parkrun and 40miler

A lively weekend! Firstly a quick summary of parkrun on Saturday. Like road marathons I do about one parkrun a year and often that feels about one too many. Saturday was always going to be utterly pishy weather so it kind of made sense to go and thrash out a Cramond 5k then retreat indoors, rather than plan anything more ambitious. However that did add to the general hatefulness and grimness; and apart from seeing pals and the wind blowing in the right direction, there was little good to be said about the whole thing. Very strong wet breeze in our teeth on the way out, very much better after the turnaround, but the damage was done and times were slow (personal worst of 18.55) and yes pretty horrible. (On the upside I got an age graded score in the low eighties which was about average for the event and felt I could increase that substantially on a better weather day.)

On to Sunday and Graham Nash had suggested catching the train to Berwick upon Tweed and running back the coastline to Dunbar. The forecast was better than Saturday but only in that it promised to be dry. It actually turned out surprisingly bright, nearly sunny and warm, for the first half of the run which made me wish I'd taken the A camera. However the coastal haar won out in the second half and it became something of a grind on a dull grey afternoon. However let's go back to the start....

We notified the usual suspects and TB crew but what with the Borders xc, Inverness Half, Barcelona Marathon and others going elsewhere, it turned out to be just Graham and myself for the 38miles. I last did this route in the reverse direction with Nick, Richard and Fiona last Summer (link here), and my memory of it was: it was greatly enjoyable around the middle section (St. Abbs Head) but a bit gruelling over the last handful of miles. Strangely that was pretty much the story this time as well! I had thought it was the rather dull miles into Berwick but it seems to be after about 33 miles I lose my appetite for more. Uncanny! but worth bearing in mind before signing up for certain ultra events later in the year. 

Also this was the third time of running. First attempt (summer 2016) was on my own and about 35.6 miles by gps. Last year with the Porties was 37miles. This time it was 38.3 (plus the couple of extra Waverley miles at the start and finish.) I think the reason for this is 2 years ago towards the end of the run I followed the A1 rather than the coastal wrinkles, coming into Dunbar. Last year we cut across St Abbs Head rather than visit the lighthouse. This time we did the full thing. And Mr. Suunto often gives me slightly more mileage per mile than Mr. Garmin used to!

I had boldly packed as light as I dared for this run. No waterproof (asking for it!) and no headtorch. I did make room for a change of clothes incl extra socks, duvet jacket and top and tights, so my bag wasn't empty. I was also carrying loads of sports bars, a sandwich and over a litre of fluid. The first half was really pleasant, the sun trying to break through the coastal mist, and us rattling along at a good pace.

First port of call is Burnmouth around 7 miles from Berwick. You double back through an unmarked field to drop into the houses right on the waterline. It is one of the few places that could do with better signage and the first time here I wasted about 45mins climbing walls and wading through brambles. Easier coming in the reverse direction.

found the gate was locked (winky smiley emoji)

Eagle eyed Graham spotted these "targets" bolted onto the cliffs. After a bit of headscratching we came to the conclusion the rail authorities were probably keeping accurate (theodolite) measurements of any movement of said cliffs which are only about 50 yards from the rail track. Can't have the East Coast Line diverting 150 feet down to the beach.

Burnmouth

The running between Burnmouth and Eyemouth is all quite pleasant rolling field perimeters and golf course. We had good views of the heavy swell crashing into the craggy peninsulas.

some geology for David L!

We hit Eyemouth around 11.30 and I wondered if the Contented Sole would be open. It was and I enjoyed a very delicious pint of Stella and lime. 

surf school at Coldingham Bay

From Eyemouth things just keep improving and the next 10 miles are the best of the route. By which I don't mean easiest, but most spectacular.

There were a dozen surfers in Coldingham Bay a picturesque beach with splendid houses overlooking the sheltered bay. I would imagine they were under instruction from the St Vedas Surf School as they were not standing up but mostly lying on their boards in the shallows and not out in the big swell.

From Coldingham you can see St Abbs just round the corner, a pretty tourist harbour with village above and then on to the craggy outcrops and headland complete with lighthouse and much rolling scenery.

I asked Nasher if he wanted to run up and past the lighthouse or take the shortcut to the measured mile and hills beyond. He said it's not a proper trip to St Abbs without a visit to the lighthouse. So I neglected to mention the previous year's route choice and we took some pics of the precarious cliff edges and him playing that unpleasant game of how near the huge drop can you stand and terrify your friend. Actually my complete lack of playing that game (with 16 miles of trails in my wobbly legs) discouraged Graham from raising the bar too high and we continued in a fairly sober and responsible fashion.

This was the warmest part of the day and we both took off a layer or 2. I never put my merino top back on (it was soaking wet) and ran the rest of the way in only a long sleeved Helly. The hat stayed off but the gloves went back on later. It really felt as if Spring was on the way.

and zoomed in - look at that cheeky monkey!

obligatory

Here is a pole they haul the sun up onto. There is another in a mile's time to give the impression of it travelling across the sky.

We took 26 mins to cover the measured mile. I remembered Nick advising me of the difficulties here when I was going to run it for the first time. He had been doing it with Graham (who, living on the edge of the Pentlands does considerably more hill training than Nick) and said he found this section particularly taxing. I was anticipating a similar horrendous experience, chasing Graham with a larger and more significant gap building the whole way to Dowlaw. However we got chatting about this and that and somehow the miles came and went and we passed them walking and running the undulations in close contact. I was thinking we had nailed it, broken the back of the journey, until Graham pointed out we had gone only about halfway and had nearly that still ahead.

Two years ago Nick had warned me about route-finding at Dowlaw. The trail comes inshore a bit past Dowlaw Farm and then runs parallel to the coast for a bit, rather than down close to it. Which was where I found myself in 2016 following sheep trods, climbing fences and fairly sure this couldn't be a waymarked route. It wasn't. Which was not to say the route is a well groomed trail.

Going through the farm near Dowlaw we inadvertently picked up a travelling companion, a collie who was bored and relished the chance to run a bit with a couple of mud splattered humans. A field or 2 later I had stern words shouting HOME! and STAY! and SIT! which Lassie understood and completely ignored. We wondered what sort of harsh life it must have, that coming for a run with us (who gave absolutely no encouragement or warmth) was a total treat.

being told off (and giving me the "as if" look)

So we ran on and on - what else to do? The collie would disappear behind for 5 mins and just when we thought she had returned to base, she would come quietly past. I hoped she knew her way around these depressingly similar misty fields and hills. (On the upside she was excellently well behaved near sheep, chickens, and humans and didn't bark once.) We came to yet another gate and made sure she didn't sneak through while we did. But she would wriggle underneath and easily match our pace. We were now maybe a mile or 2 beyond the farm and I wondered at what point Graham would be obliged to phone Nicola and tell her the kids were getting a dog. Or if we would just have a farewell on the station platform, telling anyone who would listen that it wasn't our dog, as they look on disbelieving.

hah! a fence, wave bye bye doggy!

FAIL

Eventually we did come to a fence and another gate both of which were fairly dog-proof. We hurried along before the collie could find a way round although I think she knew the game was up as there was a bit of whimpering. But I tried not to show it too much.

Through another farm followed by a mile or 2 of tarmac. Gaham said he clocked 7.40miling for the previous mile (mile 25). I remembered there was a funny goat sculpture where we turned right into a field. It stuck in my mind from 2 years ago as I was lost and wandering in the desert and recognised it from Nick's account. The trail turns back on itself and then drops down to more tarmac and an optional trail dropping into Pease Bay. I usually describe Pease Bay as a bucket of turds, the excessive cramming of caravans into an otherwise attractive bay being the turd-like part of the metaphor. However we were both very much looking forward to getting there as there was a bar. And Graham had ascertained the season began for Pease Bay in March and it would likely be open.

The only good thing about this scene was the mist hiding the rest of the caravans.

The bar WAS open. We entered to the soundtrack of Andrew Gold "Never let her slip away" playing on the speakers (I was a hormonal 16 when it was first released in 1978) and for a moment it was just perfect. If only we could have finished there. 

Last year we sat outside in the sun drinking pints. I also remembered the drink I had discovered there: Strongbow Dark Fruit on draught. A kind of premixed cider and blackcurrant that G and I reckoned had about 40 teaspoons of sugar per pint. Total alcopops. Magnificent! We also got a jug of water and filled reservoirs/bottles. And had the sad realisation that since we were just over marathon distance, there were still ten miles to go. (11.5 actually.) I'm pretty sure it wasn't the Dark Fruits that did it, but from that point on I deteriorated. I forced myself to eat more sports bars but had long lost interest in food and felt a bit sicky. We were travelling at a decent pace and I knew we would get there eventually but there was considerably less enjoyment being had (and the weather was similarly uninspiring).

The John Muir Way takes over from the Cockburnspath coastal path or end of the Southern Upland Way and you dodge along the trails just above the beaches, occasionally crossing the unwelcome slow sand then back into the dunes and grasses. I slowly counted off the landmarks, Torness, Skateraw, Barns Ness Lighthouse and the Dunbar xc course, each appearing slowly through the mist. (We never even caught sight of the cement factory such was the curtain of fog hanging about. Which would have been the 2 miles to go marker.) Instead we got the golf course which lasted for a year. I think about there I had to ask for a walking break: I had hoped never to eat anything ever again in my life, or drink from the reservoir of filth (the last of my Dark Fruit and water mix in my back pack) but I was feeling sweaty and lightheaded and knew I'd faint if I didn't poke down another sports bar. It was horrible and I chewed it for 10 depressing minutes before swallowing. It gave me the legs to run the last mile but I will never buy one of that particular brand again, the Double Espresso from the Primal Pantry tasting like a handful of tar and cigarette butts. 

obvs a bit mental at Torness

"look guys the fish I caught, it was thiiiis big"

the end in sight

All in all glad to be finished but a bit of an anticlimax as the train was in 20 minutes (otherwise a 2hr wait) and not enough time for a glorious pint of Grapefruit Beer in the Station Yard Bar (Jim had probably emptied the barrel after his brave but ill-advised cycle there yesterday) and not even enough time to scrape the filth off and change into dry clothes before the train arrived. Actually I did strip off my top and put on a dry one and duvet jacket but went home in filthy shorts and socks. (Socks so clarty you have to wash them out before putting them into the machine.) (I actually picked a gravel sized lump of dried field mud off my leg then had to scrub my legs in the shower for 10 minutes.) Graham also did a minimal change in the station, though you could tell we weren't back in proper public integration mode as Nasher, with next to no concern, let a very loud one go in the crowded waiting room!

Suunto says 38.3 point to point, plus 1 either side up and down to/from Waverley

I was very pleased to have knocked out a 40 miler. Both of us noticed a considerable step up from the low 30 milers we have done recently. Also I suspect the pace, due to there only being the 2 of us, was maybe a fraction swifter than on some of the runs we've done. This was the third weekend in a row I've gone over 30miles and hoping I am building things up rather than tearing them down. It helps a lot that I have gone from concentrating on work to focussing on running lately. The last 9 days which includes last weekend and this I have counted over 139 miles on Mr Suunto which doesn't include a 16 mile cycle at pace to a meeting in Dalkeith (I was running late!) on a so-called rest day.

altitude,

the big lump in the middle being St Abbs Head and headland beyond

Hopefully this will all be good marathon training. (Although I need to do less jogging and more tempo!) 

Talking of which, congrats to Aisling and Eóin who both ran brilliantly at Barcelona Marathon. Aisling ran a superbly evenly paced (pb possibly?) time like a pro (you can see the splits on the results page) and Eóin ran 2.29!!!!! for 17th place. Holy Moly!

champions!