Running is not just running. It’s like dancing, there are so many disciplines. When planning what races to enter I try to choose events that complement each other, somehow I inadvertently go from one extreme to another.
I had once pigeon
holed myself as a one-pace 24 hour jogger.
Then I moved to what I thought would be the fun stuff and became a
mountain rambler, dragging my sorry ass around some the blockbuster events. This year I wanted to go back to basics. Real running.
Kinda bucking the ultra-trend and looking for shorter and faster. Rather than pushing the boundaries with
longer and more arduous. No mean feat
though, as it’s hard to put the toothpaste back in the tube.
I started the year
with a couple of 10k races - that hardest distance of them all. The main focus was Manchester Marathon and
then the Thames Path 100. To mix it up
and break up the monotony of canal running, I signed up for the Ultra TrailScotland - 45km with 11,000 feet of ascent on the Isle of Arran.
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| With winner Rob Sinclair at the start |
After a few
training runs on Arran last year, I was blown away by the sheer beauty of the
island. I had done Goat Fell, which is
the highest and most popular peak, and the Goat Fell hill race before using
traditional route to the summit - off the Calmac ferry and a straight out and
back on the tourist path. It’s a nice
trail and a fabulous hill, but beyond the trig is a treasure trove of magic
that few people will venture along.
They are ‘just’ Corbetts, so Munro baggers would turn up their noses at such insignificant
hills. But they can certainly pack a
good punch. Stunning majestic backdrops,
technical trails, exposed ridges, scrambles and coastal views. Arran is known as “Scotland in Miniature”
because it offers the best of Scotland - highland scenery, granite peaks, glens
and rolling farmlands all compacted within its 56 mile circular coastline. The race takes in the best that Arran has to
offer. Unfortunately that means is also
cursed with Scotland’s unpredictable weather system.
It’s such a brave
venture for the guys at Find Your Adrenaline as the odds are against them. The Scottish weather doesn’t lend itself to
exposed routes, there’s limited accommodation on the island and the only mode
of transport there is a ferry.
Sailings are again dictated by the conditions. But anyone who’s been on route can see the
dream. You’d be hard pushed to find a
more stunning race route in Scotland - if not the world.
This was the third
edition of the race. The first year was
cancelled completely due to weather and last year was rerouted, again the
weather. This year’s race day was
unfortunately sandwiched between two days of glorious sunshine. And the filling wasn’t looking very
appetising. On race morning, I’d opened
the curtains to torrential rain and the trees bending in the wind. If I’d been faced with those conditions on
any other day, there’s no way I would have ventured into the hills.
Then there was the
communication that the race had been postponed by two hours, to start at 10am. Wise decision as the forecast at least had
the wind speed dropping late morning.
When we arrived at
race HQ, it was announced that the course had been changed to take out the
exposed sections and the infamous Witch’s Step. So the new route took the
direct route from North Goat Fell to the saddle - taking out Coiche na Oighe
ridge, Sannox Glen - and was an out-and-back to North Sannox car park. I mentally calculated that it would lose
about four miles and about 1500ft of climbing, so not a massive difference.
I won’t lie, I was
pretty gutted as I’d made the effort to go over the recce the route twice. Mainly because I don’t like surprises on race
day. From an organisational and safety
point of view it was 100% the right decision for the safety of the runners and
the marshals. No disrespect to anyone
running the race, but I’m sure there would have been many on the start line
who’d wildly underestimated the route.
During my recces, I was still amazed that these sky-running style routes
were on a teeny island like Arran.
The race started
along the beach. I despise sand, but at least it was a short section before we
turned off and started heading up the hill into the mist.
There was a bit of
toing and froing on the ascent. People
battling to stay ahead. I’m no hill
runner, so settled in for some power hiking.
I was trying not to bother about what position I was in, but still
managed to count five or six women ahead of me.
You know, not bothering and all that.
I got chatting to
the lovely Katie Henderson. She looked
like a proper hill runner. I had total
leg envy! We overtook a few people on
the ascent, but Katie pulled away towards the summit. When we reached the top and started on the
rocky descent, Katie was gone.
Completely out of sight.
I was mincing
around on the initial downs, trying to get my legs to change gear. I’d bought some new VJ XTRMS for the race and
wasn’t so sure of the traction on the wet ground and slippy rocks. I soon got into my groove and realised the
shoes were indeed going to live up to the hype.
To be fair, the granite rock on Arran is pretty grippy anyway.
Over to North
Goatfell, Sarah was ahead of me. She was
really strong on the ups, running up with a back-pack that was almost the same
size as her, but possibly lacked the confidence to take the downhills.
I was trusting my
new grippy shoes and having a great chat with a few lads. I was just happy. Really content and just trying to move
swiftly without destroying my quads.
There was no pressure, no goals but I was damn sure I was going to do my
best.
Katie was now
nowhere in sight. I couldn’t even see
her on the climb to Cir Mhor. She must
have smashed the descent. Strava segment
tells me I dropped from North Goal Fell to the saddle (0.82 miles -29%) in 16:46 and she did it in 12:30. That a substantial difference and I wasn’t
hanging about either.
I was starting to
pull away from the guys on the ascent to Cir Mhor. The mist was starting to clear near the
Saddle and the views were spectacular.
Not that anyone could enjoy the scenery as it’s pretty much face-in-rock
on this ascent. It’s like climbing up a wall. I know it’s a bitch because I’ve
done it twice before, so was mentally prepared for the torture. And bagged myself a little Strava crown too.
It was a shame to
miss the views up to Caisteal. When I
saw the global snapping sensation that is Ian Corless hiding behind a rock,
cowering from the elements, I felt disappointed that he wasn’t going to see the
full beauty of the route. On his post
race podcast interview with RD Casey, he promised to return with good weather
next year.
I checked in with
the poor souls charged with the Caistel marshal point and headed on the long
descent to North Sannock. It was long
before I saw the ever-smiling Rob Sinclair on his way back up to Caisteal for the second
time.
He’s definitely
right up there as one of the best ultra-runners in the UK just now. His triple records on the West Highland Way
races were world-class and he’s quite simply one of the loveliest guys you’ll
meet. We exchanged a few shrieking
mutual gratifications, high-fived and I continued on the muddy descent to the
river crossing.
On the flats it’s a
manky, slippy and tussocky bog fest. But
I needn’t have worried about the mud, as there was a thigh deep river crossing
to wash it all off. Mid river-crossing I
met my club mate, Grant MacDonald coming the other way. We were standing on parallel rocks
hilariously trying to high five and we both nearly fell up. I gave up with slimey rock jumping and just
waded through on the basis that it was just safer.
I was high-fiving
and cheering everyone that was passing on the return leg from the
checkpoint. It was more for my benefit
though, because if I’m chipper externally then I’m happy and positive on the
inside too.
Katie went passed
less than ½ mile from the checkpoint looking strong and smooth. I was mentally trying to work out how far she
was ahead of me. Maybe six or seven
minutes. When I got to the checkpoint,
Ruth Stanley was standing there sorting out her drop bag. I hadn’t even seen her from the start, so she
must have been way ahead. Quick top up
on the ActiveRoot and back out I went.
I was enjoying the
out-and-back section, because you can gauge where you are in the race. This is after all when the real race
starts. But also there was a lot of
energy from the other runners.
I was just focusing
on maintaining my position. I knew I was
moving fine and still overtaking other guys.
I felt like I still had loads of energy and was mentally all over it, but
I was aware that I could have easily fuck it all up with a fall or neglecting
to take in any fuel.
I tinkered over the
boggy ground like an old women but once I hit the ascent to Sail an Im I was on
a mission. Strong power hiking, running
the bits I should be running and not slacking off. Don’t get comfortable. Focus.
Don’t lose positions.
As the route bends
around Garbh Choire, I could see Katie in the distance. On the steep rocky
climb to Caisteal I was gaining on her and she knew it, but there was no way
she was going to back down. She’s a
feisty one.
Peaking Caisteal
and hitting the 1000ft rocky descent to Garbh Chore Dubh, this is when Katie
turned on her superpower. Everything
I’d worked to gain in the ascent was gone in about two minutes. She was off.
I was passing lots
of Tarsuinn Trail runners who were on the ascent to Caisteal and was taking
lots of energy from interactions with them, but at the same time as keeping an
eye on Katie. And having those usual
internal conversations with myself << You don’t know until you try. Being second is a great achievement. You don’t know until you try. You’re not a hill runner, Katie is. You don’t know until you try. Don’t let third place catch you >>
As the route skirts
round the mountain on the way to Beinn Tarsuinn, I was gaining on Katie every
minute. We were about 20ft apart for
around two miles. Then when I closed in
before the climb up, she just stepped off the path and let me pass. I signalled for her to come with me. But before long I couldn’t hear any
footsteps. Surely she’s not going to
give up this easy?
I then passed Mark
Whooler who was going in hard with some Scottish tablet - the local runner’s
crack cocaine. After about five minutes
the route zig zags slightly, so I was able to take a peek behind to see how far
Kaite was. You know, the sneaky side eye
peek without moving my head tactic. I
couldn’t see her.
The ascent went on
for way longer than I remember.
Clambering up boulders, squeezing through tight spaces. I was feeling a bit wobbly on feet and my
legs were tingling on the cusp of cramping, so was concentrating on moving
quickly so I didn’t stumble back.
I was using two
guys in the Tarsuinn Trail race to help keep pace. I’ll just clip on behind them. As the trail
plateaus at the peaks I passed them, but they soon overtook me on the descent.
After some self
praise for having no accidents thus far, I tripped on a rock, decked it and my
legs instantly jerked into cramped. I’d
hit me knee on the way down, as my instincts were to protect an already sore
hand from a fall a few weeks prior. I didn’t even notice my knee was bleeding
until further on the descent, so it definitely looked worse than it was.
I kept telling
myself to focus on getting to Glen Rosa. If I got to the flat stuff still in
the lead, it was in the bag. I still felt energised and knew I had enough for
the road section. During one of my
recces I had to dig in during the last few miles to make it back to Brodick to
make the ferry off the island. So I
could the exact same in the race. Plus
I’ve overhead Katie telling another runner she really disliked the road section
in the Goat Fell hill race. So sorry,
Katie. But you gave me that one for
free.
Now my focus was on
not cramping. And trying to get my legs
to move smoothly, but I’m so shite on bog and thick grass. The Tarsuinn guys were hardly breaking pace
and I could only manage a little more than awkward jog
At the river
crossing, one of the guys stepped back and held out his hand to help me
across. I was so thankful, as my legs
were all over the place. I like to think
of myself as a fiercely independent women, but I can also ham up the damsel in
distress when it suits me.
I was so glad to go
out of the bog and tackle the awkward descent to the bridge. It’s pretty fast running from there, but my
brain was frazzled and I had a terrible fear of falling which kept me
vigilant. 
Less than 5km to
go. I wasn’t going to use ‘just a
parkrun to go’ because that’s the worst analogy ever. I had to just keep running. No heroics required, as I was fairly
confident I was moving OK to hold off any positions. Just plugging away on forward motion, it
wasn’t long before I was along the beachfront and could see the finish gantry.
It was amazing to
be part of such a great race. I was
buzzing the whole way. One of those rare
days when your head and legs are in the right place. The vibes and spirit from the other
competitors was really uplifting.
 |
| With Katie Henderson |
Thanks to the
organisers and amazing volunteers. I’d
love to go back next year and run the full course. I doubt I’ll be defending my title. I am under no illusion that a hill runner
with a hunger for endurance will destroy that course. I hope this year’s events have raised
awareness of the race and attracts a lot of speedsters to the island. Rob’s performance was again world-class. And if he rocked up again, he’d be hard
pushed to be beat
Rob Sinclair (Salomon UK) 4:20:54
Stewart Whitlie (Carnethy) 5:11:44
Michael Reid (Carnethy) 5:25:07
Debbie Martin-Consani (Garscube)
6:24:59
Katie Henderson (Deeside Runners) 6:34:30
Ruth Stanley (Shettleston Harriers) 6:59:15
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