9 down, 12 to go

It had to happen really. Although we've had a few cloudy and even slightly damp Ben Nevis Races in the last 10 years, none of them have been particularly bad. Time then for a truly foul one perhaps? (Though it has to be said that my first run in 1988 was pretty horrendous!)

A quarter of a century of stupidity!?
Glasgow Marathon 1985. It rained all day then, too!

As ever, its the getting going that takes the greatest effort. But once you're wet, your wet and from that point on its easy. With the rain unrelenting, and the wind building, the park at Claggan was a quagmire from the outset. Marching out behind the pipe band brought a bit of a snigger, Not too clever walking through ankle deep puddly mud in a pair of brogues whilst playing a drum. Good on 'em!

News at the start line was of 30 mph winds on the summit, visibility down to 50 feet and a wind chill of -3 degrees. And 475 foolish runners all lined up ready to go and get first hand experience of it.

And so round the park, out of the gate and up the tarmac towards Achtintee, then the start of the climb up the summit of Britain's highest. All felt good and the decision not to wear a jacket for fear of overheating lower down was the right one. At Windy Corner, the true nature of the weather began to show. Water was streaming down everywhere. The burns were full. The wind began to feel a bit cold. But as my problem tends to be overheating and dehydration, this suited me just fine, and the rest of the climb felt good. Crossing the summit plateau was entertaining. Just like running into a hosepipe in a wind tunnel.

Wee Willie was in position at the top of Gardyloo Gully and I duly handed over my little gift of a whisky miniature. Seems I wasn't the only one marking 40 years of Gardyloo service and Willie received a fair collection of whisky.

At the turn all was still going well. With 1 hr 40 minutes gone I felt my target of under 2.5hrs was still possible. And the run down felt good too. The water flowing down the slopes by the Red Burn make the hard pack surface softer and easier to move on. I'd been concerned that the grassy bank might get the better of me with steep slippy slopes and tired legs. With other runners sliding down the grass on either side of me, I found a line straight down the flowing water and this proved to be a grippy if rather messy means of getting the best descent.

Then the home stretch. Tired legs started to make themselves known. Hitting the tarmac again at Achintee is never funny and this year was no exception. Purgatory! Just how slow can a run get before its officially classed a walk?!

All in all, despite some of the most filthy mountain weather September can muster, this year went well. And the only disappointment was my time. Still can't work out where the minutes went, but at 2hr 33 mins Iwas 5 minutes slower than I thought I was on for and than I would have preferred. But hey, there's always next year!

Sorry, no photos. Spectators were mysteriously a little thin on the ground. So in the meantime I thought I'd inlcude this one just to demostrate that I've been doing stupid things and suffering for it for at least 24 years. (Notice how I out sprint Mickey Mouse to the line!)