Oct 13th seemed a suitable and perhaps portentous date for this year's skyline. Mary and I had done some training but were still slightly hoping we'd not be able to turn our waiting list places into an actual entry. Alas we did get entries and so we dragged our feet to the startline for a rather overcast day of peakbagging and peat-sploshing across the Pentlands. It is always a long day out.
Like the dreaded Carnethy 5 in Feb the best thing about this race is the social. Bumping into the many familiar faces taking part and helping out. I think there were dozens of folk involved which made everything run very smoothly. Top marks Joel who looked remarkably calm throughout! And he started us off up the first horrible hill next to the ski slope at Hillend at around about 11am.
After noticing Rich L does well at longer events by starting at a moderate pace then in the second half romping past all those who have shot their wad early on, I decided to start today as if this was NOT a 10k or sprint. It was a great idea and I felt comparatively pretty good, much better than usual, for about the first half. Completely by accident I ended up directly behind Donald for the fist climb and felt this was a good place to be. He was doing the race for the first time. He has really been testing himself of late doing the 2 Brews a fortnight previous then the Coastal Relays in between and now this: surely one of the least pleasant possible ways to spend a Sunday. Top marks to himself and Catherine for application and trying out alternatives to road running. I hoped both would survive unscarred!
photo: Emma Peveril
I caught up with and passed Nicola on the descent off Castle Law a particularly testing and gnarly downclimb. She must have been practicing her descents though and was coping a bit better than she has in the past. I forged ahead knowing she would go past again up Turnhouse the longest climb of the day.
photo: Norman Brown
There was water at Flotterstone and I filled a soft flask I had along. The climb up Turnhouse was absolutely horrible but not as bad as I had anticipated. Stupidest moment of the race was trying to avoid the ankle deep mud and cowflop approaching Turnhouse. I swerved towards drier ground, slid and went down on all 4s, skinning a knee then bathing in the rich mix. I shouted FUCK so loudly the guy ahead turned and asked was I Ok? Dignity aside (but with some concern about mire and poop going directly into and infecting a smallish cut for the next 3 hrs), yes I was unhurt. But now I was filthy and couldn't wipe the sweat out my eyes without inadvertently blacking up. I was pleased I wasn't wearing gloves, a last minute change of kit. I wiped my hands on my shorts and vest where I could find cleanish bits. And tried to use the adrenaline and rage to power up the hill.
Towards the top I could still just see Nicola and Rich up ahead so knew I hadn't dropped too much ground. I can't remember how it all panned out for the next few ups and downs but I did enjoy the proximity of Donald and Rich and we stayed roughly in a group, chatting about this and that, until the kips when Rich got ahead and Donald drifted off the back. I last spoke to Rich at the drove road aid station. He had taken the time to eat and drink or fill bottles with water and I thought yes, that looks sensible, so did similar. I refilled my soft-flask and looking around could only see 3 choices of food stuffs. Haribo type children's sweeties (not for me), custard creams or bourbons. Wow! I carried a couple of gels but felt I should maybe cram down something more since it was available. After swithering between these athletic snacks I took a custard cream and set off down the drove road. I was keen to close the gap to Rich so legged it, until I breathed in a large biscuity crumb of custard cream halfway down my windpipe. Much coughing and teary eyes. I manfully continued eating the biscuit but with heavier security posted at the epiglottis.
Towards the top I could still just see Nicola and Rich up ahead so knew I hadn't dropped too much ground. I can't remember how it all panned out for the next few ups and downs but I did enjoy the proximity of Donald and Rich and we stayed roughly in a group, chatting about this and that, until the kips when Rich got ahead and Donald drifted off the back. I last spoke to Rich at the drove road aid station. He had taken the time to eat and drink or fill bottles with water and I thought yes, that looks sensible, so did similar. I refilled my soft-flask and looking around could only see 3 choices of food stuffs. Haribo type children's sweeties (not for me), custard creams or bourbons. Wow! I carried a couple of gels but felt I should maybe cram down something more since it was available. After swithering between these athletic snacks I took a custard cream and set off down the drove road. I was keen to close the gap to Rich so legged it, until I breathed in a large biscuity crumb of custard cream halfway down my windpipe. Much coughing and teary eyes. I manfully continued eating the biscuit but with heavier security posted at the epiglottis.
Rich on Scald Law the high point of the day.
condensation from running through the clouds or just sweat?
Rich approaching East Kip. Nicola in the fluro orange shorts halfway up.
(Halfway up East Kip, not the shorts.😜)
Nicola went on to win, having also won Manor Water the day before.
(Halfway up East Kip, not the shorts.😜)
Nicola went on to win, having also won Manor Water the day before.
photo: Andy Fallas
After the high point of Hare Hill the route was clearly flagged across the lumpy and tussocky swampland towards Black Hill. I had looked at a couple of routes across this section and none of them were easy or pleasant. Bye bye dry feet. I saw Rich zooming off but I was cheered by getting closer to the next runner ahead, who I was quickly running down. Then I noticed from his height and distinctive running style it was Fergus. Previously a podium-er at this event Fergus should not be anywhere near myself in the skyline. I had a while to reel him in and prepare what to say. No matter how bad a time I was having (medium-ish bad, with slight knee and trachea issues but overall bearable as yet,) Fergus must be having a thoroughly lamentable day out and here we were, only just after the halfway point. I wished to express sympathy and my love for him without saying anything as clearly hearts-and-flowers as this. I think I mumbled something about an honour to be close to such a quality act as him, as he took a jelly baby from the marshal directing us over a cliff-like precipice, made even more slippery with bracken, mud and wet grass, compressed into a vertical flume down to the Green Cleugh or just along from it. Not as enjoyable as it sounds.
It seemd to rouse Fergus though and he set off up Black Hill leaving me for dead. I walked quite a lot of the first section still recovering from the flume and steep angle of the following rise. It was the first time I felt the weariness that was to dog my second half. You can tell the bad bits as I can't be bothered to get the camera out (I was carrying the B camera to record the horrors) and there are no more pics until we at long l-o-n-g last summited Black Hill and sploshed along the top then descended the fast trails towards Hells-Bells Hill. Look! there's Fergus again!
It seemd to rouse Fergus though and he set off up Black Hill leaving me for dead. I walked quite a lot of the first section still recovering from the flume and steep angle of the following rise. It was the first time I felt the weariness that was to dog my second half. You can tell the bad bits as I can't be bothered to get the camera out (I was carrying the B camera to record the horrors) and there are no more pics until we at long l-o-n-g last summited Black Hill and sploshed along the top then descended the fast trails towards Hells-Bells Hill. Look! there's Fergus again!
Fergus, black hill, black day
Swapping places with Fergus was obviously going to be a thing over the next few hills and I tried to wake my brain up to say something positive as I went past. My brain had decided the best strategy was absence and did its best to remain elsewhere as much as possible. It is why road runners often revert to headphones. Knowing exactly the length of course remaining but pretending otherwise, I said to Fergus 'we must be nearly finished by now'. And he gave the best line of the day back: 'I certainly feel nearly finished!'
hellish bellish
I took what I presumed to be the best straightest line down into the swamp and back up towards Bell's Hill. Through the bracken. Then joined the forced march up that awful groove behind the guys who were just behind me going down Black Hill and took the other line (to the right) that shouldn't be as fast. But seems to be. Oh well. I was really beginning to feel it by now and only just managed to get the camera out and take one photo up the vertical climb. To remind me never to sign up for this race again. Ever.
No more photos from here on in. Which isn't to say it was nearly finished. There was lots of hills to go. A bloke from down south asked were we on Allermuir yet? I didn't like to say we were still 2 hills away from Allermuir. There was lots of struggle and puff and blow and no doubt many folk went past and many fell by the way. There is nothing good to say about it from here on in and you just have to suck it up. The sucking continues for long after you have lost the joy of sucking. And then some.
I could see Donald from time to time. Not close enough to talk to but if I faltered I knew he'd come past. I ran for a long time within yards of a guy in a yellow top. He seemed to be in a similar state and we neither of us bothered to chat. There was nothing to chat about. I believe I had more left in my legs by the time we began the descent off Caerketton and might have got ahead. It is of little consequence. I nearly died going up Allermuir. I was shouting fuck fuck fuck under my breath at the cramp I could feel snaking around my legs and Fergus came past and agreed. It wasn't the last time we swapped places even though he got quite a bit ahead before the trig point. I was still managing the downhills but anything with a steeper rise that flat reduced me to squirming on the ground.
Then at last the ski centre and rolling downhill with only a token patch of splosh or nettles to try and trip you up with the line in sight. I had long been aware I was on for a personal worst and at 3.17 this was quite a bit slower than ever before. I haven't had the courage to check exactly how much worse. However given only a couple of dozen folk of the highest caliber limbo-ed under the 3 hrs I am prepared to guess it was a really slow year this year. Very wet ground and slightly tougher route over Hare Hill? Anyway a far higher calibre of runner required to go sub3 than back in the day when I once did sub3 the same weekend as Manor Water. Ahh past glories! Rather than rely on that or walk away pleased with a time that suggests the phrases past it, old and infirm and more training required, I think I can safely say this isn't my sort of event and I'll do well to avoid even the waiting list next year. I am writing this here not for your benefit but for mine as I often consult blogs when considering signing up for races, the fine tuning and painful details fading like mist off the hills as a year or 2 goes by. Note to self: don't enter this one again. Just walk away, not worth it mate!
No more photos from here on in. Which isn't to say it was nearly finished. There was lots of hills to go. A bloke from down south asked were we on Allermuir yet? I didn't like to say we were still 2 hills away from Allermuir. There was lots of struggle and puff and blow and no doubt many folk went past and many fell by the way. There is nothing good to say about it from here on in and you just have to suck it up. The sucking continues for long after you have lost the joy of sucking. And then some.
I could see Donald from time to time. Not close enough to talk to but if I faltered I knew he'd come past. I ran for a long time within yards of a guy in a yellow top. He seemed to be in a similar state and we neither of us bothered to chat. There was nothing to chat about. I believe I had more left in my legs by the time we began the descent off Caerketton and might have got ahead. It is of little consequence. I nearly died going up Allermuir. I was shouting fuck fuck fuck under my breath at the cramp I could feel snaking around my legs and Fergus came past and agreed. It wasn't the last time we swapped places even though he got quite a bit ahead before the trig point. I was still managing the downhills but anything with a steeper rise that flat reduced me to squirming on the ground.
Then at last the ski centre and rolling downhill with only a token patch of splosh or nettles to try and trip you up with the line in sight. I had long been aware I was on for a personal worst and at 3.17 this was quite a bit slower than ever before. I haven't had the courage to check exactly how much worse. However given only a couple of dozen folk of the highest caliber limbo-ed under the 3 hrs I am prepared to guess it was a really slow year this year. Very wet ground and slightly tougher route over Hare Hill? Anyway a far higher calibre of runner required to go sub3 than back in the day when I once did sub3 the same weekend as Manor Water. Ahh past glories! Rather than rely on that or walk away pleased with a time that suggests the phrases past it, old and infirm and more training required, I think I can safely say this isn't my sort of event and I'll do well to avoid even the waiting list next year. I am writing this here not for your benefit but for mine as I often consult blogs when considering signing up for races, the fine tuning and painful details fading like mist off the hills as a year or 2 goes by. Note to self: don't enter this one again. Just walk away, not worth it mate!
photo: Michael Philp
photo: Michael Philp
Donald looking more serious than he meant to!
Those Carnethy boys stole our Porty (Rich) and won't give him back.
And Anthony is struck by just how delicious an apple is as a post race snack!
(I have to say I went for the chocolate based recovery foods.)
Lisa arrives
Then Mary, slightly out-of-focus but pleased to be done
bitchy resting face!
A good turn out from PRC (and ex-PRC Kathy!)
One of these events that is better from the perspective of having finished, although first timer Catherine romped down the last hill smiling and was heard to say she really enjoyed it. Maybe because it wasn't quite as harsh as the 2 Breweries a fortnight ago. Both tough races as an introduction to hill running. If you can do them you'll enjoy just about anything on the calendar. See you next year, hang on what am I saying?
16.8 miles, quite hilly 🤔
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