crocked, and the C5

Strangely it wasn't the Carnethy 5 taking revenge and putting me out of action for a couple of weeks, it was work. I probably spend more time on my knees at work than a porn star. After a week on vinyl floors painting skirting boards without sufficient padding under my knees I had a bit of an ache. Just as the glute weakness was leaving, as well. Other knee so (probably) not related. Then the stresses of the C5. But I was still feeling ok until I started running on Sunday and realised half a mile into the run I shouldn't be running. Still had another 7 and a half to go. I left the working parts of my right knee somewhere along the way. Sigh. Haven't really felt like blogging the bits in between but might as well. It was a remarkable Carnethy 5. Probably the worst conditions ever. 

Never noticed this shop at the top of Easter Road until today.
That is some alteration business.

So the forecast says BAAAD and Ollie sends out warnings and instructions to wear or carry extra leggings and thermal tops as well as the usual waterproofs. I have run on the Pentlands in much deeper snow - there was only a dusting on the tops - but the wind was a killer. It made standing around unpleasant. When we arrived it was really quite testing and difficult to know just how much to wear. I opted for shorts and pinned my number to them as I wanted flexibility on top layers. I had thought I would take my jacket off but couldn't face it and for the first time ever raced in a waterproof. Up on the tops I was glad of it as the wind was sharp as a knife and was blowing folk over at times.

"warming up"
photo Mary H

chaaaarge! (not many in shorts)
photo Danielle G

photo Steven Fallon

photo Nick Schierloh

photo Nick Schierloh

photo Alan Renville

between Scald Law and S Black Hill
photo Mary H

Happily there wasn't too much hanging about at the start. Shortly we were sploshing through the particularly soggy bog and up to the open gate. There were a couple of fallers on the muddy path down to the burn but I managed to get past that section unscathed. I felt I was further down the field than normal but I usually get overtaken by loads on the long climb up Scald Law so maybe this was a better tactic. A few known faces went past. The first large hill was slightly protecting us from the worst of the wind. By the time we slithered over to South Black the gale was howling and the cold numbed the side of face and head exposed until we turned the summit mound and started downhill. Another 2 fallers ahead on the icy path round the top. 

photo Chris Busby

It was somewhere around the Kips that I became aware of Des and Harry. We are all in the same age group and have battled out manys a hillrun and cross country. Harry is the strongest climber, Des is a legendary descender. The three of us were swapping places, and the race evolved from just being about survival into something more competitive at that point. Or it did in my mind. Harry got to the top of W Kip first and I was ten strides behind. I squeaked past him quickly, and towards the gate at the bottom Des went past me. I thought we must have left Harry a long way back but he quickly appeared and went past me again. Normally this is the only decent running on the route, down to the Howe but on this occasion the howling gale and horizontal snow made it more challenging. Harry wasn't shy about bumsliding down the last of the descent - he was wearing leggings, possibly waterproof ones. I was reluctant, wearing shorts, to sit and slide for any distance although the wet snow was extremely slippery and this was the best option. 

After a bit of flat, the awful ascent of Carnethy begins. Des and Harry are 20~30 yards and 2 places ahead. I slowly make the ground up between us and after the first long stage I'm about 1 place behind Des, and closing. Harry is gaining ground. I am not delighted to be so close to Des as he is wearing tiny shorts (a 'tactical error trying to out-psyche Alan S') which reveal far too much of the top of his legs and beyond. An ochre-ish shorts liner saves everyone's embarrassment, but it adds to the general pain to have to climb a long slippery ascent with this flag of mild obscenity wafting in one's vision. 

photo Chris Busby

photo Chris Busby

The eventual summit of Carnethy is grim. A brutal wind tries to tip us off our feet and more than once I staggered sideways. A supporting hand from behind steered me back, or maybe just out the way of the guy behind. I had the windscreen blinkers going double time but even then you were only getting a stop motion version of reality. I ran past Mary L who said "well done Peter" and I didn't find out it was Mary until much later. I was about an arms length away from her. She reported getting a "micro hug" from another runner who was blown into her. Top marks to all who marshalled on such a hideous day. I tried to give thumbs up or shout thanks to as many as I could. On the tops the visibility was down to 20 or 30 metres at times and the wind on exposed parts was freezer cold. Alleged 40mph wind with -15 windchill. Happily we didn't have to hang around. 

I threw myself at the downhill in an effort to catch Des and Harry. At some point recently Harry has learnt how to descend. It used to be a fairly safe bet I'd catch him on the downhill, even with something of a lead, but today I only caught glimpses of him haring off. Des was nearer but goes downhill far too well to expect to catch. I did overtake Grieg G who was having a hellish descent. And it was awful. The heather-roots and stones seemed worse for a bit of a frosting and the snow wasn't deep enough to help. Alan S overtook me before the finish line demoting me to 12th v50. I was just glad to finish in one piece. Last time I did 67mins was when I had manflu a few years ago.

descent off Carnethy
another great photo by Nick Schierloh

I had told Mary I prob wouldn't wait but get straight back to the school for a shower. I hardly slowed much after the finish line. Just pleased to have survived, I dashed for the bus (might have been on the first one) and got back for a shower before the hot (warmish) water ran out. 

I know I usually say how bad this race is but I could hear my Inner Angela Mudge saying "If you don't like it, don't run it". Which I haven't been able to argue against. Really I shouldn't. Run it that is. I don't do it very well and I don't like it. But having done it every year since I started racing there is a tradition established which I am powerless to deny. I am glad I was fit to run it, and would have been a bit sorry to miss such spectacularly awful conditions. Hats off to the marshals and organisers though, they were the champions - especially those taking photos in conditions very hazardous to electronics and humans. Big thanks to all whose photos I stole. 

And Olly, the organiser. What a man. Not only does he oversee this behemoth of an event; including hot food and shuttle buses, mountain rescue and bagpipers, he actually puts on his hill shoes and races as well. So I'll try not to complain too much about it.
It is shit though. (Smiley face.)

wisdom of crows

Right, falling behind on blogs so here's a quick catch up: 

2 weeks ago I seemed to survive a parkrun-and-30miler on Saturday followed by 3 hrs in the Pentos Sunday. However, after trying (and failing) to keep up with Rich L on Weds at clubbo my left glute was misbehaving and giving me jip. So I missed Thurs Wintervals. Went for a gentle recovery run up the Seat on Friday and talked to the crows about this and that. They suggested I was overdoing it. But what do they know?

Undaunted Mary and I went to the porty parkrun on Saturday which was deeply unpleasant - early start, windy conditions and generally eyeballs out for 3 laps of a twisty turny course, with a good prospect of hurdling kids in the 3rd lap and going into the Frigging Burn (I think that's its name). About 30secs down on the week before at Cramond. And Willie J went skooshing past with 100m to go. He hasn't done this in a few years and if I was a more generous person I'd say how great a spectacle it was to see Willie get some form back. But that wasn't what I was thinking at the time if memory serves. I am blaming my errant glute until anyone can prove otherwise. 

Mike - far too chipper!

usual suspects

After all that short fast stuff nice to drive to Gullane and do coffee, scones and photos along the coast. Above is a tennis oak in fruit.

The concentration displayed above is because I am trying to point the camera at the right angle to take a selfie in the distorting mirror. I know, it looks far worse.

erosion

usual deer in the usual place

This boat could almost be viewed in 2 ways - pointing towards the camera or away to Fife. Given the black cranes disappear behind the bulkhead it must be pointing towards us.

the sun came out briefly

Recently I enjoyed The Outrun, a novel by Amy Liptrot about her life in London and Orkney, mostly Orkney. She mentions the mystical and mostly invisible island of Heather Blether which I imagine looks much like the Isle of May hovering on the horizon and only just there.

Just around the car park at Yellow Craigs there was a splendid cawing in the trees as a large crowd of maybe 100 crows all shouted their good evenings to each other. Mary has a wee video on her blog here.

this was not them but others.

Also on Mary's blog note difference between her photos and mine: ie difference between TZ 35 and TZ 70. Are hers twice as good? Sharper certainly. Boat, deer and better skies.

edinburgh alps

I was a little weary on Sunday. Game for a few miles in the Pentlands given the snow and sun, but not delighted to hear Mary was after 12 miles to make up her shortened running week. Even freshly ground coffee out the new percolator didn't give me the usual joie de vivre. And I wasn't looking forward to the queues at Flotterstone since we were late in setting off. The car park would be jammed.

It was but we got lucky and folk were leaving by the time we arrived. No idea why folk prefer the supposed moral high ground of an early morning jaunt when the forecast says the best part of the day will be 1 and 2pm. And it pretty much was. The skies darkened worryingly around Scald Law but then relented and it was fine, more than fine, for the rest of the circuit.

We raced to get up the first hump, Turnhouse in under 25mins, doing it with a handful of seconds to spare. It was Mary setting the route and goals today, I was just along for the ride, and according to some, not in the best mood. I tried to keep quiet, not always managing.

The plan was to run up Carnethy in one go rather than breaking into a walk. Tricky with all that slippery stuff about. I took a random shot over my shoulder which wasn't easy as I was trying to run, and also the camera was on a leash to my pocket (in the event I hit the ground, it wouldn't) so it wasn't able to reach much of a distance, and only really good for shots of my ear.

Mary wasn't far behind.

Her running seems to be on the improve currently. Hurray!

We set off to do the same running-all-the-way with Scald Law as well but quickly came to a halt as we bumped into Joel and Merlin. Should have taken a photo of their better sides.

near?

far!

Now the above (the long arm of the Hunter) is a lesson in why not to stand on the end of a team photo when shot with a wide angle lens as it distorts your fat ass and you wonder if you are really that wide? No, but now it's up on facebook and folk are body-shaming-victim-blaming you. A long arm is good you say, it can grip the edge of the frame and support you on slippery ground. There's only one of us on slippery ground here I hear.

We turned right before the Kips (although did do South Black Hill, so weren't complete slackers) and ran down a different path (from the C5 route) past the sheep folds but then left and round the back of Black Hill. I was defo feeling the miles by this point while Mary was shouting TWELVE at me if I suggested shortcuts or missing hills. My legs were beginning to ease off though and I cheered up once I could see the end was in sight. It was a very pleasant day to be out, almost unbelievably nice after the horrors of the day before.

I always appreciate those reeds at the end of the reservoir and imagine they are home to a number of mottled brown birds that sit motionless while you run past. Never seen any.

Just before the gulch between Black Hill and Bells Hill Mary stepped through the frosty surface into some deep mud. TURD FOOT! Right up and over the sock! Bad luck.

This path again round Castlelaw. Now a firm favourite. Very sploshy though.

And that was about that. Dropped down to the tarmac and ran back to Flotterstone. Lovely run, just a little tired. Slept well though.

map of run

12.5 miles, 3600' ascent

reminds me of a parrot-headed hippo doing a downward dog.