Scolty run

Today I ran from Crathes West Lodge to the top of Scolty and back. A distance of 8.22miles (13 and a bit km) which took me 1 hour and 32 minutes (1 hour 40 mins if you include the 2 x 4 minute puke stops on the way up). 1,700,000,000 ft of ascent too! Well, ok, it felt like it. Overall ascent is only something like 886ft though but once get Garmin software sorted (its playing up) will report back with accurate stats! Scolty is 986ft asl and I started at 100ft asl.

I am quite pleased with this as [consults sports logging program] it was only this summer past (after getting fat and unfit) that I struggled to walk up the sodding thing from the car park at the bottom let alone run it with extra mileage. Its also the furthest I've run in one go since starting this thing again.

And this is going to sound terrible and egotistical but as I passed and smiled/grimaced at the 15th person I knew and arrived at the top, a group of menfolk in full winter kit looked at me with open mouths and then said 'err..., and we thought we were doing well walking up here'. This ego boosting kind of comment provides much needed warmth from blushing and a welcome relief from the ever persistent self doubt and internal battle one wages with oneself when running uphill. (I can't do it, I am going to die. No you're not, keep moving. No, I am going to die, look my heartbeat is all irregular!. I can't feel my hands! My feet! You are not dying, its supposed to be hard, what would Joss Naylor say if he saw you now? I don't care. I fucking hate Joss Naylor and anyone who runs uphill. Sadists. Masochists. Idiots! How on earth I ever thought I could run...oooh there's the top! Whats that doing here?)

I didn't get too close incase I breathed sicky breath on them and ruined their freshair type coffee break. I just smiled politely and snapped a few pics before turning around and running down again...which, I have to say, was one of the most eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee experiences of my life. The entire route varied from hard packed snow and ice to soft, calf deep snow and my Grizzly's performed admirably - even downhill there were only a couple bits I felt I needed to slow down for (a child and a ice patch).

Reality and (more)pain kicked in with 2 miles to go and I was running on vapour. In fact, less than vapour. By the time I got back to the village itself, I was running in that kind of stiff legged ultra distance gait that you see superheroes do in like Marathon des Sables and the like. Unfortunately, I'd only done 6 and a bit miles and so must put it down to ultra-punterdom. The final two miles were grim, dogged determination and a sharp reminder than in September, I would have to run that, then go do it again, twice....

I don't care though. Today has given me a glimmer of hope. And a reason to eat the rest of that Bournville choc bar :)