Way back on the 7th Feb I returned to racing for the first time in a long time. I pretty much stopped all that business back in lockdown: the events all closed down for the duration and having stepped away from racing, I failed to ever get back into those routines of training and competing. I wish I still had the fitness of those days but I haven't been inspired since to do the necessary training.
So I dropped racing to focus on wildlife photography which I enjoy more. I find it meets my creative needs more than running and gets me out and about the trails in the same way as running did. However I always had a soft spot for the 7 Hills Race and also its boozy counterpart the 7 Hills 7 Beers Race which is the same route (although a different organiser) but with a pint of beer to be drunk before each summit.
The idea of seven beers in less than 4hrs would be unthinkable in normal life. However I remembered from the last 2 times I did this event (both times partnered with Nick as well) that the running burns off the worst effects of the booze and that I finished feeling about four pints sloshed rather than seven.
However I was slightly nervous when I arrived at the control centre, the Penny Black Pub (previously the Black Bull). I was more concerned about the running than the drinking but I had at least done a minimum of run training and knew I'd likely get round okay. Previous attempts were about 2.5hrs in duration, I think, so I reckoned if we sauntered a little more this time (to take into account the passage of time) we'd be finished in around 3hrs. Hah! Once again I had overestimated my abilities and underestimated the slump of the passing years.
As soon as we got underway from the Calton Hill trig point nerves diminished. A short sprint zigzagging through Saturday shoppers to the pub at the top of the High Street where we scoofed back a pint of nondescript brown beer. I was out the door ahead of Nick and turned to video him running past a skirling piper, cheesing like he was actually enjoying it! Beer and running, what’s not to love?
I was under the impression we had signed up for a relaxed attempt rather than going hell for leather thinking we that were not going to risk any heroics at the various large road crossings. Nick has a dubious reputation for his kamikaze techniques and this doesn't improve with beery dutch courage. I was about to film us crossing Lothian Rd when he dashed out through the traffic and I was so mesmerised by the sight I neglected to video it. Happily the nearby police van was there for Six Nation's action rather than jayrunners, and the occupants pretended not to notice Nick's blindfold dash across the busy road.
Things improved at subsequent crossings and we got across all the dangerous roads without further incident. There is a longish section of road from pub 1 to pub 2. We went into the Murrayfield Hotel Bothy bar and after waiting far too long got a couple of pints of overpriced cold fizzy beer. Feeling the urgency, we necked them and headed off but they gave us backchat for the next mile. Mucho burpo. That pint went down like swallowing a grenade and troubled me for what felt like the rest of the race.
First low point was Jim (the RD) and his blind date overhauling us going up to Corstorph Hill. We were having a lovely walking break at the time and they somewhat ruined the serenity of that moment. The second was seeing Oz and Phil, who had set off earlier than us and were heading back across the hill to descend maybe via the golf course. Did they have an elaborate and well rehearsed secret navigation plan to visit canny pubs and knock out a superfast time? My only excuse for being so slow today was being a decade or more older than everyone else. Twice the age of some of the youngsters. Now Oz isn’t in my age cat but both of them are not far off and might be going to show me up horribly. That troubled me (or would have if I was sober) for some time. It was only about 48hrs later I found they had taken part under their own directions which might have been to have a fun time and enjoy the process; and as a result arrived home long after dark (a full 2 hrs slower than Nick and I) and maybe in violation of some of the official rules from what I understand. Sounds like they probably enjoyed it much more than I did!
We took a sightly different line off Corstorphine Hill than the one we had taken in the recce. But no disaster and soon we were heading to pint number 3 in some ten-pin bowling pub bereft of early afternoon customers and charm but a cheery service and not bad beer. I gulped mine down and set off ahead of Nick. It was clear I’d be the weakest link in our pairing today. The rules are you must run in pairs. I suspect so that one can phone the ambulance for the other. As I tried to regain cruising altitude I considered pouring the recently acquired pint back out into the flower barrels outside the pub. The rules state no vomiting. Several things occurred. I’d never DNFed or DQed a race previously. What an ignominious end-of-career performance to start now! And I didn’t want to ruin Nick’s run and also if I started puking it might take the edge off the day, never mind the next three pints. I bumped into Mark who cheered me up while he was cycling round the route. I never got to the point of inducing a spew, and a few more burps later began to feel like running again. Nick quickly caught up.
The steep muddy bank at the back of Craiglockhart was bad but not terrible. We were both wearing grippy shoes. Then the long haul up to Easter Craiglockhart. A quick video celebration then off to the Braids Hotel where several fellow competitors arrived and it was nearly in danger of becoming an insta-party rather than a race. I did not hang about to see if anyone bought a second pint!
drinks with friends at the Braids Hotel
I gave Nick a nudge and said I was heading. I snuck out and began the long haul up the road to the dirt trail that climbs to the Braids trig point. Alas nobody had stayed to drink more and soon several runners caught us on the climb. There was by now a much less sober feel than you’d get in the Summertime version of this race. I was feeling considerably more mellow about that poisonous 2nd pint and nearly recovered enough for the fifth. Or was it sixth? Nick seemed to be enjoying himself enormously and took the lead to the golf club that allows us to invade their modest clubhouse bar. Not much more than a man-cave for members to escape sobriety and wives, especially on a drizzly low cloud day like today when only the super-keen would bother to hit a ball.
They were amused by this invasion of muddy-legged bi-athletes buying 3 cans between 2 (no draught) to make up to a full pint each. The Guinness went down heavily but at least was quick and smooth to swallow down. I tried to get a head start on the others but when I got outside couldn’t remember the optimum way to go. Nick appeared and we were heading off in a fairly random way when 2 fast youngsters set off confidently down a slightly different path. We followed them and got to the main road which right enough was probably faster than following dirt trails round the edge of the golf course. Then down the Lang Linn Path and eventually onto the route I’d normally take in the 7 Hills. Nick, bold on beer, asked if there were any shortcuts down the nearly vertical mud bank. I could hear the theme tune to Casualty play in my mind’s ear and said no. (A Nick joke repurposed.) We went all the way along to the traditional zig-zag down to the river, although thinking about it there might have been a better alternative coming from that direction had we taken a moment to think about it.
The steep muddy gradient up the other side of the river was testing but not insurmountable. Nick always leading the climbs. Then those awful sleepers up to Blackford. I’d almost blanked them out my mind until now. I may not even have signed up for the race if I’d recalled the whole course accurately beforehand. Then the long jog down to face Arthur’s Seat. Only why not stop for a lovely drink of beer first?
We were not the first runners through the pub and they (the bar staff) enjoyed our arrival. It occurs to me Nick was arriving first at all the pubs from halfway and must have been paying for all the drinks. I was too tired and emotional to care at the time and he was (as ever) too generous to mention it. I must settle up with him! We could see the light at the end of the tunnel though and bravely plodded on. We cut the corner through the halls of residence (resisting the scaling of the back wall into Holyrood) and made our way to that long final ascent. (Excluding Calton Hill which is small potatoes by comparison.) I must have passed in and out of consciousness as I have little memory of it, other than blindly following Nick up the usual line. It is something of an exposed clamber towards the top but if you’ve had six pints, a doddle! There was the usual crowd of tourists at the summit trig but Nick climbed over them to claim our summit bag before we descended.
Again we hadn’t thoroughly recced this part and Nick was asking about route choices. I seem to remember suggesting safer rather than quicker ground, since we were now well after the three hour mark and there was no point in risking injury in pursuit of a rather unimpressive result. (Far better to pretend we were just sauntering!) We were almost in touch with another team and I think Nick ran ahead and caught up with them for the company. I ran down the tourist route (down the dry dam rather than the other side of the ridge where we should have been) and overtook their back marker when he pulled off the track for a pee. You can hear me joking with him on the video. I was also not bothering to hold the camera in any way steady or upright. No fucks were given that it was flailing about like it was tied to a cat’s tail.
I then caught back up to Nick who was walking and chatting with peeing dude’s partner while I made up the ground. We set off knowing we’d all meet in 4minutes at the next pub. I have no recollection but I’m betting Nick bought those drinks again. Things were getting a bit hazy. I tended to finish the pints slightly ahead of Nick and felt I should lead off asap (being the weakest link) and asked Nick what direction we now headed. He said slightly downhill and next left. He caught up as I went up the steps and ramps to Regents Road. Our companions must have gone uphill from the pub and across to the next along steps (Jacob’s Ladder) and were headed up the front way and not the Summertime traditional finish up the road onto Calton Hill. We all arrived within minutes of each other and it made for quite the celebration. I think they were (after a staggered start) around 11 mins ahead of Nick and I, in total time, but given they were approx half my age I felt we all deserved to be called winners. I was glad nobody (to my knowledge) had died. I decided this should remain the case by NOT having any further drinkies in the pub where we’d left our dry clothes etc.
As Nick made his way to the bar to buy yet more beers I made a hasty retreat and jogged home without even changing into dry kit. I knew I had a little window of opportunity to gather myself before things would come crashing. I got home and after a quick wet-wipe leg sponge bath with decorators wet wipes (too exhausted to shower) fell into bed about 4pm, rising a little wobbly but sober-ish around 9pm and ready for some dinner.
the video
I kinda wished I’d video-ed more of the route but the camera I was using just didn’t work well indoors and I was often struggling too much to bother getting it out to record the hard bits. While I enjoyed most of the day out, my stomach found it pretty horrible from the second pint onwards. If doing it again I would only have half pints. Quite a lot of the race I was thinking this is a young man’s game. I have no immediate plans to drink any more beer for the foreseeable, but don’t entirely rule it out after a judicious break.
Nick divining where he put 7 pints
I didn’t have a pee break until I got home. Same for Nick as far as I was aware. The atmosphere of the event went from jolly camaraderie to unbridled declarations of manly bro-love, considerably more-so than the usual racing etiquette encourages. I was not so drunk that I thought 3hrs33mins was particularly impressive or a triumph, but then again nobody died. Maybe that was the triumph?
the finishers
Congrats to those who ran fast and drank hard. And the team of 4 young ladies who seemed to have a good time and drank full pints! I was disappointed about the time my team took and when I say my team I mean the time I slowed us down to. It may be some time before I sign up for another event. Although I did enjoy many aspects, the general ambience, and having a blast with Nick, as always. Thanks to Jim for organising and providing badge-sized beer openers (what else) as mementos. (See photo at top of page.)
A (partly) memorable day out!
Jim the RD’s report on the Carnethy site
