Run the Blades 50k

Photo courtesy of Breaking Strain Events

I had been unsure all week leading up to this race as to whether I should take part at all, with only two weeks to go until the Devil O’The Highlands (my third leg of ultra-running’s Triple Crown along with the Fling and the WHWR) and only four weeks of recovery since the ‘big one’ I just couldn’t decide what was for the best. Eventually I decided that as I shouldn’t go for six weeks between ultras without a long run I might as well participate in a race which I had already entered and was on my doorstep, so to speak. The improving weather forecast also helped.

As far as I am aware this weekend was the first time two harriers had run in two different (and local) ultra races on the same day, Ian at the Clyde Stride for the sixth (and ever-present) time and myself at Whitelee Windfarm. Ian will be taking part in the most local of them all, the John Lucas Memorial 50 in Strathaven, on Sunday 16^th August and I’m sure will appreciate any support we can give him on the day.

It was rather daunting to see, for the first time, the entry list which was emailed out a few of days before the race. Only 64 entries and, in the end even worse, only 44 starters. I said to one of the organisers afterwards that I was glad I hadn’t counted the runners on the line as I would likely have DNS’d for fear of finishing last. On the other hand someone has to at every race, MTFU Davie!

Alison dropped me near the Windfarm Visitor Centre and drove away, rather quickly I thought, to ensure I took part as she wasn’t returning for six hours – my tentative race time prediction. I immediately bumped into Katie Hall, a fellow WHWR finisher, who was marshalling at Checkpoint 1. Oddly she was the only familiar face I would meet prior to the start, this race seemingly having attracted a completely different group from the usual ultra crowd, although to be fair the CS40 has been around for a while so most of the usual suspects were starting at Partick instead.

When registering I was having difficulty finding a safety pin from the box that wasn’t bent before realising they all were, they were made like that. Doh! It was only when pinning my number to my vest it dawned just what a clever yet simple idea it was, much less danger of spearing your thumb. I think I can safely(sorry) predict all pins will be like this in the future.

The 44 of us were set off slightly early just before the official start time of ten o’clock because, in the words of joint RD Lee Peyton, ‘none of us want to hang around in this weather’. My plan was to run conservatively for the first few miles and see how I felt, perhaps at the first checkpoint, before deciding how to proceed. Having started with three layers on I was able to remove my lightweight jacket early on, the weather having turned quite pleasant, if you ignored the howling, gusting wind, and the sun even making a welcome but tardy appearance.

As soon as I had left CP1 the skies darkened and I hurriedly pulled my jacket and hat back on just in time for the clouds to sweep across and drench the entire field. The only positive was the fact that the wind was mostly behind us along this part of the route, heading in the general direction of Ardochrig. Sadly the low cloud, mist and rain (and did I mention the wind?) were to stay with us for most of the run to checkpoint 2, around eight miles or so, in fact I turned a left hand bend to be greeted with the very welcome sight of the checkpoint with blue sky behind – I’m still not sure which was most welcome!

I realised later I ate mostly fruit, an energy ‘ball’ and Honey Stinger energy chews but no jelly beans or dextrose tabs, much less of the sickly-sweet stuff than usual, a continuing trend for me these days. This was also the shortest ultra I’ve ever run so nutrition wasn’t as much of an issue as usual, in fact I had noticed a handful of runners at the start who appeared to be carrying nothing at all, presumably relying solely on the checkpoints for their fluid and nutrition - not a sensible option if you’re going to be out there for five or six hours, however.

It had been a battle during the poor weather over the first eight miles but I was pleased to be able to run all but a couple of the bigger hills – if you’ve been around the windfarm you’ll know there are no real flat surfaces but also few big hills, a classic undulating course. I also relaxed a little when I realised I wasn’t anywhere near being last when counting at least eight people behind me when looking back from the top of a particularly long climb nor was there any sight of the sweeper.

The underfoot conditions were pretty good with only the occasional rough section where it appeared repair work had taken place since the original had been laid. Overall we were making our way up to Ardochrig as the moor rises gradually in that direction but even past the car park, familiar to harriers of a certain vintage, the track was still stubbornly uphill for another mile and a half before finally opening out and giving me a first view of  Glasgow and East Kilbride, looking back then looking ahead.

The wind now became the dominating factor, whereas previously we only ran into it for short distances it was now almost a constant, the only variation being what angle it hit you in the face from! The walking breaks were becoming longer and longer on every uphill as I couldn’t cope with the ascent and the wind together although I wasn’t stressing about this as I knew this was only preparation for bigger things to come.

Checkpoint three came and went with confirmation from the guys manning it that it was indeed overall downhill from here, albeit with the immediate caveat of a ‘big hill near the loch’. Striding out with that warning ringing in my ears I kept up a very decent walking pace up what I hoped was, but knew in my heart wasn’t, the threatened ‘big hill’.

Finally approaching Loch Goin and almost immediately realised that the cars at the Visitor Centre car park, which were clearly visible, were less than two miles away as the crow flies but, as I only had two rather wobbly legs and no wings, my Garmin told me there were still something like five miles to go. Like any other race you should always study the finish map (which I hadn’t), the only difference in an ultra is that the ‘finish’ is a tad longer than in other races. I hadn't realised we still had a huge loop around one leg of the loch followed by an enormous hill (yes, that was the one I had been promised) just to accomplish a mile of what that imaginary crow would have flown.

Despite the descent from the massive hill bringing me to within half a mile of the finish (had I had my hiking boots on I would have headed straight across the moor) I still had the best part of two miles to go, firstly heading south-west, then north-east and finally north-west to bring me back to within two hundred yards of where I had been to start with! There followed a tortuous final half mile heading west into the teeth of the gale with everyone at the start/finish area watching and, at one point, almost coming to a complete stop, such was the strength of the wind.

Gladly rounding the final turn I headed down and then, of course, it had to be up the final hundred metres or so to the finish line. A young lad, one of the race organisers’ sons I believe, standing no more than two yards behind the line, immediately held up my medal by the ribbon waiting for me to duck down to his height to collect. Feeling obliged to do so I bent over then had to ask him, only half-jokingly, to help me back up. (which he did)

I had finished in 6.17.45 and found later that my GPS had made it 31.41 miles, almost half a mile over distance.

I had passed three people on the run-in incuding a guy, way taller than me and sporting a proper ultra beard but bizarrely wearing pink knee-length socks – to paraphrase Steve Redgrave, if any of you see me exhibiting this kind of ultra tendency, you have my permission to shoot me. Please!

The official results and photos are still awaited but I can report that the winner was Cris Walsh in 3.41 (no photo) and the leading lady was Lucja Leonard, photo below, courtesy of Graham Kelly, but no time.

You can see how assiduous the young lad was at presenting the medals, standing no more than a few feet from the line. A future Race Director, no doubt.

All in all a smashing run which would have been much more enjoyable had we had the glorious weather of Glasgow Fair Saturday of two years ago which we had for my first and only, so far, Clyde Stride. Arriving home I had the strange sensation of opening the car door and feeling lovely warm air wash over me, a little like that feeling you get when the aircraft doors are opened after landing in Barcelona or Malaga or Tenerife. Yes East Kilbride was warm! It’s not often you hear that statement even if it is when compared to Fenwick Moor!

I will add any relevant times and/or photos (if I’m actually running in them of course) at a later date if and when they become available.   

There are no results I can find online for the Clyde Stride so can only suggest that you all request him to write his own report for the blog.

Tee-shirt and medal along with those ‘super-safe’ safety pins

Stop press: Ian came home in 19th place in a time of 6.11.16