In which our hero does a bit more running.

Sunday was a ‘Sunday Social’ day, the trail run at Chatelherault, and although I’m still some way off where I was this time last year with my running, I was planning on trying to complete the full 4.7 mile loop, regardless of how much walking I had to do. (And by “had to” I probably mean “chose to”.) I knew I would be slow and ploddy, so I was happy enough to just stick to the back and let everyone else go off and do their thing. After 5 minutes or so, I was already struggling, and noticed Ian Logan coming back to find me. I told him in no uncertain tones to leave me, and go back to join the others, but he refused, and settled in alongside me, in a slow plod. I slowed to a walk, and we chatted briefly, and every time I started to run, I would shut up, and he would continue talking, to distract me from the effort and the negative self-talk. It worked, sometimes – I interrupted his chat at one point with a gasping, indignant “Hey!!! I just RAN up that hill there!” – he grinned, and matter-of-factly said “Yeah, I noticed. So, anyway, this car just came out of nowhere…” continuing where he had left off!

As annoying as he is, I shall give him his dues, he was good company, and he definitely persuaded me to run more than I would have done had I stayed on my own. Much love to the auld daftie! :-) We finished the loop in around 76 minutes, my previous best time being about 65 minutes, so I still have some way to go to get back to that, and continue improving. My goal time is, of course, that 1 hour mark! I’ll get there, one day… The café afterwards was as good as ever, catching up with friends, meeting new people, and sharing chat and giggles. It’s a nice way to spend a Sunday morning.

Tuesday morning saw me in the gym at 6am, and a great session that had a mix of various things, not over-focussing on any one muscle group. Clean and press lifting, kettlebell swings, lunges, crunches, mountain climbers, Bosu burpees, rowing machine intervals, and so on… I was exhausted and dripping sweat, which is how it should be: I really need to remember that!!! My plan is to go to the gym now, once I post this (early Thursday evening) – its clammy, and I’m tired after a day at work, but I haven’t got many steps in today (the weather’s been grotty) and my pedometer is showing I’ve been slacking off a little, so I’ll have a bit of a treadmill session I think, and some stretching.

Yesterday, Wednesday, was a brilliant start to the day. I woke early, and was in Holyrood Park before 6am. I had decided to run the 5km Queens Drive loop, and see how far I am in minutes from my best time around (which I don’t have to hand, but I think is around 37 minutes) – and it was a great day for it. Not too cold, but not too warm, and – more importantly – dry! I set off at a slow plod and tried to build up, but without a warm-up I was walking very soon. I tried to run/walk reasonably well, and then on reaching the bottom of the hill, I briskly walked as best I could. I hadn’t brought headphones or anything like that, and I was determined to just enjoy being out in the park, so as I walked onwards up the hill, I listened to birds calling out to each other, looked for rabbits, and generally took in the scenery. At the top of the road’s climb, the path levels out at Dunsapie Loch, and when I was here I was stopped by a Japanese tourist, who was running, and asking me for directions back into town. I pointed him the right way, showed him where he would be when he reappeared on the edge of his central city map, and briefly watched him run off. I then realised I hadn’t stopped my Garmin, so whatever happened now with the rest of my run, the time would be pointless.

(click pictures for bigger size)

A decision very quickly, and surprisingly, formed in my head. “Why stay on the road, then?” – I looked off to the right. Was now the time for me to try finding my way to the top of Arthur’s Seat, for the furst time? I could see the summit, it looked both far away and temptingly close at the same time, and the decision was made. I took a couple of photos, updated facebook (when I’m out on my own, early morning, I like to tell people where I am and where I’m going, as a security thing – of course, I don’t dress it like that on social media; I’m sure people think I’m just bragging, lol!), and turned off the road, heading upwards.

I was a bit overexcited, and the first 20-30 paces I RAN. When my heart and lungs just about burst out of my chest in surprise and exertion, I started walking, and taking deep breaths, I continued upwards. I stopped a couple of times for 'photo opportunities' (i.e. to get my breath back), but then straight back into the climb. Grass gave way to trail, gave way to a stone-cobble-type-path, before finally becoming the rocky outcrop at the top that required a brief scramble up. It had taken me a while, but I made it. :-) At the top, a man wearing a Boston Marathon top from 2013 was standing surveying the scenery. I stood back a bit to let him take it in, and he told me “C’mon, you’ve got to do this last bit, or it doesn't count!” so I joined him on the top. We had a brief conversation, about Boston, and how he had been back in 2014 but just missed out on a qualifying time for 2015, so he was training to get his BQ back, at a marathon in his home state of Mississippi (…hehe, I LOVED typing that, just then!! Em-eye-double-ess-eye-double-ess-eye-double-pee-eye!) – I’d told him this was my first time running up Arthurs Seat, as I was still a relatively new runner, and didn’t do much with hills. His eyes briefly flicked down to my tshirt (well, I hope my tshirt!) and back, and I was suddenly very aware of the Highland Fling 53 mile Ultra Marathon logo emblazoned on it. I very briefly considered bringing the subject up (”Ooh, gosh, no, I don’t run ultras…”) but decided not to, as part of my 'stop putting yourself down' challenge, and the subject changed to which route we were each going to take down. Then we wished each other well, and off he went. I took a couple of selfies, and hesitantly picked my way down off the rocky outcrop, to find the trail down I was hoping to take.

Running down hill was a mix of scary and exhilarating, but mostly scary. I felt a little out of control at one point thundering (it felt like) down the hill, and fearing a very definite possibility of face-planting, I forced myself to slow right down, and even walk a tiny bit, before running again. The trail was good, the scenery was great, and my day was starting off very well. Just one tiny problem: my trousers didn’t want to stay up. *blush* I’d forgotten when I was dressing on the morning, that my running capris with the flat waistband and NO drawstring really doesn’t handle running when I have something with a bit of weight (namely, my phone and car key) in the back pocket. The bouncing of the phone as I ran down the hill pulled on the waistband of the trousers, and they started to fall down. I noticed before anyone might have got an eyeful, but the whole run down the hill was done with hitching up my pants every 30 seconds… I was less than graceful, but godammit, I had a stupidly big grin on my face.

Back at the car, my Garmin informed me I had done 2.7 miles in an hour, which obviously is nothing to write home about, but that had included going up just under 200m of ascent, and back down again. I could have done it faster, but this time wasn’t about speed, it was exploring a new experience, and challenging myself to something I’ve been avoiding for a while. It was achieving something pretty damn awesome: starting my morning with a big hill run, and actually f*cking enjoying it. Wonders will never cease…