Arran Day 2

Day 2 route

The mountains of Day 2

Day 2 was set to be longer and tougher and so started an hour earlier, but it wasn't exactly that cosy and snug tucked up in my sleeping bag in my car anyway. It seemed a lot colder then the previous day so I opted for capris instead of shorts and put on an extra thermal longsleeve layer (it turns out that the race organisers has posted "on their social media pages" about the deterioration in the weather and that they would be doing more kit checks during the event.....but how anyone was to know that is beyond me!) before forcefeeding myself way more breakfast than I felt capable of consuming let alone enjoying (but I knew it would take a long time to get between Pit Stops).

Another chilly start

Along the beach...

After another compulsory briefing that we couldn't actually hear, we were off, but this time going in the opposite direction through the start gantry. We ran across grass, along some little trails and then popped out onto a sandy beach. I started slightly further forward than on the Saturday but there were still many that hared off straight away. I worked my way past many of them (including several ladies) and found myself running alone by the time I got onto the sand (well...if you can really call what I was doing "running" as the soft sand seemed to sap any leg strength I hadn't lost the day before). Thankfully the beach section wasn't too long and I soon found myself on a lovely runnable trail heading up Glen Rosa.

The Glen Rosa trail

I had a few brief chats to a couple of guys I'd met the previous day, but a longer conversation nearly became my downfall. I'd first spoken to Nathan on the ferry over to the island, and then again on Day 1 before he disappeared off up the rocky beach. As we chatted about the previous day, we ran over a little footbridge and blithely followed the guys in front down the trail to the left, picking up some speed as it started to descend. It did seem rather odd to be heading back down towards Brodick rather than further north into the hills, but I didn't really think much about it....until people started shouting at us all. They were heading up the other side of the valley towards the bridge (where we'd been earlier). It turns out that we'd all missed a small routemarker that indicated we had to turn right after the bridge and leave the circular Glen Rosa hiking trail. All of us had run a good half mile in the wrong direction - what idiots!! - so everyone about turned and started back up the valley. Several of the men powered back up to rejoin the race route, but I tried not to worry about it, as we still had an awfully long way to go and I didn't want to exhaust myself correcting that error. Unfortunately, it meant that by the time I was back on course, I was way back down the field again, and as the path was very narrow, it was nigh on impossible to pass people a lot of the time, so I was rather at the mercy of other people's pace.

Chasing back up the trail again

Easy does it, and by the time I reached the head of the valley and was climbing up to the South Ridge of Cir Mhor, I'd passed umpteen men and 6 ladies (again!). I now had no idea how many more were further ahead of me, but I decided to just take the rest of the day as it came. The climbing had definitely warmed me up so I'd long removed and packed away my waterproof jacket, buff and gloves. People were stopping on the ridge to add more layers as the wind was bitingly cold, but I preferred to keep moving - as I was worried that everything would blow away if I started unpacking my kit. Someone commented on how "strong" I was not to have put my waterproof back on, but my plan was to do so once I was over that lump and in some shelter. The problem was that once I was out of the wind, it was not only warmer but easier to run and so I still didn't put anything else on.
 

Up round the corries

Beautiful views...if a little chilly!

I did get rather cold running round the edge of the corrie towards Caisteal Abhail and so I fished out my gloves and buff as I climbed but I was then too cold to be bothered with my waterproof. The right side of my face was freezing as the wind blasted it (I heard later that the windchill was -7 up there) but I pushed on over the highest point knowing it would be better on the other side (though I made a mental note to have my waterproof ready for when we had to summit Goatfell on the return journey). A short run down a spur lulled you into a false sense of security as the route markers then suddenly disappeared off onto a steep, trackless, rocky, heathery slope. This was more the terrain that I'd expected for this part of Arran and somehow I managed to descend without anyone passing me (and I even caught a man up!!!) until I hit the rocky trail along the valley at the bottom.
 

The route looking towards the north of Arran

Running down into Lochranza

The first Pit Stop of the day was just as you came into Lochranza - initially I thought it was actually in the distillery, but actually it was a shelter set up in the carpark. Many of the guys seemed to be stopping here for a proper feed and a rest, but I just grabbed a flapjack bar, some water and carried on. A man I'd run down into Lochranza with had done the event in 2018 and told me that this next section had seemed interminable to him, so I pushed on as there was some nice tarmac to trot down (Ok, so the end of the road came all too soon) and then a decent coastal trail round the "Cock of Arran" - the most northerly point of the island. I passed a lone marshal who uttered those lovely words "it's a headwind all the way!" and advised me to keep hugging the coast. The former made my heartsink as the wind would gust so strongly that it sometimes stopped me dead in my tracks and I really wasn't so keen to run 8 miles into it, and the latter was rather obvious as I was pinned between rocks and sea to my left, and steep slopes to my right.

Nathan had stayed longer at PS1 than me and so soon passed me, but apart from him, the two men I passed and a couple of walkers, I saw no one else along the whole stretch. Most of it was runnable (wind notwithstanding) but there were also some rocky scrambles up and down and round the coast (it reminded me slightly of the Lofoten race I'd done in Norway). Nathan clearly wasn't loving this bit either as I caught him back up again and he later said that having me in front of him just kept him going. Finally, the path turned onto a gravel road and I knew it couldn't be too far to Pit Stop 2.

Heading up Glen Sannox

PS2 had some Red Bull reps (the first ones I'd seen all weekend despite them sponsoring the event) hanging around and so I gratefully downed a can, ate some jaffa cakes, and unpacked my bag for the compulsory kit check (we had to show full body cover, hat and gloves before being allowed back up into the mountains towards GoatFell). I waited for Nathan and we headed off together (saying that suffering was easier when you were doing it with someone else), with the exit from the PS being marked by a chilly wade across the river (luckily no mishaps so we just got wet feet/legs). From there we headed inland up Glen Sannox towards the GoatFell range. Nathan was much more sure of his footing and so moved away from me, catching up to the guy ahead of him, but they were only just ahead of me as we climbed up out of the valley to the back of Cir Mhor again.

Stuart's pic :-)

"Some" scrambling was necessary

We had a "mountain support crew" to help with any dramas before we reached the ridge, but rather than helping me up the chimney, Stuart just took photos as we exchanged banter about who was buying the beers later. To be fair, even with my constantly worsening fear of heights/dropoff/technical terrain, it wasn't bad. On reaching the top, I got my waterproof out ready to use a windbreak, but just tied it round my waist for the time being as I knew I had more climbing to come. There was an option to take the "low route" from here and descend down to Brodick via Glen Rosa without having to go along the Goatfell Ridge, but as I'd gotten that far, it was all or nothing for me! Let's just say that ridge took a while as there were a lot of false summits, scrambles, rocks etc. A few points had marshals/mountain crew with ropes to help us, but the three of us managed to make good headway and finally reached the 874m trig point. I knew that there was no way I could even try to keep with the lads as we descended, but I did want to "run" down as much as I could.

Wearing almost all my compulsory kit

A dramatic ridge "run"

Yippee - the Goat Fell trig

Unsurprisingly (there were several miles of descent on a rocky path) I was passed, but only by one man, which gave me the confidence to keep going. I was really surprised to find myself passing a couple of runners as I came out of the woods at the bottom of Glen Rosa, but it turns out that they had dropped out of the event and were just returning to the finish. A final sting in the tail was that we did not just run into the finish in Brodick but were sent back the way we'd started.....along the energy-sapping sandy beach (there was definitely even less strength in my legs now and I was sorely tempted to sit down on the sand and strop!!), the little paths and the grass of the start area, but then we doubled back again and crossed the road into the finish field, where my age was again revealed to anyone who'd missed it the previous day!

All in all, over the 2 days I'd covered 63miles, climbed (and descended) 11300feet caught up with old friends, made new ones, but mainly had a great time exploring an island I really didn't know very well. I'd finished 6th overall in a faster time than the fastest lady on each day the previous year, but although I can kind of understand there being no prizes, it did seem weird that finishers got the same medals as those that DNF'd. It was a great weekend experience but not one I'd really recommend unless you've got money to burn. The entry fee alone is one of the highest of any event I've done - and then you still have to get there (petrol and ferry) and pay for accommodation, food and drink. At registration we did get a t-shirt and a plastic bottle of water, but at the finish there was nothing except taps to refill this plastic bottle, and a teacup's worth of chilli to eat. It probably would have been worth my while going back to the aid stations as they were clearly the way to get the most out of the event!

Arran Day 1

After hauling myself round the Blyth 10K, I suddenly realised that I had not actually done any runs of significant distance, and certainly not on consecutive days, for rather a long time. This made me rather anxious about upcoming trips, and so when I spotted the 2-day Ultra Tour of Arran was the next weekend, I made a spur of the moment decision to enter. It wasn't exactly the cheapest of events, especially if you added in the cost of driving there and taking the ferry over/back, so I decided to save on accommodation fees and just sleep in my car!!!

I drove up to Ardrossan straight after work on Friday and luckily made the last ferry of the day, so arrived at registration about 9:45pm (it closed at 10pm) in time to get my number, my tracker, have my kit checked, catch up with a few old friends who happened to be part of the race crew, and then settle down for the night in the back of my car.

Day 1 route

Saturday dawned clear and bright...if rather cold. Everyone huddled together for the 8:15 briefing trying to keep warm. Although it was suggested that I was "brave" to be wearing shorts, I was also wearing my hat, gloves and waterproof out of my compulsory kit :-)  I didn't know how I would feel over the course of the weekend (especially having only finished my antibiotics that morning) so I decided to set off midpack. Unfortunately, I soon realised that this was not quite the pace for me, as people started to walk up even the slightest inclines. Once we had jogged along the prom and past the Brodick ferry terminal the path widened into a country lane, so I managed to ease my way past several people and start running at a more comfortable pace.

Lovely to look at - less lovely
to run along

Day 1 covered the southern half of Arran with us initially visiting Lamlash and Whiting Bay on the eastern coast, then Kildonan to the south and returning further inland. The first section of the course was nothing out of the ordinary with me moving up the field as we climbed uphill, and then seeing several men run past me on a rougher descent down into Lamlash. I caught a few back up for a chat on the flat but then we hit my least favourite section of the day.....the rough beach, where all the uneven stones were also covered in slippery seaweed. I felt like I was crawling along it, as the instability of my foot placement caused unpleasant niggles in my right shin (that pesky stressfracture again!!) whereas all the guys seemed able to fly over the terrain by "trusting" in their feet! Having slightly shorter legs than some of them didn't help, though I pitied some of the smaller ladies in the field. Although this "beach" section was about 3 miles long, we were constantly on and off the beach - with the "off beach" stretches were on boardwalk. This boardwalk was great to run along, despite the steps of varying size and length, but (possibly due to erosion) it required a good clamber off the rocks onto each section of it. Whilst on the beach, I tried to look ahead and focus on foot placement, but this meant I kept crashing into overhead dangling branches...honestly, you couldn't win! I was probably the happiest person on the course when the route climbed steeply up and over into Whiting Bay!!

Looking over at Holy Island

As I ran through Whiting Bay, it was nice to get some support from locals out walking.....and funny to hear their suggestions I'd have a suntan by the end of the day (admittedly, I'd stripped off to my vest, shorts and backpack by now as the sun was out, but the wind meant it wasn't really that warm!) as they were in thick jackets! As I hadn't had any of my food and drink, I didn't have any need to visit the Pit Stop but a marshal directed me up a steep slope off the road towards the village hall. I presumed it was to get my number checked or cross some timing point, but there was nothing obvious and as soon as I ran up the steps into the hall I was looking for the way out. Having found the exit, I wasn't sure which way to go - up the hill behind the hall was a dead end so I went back and shouted to the marshal down on the main road asking for directions. I then found out that I had to rejoin the road she'd waved me off.....and that some of the others had been allowed to continue straight on without detouring up to the Pit Stop. This was only "slightly" annoying as I now had no clue how many people had run past as there was no one obviously on the course in front of me.



A lovely climb out of Whiting Bay



You'll couldn't fault the views!

I really enjoyed the climb out of Whiting Bay - lots of tight switchbacks on a narrow dirt trail with no one to see in front or behind. I was slightly worried about taking the wrong route when some dubious signage could have indicated I should either stop climbing and head into the woods, or just carry on up. I chose the latter and was then relieved to see another sign near the top of a grassy knoll (along with some surprised tourists). A tiny descent and the climb continued, but this time along a forestry road so I could see the guys I was reeling in (and passing :-) ). I managed to stay away from those I'd passed on the downhill this time, and even overtook another guy on a very short road section. The last section down to the very south coast of the island was rougher underfoot but I managed to maintain some pace here and was soon trotting along the flat to Pit Stop 2.

The mossy part of the bog
rather than the muddy part

This Pit Stop was at the side of the road, and I wanted to go it to get a flapjack bar, but it also gave me a chance to say Hi to the Rat Race head honcho Jim Mee, whom I hadn't seen for years (I used to be a doctor for their events), as he was helping out there. As soon as I headed away from the coast, I hit a really steep road climb, which was almost impossible to run, never mind whilst eating a flapjack bar - it was such a relief to turn off it into the woods again. I caught up to a young lad (Martin) running his first ultra and the next couple of miles ticked by as we chatted about all sorts of things sports and exercise related (though I doubted he knew I was old enough to be his mother....scary thought!!). We had just turned onto a nice runnable trail and were easing into a good pace, when we suddenly spotted a flag indicating we needed to head off into some rough boggy ground. I was definitely less sure of my footing from that point so Martin soon disappeared off into the trees as I floundered around in wet moss, mud and roots.

A doll "drowning" in the Bog

A voodoo collection?

I had heard about the “Bog of Doom” and so was pleasantly surprised to find a more or less “runnable” couple of miles on trackless ground along the side of a loch and through woods as long as you didn’t mind wet feet and a bit of slip sliding away. Just as I was secretly celebrating I hit the real stuff....and when I say real, I mean shin deep mud, the kind that sucks you down and tries to hold you prisoner. In fact, it did nearly hold me prisoner at one point, or rather it held my shoe prisoner while my foot (and the rest of me) tried to escape! At least I didn’t lose the shoe completely as I still had 10miles to go, but the grass I tried to clean my hands on was just as unforgiving....that mud was staying with me! To make it more amusing there were collections of bones and flags dotted around, and dolls buried up to their waists in the mud....and even some eerie music coming out from behind trees. This almost caused me to miss a piece of tape marking the direction to go, as I found myself being drawn towards the music!!!!

"Nearly" at the road

 

Eventually I came across a marshal who reassured me that I’d almost made it and was nearly out to a forestry road. He lied.....or at least significantly distorted the meaning of the word “nearly”, but when I did eventually get there, I ran past (yes uphill again) a family out for a Saturday stroll and got a few funny looks!

The trail into PS3

Up and down I went, on forestry road and single track trails by streams and through woodlands (these shady ones were the best as the sun was rather hot once you were sheltered from the wind) and eventually I came into Pit Stop 3. I was really surprised to be greeted at the first lady as a previous marshal had told me there were “7 ahead of you” and I’d presumed they meant females rather than just runners in general.

I knew that I was now on the final stretch so enjoyed trying to turn my legs over a little bit on the country roads that led into the back of Lamlash again, but then I was greeted with an endless steep hot climb up a hillside. Just when you’re looking the most hot and bothered you can be, a photographer looms ahead of you, by at least he had the decency to let me know that even the leading men had walked up that incline! From there it was a relatively straightforward run down to the finish, though I doubted my navigation again (a helpful passerby told me I was just over a mile from the finish when I still had 2.5miles to go) especially when I found myself on a dead end residential street.

Crossing the line in Brodick

A cut through at the end of the street led me to the top of the finish field and from there it was a lovely run down over the grass to the finish gantry. It turned out that I was 6th overall by the finish announcer seemed more impressed with my age (I don’t think there was anyone in Brodick that didn’t hear how old I am) than my gender!!!

I washed myself with a paddle in the stream and then went to the local supermarket to start refuelling for day 2.....though luckily a lovely couple took pity on me and let me use the bath in their B&B when they heard that I was sleeping in my car.....bliss!!

Lessons in Humility

My parents have always been very supportive of me, but my mother recently told me that she was very impressed with how I'd accepted my injury/health problems and just got on with life. I don't think I've done anything special, as there's not much I can do except accept it. Yes, I get despondent at times, especially when I see others running times I used to run and events I used to run, and it can get me down, but stropping and crying over it won't exactly achieve much. I just have to accept who I am now and where I am now, and alter my priorities/ambitions accordingly.

The British Masters Medals

I do still shy away from races, but do realise that it's only me that is bothered by my times, and so I should just get over myself and get on with it. It was the British Masters 10k championships at the weekend - I had been told by friends that it was going to be part of the Port of Blyth 10k months ago, but I just couldn't bring myself to enter. When I was finally talked into it (I realised that masters running is much "bigger than me" and I should do my bit to encourage participation), entry had closed as the race was full. I joined the waiting list, but soon moved up and was allowed to enter.

I hadn't run a 10k since 2017 and thought that my times then (around the 37+ minute mark) were disappointing, yet now I'd be "happy" to run under 41 minutes. The week prior to the race I developed what I called "manflu" (basically a head cold combined with achy joints) but it soon morphed into sinusitis and laryngitis, so I felt pretty unwell (that's an understatement......I felt like I couldn't breathe at all one night as I kept developing a film across my throat) and eventually caved in and started antibiotics (so then you could add antibiotic-associated gut rot into the equation). I certainly had enough excuses to run badly!

"Perfect" race weather

I went to Blyth anyway, as I really needed to catch up (all things 50k selection/management) with one of the organisers, and was asked if I would be prepared to hand out the Masters medals. I felt rather honoured, and as I wasn't going to have to say anything (I had approximately no voice) I agreed (not that I'm that good at smiling and having my photo taken either). Rather than just hang around for several hours until the presentation, I decided that I might as well register and run, as the out and back nature of the course meant that if I felt really rubbish I could just stop and walk back.
I adjusted my target from a lofty sub-41 to a sub-45minute run, but nearly stuffed this up too as I had to make a mercy dash into a local hotel to use the bathroom just before the start. On finally joining the start field, I recognised a clubmate and was just saying to her that I thought I should move a bit further forward when we noticed that people were already running....oops! We were so in the thick of the crowds that we couldn't move faster than a walk as we crossed the start timing mats. This led me into a panic first mile where I probably ran way too fast, weaving round people and moving up the field. It did, however, get the adrenaline flowing and I continued at a similar pace for the next mile as I didn't want to slip back down the field again.

Clearly loving it....not!

The outward course involved running along a road, then on pavements beside the main road, until we turned down to the seafront and ran along the prom. At the end of the prom we wound through dunes (on a tarmac path, though I did have to stray off it on occasions to pass people) and then turned onto a short grassy section. This finished with a couple of metres of steep uphill onto the main road. That's where the interest in the course ended as the route back was almost along the footpath along the (very straight) main road until we turned the corner into the Port area where we'd started. I passed a couple of ladies but managed to croak out that they shouldn't worry about me as I was about to fade bigtime.

Presenting Aly with her Masters Gold medal

Even though it was only a 10k, I had to break it down into smaller sections of a mile or half a mile to make me keep going. By the end I couldn't believe runners ahead were still continuing straight and hadn't turned down into the port, so my mental sections must've got down to about 400m lengths. Although a lady with a "50" on her back passed me in the final stretch I hadn't seen any near me with a "40" on (though I knew Aly Dixon would win the race easily and she had recently entered my age group). It was nice to see some familiar faces and hear them shout out as I ran down the finish funnel. I couldn't believe the clock when I saw it and so managed a slight sprint as it saw the second ticking up ...57....58....59...but I did it. My clock time was 38.59, way faster than I thought I could run, and my chip time lowered this by 12s due to my stuff up at the start, so I actually recorded a faster time than the ladies finishing just in front of me! (As an extra bonus - kudos to the race organisers - they provided some womens' t-shirts in a size 8!!)

 

The hard-earned half-
marathon wristband

A happy parkrunning family :-)

Yes, not that long ago I would have been upset with the time, but now I was just so happy to have run way faster than my expectations. Maybe I should reset the clock and have post-REDs PBs. In reality, I am getting so much more out of running than my own performances these days, whether it be managing British ultra teams, doing parkruns with my parents, introducing a friend's daughter to junior parkrun and watching her come to love it and so work towards her half marathon wristband, helping injured friends by setting them crosstraining sessions, organising track sessions for the local running club (and making them do drills), and helping others train for marathons (whether a first timer or a runner who has underperformed at the distance in the past) - I can still live my love of running through others! Onwards and upwards!