifully grippy, but they don't give you much cushioning.

So...it's Sunday night again. And there are things to be done...I'm not promising I'll do the Skyline, but it does seem possible so far.

Pentland Skyline

photo 1 from SHR website.

photo 2 from Carnethy Website

The weather report had said fairly bright and breezy for Sunday but the reality was low cloud cover for all of the route of the Skyline. I thanked my lucky stars more than once that I know the route inside out and still I had a few moments when everything didn't seem quite right in the mist.

I was hopeful that I would do better at this race than I have in a while as the 2 Breweries went fine and I've been enjoying the hills again. There was quite a turn-out of Porties for the race; Peter, Ben Kemp, Michael Geogeghan, Graham Henry, Paul Eunson and Michael Nowicki had already turned out the day before for the Manor Water Hill Race - and added to that was Johnny L, John Pickard, me, Richard D. and Rachel Berry (who I haven't seen for months but is looking very fit and well).

I went off a little too quickly and my legs started to ache early on so I backed off a bit. Its a long race. The mist was actually quite helpful at times. Some sections seemed shorter than usual, probably because you couldn't see how far you had to go. In the 2nd half going over Black Hill in the deep clag was pretty surreal. I felt I was further left than I would usually be but was on a good path so stayed with it though feeling anxious, and it turned out to be a fairly optimal route to cross the stony path and take you over to the waiting marshals.
I could just see the tall, orange and yellow vested form of Tom Bowie ahead as a reference point but I had to keep  in mind that he probably doesn't know the Pentlands as well as I do. In those conditions the urge to just follow someone else is strong.

On Hare Hill everyone had stopped at the kite (which was very near to flying away) and then run in a straight line on towards the deeper more difficult heather. At that point too I'd initially followed even though I've been up there dozens of times this summer and I know there's a pretty good path further over to the right. Realising what I'd done I headed over right again and Issy Knox and Stevie Cairns did too. For a while I thought I'd blown it and had missed the path altogether and then all of a sudden it turned up. High stepping through deep heather turned to easy running down a nice peaty trod...

Nothing much more to say. On Bell's Hill the runners around me were bewailing the number of hills to come so in response (I was trying not to weaken) I told them that what was to come was f*ck all compared to what they'd already done. They rallied a bit I think. Its very bracing being sworn at by a lady. A Lothian runner called Matt told me he knew Gareth Greene from Portobello and we had a bit of a chat going over Capelaw (running mind you) and pretty much stuck together to the end. We were both developing quite a paranoia that we'd missed the path down to the left which takes you down to the ski slope after Allermuir, but again it was just the mist playing tricks with the distances and the look of things - we were exactly where we should be and finished shortly afterwards.

Rachel B. had never run the full distance of the Skyline but got the better of me just before Allermuir and took a couple of minutes off me from there to the end. Damn. Only last winter this woman couldn't run down hill, which I used to full advantage in the Borders xc series. On a happier note, Isobel Knox, who really doesn't do hills, was out giving it a go, and was very strong and encouraging on the uphills but teetering down the other sides on her road legs. Sensing it was my one and only chance to beat her, and with her right behind me on the final slope down to the finish, I did my best to keep running hard, pulling faces and making funny noises right to the line!

There weren't that many ladies out and I knew Angela Mudge was going to be 1st lady so therefore wouldn't count in the V40 category...so hung around like a dingo at the edges of a BBQ (what?) hoping to luck a prize and guess what? 3rd LV40 was me so I went home with a nice bottle of red which was surprisingly good and now is gone...and my mouth is as dry as the Sahara...

So...news round-up; Johnny Lawson was 1st Porty, coming in under the 3hrs yesterday but didn't look as chuffed as we thought he should... Peter was 2nd Porty and quite pleased with his performance. Michael Geoghegan came in next, having had to nurse a turned ankle all the way round and was thankfully none the worse for running. Next came Graham Henry...if the truth were told all probably quite enjoyed beating Ben Kemp who was back in 5th Porty spot having been concentrating more on his work and his son of late than training. This proved 2 important points - Ben Kemp is human and training DOES  make a difference, so well done Ben for helping illustrate these 2 points. Next, stubbornly in slippy road shoes was Richard "I'll just jog round at the back" Dennis, then newbie to the Skyline Rachel Berry closely followed by me. A little later, Michael Nowicki did a rather alarming nose-dive over the line and a while later in came John (luc) Pickard. We heard tell Paul had dropped out with a sprained ankle at some point round the course.

Well done the marshals and the organisers for having the Skyline on such a difficult day, it must have been deeply unpleasant standing on top of hills for hours in the wet mist and it must have been quite a worry making sure everyone got in okay...