141 miles over three races in 43 days, continued.

20 days later…Glasgow to Edinburgh - 55 miles, Saturday 5^th April

This race was one I have long fancied, well before I started running ultra distances. I don’t know if it is the thought of running right across the country or between the two main cities in the country or the fact it is entirely run on canal towpaths but something was pulling me towards this race. On reflection I simply like running point-to-point races, the feeling of actually getting somewhere and achieving a distant goal by your own efforts - the classic Edinburgh to North Berwick race being another example.  Yet this was the one that I shouldn’t really have entered coming as it does between the two others, precisely when I should have been recovering.

Ironically it turned out to be the hardest of the three, mainly due to the three hours of pouring rain from the start (the rain was so heavy the canal was overflowing the lock gates although some local residents were clearly enjoying the conditions, see pictures)

 

and because of my hips and knees aching from the constantly flat terrain, so flat that a profile of the route looks like a map of Norfolk with a pin sticking out of the middle. You would never believe a 55 mile route could be planned through Scotland with only one hill on it!  

Another new experience for me as I took drugs for the first time during a race (calm down folks, only two paracetamol and I’ve checked - they’re not on the WADA banned list) due to the above mentioned joints and it certainly did help me over the last ten miles or so. With around five miles left a blister decided to form on the ball of my right foot, no doubt due to running in sodden socks and shoes, which became excruciatingly painful – I dread to think how bad it would have been without the painkillers.

With around a mile to go I took the time to check behind and was very pleased to see I had dropped all of the runners who had been there or thereabouts with me for the previous ten miles or so meaning I could cruise home, having left them well behind with a sustained increase in pace since the last checkpoint at Ratho, or so I thought - after plodding past the 500 metres to go sign I was disturbed to hear the guy standing beside it suddenly start to applaud someone else. Quickly looking around in a panic I saw a female runner looking very comfortable just behind me and there followed what felt to me like a 450 metre sprint but to anyone watching probably looked more like an arthritic crab scuttling along the towpath until, mercifully, Alison, in answer to my query ‘how close is she behind me?’ looked at me pityingly and simply said there was no-one there. Phew, it must just have been someone out for a wee jog who then turned off on one of the many cut-offs from the canal into the city. I don’t think I will be displaying the photo from the finish line as it shows me still puffing and well out of breath. Alison also had to physically support me as I seemed ready to topple over at any moment while the first aiders were chatting to me, no doubt sussing out whether their services were required or not (not, as it tuned out) What a way to finish a 55 mile run! Home (thanks again Alison, taxi to the start, constant support and supplies along the way and taxi home again) and straight into the shower, something to eat then bed in preparation for my sixtieth birthday party the following day – nae peace for the wicked.

Report three to come…