Heb3: Harris Half Marathon

The weather has been great since we arrived on the islands. Today though, we could actually do with it being a little cooler and as if on prescription, the week of glorious sunshine abates and it’s quite a bit cooler, Just what the doctor ordered both for us running.

However, when we said cooler we didn’t actually mean we wanted a gravity defying Hebridean breeze, otherwise known as gale force eight (approx).

Just what you don't need when you’re about to do the Heb3 Part 3 with a bad back. I blame a dodgy sleeping position in the our ‘green tent of tranquillity’ E.g. sandwiched between two dogs who like half of it, each, rather than L roughing me the wrong ‘shade’. ‘That book’ has sort of dominated our conversation this week.

Our campsite by the beach at Horgabost is at mile two on today's course and several times this week we’ve driven along the other eleven miles, experiencing the experience of the route to Tarbert in advance, only with wheels. It was actually quite exhausting just looking at it from the car. As for running it? Oh my.

This morning we drive up the course again. The tables are out with water bottles and cups on them ready for the race, all weighed down with rocks against the wind. Then after we’ve registered a bus takes us all the way back up the route again to the start at Borve. This race is an A to B, in roughly a straight line, give or take a few hills, into the wind. Nice. Not. Holy cow.

The bus actually stops a mile from the start. Loo stop, on the beach. It's very well organised though. Men to the left, women to the right. Just hope the women weren’t downwind from the men, one’s aim could seriously go amiss in this wind. We both stay on the bus.

Then we travel the rest of the way to the start where we all huddle in some bloke’s driveway sheltering from the wind. No peeing in his hedge allowed, apparently he doesn’t like it.

It’s already quite apparent that today is not going to be a day for fast times. Although at first my pace isn’t too bad, as we run along the beautiful coastline and I hide from the elements in the middle of a bunch of about ten hardened Scots folk. I think this is a good strategy or was, until the group somehow dissipated. I think perhaps some of them got blown into the sea but I can't be sure.

My times were good until the serious hills began after about four miles and from that point onwards I took up a new, previously untried, racing position of being bent double against both the gradient and the horizontal ‘breeze’ from which there isn’t a degree of shelter anywhere. Scenery? What scenery? Nice tarmac. I spend 90% of the race looking downwards. My bad back is going to be even worse after this.

The wind is that strong it half rips my race number from my chest. Using my lightweight race pins to attach it now looks folly, a nail gun might have been more appropriate.

Oh my, this is tough. It would be a hard course on any day but today’s conditions are simply cruel. I look on the bright side, at least it isn’t raining.

If Barra was supposedly like pushing a wardrobe uphill then, holy s***, this was like pushing the entire bedroom suite. Fifty shades of hell.

For a while I battle with my nemesis, the winner of the over 60's category at the other races and likely to do the same again today, with knobs on. I beat him at Benbecula but here, like at Barra, he leaves me floundering in his wake. For some reason my 'inner runner' vows to keep chasing, pushing onwards and upwards or is it downwards? The wind is a great leveller, making everything seem impossible. My 'subconscious' meanwhile is in the pub knocking back its third Red Cuillin and whiskey chaser.

Apparently we have now crested the main peak but the 'mostly' downhill last five miles is not very evident, not with this fierce wind trying to push you back up the hill you’ve just come down.

Tarbet is just around this corner I’m sure or is it this corner? or this one? It’s here somewhere or at least it was yesterday. Finally I see the man trying to hold the finish line up against the prevailing gale and know that it is all nearly at an end.

1:47 is slower than Barra but that wind must have added ‘hours’. The boys and I sit by the finish and await L, watching all the others runners ‘plummeting’ down the final incline like tumbleweed in... well, quicksand.

The post-race buffet isn’t as bountiful as Barra’s but doesn’t need to be and at least they have tea. They also have Heb3 t-shirts, which is what we came for. In black as well, very nice. We also have our medal with its Harris Tweed ribbon, very authentic.

Heb3: The Barrathon

Today the race they call the Barrathon.

A 13.1 mile tour of the island that takes you clockwise right around the main and only road. It starts and finishes from Castlebay School where they have the flags out, literally.

Castlebay so named because somebody has submerged a castle in the middle of the bay.

The day starts drizzly but fines up sometime around the start of the race, I’m so ‘focused’ aka terrified that I don’t actually notice the precise moment that this happens. Terrified perhaps because everyone is taking about the hill they call Heaval, which appears to be some Gaelic misspelling of the coming together of the words ‘hell’ and ‘evil’. We have been warned.

‘Just like Leek then?’ L quips ‘but with a few downhills by the sound of it’. She really didn’t like Leek.

To make matters worse I’m still trying to fight off a touch of cold that I’ve brought on holiday with me and I’m feeling well bunged up, which could make panting in exhaustion difficult.

True to expectations the race is very lumpy although it actually starts downhill but that’s just a ruse because we’re soon going uphill. Then down, then up, then down, then up, it’s like a tarmac rollercoaster and there’s no way to get off. They’re not big hills but the sheer lack of flat gradually wears you down.

At around 10.5 miles we start the climb up Heaval, a climb apparently described as a bit like pushing a wardrobe uphill. Unfortunately I have forgotten to empty my wardrobe before I started pushing it and my demons quickly come tumbling out of it, falling on top of me. I’m also hyperventilating; my touch of cold is getting touchier. So I walk up part of the Evil-hell but believe me it’s almost as quick as running up and I still overtake people. Finally after about a mile of climbing, the ‘hill’ tops out at around 340ft and then it’s downhill to the finish, Wa-hey, or so we thought.

There’s a final short sharp kick uphill just before the finish and on the top of this unwelcome distraction a morbid crowd has gathered simply to laugh at these mad people.

Finally it’s over. 1:45 isn’t good but in the circumstances, not too bad either. I retrieve the dogs from the car and we sit somewhere, I can’t stand, to wait for L.

Post race they serve us with an amazing buffet, which consists of everything you could possibly imagine except for the one thing I’m really gagging for right now. A humble cup of strong tea. Shouldn’t really complain, they have bottles of Hebridean at the bar. No draught obviously.

In the evening there’s a Ceilidh, that's a knees up I believe but my knees won’t do 'up' tonight and we ought to spend time with the dogs anyway so we skip it.

Humber Bridge Half Marathon

Today we head up to the Hull area for an intriguing half marathon, well at least I thought so, but not one for the bridge-phobics because the Humber Bridge Half Marathon crosses the bridge twice.

L is not usually one for bridges, so she might have to shut her eyes, but then that could have nasty side effects. Although I think they have barriers... I hope they have barriers and hopefully no crosswinds.

Last year they had a few problems with the weather, it was extremely hot and a poor chap died as a result. This has meant an earlier 9am start this year to avoid the heat of the day but heat shouldn’t be a problem this time, as we have rain on tap.

Car parking is good, if a little muddy and right across from the start. Although toilet facilities seem limited, there are plenty of bushes.

The start is rather dramatic. First we have a period of silence for the unfortunate chap from last year, this quickly turns into applause and then while this is going on the gun and klaxon signal the race start.

First a two mile loop around the local area of Hessle, which strings the field out a little before the first crossing of the bridge, for which they have closed a lane to traffic. Although it’s still a bit narrow and it’s a choice between tripping over feet or the cones at the edge of the course.

It’s a long bridge, almost 1.4 miles in length, so you get plenty of time to ‘enjoy’ the experience. Waiting at the other end is an inordinately long slip road, about a mile long, that seems to edge uphill forever. Once that is out of the way the course takes a largely flat route around the area of Barton Upon Humber.

The early rain had eased to drizzle by start time and then soon after stopped completely, creating near perfect race conditions. I was having a good run and by nine miles I was two minutes up on my Benbecula time meaning going under 1:40 was a real possibility.

That was when they threw a nasty little hill at us and then when that was out of the way we ran into a headwind on the return bridge crossing, using the footpath rather than the main carriageway this time. All of which mean I came in at just over 1:41.

Water was mostly in cups, which meant I ended up wearing more than I drank, although there was one bottle stop and they had a sponge stop too. I love a good sponge. I carried it all the way to the finish and then brought is home as a souvenir.

Two Castle Run

So the Two Castles Run, which has an appealing bio, as it starts in Warwick Castle and finishes in Kenilworth Castle. Meaning it’s an A to B, which I like, and there aren’t too many of them about.



However I was already getting second thoughts about this race when emails started arriving every day, and I mean every day, for about the last three weeks. Many of them referring to the whopping eight pages of race instructions. This is for a mere 10k run, it’s not a Ironman. It’s been a real case of too much information.

The most worrying of which has been repeated dire predictions about the lack of car parking around Warwick Castle (and associated expensive) and a repeated insistence that we be in the Castle grounds for 7.50am. This for a race that already starts too early (for me) at 9am. Hmmm.

So we leave well early, only to find that parking is a doddle. We park in the street by the entrance to Warwick Castle for free.

Spectators are banned from the grounds of Warwick Castle, presumably in case they get to see something historic for free. This is a shame as it would have added to the atmosphere but may also have added to the toilet queues. The toilets were a bit of a cock-up to say the least. I think there were actually enough of them, they were just very badly signposted which meant long queues at the most obvious ones and a lot of people, included women, taking unplanned tours of the immaculately turned out Castle gardens.

The start was on a narrow driveway but congestion wasn’t too much of an issue, despite an entry of 3300. Only as usual, many slower runners starting too close to the front.

There was plenty of water, not that I’d usually partake on a 10k but I did here as it was quite hot. Well I tried to, the first plastic cup I grabbed, exploded in my hand, which is one reason why water in bottles is a better option. Then on the final drinks stop I attempted to grab the fourth cup from the end of the line, only to see another runner grab that one and then others grab the other three. So none there either but almost entirely my own fault that time.

The marshalling was good and I though the route was fairly pleasant, although L disagreed. The first and last few miles were nice, only the middle bit through a few housing estates bored me.

I hadn’t researched the route and perhaps I should have done, as it was pretty much uphill all the way. It’s always a risk that the finish may be higher than the start with an A to B. I don’t think they’ve ever ran it in reverse but it would be a nice idea to have it alternating. The uphillness perhaps partly explains my slow time of almost 46 minutes, only partly.

For our trouble we got an ok t-shirt and a medal, which will be boxed as I’m not into medals and a pile of leaflets in the goodie bag. Not a chocolate bar or anything to eat in sight, which is a bit stingy.

There was an excellent baggage service that whisked your kit to the finish and buses laid on to get you back to Warwick. Although we did question the route the bus took to get us back, it took ages, we could almost have ran back quicker. We also had no idea where it dropped us, as we don’t know Warwick, but we found our way back to the car eventually.

Heb3: Benbecula Half Marathon

Let me tell you about the Heb3 Challenge. Which is to complete at least three of the five Western Isles Half Marathons - Stornoway, Benbecula, Skye, Barra or Harris in any one year. Apparently this is the longest running series of half marathons in Scotland and probably the most ridiculous for someone from the centre of England to attempt. So, here we go.



The first challenge was to get an entry into the hugely popular Barra race, which we managed, despite it selling out in 40 minutes. The second challenge is the 530 miles from Nottingham to Uig on the Isle of Skye, from where we will catch a ferry. Which will have to do twice. We couldn’t make Stornoway which was last week, so will return at the end of June to take in Barra and Harris. We could have done Skye of course but that would have been far too easy.

For all this we will get a t-shirt, complete with the Heb3 logo. We like little things like that. If we could have done all five, and this would have been a near impossibility in travel, cost and holiday allowances they would have overprinted our t-shirts with 'rinn mise na coig' on the back. Which I thought was Gaelic for ‘smart arse’ but apparently just means ‘I did the five’.

The next day we get the early-ish morning ferry (9:40am) over to Lochmaddy on North Uist.



The ferry journey takes an hour and forty-five minutes.



Then we’re rolling off the ferry and driving across North Uist which looks simply stunning in the sunshine. The terrain here is rather Icelandic, rocky but very flat with lots of little ‘tarns’ (to steal a Lake District description) everywhere. In fact more of the land is probably water than land, if you know what I mean.



There are a few villages but mostly the houses seem to be scattered around almost at random.
Benbecula is the next island to North Uist but is actually connected via a causeway. As is South Uist. Then there are the islands of Berneray (linked by causeway to North Uist) and Eriskay (linked to South Uist), so you can island hop across five islands without even, well, hopping. In fact there are more smaller linked islands, which we’ll have to research further on our next trip.



So we ‘hop’ on to Benbecula this morning and to a place called Liniclate where a compact field of 77 runners is assembling for the race. It’s sunny again but it’s also windy, something which is probably an ever present factor on these islands. It is noticed that they leave putting up the start/finish signs and the mile markers until as late as possible. Probably, lest they blow away.

Then at about 11am our debut in the 23rd running of the Western Isles Half Marathon series gets under way.

The course is mildy undulating with that strong Hebridean breeze to keep you alert. The mostly straight roads mean that you can at least you can see who you’re stalking.

It’s actually a surprisingly quick course, perhaps because despite the frequent head winds, once it gets behind you, you can really start to fly.

I team up, accidently, with another chap, who puts me to shame because he's far older than me but we pull each other along for most of the way. That is until two miles from the finish when I spot a Wrekin Road Runner, a fellow Sassenach who's come as far as we have. The urge to beat him spurs me onto a good finish.

My time of just over 1 hour 40 minutes is excellent, my best for some time but I worry about a suspiciously quick last mile of 6:30. Not something I thought I was capable of, in fact something I’m sure I’m not capable of after 12 miles, so perhaps I took a wrong turn somewhere and accidentally cheated.

Then there’s a free swim for all runners but neither of us partake. It would be a bad tactical move anyway as this would give others a head start on the huge post race buffet. From which the best cakes seem to get picked over very quickly. I did wonder why some folk started with the cakes and then worked their way back to the sandwiches and soup.

Thanks to the Jubilee weekend we at least now have three days to wind our way back to Nottingham.

Notts 10

It’s the Notts 10 race this evening, otherwise known as a forgettable number of loops around Holme Pierrepont rowing strip. It always feels like about five laps but is really only two. L has already entered and now having survived Helsinki I decide to take the plunge as well. The Notts 10 has traditionally been ran on a Friday evening but last year it moved to a Sunday because of the lack of evening light and increasingly rigorous Health & Safety regulations. E.g. they were worried that someone would still be out there come dusk and would take the plunge more literally, into the rowing strip. So I’m not sure why it’s back on a Friday this year but I’m glad it is. We had planned to bus/run/walk there and then pub crawl our way back home but those Health & Safety regulations seem to have bit back because they have now moved the start time from 7:30 to 6:55. Now I can’t really see how I can get there early enough to register without driving, so the car it is. This is a sort of a bonus for the boys who now get to come with us, if only to loiter in the car park. We park at the back of the car park so as not to have the boys disturbed. It’s nicely away from the course and away from most other people, so that they won’t be tempted to bark/howl etc. This is not a popular decision with one of only two other cars at the back of the car park. The guy in the passenger seat scowls at me, as does the girl who is sat on his lap. Sorry guys, don’t stop on our account. The boys will avert their gaze. In his email the organiser promised us light nights, good weather and that the T shirts will not be orange like last year. Personally I quite liked last year’s T-shirt but they’ve moved the start to guarantee the light and the weather is good, if a little windy. L meanwhile has promised me plenty of Finnish style blonde ponytails but without the multiple layers of clothing they sported in Helsinki. She’s right, everybody is wearing less than your average Fin, and it looks like there may even be the odd off-the-shoulder running vest. If only I can keep up with them. I can’t. They all leave me for dead at the start as I stick to a steady but sensible pace. The run goes ok actually and I gradually get in to it. I manage to run in a nice sized group for the first six miles but they all gradually drop off the pace. So I must have been doing alright. Then half way around the lake, on the second lap, I make my apologies to the only chap still with me as I up my pace a little. He grumbles something which could have been an obscenity, an apology or just pain, perhaps all three. The problem then is that I end up on my own, all lonely, as I can’t seem to catch up anyone ahead. Then at 7.5 miles I’m caught by a panting blonde, which is always nice. That is until they dump you, which is exactly what I expect this one to do and sail off into the distance. She doesn’t though. In fact she seems thankful that she’d caught me. She should have said, if I’d know I’d have stopped and waited for her. Her presence spurs me and is particularly welcome, as she arrived just as I was beginning to flag. We catch people up and scythe through the field together, sort of. The only downside is she wants to chat. I can’t do that. I can’t talk and run. So she talks, I nod. Then at 9.5 miles, she dumps me and sails off into the distance. I feel so used. Still I need to thank her, my time of 1:14 is only a minute off last year, so that’s very pleasing considering my injury problems. L is quick as well and runs 1:37, a PB. We head back to the car and the boys. The first car has now gone but has been replaced by another, it’s two occupants locked together at the mouth. It’s disappointing when they opt to move their car across to the other side of the car park, clearly worried we’re going to upstage them.