Westies Narnain Boulder Handicap

I spectated and took photos at the 1st running of this Westies club race. Reports and photos

here

Glen Lyon Cycle

Did one of my favourite cycles on Sun. Started at Killin, headed up the lovely wooded single track road up Glen Lochay to its end, then up steeply & slowly to @ 350m over the water board trackand a flying descent down into the head of Glen Lyon. From there it was miles and miles of gradual wind assisted descent along Glen Lyon, one of Scotland’s loveliest glens. Passed the Bridge of Balgie tea rooms, the Fortingall Yew (reputedly Europe’s oldest living thing), through Keltneyburn and over the General Wade bridge into Aberfeldy (45 miles). After a carrot cake muffin out of the Coop I headed back passing Taymouth castle which is being restored and into the lovely village of Kenmore at the east end of Loch Tay. From there I took the south Loch Tay road which undulates narrowly for about 15 miles with great views of Loch Tay and the Ben Lawers mountains across the water. I arrived back at Killin after 66 miles and @ 4 ½ hours, and decided that I needed a bit more climbing, so I cycled along the north Loch Tay road for a few miles before engaging my granny ring for the 300 metre climb up to the Ben Lawers visitor centre, turning round at the reservoir for a nice fast descent back down. All in all 81 miles of stunning Highland scenery in perfect cycling weather. A fantastic day out.
Photos

here

Round Arran Road Relays

Almost three Westies teams made the journey across the Clyde to a sunny Isle of Arran for a great day out. We didn't win any prizes but we had a great time. Photos on my FLICKR website. Reports on Westies website.

Maddy Moss Hill Race

10 YEARS ON AND 10 MINUTES SLOWER! I suppose a minute per year isn’t too bad, and everyone else seems to be regressing like wise, so that makes it easier to bear. I still seem to enjoy it as much as ever and the good thing about running is that it still subjectively feels like I am running the same as 10 years ago, just as hard but just not as fast – strange that, eh?! The predictions of extremely hot weather fortunately didn’t materialise and whilst still hot wasn’t actually too bad and there was even a nice wee breeze on top. There was the usual good turnout of Westies for this Bog and Burn race - @6 miles and 675m of ascent from Tillicoultry - a “power walk” up the steep climb to The Law, a steady run up to the high point of Ben Cleuch and then fine cross country running down to Andrew Gannell Hill and finally the long runnable descent on the narrow trod from Maddy Moss and the quad-busting final very steep hundred yards or so to the finish. The steep start here always hits hard but then you get a few minutes of flat running before the slog up The Law. I tried to settle into a nice steady walk up this big climb, to save some energy for all the running that is left once you hit the top. It seemed to work out OK, pulling away from Helen and watching Don and Steffen not too far ahead. I had a walking/running battle with Pete Buchanan of Ochils who would run past me on the less steep bits and then I would walk past him as it steepened; after half a dozen of these mini-battles he pulled away near the top of The Law, never to be seen again. From the turn round at the Ben Cleuch trig I held my place, being passed once but passing a Fifer near the end. The narrow trod required the usual total concentration on every little foot plant to avoid plunging down the hill, and fortunately I had no one in front to try and overtake as it is near impossible, as the Dundee runner behind me found out. I crossed the line in just under 66min 49sec, about 3min slower than last year and 33rd/72, but as always, felt to my mind as hard as ever and I was pleased with my run, bearing in mind the recent long races in my legs (Wasdale, then Moffat and a 100mile cycle on Monday – just getting my excuses in!). Up ahead David had a great run in 4th place, Helen and Cat were 1st and 2nd ladies, and Pauline 1st FV50. The lads narrowly missed out on the team prize to hosts Ochil, but the lassies triumphed in their team competition. Post-run recreation was in The Woolpack pub where we enjoyed some fine ales in the now smoke-free atmosphere. A great way to spend a Wed evening.
Reports and photos on the Westies website.
Results here

Moffat Chase Hill Race

Having ran Wasdale last week I was either going to be knackered or energised for the return of the "old" long Moffat Chase race (16 miles & 1720 metres), first ran by me way back in 1988, and it turned out to be both! I started out at not too bad a pace up through the forest for the first mile, but then felt it was a bit too fast, eased off a bit and then started to feel a bit wobbly on the first climb, the old negative thoughts forcing their way to the fore as I cursed Wasdale. Captainess Cat eased by me at this point as I started to contemplate a nice long but hard saunter round, taking in the views and watching everyone pass me. The legs were simply dead and the runnable part from the first checkpoint was hard going as I tried to hang on to Hamilton who had also caught me up. I soon started to feel a bit better on the contour round to the col near Hart Fell, gaining the minute of deficit on Cat by getting a better lower line. We chatted away the climb up to Hart Fell where I found my descending legs to then ungentlemanly leave her to chase after Louise Burt and Tosh Brannan who were just ahead. I caught them up near Hartfell Rig and then caught a few more on the fantastic ridge run along to Saddle Yoke. From there I enjoyed somehow the steep grassy descent down to the landrover at Blackhope Burn, zig-zagging my way down while trying not to think about what lay ahead at the bottom. The climb up to Black Craig was a dire trudge of slow footstep after slow footstep, trying to convince myself that everyone else must be feeling at least as bad. Ronnie gave out some welcome water before the final trudge up to Nether Coomb Craig, where I passed Murdo, giving me some renewed energy. I shot off the wrong way from the checkpoint, only to be called back by the marshalls. There was a good heathery descent to the forest near Auldton Fell, where the frontrunners had left some convenient trods in the long grass. The pressure of Murdo following behind kept me pushing on and on the climb up to Greygill Head (the 1st CP also) I managed to reel in a few more bodies that were wilting in the heat. I was a great relief to know that it was more or less all down hill from here and I passed a few more on the stony/heathery/muddy descent that I had struggled up 3 hours earlier. I was a great relief to get back into the cool shady forest for the final mile of the race which was probably the best part of the race. I was well chuffed to finish 24th (76 starters), if 15 min down on my time in 1988. The showers back at the rugby club put a bit of life back into me and afterwards Cat, Chris, David and me wandered back into Moffat for an ice cream and a listen to the Langholm Town Band blast out a few tunes. Various Westies arrived back in assorted states but all did extremely well, especially Luke and Manny up front, the Westies Wummin and Jason manfully bringing up the rear. A great race in a lovely part of the country, see you all next year?! More reports and photos on the Westies website. Results here

Having Monday off work I did a fantastic 100 mile cycle from Langholm to Eskdalemuir, Hawick, Newcastleton and back. Tremendous weather, quiet roads and amazing scenery.

Wasdale Fell Race

Another Saturday…another long race, or so it seems to have been all summer. On Sat I completed the infamous Wasdale Horseshoe Fell Race (22 miles, 9000 feet), and in doing so managed to qualify for the Lakeland Classics Series, comprising the Super Long Races -Duddon Valley, Ennerdale Horseshoe, Wasdale and the Long Races – Borrowdale, Three Shires, Langdale Horseshoe – at least 3 of the SL or 2 SL and one L . Admittedly if I hope to actually place anywhere in this series (38/54 after 2 SL so far) then I think I would have to actually win the remaining 3 races, so I will just have to content myself with simply completing the series and maybe doing all 3 that are left, which I would be pleased with. Back to Wasdale, this is a race I had heard about many times and decided that after all my long races this summer that I should give it a bash. It starts in the tremendous setting of Wasdale Head in the South Lakes where you are surrounded by fantastic peaks, equal to the setting of, say, Glencoe. For a change the weather was cool and cloudy, just about right for what I expected to be about a 6hr day out on the hills. 145 of us set off, including Luke and a few Carnethies, for the steady grind up to Illgill Head (609m) and the ridge to Whin Rigg (536m), which was very runnable. I was trying to settle into a nice steady pace at this stage knowing the many hours and thousands of feet of climb that lay ahead. From this 1st checkpoint we had a cracking flagged descent down a trod in the heather at the side of the Greathall Gill gorge to the other end of Wast Water where we had a mile or so of wooded trail before hitting some nice tracks up Greendale Gill and its waterfalls to Seatallan CP2 (693m). From here you can see miles and miles ahead and the field was well strung out by this point. There were some nice runnable trods in the heather down to the lovely Scoat Tarn before a steady climb up past Scoat Fell for a ridge run up the rocky summit of CP3, Pillar (892m). It was quite a rocky technical descent off down to Black Sail Pass and I was settling in to not a bad ploddy rhythm at this point as we skirted on a narrow contouring path under Kirk Fell to the col between it and Great Gable. Jane was here to provide moral support and water and to take the photo of me and the blonde woman, who proceeded to disappear up the steep rocky climb up to CP4, Great Gable (899m) never to be seen again. GG will be familiar to those having run Borrowdale where you come up nice rock steps which ease the big climb up from Styhead Pass, however we had to run down them, or should I say meander down them slowly as they were treacherous and irregularly spaced and would have resulted in serious damage had you slipped up. The slow pace did give a bit of a rest for the final climb up to Esk Hause, CP5, and then on to Scafell Pike, England’s highest peak at 977m. The fine weather deteriorated at this point and the last 15min or so to the top were wet and windy and with plenty of slippy rocks, really not a lot of fun. I wasn’t at all sure of the route off, as I had only ever been up here for the Borrowdale Race, where you head off in a completely different direction, so I sneakily let Wendy Dodds lead a group of us guys off into the clag hopefully in the direction of the last CP, Lingmell Nose. She did a fine job, and I managed to pull away from her when the clag cleared and I could see where I was going, shame on me! It got one back for me as she had hammered me at Ennerdale a few weeks earlier. The last descent was a grassy cracker and I even beat someone on the run in. It was a real pity that the weather had turned horrible by this point as no one was hanging around at the finish, as the attraction of a dry and warm car and fresh clothing proved too much and we all drifted away. I was really pleased with my time of 5hrs 40mins (101st of 145 starters), being 15min faster than my time for the shorter Ennerdale race a few weeks ago!127 runners finished and winner was Lloyd Taggart in 3h 49m and Jackie Lee set a new course record for the women in 4h 19m (11th place) followed closely by former Westie Helene Diamantides in 4h 25m (15th). The stats are impressive = 22 miles and 9000 feet, i.e. twice Ben Nevis!! It deserves its legendary reputation in fell running circles and those who enjoy the likes of Jura, Glen Clova, Glen Rosa etc. should really make the effort to get down for this and the other classic long races down here, especially given the absence of boggy, heathery Scots terrain and the abundance of tracks and trods.
Results here
Race details here

Chevy Chase Fell Race

"The Chevy Chase is a classic fell run and challenge for walkers, 20 miles into the heart of the Cheviots with 4,000 feet of accumulated climb. The route takes in the summits of Cheviot 2676 feet / 815m and Hedgehope 2348 feet / 714m, our two highest peaks. There is a short section on road; the rest of the route is a mixture of tracks, footpaths, sheep paths and on the higher ground trackless fell."

Chevy Chase website

If only I could have managed a sprint finish after 20 miles, 1320 meters and 3h 37m I would have been revelling in headlines of "JD gubs Gala Harrier". As it was, after dragging him round the last hour and a half he had the temerity to casually finish a couple of secs ahead of me. It was hot, it was dry and I felt that at last all those long races were proving fruitful as I seemed to be pulling in people all the time from the summit of The Cheviot. Mind you, they included the walkers and "B" runners who had set off earlier giving even a modest plodder like me that wonderful feeling of zooming past people what like "real" runners like Rodwell do when they are not sleepwalking through a race like today. I was 17th, Damon 16th, 1st man home was @3h01m. It was a cracker of a race, a bit like a runnable two Breweries and well organised in the lovely Border town of Wooler.
Full results

here

Damon's report =
A week is a long time in hill-running. After last week’s “monumental” run (thanks Hamilton) at the Eildons, I drove down to Wooler for the 20-mile Chevy Chase feeling perky and quietly confident that I’d win by a street, pull lots of birds and knock the course record into history. There was a minor hurdle to overcome, however. I didn’t have an entry, the race website said it was full, and the organiser had resolutely declined to return any of my emails or phone calls. Fortunately I bumped into JD (an you don’t often hear anyone say that!) and his beloved, who had the happy news that her mate couldn’t run and that her number was up for grabs.
The race starts with a couple of mile on the road, which I ran in a group of about a dozen. This thinned out when we left the road and started up the first gentle climb. I seemed to be toiling harder than I would have expected at what was a pretty conversational pace, but hoped that a few miles would blow the cobwebs away. Unfortunately it didn’t turn out that way. After about 40 minutes we hit the first significant climb, up the Cheviot on a wide and extremely runnable track. Runnable on fresh legs, that is. As it was, mine were feeling anything but fresh, and I found that it was all I could do to walk. A steady stream of runners trooped past. It’s quite a confusing event, with three separate starts for walkers, slow runners and faster runners. The consequence of this is that from about 3 miles onwards you are constantly following by a snake of walkers and runners who have set off up to 90 minutes before you. I found that the effect on my morale alternated every couple of minutes between a pleasant and blissful ignorance of my position in the field and deep gloom about how many plodders were in front. It also presented considerable problem when the paths were narrow. Time and time again I had to dive off into horrible tussocks to get past walkers, many armed with those stupid ski-sticks (what’s all that about?), who had absolutely no intention of letting runners past without a fight.
We crested the Cheviot and immediately plunged off piste down an outrageously steep heathery descent, which eventually levelled off into a gently falling trod.
At just about this point a terrible thing happened. I was pussy-footing down feeling a bit sorry for myself when the first lady skittered past. No big deal, you might think. What you don’t know, of course, is that it was not only a lady, but a lady veteran, and not only that but she’s my elder kids’ French teacher. Mon Dieu, quelle horreur, sacre bleu and pish! I had visions of not being allowed across the threshold when I got home, which stirred me from my torpor and I livened up a little, passing her soon afterwards on a climb and gradually pulling away. Believe it or not, worse was to come. The long climb up the other side of the valley was a real sod – a real battle through deep, deep tussocks, fought to the constant accompaniment of dozens of large buzzing flies that crawled on my scalp and invaded ears, nose and mouth. I was carrying one of those 2-litre rehydration pouches in my backpack for the first time ever, and I felt sure that one of the twins had climbed in too, for a laugh.
Just when I was contemplating different methods of topping myself the tussocks turned into a path and the top of the long climb appeared.
And then the worse thing happened. Even more of a blow, and even more of a kick up the oompah than the first lady vet coming past was the first JD coming past! The result was similar to a few weeks ago running on the hills close to home when I stepped over a wire fence and got the full force of a 5000 volt belt through my testicles. They’re still tingling, if the truth be told, and fizz a bit in foggy weather.
We ran together (John and me… and my chuckies), more-or-less, in companionable knackeredness for the entire second half of the race, each labouring through a couple of bad patches and wilting progressively in the muggy heat, and finished within a minute of one another.
This was the 50th running of the event, and it’s a bit of a classic. About three-quarters of it is on very runnable paths, with a couple of stiff climbs, some lovely shady deciduous woodland and winding riparian tracks. And flies, of course. Lots of flies.