KB5 Road Race – 24/2/2007

Every year, the Edinburgh University Hares and Hounds hold a five mile road race at the Kings Buildings. I can't tell you how much I didn't want to run a 5mi race today.

Thursday afternoon through Friday early evening, I was away to Perth for a work thing. I didn't have time for my Thursday intervals. Instead, I did them yesterday morning with the big disclaimer that I am *so not a morning person, let alone a morning runner. I found a park near the hotel, which was a great alternative to breathing rush hour exhaust. The rest of yesterday was fairly active. I'm not going to tell you what I did last night, except to say that you should scold me because it was nowhere near the resting that my legs needed.

So today, I can't tell you how much I didn't want to race. My butt still hurt from the intervals. My legs felt like lead. My body wanted to lay in bed all day. The last thing in the world either my brain or my body wanted to do was run a race. But I did it anyway.

My friend Alan and I started together, but he's slightly faster than me and I prefer a slower start, so I saw him only for the first half mile. Would you believe it's February in Scotland and people were racing in singlets and itty bitty shorts? I would be attached to the heater the rest of the day if I tried something like that. I wore tights and what amounted to two shirts. Surprisingly, we didn't have hardly any wind.

The first mile was undulating with small hills. The usual race jockeying was limited to what people could do on the pavement and just a metre or so into the street, as nothing was actually closed to traffic. We turned just after mile 1 and started the first climb. It was a fairly steep climb, split to two parts. I love hills and nobody passed me on any of them. I passed a few people on the first part of the climb. One girl passed me on the flat part before the next part of the climb. The second part was steeper and my legs lodged their first protest. I shortened my stride and picked up my cadence. They stopped complaining near the top. We turned there now having the only steep hill out of the way.

The mile 3 marker came up just after the next turn and it was another undulatingly hilly mile across before we would drop back down the other side of the hill. Off to the left, my campus looked very far away. My legs lodged protest #2 as I climbed one small hill. A side stitch developed in sympathy. This one was a bit different and higher up than the ones I'm used to getting. Still on the same side on the right but it was behind my ribs instead of below them. Running got very very hard. I'm sure I slowed down for a minute or so as I tried to shake it. Eventually some weird breathing and stretching while running got it to back off from being so sharp. Mile 3 went on forever.

My stitch finally faded to a hint of an ache just the turn to head down the hill appeared. I picked up the pace again and chased down the mile 4 marker. The runners ahead picked up their pace as well. I don't do well catching people on downhills and this race was no exception. Everybody ahead of me stayed there.

At the bottom of the hill, we had one last uphill. It's steeper than it looks. I had a group of girls a few paces behind me. My leaden legs protested again, my side stitch tried to return again and a brief hint of nausea finally showed up. I remember thinking I sort of deserved all three for my Friday. I also remember thinking nobody passes me in the last mile. I picked up the pace anyway.

The last 1/4 mile took us past the finishers, around two corners and across the line where we started. I found a kick and passed one runner in the last few metres before the line. I felt absolutely awful and went straight into a cool down jog for a few minutes. To stop completely felt like the worst idea ever. When I finally stopped jogging, it just felt like a bad idea. :) I stretched a little, chatted with my friend Alan and then headed back to my office for some more stretching out of the cold.

So I survived and aside from the leaden legs all of the other aches have subsided. I have no idea what my time was. I couldn't be bothered hanging around waiting. I had to cycle to the bike shop and wanted to get home before I might have needed the lights I forgot. I'll post a time when they're posted on Monday or Tuesday. I set a goal for myself of sub 45:00 (9min/mi) given my handicaps for the day.

Edit: My time was 40:01, which puts me at just a sliver over 8min/mi and absolutely stunned considering how bad I felt. I placed 181/218 racing primarily against a bunch of younguns. :)

Fresh Legs in Pentlands - 17/2/2007

George and I cycled off to the Pentlands early Saturday afternoon after morning errands. The sun was out. The day felt relatively not cold. When we got to the top of the evil Balerno hill that I now know is the evil Currie hill because I have a shiny map of the Pentlands, my legs felt pretty good. Dangerous. I didn't need granny gear and my legs weren't mad at me yet. At the top of the dirt continuation of that hill, we turned left. I'd never gone left before.

Left meant more up, but not as steep as evil Currie. We crested the pass, zoomed a little and then stopped to climb us and our bikes over a fence. Zooming down the other side was good fun. The track was wide open so we could see those climbing up on bike or foot and therefore correct speed in time. In between people, zooming could be fast safely.

We chose to do a loop behind Black Hill, which meant a right turn onto a paved track at the bottom of the hill. The loop followed the paved bit for a while. Sunny day, not much rain lately meant Saturday afternoon on that path was much like Saturday afternoon along the Union Canal towpath. Lots and lots of bodies to dodge. The paved path followed a loch and eventually became dirt track. Generally the direction was up but challengingly so. Dirt track brought us to the aftermath of the Carnethy 5 hill race and we considered ourselves fortunate for the timing. One of the race officials made fun of George’s accent when he asked about runners. I stayed silent and smiled on cue. George and I laughed about it a few seconds later, not just about pots and kettles but also the wise choice of staying quiet.

Up became slightly more up, across a burn with a head-over-handlebars wooden bridge that we walked. Then the path crossed some interesting rocks in a sweeping left that I didn’t need to step out of but unfortunately did. Soon we took a short break to decide where next, didn’t break long and continued to a stretch of trail that I recognised. We were now on the stretch of trail that Jim, Jason and I rode in December, except this time heading in the wrong direction. The boggy muck that Jim led us through was up the steep bit to the right. We continued straight on, enjoyed a few zooms and climbs and crossed the field to Bavelaw Castle. On the way down the small evil hill, George hit 39.4MPH. I was only slightly behind him.

George and I parted ways near the car park below. He was going to send me down through Balerno but I decided to play on the trails through the woods back to the visitor centre. Unlike the trip with Jim and Jason, I didn’t fall off my bike but I did find a quagmire of my very own that required some creativity to walk around. My legs were done just before the visitor centre, so I skipped that last bit of trail. On the way out, I was fortunate to bump into Brian and had good company for the cycle back to town.

My best guess is I did about 25 miles of cycling. It was definitely the farthest I had ridden in a good while, at least over challenging terrain. I paid the price on my long run the next day and fell apart at mile 8.5, not finishing a 12 mile training run.

Barcelona revisited 31/1/2007 - 4/2/2007

My first trip to Barcelona was just about a year ago. I really enjoyed it. Friends Miquel and Nacho were fantastic hosts and tour guides. My second trip to Barcelona was courtesy of work. Guillermo didn't want to send his student to a conference alone so he arranged for the budget to send me in his absence without my conference-lean grant being billed a pence. The end result was much talk of dirt, wonderful but unfortunately brief reunions with Miquel and Nacho and a chance to revisit the city from a new perspective. I enjoyed Barcelona on my first trip. I fell in love with Barcelona on my second trip.

Wednesday night got both Clare and me to our hotels safely and Thursday was our day 1 for the conference. Clare ditched me after the morning session. Her career aspirations have nothing to do with burning dirt now that her thesis is happily submitted. She decided to spend Thursday afternoon as a tourist. I stayed for the rest of the day's sessions and made dinner plans with Miquel and Nacho. I suggested 7pm. They laughed and corrected me to a more appropriately Spanish and Catalan 8:30pm. I had a few extra minutes, so I found my way to the hotel's "gym" and ran 2 miles of intervals on the treadmill of dubious quality. I vowed the rest of the trip would have me running outside or not at all. No more hamster wheel.

Miquel met me at my hotel and led me through a short maze to a vegetarian restaurant called Organic that he liked a lot. Their slogan was Organic is orgasmic. I am sad that it was written only in English because I would love to know how to say it in Catalan or Spanish. Nacho met us at the restaurant. We had a great meal and great conversation, with Miquel helping to fill the gaps between my appalling Spanish and Nacho's incomplete English.

Friday was the meeting's field trip that was semi-fortunately overbooked already. It could have been useful, but not that useful. I had a glorious sunny day to myself to be a tourist.

After a bit of an epic run (hour and a half instead of the planned 45mins) and an epic hike up many stairs, I found my way to the Park Güell, named for Gaudí's patron and home of several famous Gaudí works. When I reached the summit of the monument in the park and was treated to a nice, but hazy view over the city, I found myself grateful that my first intentions of bicycle hire for the afternoon were not fruitful. It would have been much more of an epic climb on a bicycle.

Returning to the city centre, I spent about two hours just wandering the gothic quarter, which is when I really fell in love. Narrow streets twisting everywhere. Old, gorgeous architecture. People say Paris is a romantic city. Eh. Didn't feel it when I was there. The aura of Barcelona, especially the gothic quarter, was filled with romance. I ended my evening with a classical guitar performance at the Iglesia de Santa Maria del Pi, a small (relative to the nearby Catedral) and sparsely decorated church with beautiful stained glass windows and perfect atmosphere for music.

Saturday had me back at the conference, but the late start let me enjoy a run beforehand. My poster didn't get much attention. Redheaded stepchild syndrome. I continued what I started on Thursday, which was to corner people who spoke earlier, hand them a wee copy of my poster and ask them specific questions about what we might do to the soil by burning it. The answers ranged from practical to wacky but all were useful food for thought. Clare's talk was the very last of the day. Afterwards, we enjoyed cava with the rest of the attendees. I said my farewells and made my way home to enjoy a few minutes of lounging before meeting up with Miquel for dinner. He introduced me to yet another wonderful Catalan restaurant and we enjoyed a few hours to continue catching up. It made me and still makes me very happy to see him so happy.

Sunday was a touristy half day, sadly. I took one more morning run before wandering more of the gothic quarter and paying my respects to the Iglesia de Santa Maria del Mar, an architectural favourite from the previous trip. I bid farewell to the city mid-afternoon and bid farewell to Miquel and Nacho via sms, looking forward to another visit in the future.

The real reason for my visit was the International Meeting of Fire Effects on Soil Properties, a very interesting and oddly informal conference where they/we discussed the good and the bad of fire in much detail.

One of the neighbors seems quite fond of the tourists who visit the Park Güell.

One of the famous Gaudi sculptures popular for postcards.

I found a nice quiet spot among the maze of viaduct ruins in the park.

I wondered if I wore this outfit to the meeting and stood next to my poster, would I get more people to look at my poster?

Am I the only one who thinks pigeons are rats with wings?

Fresh Blood for Glentress - 28/1/2007

A Sunday afternoon ride with Callum at Glentress became a larger affair, with Bram taking his first trip on a mountain bike (borrowed from an unfortunately absent George), Amy her second, EKC Chris joining us, all of us but Neil learning new trails and several of us donating blood to those trails. Callum showed that callumities are not always limited to the rivers: he had two good crashes for the day. I demonstrated the importance of being clipped in to misnamed clipless pedals with a slide home on the equally misnamed freeride course. Bram enjoyed the lower faff factor compared to river trips. Amy got faster and even more daring. A good day was shared by all, despite injuries.

Bram tried his luck rolling one of the tabletops on the first big descent of the day.

Neil looks spooky emerging from what I think was the Spooky Wood.