best part of the day: 4 hills, 3 beers

24-01-26. When Jim sent out an email announcing the 7 Hills 7 Beers race was being dragged out the pub and sobered up (on the 7th Feb) I sent a message to my erstwhile partner of 2 previous attempts, Nick, saying we should probably put in a team. It is run in teams of two in case one has to phone an ambulance. It was only afterwards I remembered it is a 16mile race round 7 quite hilly parts of town. Never mind the obligatory 7 pints of beers consumed during the approx 3hr event. Had I really thought this through? No, not really, but it might just be frightening enough a prospect to get me running scared and do some training. Not so much for drinking beers, as covering 16 hilly miles.

first summit - Castle Hill

I have been trying to get out the door and run locally every couple of days. It is easier on days when there is low grey cloud and no chance of photo weather. Nothing to do but stay indoors and hibernate or put on the running shoes and go do a four mile route struggling to hold a pace about 90secs slower per mile than I used to run marathons, trying to ignore the slippery slope I have come down since I used to be a runner. Because not running at all is MUCH worse than being a piss poor runner. But it is hard to embrace the latter with any kind of enthusiasm. I have to firmly focus on those like Mary or my brother who have had running snatched away from them by injury or health issues and get out the door while I am not taking my wonderful life and luck for granted. It doesn't always work but I have been fighting the flab and making tiny incremental improvements.

Lothain Rd
may as well have run across blind-folded

I was about to go out for another torture tempo session when Nick messaged to say he was going for a recce of the 7 Hills route and did I fancy going along? (Of course not!) Yeah okay. I had been in denial of just how out my depth I was by encouraging us to do this event, imagining leisurely beers and tipsy jogging rather than thrashing the running while racing beers as we had done on both occasions we had previously completed it. Nick is good at organising stuff and had mapped out the most suitable bars between each summit. There is a whole other aspect to consuming beers quickly en route, than just running the course. And something of a knack to finding a drinking establishment without going too far off piste. Pun intended.

Ravelston / Blinkbony

Anyway we arranged to meet at 1pm on Calton Hill, the start line of both the drunken 7 Hills and the sober 7 Hills races. I left the flat a little late and had to sprint up the road and then climb Calton Hill as fast as possible. It was not an auspicious start as I was reduced to a wheezing walk up the steep climb before we had even got going. Great to see Nick.

The initial mile was pretty grim too - the first summit is Castle Hill and the obvious route is up the bridges and then the Royal Mile to the Castle. We had to dodge and zigzag between the traffic, tourists and Saturday shoppers. Which is probably why I didn't take any photos or video as there was a lot to keep an eye on.

We had a bit of a breather at the Castle when Nick took off his waterproof jacket before descending the steps to Johnstone Terrace and heading along Morrison Street. I had the DJI Pocket out by now and thought I video-ed our crossing of Lothian Road. Nick has a history of dashing across roads between cars during this event (which gets worse as the beers encourage a relaxed disposition towards the green cross code.) However this being a recce and not a race (and being done sober) would mean he didn't have to adopt Kamikaze tactics. You'd think.

Sadly the DJI pocket has the same button for initiating video record as taking a still photo. The other button switches on the power and toggles between the 2. And there are only a couple of tiny visual pointers to let you know which mode you are in - still photo or video. This on a screen that is less than 10mm x 15mm or about the size of my thumb-nail. (This was much improved on the Pocket 3 with larger flip-out screen. I am trying to use the Pocket 1 in as many hazardous circumstances as possible and if it breaks I can then get the Pocket 3. Until then I am squinting into a tiny screen looking for a red flashing light the size of a weevil's rostrum.) So you have to be a bird of prey or a teenager with 20/20 vision to know for sure if you are in either mode, or to change the values. It is also (laughably) a touch screen device and so you can inadvertently change the values and settings while running along with a casual swipe. Recently (in Tenerife) I apparently changed the exposure against my wishes, and it bleached out everything that was not in dark shadow.

As you might have guessed on this occasion the cloudy exposure was perfect but alas at Lothian Road I took one still shot when I thought I was beginning the video recording and another after we had Starsky-and-Hutched across the wet bonnets of cars and Buster Keatoned between buses. It was quite something but alas, unrecorded. Maybe just as well.

Corstorphine Hill

We hadn't been in each other's company since Tenerife so had a month or more of catch up which made the road miles between Lothian Rd and Corstorphine Hill fly by. I quite enjoyed the running and didn't fall too far behind Nick. Who is always stronger on the up-hills. But I could mostly keep up on the downs and the flats. It was fun trying to remember the descent off Corstophine as it takes a specific route on a smaller trail and there are many detours to be avoided.

Possibly the last time I ran this route would have been the first 7 Hills Race run after lockdown. I had neglected to keep up training during the pandemic and foolishly reckoned I'd survive on muscle memory and experience. I'd done the race so many times and had a couple of dozen coasters to prove it. However about halfway round I was absolutely mashed and proceeded to get overhauled by a number of folk I don't usually see in races. I ran a 20minute personal worst and it felt even more painful than usual, having the additional humiliation of doing so badly. It made me promise myself to never again enter an event unprepared. NEVER! Which is one of the reasons I have signed up for nada since. (Excluding a few short casual things and parkruns.) Until now.

Nick has also been swerving between bouts of decent running and slacking off. His post-marathon christmas break was filled with visitors and the inevitable eating and drinking; enough to make my pace just about acceptable as partner in crime. He is also keen to retrieve a bit more fitness and has events in his sights for this year. I am, as yet, cautious about events beyond this one. My mojo is still in the wilderness and getting out the door is something I have to force myself to do. Mostly, once out, I don't regret it. I am not trying to regain any running glories, as much as trying to restore a semblance of fitness and lose the flab that has mysteriously gained ground around my middle. (Despite eating and drinking way less than ever before, or at least that's how it feels.) A few years of half-hearted running (since lockdown) and the appearace of the blubberverse may well not be a coincidence.

I'm posting this as a cryptic warning to other teams: not to be taken literally.
Some things/venues may have changed since last time.

Nick was polite enough to offer me an opt-out of the mud-slide route up the front of Craiglockhart Hill. It was, after all, a recce. The direct line goes up a hands-on-knees-steep rooty line between trees. In the Summer the beech mast and dusty loose ground can be tricky. In the Winter the wet leaves and mud equally so, however it wasn't as bad as we had remembered - both wearing grippy shoes in anticipation of exactly this - and we climbed steadily up, Nick chatting away the whole time.

We decided to go as far as the Braids Hill trig point. (No point in using it all up first go!) There are some strategic hostelry options around here to iron out (again, pun intended) but after that, it is all plain sailing back into town. If you ignore the always unwelcome and nearly vertical ascent of Arthur's Seat on tired legs. And three more pints hurriedly quaffed en route.

I was pleased to call it a day at this point and what with all the talk of beer (and 11 miles run) had worked up quite a thirst. So we jogged back down into Morningside and went for a pint at Bennets. Many years ago I used to know all of the bars in Edinburgh and use them as navigational aids if anyone asked directions to such-and-such a place. Now a year can go by without visiting one and I regard them as places where surely only homeless millionaires would hang out. I mean if you had a home why would you go somewhere noisy and crammed full of the great unwashed to spend 130% more than necessary to be irritated by large screen football and slot machines?

11.7miles in 2hrs16

That said, we stayed for a second delicious pint and then even a third at which point I felt if we did not leave soon things might veer off the straight and narrow into dangerous territory. Mary knew that beer research and rehearsal was likely a crucial part of the day's adventuring and so was not expecting me home as soon as it got dark. So while I had something of a full day pass I realised it was quite some time since solid food had been eaten. (Even more (or rather less) in Nick's case I learned later.) Anyway, we escaped the pub, which was conveniently near Nick's home and my bus stop and after a very tedious and shivery bus ride home (I nearly got off and ran to warm up, but my legs had been told they were no longer required for the rest of the day and stopped working) I recovered quickly in a long hot shower.