Fort William Trail Half-Marathon

Another weekend, another race. This would be week 10 of my training schedule and fitted nicely with the plan of a '24km steady including 8 at marathon pace' description for the Sunday. OK, the race was on the Saturday but if I swapped the days round it would be doable. I actually skipped my Thursday run so that I'd have two full-days off before the race.

The race was part of the Fort William Trail Running Festival which was an inaugural event of trail races in the forest below Aonach Mor. No surprises there was a 5, 10, Half, Full and hill race being organised and if you really wanted to, could participate in all of them for superhero status. The Half was enough for me, and the advertised 13:00 start time meant I could drive up on the Saturday morning in good time.

Except, best laid plans and all that. Since it was the 'inaugural' event, the organisers hadn't thought of everything and decided to restrict race registration time to a short two hour window on the Saturday morning from 08:00 to 10:00. In response to the race information email sent earlier in the week, I asked if there could be some exception for people like me travelling a long distance. I received no reply, but I noticed other runners complaining on Facebook about the same problem. Thankfully the organisers agreed to keep registration open longer.

They also expected everyone to print out a section of the same email and fill it out as a medical form. More inflexibility - not everyone has a printer etc. Everyone was expected to carry a foil blanket? Another weirdism. And finally, there was only going to be one water station. I didn't see the point of that. Either enough, or none. Not one. So I brought my camelbak and prepared to be self-sufficient.

Of course, the weather was shite. Warm, very wet and still. When I arrived in the Nevisrange car park at 11:00 there was a very damp feel to the place. I hopped over the puddles in the car park to run across to the registration tent, receiving not only my number, but my T-shirt and medal at the same time. A bit daft.

I ate some lunch and togged up. At 12:45 I did some jogging round the car park just to stretch the legs before heading towards the registration tent for the brief briefing. There were over a hundred other runners, mostly wearing some sort of hydration pack. I headed to the start arch and we had a countdown. I stood very near the front.

The start at 13:00, the guy in the Ochils vest won it

Immediately we were onto an ascending forest track which separated the men from the boys. I watched five fasties heading off into the distance, but managed to hang onto a trio of younger males who were settled into a strong pace. After a couple of kilometeres we were reduced to three and we each rotated the lead. I became aware they were both French from their chat and attire. One of them kept clearing his nose which was a bit weird.

The nose clearer started to slow and eventually the faster one slowed to wait for his pal. I took the lead and kept at the pace we had been going at. At the same time, the path narrowed and eventually became an overgrown wet footpath beside The Cour river. It was fairly treacherous not being able to see my footing due to the bracken and puddled path as I splashed along.

Thankfully at 10km we emerged back onto a wider forest track and I took the opportunity to take my first gel. The Frenchies started to gain on me, now almost 50m behind.

After my gel I stepped up the pace and stretched away, sometimes glimpsing the next runner several hundred metres ahead. At 14km I passed the only water station which was busy with supporters and volunteers. They offered bananas and biscuits, but I just asked for my place and they said "Oh, 3rd, 4th or 5th!". Hmmm. I suspected 6th.

After the water station was a long descent which passed in a flash. I looked over my shoulder again - no sign of the French pair - they must have stopped for water. I was now on my own for sure and it allowed me to relax a bit. Soon I could hear the traffic on the wet A82 to my right; there must be a railway somewhere too. At 16km I decided I needed another gel and stuffed it down my throat on the run.

As the track neared the junction with the A82, the race route took a sharp left up a short steep hill which came as a surprise. I managed to plod up it until the track became an overgrown bracken path again. It weaved left and right higher and higher and I'll admit to walking briefly. It levelled off and was a technical MTB track heading towards the Nevisrange car park with the access road running parallel.

I heard some bells ringing and then shouts of support, then spotted the car park and a wee group of midgenet clad people waiting for me. I crossed the road, into the car park and followed a line of barriers towards the forest before turning left, under the MTB downhill track (tunnel) to the finish arch.

The RD congratulated me and asked how it went. I asked him my placing. 6th!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Crossing the finish line - wet but very happy

6 / 136 01:40:48

Glamaig Hill Race

Our summer holiday this year was one week east of Loch Ness and the second week in Skye. It just so happened that the Glamaig Hill Race would be on at approximately the same time as we'd be transiting between holiday houses. How could I not enter? So I did.

I don't know when I'd first heard of this race but it was a long time ago. I've never been up Glamaig, a Corbett. I had seen and laughed at the BBC 'personality' Monty Halls who had valiantly run the race in 2008 as part of a documentary series of him living in Applecross. It looked brutal. I knew that Finlay Wild was a record holder and regular winner of the race in the past decade. I met an acquaintance from another corner of the internet who had previously done the race and he just howled when I said I was going to do it.

When we arrived at Sligachan, I wasn't in the best of moods. I had had a bad sleep worrying about the race. The other early arrivals all looked like proper hill runners with wee bumbags and old eyes. I was nervous. I headed over to the hotel to register in the lounge bar. I recognised the chap taking my name but couldn't place him. Possibly from Meall Nan Tarmachan last year? He handed me slate coaster as my race memento and I jokingly said "Don't I have to finish the race first?". I took advantage of the hotel facilities and offloaded some weight before returning back to the car for some food and to get ready.

Eventually it was time to gather at the start line outside the hotel. Somebody had sprayed a white line across the tarmac and the eager beavers placed their toes on it. Finlay Wild sauntered up to it in a very relaxed manner. There was a short race briefing over a loudspeaker from the hotel - this was the first time the race had been organised by Skye and Lochalsh Hill Runners, after having been administered by Carnethy for 30-odd years. A countdown and we were off.

The start of the Glamaig Hill Race 3pm 6th July 2019

As suspected it was a frantic start over the old bridge and thence onto the A87 road for a couple of hundred metres. I overtook a few people here but soon we all turned sharp right onto the moor and the quagmire of a soft boggy 'path' heading directly towards the hill.

It must have been within 10 or 20metres of leaving the road that I turned my left ankle badly. Pain shot through my body and I limped to the side to let followers pass. But it still worked, so I pressed on taking it very easy until the pain gradually wore off. As the terrain steepened, it became easier on my now chocolate teapot ankle and I was able to regain the places I'd lost.

Out for an afternoon stroll

The gradient just got steeper and steeper until it felt safer to have both hands and feet on the ground at once to make upwards progress. Whenever there were loose rocks or stones I had to be very careful to not knock anything down on the following throng behind. Comparing the numbers ahead with behind, I felt I was actually in a good position and was only aware of being passed by one other 'runner'.

I am in bright green, a long way up

The hillside eventually formed a defined shoulder which was not obvious from below and we followed this the final summit screes. At this stage, the fast ones were now careering down the screes so it was a trial to keep out of their way. Onto the summit dome and a wee jog towards the cairn where three marshalls offered encouragement as we circuited the cairn and headed down.

The change in angle immediately resulted in shooting pain through my ankle again and I realised I was gubbed. There was not going to be a reckless descent. Survival was more important so I stepped to the side and followed what I thought was an easier line.

The scree was pretty awful with a bad ankle, especially when it changed from small, loose, deep areas to larger and solid sections. I fell on my arse several times and felt that gloves might've been a good addition. Some runners came thundering through causing sliding rock avalanches which moved as fast as them. It was pretty grim to see and the air smelled of rock dust.

At last the scree ended and we were back onto grass to follow a gentle traverse down and towards the ascent route.

Mincing my way down the grass

Of course I twisted my chocolate ankle at least twice more, and just watched in pain as slower runners came past. Soul destroying. Eventually I reached the road, not long after some other runner had just passed me. He was on the tarmac ahead so I set my sights on him. I caught him just before the bridge and cranked it up. So did he. "Quite a kick!" he said and I pressed past. I saw Sally and the kids on the parapet shouting. Keep going!

Just beating the fella that had overtaken me on the moor descent

 I got over the finish line and then fell in a heap on the grass to the side almost crying in pain. Sally and the kids came to save me. It was so sore. I wasn't tired, just cross and frustrated.

Washing the moor off

01:21:16 54/102

Tain 10k roadrace

Whilst planning the summer holiday, I had scanned all the usual running sites and found this race in Tain that was during the week we were staying 'nearby'. It was an annual event organised by the local running club Tain Runners as part of the week long Tain Gala celebrations. With a 7pm start, it allowed for a full day of 'holiday activity' before I would need to get up to Tain for the race. 

Infact, it became a family and friends event when Sally decided to run too, and the Taylors who were also on holiday in the area. Registration opened at 6pm, and both cars arrived on the Tain Links at 18:01. First in the car park! It was a bit breezy, not condusive to chatting outside so we headed into the marquee registration tent to pick up numbers. 

Previous results suggested 70-80 runners per year, so it wasn't going to be too busy. At 18:55 there was a general movement towards the coastal path and we joined them. I stood fairly close to the front whereas Sally moved to the middle. 

On the start line, lets get on with it

There was a bit of chat from the Race Marshall, then we all had to walk forward to the actual start line. We were off and heading into the wee town over the railway line. The pace was far too fast and within 400metres I was already peching and losing places. There was a nasty hill that reared up to the main road and I really struggled to keep my position amongst the leaders. We reached 1km and thankfully turned left onto flats and an easterly direction into the town.

The wind was on our backs here and I was able to get back the couple of places I had lost on the hill as we toyed with the traffic that was still trying to use the road. Through the other side, and then a long descent back down the hill and over the railway line again. At this point we passed the 5km race fork - they would head back to the finish line, whereas the 10km race went out on an out-and-back route.

The road was straight and flat so it was just a case of settling into a pace and trying to keep position. I could see the places in front were stretching out. In the far distance I could just about see the flashing light of the leader's following car who had reached the turning point. Soon enough he had run past me on the way back and he was going very fast. I started to count the following runners until I reached the turn - I was in 13th.

I noticed the guy in front of me had stopped for a drink from the water station and was looking to be in a bad way. I happily overtook him and started on my return to the town. I was then able to look at the following runners until I spotted Sally who I went over to high-five as we passed.

Then to my dismay I heard the guy I had overtaken on my heels and then come alongside. He mumbled some encouragement and carried on. I tried to keep up.

He died again on the other side of the wee hill over the railway so I managed to get past and leave the tarmac onto the farm track that avoided the hill back into the town. This was shared with the 5km route so I was now overtaking the backmarkers of that race. A few wee corners, over the railway one again and then back to the Links for a 'sprint' to the disorganised finish line.

The sprint to the finish! 

A miniature of Glenmorangie handed to me.

12 / 103 40:59