The first race I ever entered was the Glasgow Half Marathon in 2001. I recently tried to find my result but all I found was a paragraph in the then Glasgow Herald:
“Congratulations to the 7,625 runners who completed the race. Results will be available in Glasgow libraries from Friday.”
Imagine entering a race now in which you only got your result a week later in a library.
For any kids reading this. Libraries are like a Kindle but in brick form.
When we were young Andrew and I would go to the local library in the morning to get a book each. We’d read the book in the afternoon and then return to the library to get another book to read in the evening.
Yes – we were the cool kids in school.
Myself, Andrew and one of his friends had entered the race. Andrew’s friend arrived at the start wearing a backpack that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a Sherpa climbing Everest.
“Are you off to climb a Munro?” I joked.
The Sherpa didn’t laugh.
“No. I brought the backpack to carry my juice.” He pulled out a two litre bottle of orange.
I stared at it and said: “’You do know you get water on the course? You don’t need to bring your own.”
He looked at me like I was an idiot. “Of course I know that. That’s why I brought diluting juice!” He’d brought a two litre bottle of Robinson’s diluting orange juice.
How much juice can a man drink!? He either gets very thirsty or he was planning to open an orange juice stall.
The race started.
Someone from the crowd spotted the Sherpa and shouted, “are you off to climb a Munro?”
He didn’t laugh.
30 seconds later a woman from the crowd shouted, “are you off to climb a Munro?” This was going to be a long day…
My race was uneventful until I got to the nine mile point. I wanted to beat the other two. I looked at them. They weren’t paying attention so I started running as fast as I could. I’d run fast until I got to the finish line.
I ran hard. I saw the 10 mile sign in the distance. Not far to go now. One last push…I ran hard. I looked for the finish line…but there was no finish line. At this point I realised a half marathon is half a marathon and not, as I mistakenly thought, 10 miles.
I felt a bit stupid and the fast run had tired me out. I had to walk. The other two caught up with me.
“Why did you run off?” Asked Andrew.
I told them the truth…sort of.
“I was desperate for the loo….ummm…yes…that’s why.”
They continued running. I walked the last three miles until I got to the finish. I met Andrew and the Sherpa. The Sherpa offered me some juice. I said yes
He opened his bag to get it but pulled out a pair of boxing gloves.
WTF!!! Said the expression on my face. “Why did you run with them?”
“This is my boxing bag. Where else would I keep them?”
On Saturday, it was a beautiful day and we went to Wanlockhead – the highest village in Scotland – for a 40 mile cycle down through the Menock pass and back via Drumlanrig Castle and Elvenfoot before climbing to the top of the radar station.
Before we started, we parked in the centre of the village. A smiling man with an old large rucksack approached.
“Are you here to open the shop?”
We explained we were cycling.
“Oh, my bus leaves in 10 minutes and I need to buy my licence.”
“You need a licence for the bus?”
“No, I need a licence from the land owner as I’m here to find GOLD!”
Which was not what I was expecting to hear at 9am on a Saturday morning when (a) we’re not in California; and (b) it’s not the nineteenth century!
“How do you find gold?”
He opened his rucksack and then showed me a tube that was used to collect gravel from the bottom of riverbeds. He showed me a large plastic tray with grooves where the lighter soil would be washed away but the heavier gold would be caught in the grooves. Then he showed me his pan where he gently washed the last of the gravel leaving behind the millions and millions of pounds of GOLD!
“Do you find much?”
“I usually find a few specks the size of a grain of salt.”
Really?!? I looked round to see his Rolls Royce.
“And how much is that worth?”
“Nothing really, not even a pound, but it’s FUN!”
I didn’t want to hear about fun. I wanted to hear about making millions just washing gravel. But despite, as I found out later, Wanlockhead being known as ‘God’s Treasure House in Scotland’ due to the abundance of minerals found in the area, there’s not a lot of gold in them there hills.
In fact, the licence was £5 (I checked) and if it was possible to make more money panning for gold than selling licences for £5 then you can bet the land owner wouldn’t be selling licences for £5.
Despite the small chance of striking riches, as we cycled round I began to see that all the people I’d previously thought were fishing were actually panning for gold instead. It seems that gold fever is alive and well and can be found in Wanlockhead.
Gold though was the last thing on my mind on Sunday at the Balfron 10k. Iain’s already described the race (see here). I can only add that it was the first time that I’d taken part and I can confirm that it was hilly and that every down hill seemed to lead to an ever longer uphill.
It was either that or my legs were still tired from cycling round Wanlockhead and every kilometre felt like a struggle today.
The race though is very well organised and has a good turnout of runners. And if you’re chasing a fastest 1K time on Strava then I can recommend the first 1K. A downhill so steep it can only be described with one word: “Geronimo!”
Andrew and I grew up on the Isle of Lewis. It’s the furthest north and west you can go in the UK before you get to Iceland. We moved away from Lewis to go to university but our parents still live there.
The Isle of Lewis is renowned for three things – Harris Tweed, Gaelic and having the oldest group of rocks in the UK. The rock is called Lewisian gneiss. The second oldest rock group in the UK is The Rolling Stones.
In Summer 2016 I met a cyclist at Stornoway ferry terminal. I asked him where he’d been cycling on the island. He said: “I did the Hebridean way. A 185 miles route from Barra to Lewis.” I asked if he’d enjoyed it. He said: “I’ve cycled in the arctic circle in Norway. I’ve biked the far north of Canada but I’ve never been as cold and miserable as cycling here!”
I gave gave him some words of encouragement “If you think this is cold you should try it in winter!”
The Hebrides is the best place in the world on a nice day but on a bad day….
After speaking to him I looked at the route of the Hebridean way. I was disappointed. It missed out lots of great places and bike routes. So here is my improved version of the parts I know well (Barra & Lewis/Harris).
BARRA
The ferry from Oban arrives early evening into Castlebay. The official route recommends starting your trip the next day in Vatersay before heading north to catch a ferry to Uist.
DON’T DO THAT! Stay in Barra for two nights so you have a full day to explore the island before leaving.
Vatersay
Day 1: Head to Vatersay to see the official start. Make sure you have walking shoes with you as there’s a nice beach to explore here. From the start head clockwise around the island aiming to get to the airport for lunch time. They have a great onsite cafe. Check the plane timetable so you can watch the plane take off and land from the beach.
On the way to the airport stop at Barra golf club so you can see how a sheep field has been converted into a sports venue.
View from the statue above castlebay
There’s only one hill of note which is towards the end of the route. Anyone of moderate fitness can bike up it. Park your bike at the top of the hill so you can walk up the hill to the statue overlooking Castlebay. Finish off the day with a fast downhill ride into Castlebay.
Day 2: Catch the ferry to Uist
UIST
My girlfriend’s sister is married to a man from the Western Isles (he’s from Uist.) Her other sister is married to a twin. I’m a twin from the Western Isles. I’m not sure if she was inspired by her sisters or whether she’s so competitive she’s just one up’ing them.
I’ve never been to Uist but her brother in law has a house there so hopefully I’ll visit one day. I therefore can’t comment on the route until it gets to…
HARRIS
Day 3: This is a controversial choice but I’d argue not to go the official way up the west coast but instead take the east coast. Heading south first means you can visit Rodel church. This is ancient church has one of earliest known representation of a man in kilt. Now a day there’s lots of men in kilts here. Its a very popular place to get married.
I was best man at a wedding at Rodel
Next to the church is small pier which is the southernmost point you can cycle to on the Harris.
The west coast has some great beaches but the landscape of the east coast is unique to the island. A barren landscape of ancient rock and heather. The windy undulating single track road is great fun to ride.
Once you get off the east coast head for Luskentyre beach. The official route passes a bit of it but the best view can only be seen by heading along to it. If you want a challenge try running up the sand dunes. It’s hard work!
The island across from the beach is where the BBC filmed Castaway.
Finish the day by heading to Tarbert. There’s a long climb from the beach towards tarbert but once you get to the top its all downhill into the town.
Unfortunately Tarbert is at sea level and at the base of a hill, so today is going to be hilly no matter which way you go. I’ve added in some diversions off the official way.
Start by heading to Amhuinnsuidhe castle. At one point Madonna was going to purchase it, until she discovered the public are allowed to walk right by the windows. Robert Plant from Led Zepplin was also interested. He went for a pint in the local pub but the beer must have been bad as he never came back with a bid.
Amhuinnsuidhe castle
The road out to the castle packs in allot of interesting sights. There’s the ruins of an old whaling station, there’s stunning views of the harris hills and there’s the world’s most useless tennis court! It’s exposed to the wind and wild weather of the Atlantic.
If you like very wet and windy tennis then this is the court for you.
From the castle you can walk up to one of the UK’s biggest cliff faces. The 600-foot cliff face of Sron Ulladale,
Head to Rèinigeadal next. Rèinigeadal had no road access until 1990; the only route in was along a hill path, or by boat. There’s a postman’s marked path from the village back to Tarbert. Imagine doing it carrying a load of Amazon parcels. It’s worth walking a bit of it as it has some spectacular views.
The main difference is I suggest not going to the official end of the route. The road to Ness is one of the most boring drives on the island. Vast empty moor as far as the eye can see. Instead head to Stornoway as there’s much better routes that you can do from there.
If you do want to know what the end of the route looks like then check this out. I was there on a very stormy day.
Give yourself at least a couple of days in Stornoway. From here you can do some great routes.
A flat out and back route to a lighthouse. From here you can watch whales pass by. On the way back a small detour will take you to a 15% hill climb! It’s short but hard. I needed a quick rest at the top!
If you tire of road biking then a recently completed mountain bike trial has been constructed in the Castle Grounds. An area of forestry next to Stornoway. I hadn’t tried it before and was pleasantly surprised at how good it was. There’s no major hills but lots of undulating tracks. It was a great way to pass a few hours.
Tour De Tolsta: If you only do one route from Stornoway then do this one! The beaches along here are some of the best on the island. One of them even has its own waterfall
Originally the road to Tolsta was supposed to go all the way to Ness but it was never completed. Supposedly a local sightseer had predicted that if the road was complete then the “The day will come when the Isle of Lewis will sink beneath the waves.”
Which seems unlikely as how can a whole island sink? But, in 1995, the ferry to Ullapool was named the “Isle of Lewis”… There was no calls to complete the road whilst that ferry was operational!
There’s some great swimming spots along the route. Coll beach is very popular with the Hebrides open water swimmers.
There comes a time in your life when you have to confess something to your partner. You’ll have struggled with the confession for weeks in advance. You’ll spend ages trying to get the correct phrasing. In the weeks leading up to ityou’ll use bribery and flattery to get your partner in the right frame of mind to hear it.
But… eventually… you’ll have to confess – “I’m going on a biking holiday!”
You’ll then try to explain to your partner how your week long “training” trip to Mallorca or the Canary islands wont be fun. You’ll claim – nobody will be drinking! You’ll say – we’re not going anywhere near Shagaluf…sorry Magaluf. You’ll state – it’s all about the hills and the weather
So, to avoid all that worry, book a trip to the Western Isles. There’s amazing hills, amazing weather (on a good day) and if your partner asks about the pubs then you can says that the island’s have the highest rate of abstinence in the UK – just don’t mention that its also got the highest rate of drinking too!
There are many different types of triathlon event. The regular one is the swim/bike/run format but there is also:
The Wanderlust (https://wanderlust.com/gbr/) – A 5K run followed by a 90 minute yoga session and a 30 minute meditation. I’d spend the 30 minutes meditation thinking: “When can I leave?”
The Macnab (http://www.macnabchallenge.co.uk/) – A triathlon for the hunting/shooting set. It’s so posh it should be called ‘Downtonman’. To achieve a Maacnab you have to shoot a deer and a brace of grouse and catch a salmon on the same estate in a 24-hour period. If you’ve done a Macnab then shame on you. You’ve killed Bambi.
The Didnae-try-athlon – Everyone has one of these. An event you entered, you had high hopes for but, on the day, you just did-nae try.
My didnae-try-athlon was the 2008 Rat Race. This was a combination of orienteering, mountain biking, climbing and canoeing.
I did it in a team of three. None of us had ever done an adventure race. We were not well prepared. One friend had a bad back, one had a broken bike and I had a terrible hangover from an after work drinking session.
The first part of the race involved a bike ride to an office block. We had to abseil down the side of the office. This sounded good but, in reality, it was a short bike ride then a long wait in a queue for the 60 seconds it took to abseil down.
We then biked to the next point where we had to climb down a rock face. This again sounded good but, in reality, it was another short bike ride and another long wait for a very short climb.
I asked the organizer of the event what would happen if we skipped the task.
He said “Your team gets a 15 minute penalty.”
“Is that the same for all tasks?”
“Yes,” he confirmed.
The next task was four miles away. A 15 minute penalty was much less than the time it would take to get there and do the task. If we missed out all the remaining tasks it would only be a penalty of a couple of hours. That would have been much less time than it would take to do them all.
I conferred with my team. Should we just go straight to the finish and win this? Even with penalties we’d be hours ahead of anyone else. They thought this was a great idea so we went straight there… via the pub.
After a delicious burger/pint and dessert we made it to finish.
I’d like to say the organizers were pleased to greet ‘the winners’. They weren’t. They didn’t think what we were doing was sportsmanlike. I’d argue that it wasn’t our fault their rules allowed this to happen! We were disqualified.
After the organizers had finished being annoyed with us, a camera crew came over. “Are you the winners of the race? We’re here from Brazilian TV” To this day I have no idea why Brazilian TV was at an event in Edinburgh.
I owned up and said “Sorry, no. You’ll have to wait a while for them. They won’t be here for a few more hours”.
The Brazilian TV presenter looked unhappy and said “We need to leave now. Can we just interview you anyway?”
I like to think millions of Brazillians saw my interviw where I said: “It was good race. I’m pleased with our victory especially as we didnae try”.
And they all turned to each other and went “what the f%&K word is didnae?”
“This is not a race! Do not treat it as a race. There will be no winners or losers. Are we clear about that?”
I was with a group of about twenty people. We were doing the “Introduction to Track Cycling” course at Glasgow velodrome. The man giving the instruction was the track cycling coach.
“Get on your bikes and do not race! I’m judging you on your ability to ride safely not quickly.”
We were all ready to start. One of the other riders was in full cycling club team kit. Even his socks were branded with the name of his cycling club. He wore sunglasses indoors. He looked like a twat.
“Are we ready to start?” Asked the coach.
A man suddenly appeared next to twattymactwatface. He too wore full cycling kit. He turned to his identical twat and said: “You can win this.”
No – you can’t. Its not a race! Did you not hear what the coach just said?
He started giving Luke Twatwalker a pep talk: “Take it easy on the first lap and then use your power on the second. Don’t be afraid to cut people up.”
No – don’t cut people up! Take it easy on the first lap and then even easier on the second. Demonstrate you can do this safely!
He then added “Fuck them up!” and slapped Encyclopedia Twatania on the back.
ITS NOT A RACE! NO ONE IS GETTING FUCKED UP!
The ‘not a race’ started. Everyone set off at a steady pace except Lance Twatstrong. He shot off. I could hear him mutter: “You can do this”
There’s nothing to do! It’s not a race. It’s a bunch of middle aged men living out a Chris Hoy fantasy. We just want to spin about a bit and then go home for tea.
His mate started shouting “YES! You’re at the front. Keep it up!”
Twatasuarous Tex soon caught up with me. We were both about to reach the tiered banking. He pulled out wide to go round me but he was going too fast and couldn’t control his bike. He hit the top of the track. His bike slipped and he came off. I looked up. The bike and him were now sliding down the banking towards me. I did what any man would do in this situation. I closed my eyes and hoped for the best. Track bikes have no brakes and even if they did I couldn’t use them on the banking. I had no way of avoiding being hit.
His bike went through mine. I fell off. I hit my head of the wooded boards of the banking and scraped the skin off my arm and shoulder.
The coach came running over. He took one look at the two of us and asked “Are you ok?” My head hurt and I had a bit of skin rash from the slide but nothing serious. Twatzilla looked surprisingly chipper all considering. We both said “I think so…”
The coach thought for a second and said “Thank fuck for that. Now imagine how sore it would have been if you’d been racing!”
I’ve never been back to the velodrome since that day.
“The race started and almost immediately stopped due to a giant puddle on the course. Runners will run through anything – illness, injury or bad weather but it seems most won’t run through a puddle. Everyone gingerly tried to tip toe through or around it.”
Yesterday, I did the Kirkintilloch 12.5K and the race started and almost immediately stopped due to a giant puddle on the course. Runners will run through…you can guess the rest.
I wonder if this means there’s a gap in the sports shoe market for running welly boots! I should pitch my idea to the BBC’s Dragons Den. Even Dragons must prefer dry socks on a run.
The race was great fun but very cold. There was ice on the local roads but, thankfully, the course was clear of it. I’d done a long run the previous day so I did the race as a tempo training run rather than a full on sprint . I was happy with my steady pace and time.
The most interesting thing about the race is the town itself. Kirkintilloch used to have the slogan “Canal capital of Scotland” until people painted over the “C”
It now has the slogan “A walkers are welcome town” which will last until someone paints over the first “l” with an “n!”
I think they need to work on getting better slogans.
For the last five years I’ve played squash every Friday lunchtime. I play the same man at the same time with the same result – I lose. I occasionally win but it’s very rare. One year, I did not win a single match.
People ask me – why do you play if you always lose?
I play because our matches are very competitive. The result feels like it could go either way even though it only ever goes one way.
Last year I asked myself – how do I stop losing?
I concluded that I needed to stop giving away silly points. If I stop giving him points then surely I’d stop losing.
I didn’t. I kept losing. I lost every week until I realized I had asked myself the wrong question. I shouldn’t have asked – how do I stop losing? I should have asked – how do I start winning?
My mentality was wrong. You can can’t win by trying not to lose. You win by trying to win.
So I came up with a plan to start playing with my head, not my hand. Think about where the shot should go. Play shots that will win the point.
Since making the change I’ve won every match.
The more matches I win, the more my opponent has become tetchy and annoyed. He now shouts and yells when his shots go wrong!
What he shouts the most is:
“IT’S NOT A TENNIS BALL!!!!”
This occurs because he plays tennis and sometimes miss-hits volleys because of the different weight of a squash ball compared to a tennis ball.
Despite repeatedly shouting this during matches his volleying is still costing him points.
I could tell him how to fix the problem but I’m quite enjoying my current winning run and don’t want it to end.
So I’ll wait a few weeks and then tell him he needs to change his mentality. He needs to shout
A wise man once said: “You should try anything once.”
What a stupid saying! There’s loads of things I shouldn’t try – not even once.
Should I poke a sleeping lion in the stomach? No, I’ve been mauled by my cat for giving him a friendly tummy rub. Imagine what the king of the jungle would do if I poked him in the guts and called him a fattyfatty bum bum.
Should I paint my body blue, stick on a white beard and demand everyone call me Papa Smurf? No – I’d look look like a fat extra from Avatar.
Should I attempt one of the hardest extreme triathlons on the planet? DOH! I entered Norseman.
So, when given the opportunity to do Mysore yoga I asked will it kill me or open me to ridicule? Thankfully, the answers were “no” and “maybe.” I was worried about the maybe…
In a standard yoga class a teacher leads the students through a sequence of moves. In Mysore a student leads themselves through a sequence at their own pace. Everyone in the class follows the same sequence but the pace may be different.
The class started at 0630 but I could join anytime up till 0700. I need as much beauty sleep as I can get. I turned up at 0659. This meant everyone else had already started.
The Mysore sequence is like building IKEA furniture. If you don’t do it in the right order then a bit won’t fit where you want no matter how far you bend it.
Now imagine building a Kvlar wardrobe but only having the picture of a wardrobe as your guide. That’s Mysore.
I knew I needed to start by standing at the top of the mat. I also knew I had to finish by lying flat but I couldn’t remember the steps in between.
I looked around the class. One woman was bent over in a position her chiropractor would call “a broken spine”. Another girl was wrapped so tightly together only a can opener was going to get her unwrapped.
I decided to do neither of those moves. I attempted a bend from the hip. No one laughed so I thought I might be onto something. I do a few more bends to waste a few minutes. The teacher comes over “what are you doing?”
“Warming up?”
She says “Let me give you a guide”.
Great! That’ll help. She hands me some pics of people in positions that would be called pornographic if there was a partner involved. She says “Just do two of these and then three of these.”
I look at the diagram. It might as well be in Hindi as I don’t understand any of it. It turns out it is in Hindi.
I do a few more hip bends. I think I might be the best hip bender in the class. In fact, I think I might be the biggest bender here. Ummm that doesn’t sound right…
She come back over. “What are you doing?”
“Still warming up?” I reply.
“No your supposed to be doing this sequence.” She demonstrates it.
“Ahhh, it’s that sequence. I understand now.” I don’t.
She leaves. I bend my hips some more. I think if there was a hip bending competition in the Olympics I’d win a gold medal.Unless there was a Russian hip bender. He’d probably cheat and I’d get silver. I’d be gutted when I hear the Russian national anthem as we stand on the medal podium. Years later it would be discovered he was cheating! He’d get disqualified. I’d be the belated champion but it wouldn’t be the same. Instead of a podium I’d get my medal through the post. Damn you, Sergei!
She interrupts my daydream, “what are you doing?”
“I’ve warmed up!” I confidently state.
She takes pity on me. “Just lie down. Do you want a blanket to keep warm?”
“No thanks, I don’t like blankets of any size,shape or texture. You you might say I have a blanket ban…”
She doesn’t laugh. It’s probably too early in the morning for chuckles.
I give it five minutes and when she’s busy adjusting/torturing another Mysore student I sneak out.
The wise man was correct to say “do anything once” but he should also have said – don’t do it twice!
My goal for 2018 is to be the fastest cyclist over the Crow Road. It’s a fairly long climb heading north, out of Lennoxtown. It’s a favourite route of central Scotland cyclists.
It was also a training route for Scottish professional cyclist Philippa York (previously known as Robert Millar) She would ride a dozen reps of it as preparation for the Tour de France.
I could spend months training hard to achieve my goal or I could cheat! As I don’t have any asthma spray and I don’t have Chris Froome’s mobile number to ask to borrow his, I used my wits.
The easiest way to be the fastest cyclist in 2018 is to be the first cyclist in 2018.
Yesterday, I got up early and made sure I was on the route as the sun came up. It was a beautiful morning, made even more beautiful when I got back to the house and checked Strava.
I’m King of the Crow 2018…as long as I don’t check the leader-board again till 2019.
The Glasgow SubRun was featured in the Sunday Mail on 31 December 2017 as something to do on New Year’s Day. Notwithstanding we don’t actually recommend doing it on New Year’s Day (there’s no trains so you can’t get a lift!), it’s a great article! 🙂
Twin brothers swimming, cycling and running in Scotland 