And now for something completely different.....

A couple of weeks after the West Highland Way race I was on duty as a support runner for a Bob Graham Round attempt, so it was off with the Hokas and on with the fell shoes for a week or two. The aspirants were four very fit and competent running friends; I'll let them tell their own stories if they choose to, this is just about how my day out went.

My "shift" was to navigate and pace the third leg from Dunmail Raise to Wasdale Head, around 15,5 miles and 6800 feet of ascent. The scheduled time was from just before dawn at Dunmail to a late breakfast in Wasdale, just over 6 hours. This sounds like quite a comfortable pace, and it is  -  unless of course you have already completed legs 1 and 2, with their combined 25,5 miles and 11,100 ft of ascent, after which anything must start to feel a bit taxing. BGR old hands will tell you that unless you're a record-breaker, speed is not the key, you just have to keep going. And don't worry too much about high mileage training  - time on your feet and a steady diet of 10,000ft of uphill a week for a few months is what gets you round.

I went out to practise my Leg the weekend before. Conditions were quite bleak, visibility nil, continuous rain and a blustery wind, but that was all to the good as it allowed me to check that the navigation was OK and the pace was doable whatever the weather. It went fine but it occurred to me on Great End, where the really bouldery territory starts and I had not seen anyone all day, that this would be a silly situation in which to slip and break an ankle so I retreated back down into Langdale. I missed the bus by 15 minutes which of course forced  me to while away a good hour and a half with a late lunch and a beer or two in the Old Dungeon Gyll, so the trip ended pretty well.

At 5.30pm on Friday the runners and supporters assembled in the pub next to Moot Hall (it was too wet to stand around outside). Up to this point I had been very doubtful whether the attempt would start. The weather had been bad for days, there were flood warnings out across half the country and I had passed several crashes on the M6 driving up, clearly caused by the wet conditions. The Met Office mountain page for the Lakes had amber warnings for rain, hill fog, and wind.  But the runners were made of stern stuff and spirits were high so at 6pm we cheered them off.

I got myself some fish and chips then drove slowly round to Dunmail, parked up and settled down for the night. Just after exhausting my efforts on the crossword I got a text from the support at Thelkeld, the road crossing after Leg 1.  I didn't get the details, just that the runners were forty minutes behind schedule, one runner had pulled out but three were continuing into Leg 2.  It didn't sound good. The rain was hammering down on the roof of the car, not the sort of rain where you convince yourself that it won't seem so bad when you're outside, the sort where you absolutely know it won't. Before getting some sleep I idly re-checked the weather page on my phone. As it flicked on I could see that the amber warnings had gone but there was now a red one. Specs on to make sure I was reading this right. The red warning was for strong sunlight. By very early morning the rain would stop; contrary to all previous forecasts, Saturday was going to be a clear sunny day. I set the alarm and nodded off. When I awoke the valley supporters arrived and we waited for the runners to appear. 

I later learned that their experience through the evening and night had been grim. As well as torrential rain and near zero visibility, the Skiddaw Leg had seen gale force winds which threatened to sweep them off their feet. Descending Hall's Fell Ridge from Blencathra proved impossible so they detoured off to the side, losing a lot of time. The runner who dropped out had had a migraine causing some concern but he got down safely. The bad weather continued into the first part of Leg 2, giving them navigational difficulties which cost more time, and the continual battering from the wind and rain was very debilitating.

When they arrived at Dunmail the 40 minutes lost had turned into nearly two hours and one of the remaining three had already decided not to go any further. But they had started with a fairly aggressive schedule and if they could claw back half an hour or so in the rapidly improving conditions, a 24 hour round might still be on so two runners elected to continue. We set off up Steel Fell.

Although it was still very wet underfoot, we were rewarded with one of those magical Lake District mornings when you can see for miles, the sun gradually warms you as it rises, the light shows the fells at their very best and you can't think of anywhere you would rather be. As far as Scafell Pike we saw not another soul, making me decide again that it really is worth the effort to get up and out at first light, whether there is some special event involved or not.

But it was clear from very early on that the lads were tired, the rigours of the preceding nine hours had taken too much out of them. We more or less held to schedule as far as the Langdale Pikes but we weren't gaining any back. And from then on we steadily leaked more minutes; in spite of gentle attempts to up the pace, it wasn't going to happen. Thoughts moved gradually from completing in 24 hours to maybe carrying on and completing the Round anyway, and then to the realisation that although possible this would be a lot more discomfort for a less than ideal reward. Still, we visited every top on the Leg before descending to Wasdale, rest, food and families. Theirs had been a fine effort. Two other BGR attempts had started out an hour or two later and neither got this far. The frustration to everyone was that the forecast changed so late. With a bit more weather knowledge the attempt would have started 6 hours later and in all probability would have been successful for everyone. But that's the Lake District. I think they'll be back.

Wet Highland Way Race 2012

The forecast was rain. Actually to be precise the forecast was for a lot of rain. And as we re-consulted it day by day, it didn't change or go away so by Thursday it was a stone certainty that we were going to get wet. This made things pretty straightforward, take the right gear and MTFU as they say nowadays. Then I had a small logistics issue; one that I was more than happy to have you understand, I just became a grandfather so a key member of my usual support team had far more important things to do looking after his brand-new daughter than spending the weekend running around Scotland in the rain. I was saved by the generosity of Steve Walker who I knew was crewing for Jon Steele, and who agreed to stand in as emergency support for me at Balmaha so my ladies could get some sleep on the Friday night and meet me at Auchtertyre, 50 miles in. To keep things simple I decided not to involve Steve in provisions or clothes, but to carry what I thought I might need and rely on drop bags at Rowardennan at 27 miles and Beinn Glas at 41 miles, so I arrived at Milngavie Station Yard with one and a half litres of flat coke, full waterproofs, space blanket, a light fleece in case things got chilly, hat, gloves, torch, gels, Mars bars, you get the picture, this was not going to be a lightweight exercise.

It had rained all day but just before the start it stopped, or almost did. It felt quite warm, we were overdressed, jackets came off, the guys in shorts looked smug, had the Met actually got it all wrong, we wondered? Then we were off into the night.

The honeymoon lasted about an hour. As I hit the old railway line section at 6 miles the rain started properly again and it was clear that it meant business. The path started to fill up into a continuous puddle. The couple of miles of road between Gartness and Drymen were interesting; the tarmac was completely covered in water for most of the way, the depth varying from an inch or less to above the ankle, but of course in the dark you couldn't see where the deep bits were. The short, normally boggy field obstacle just before Drymen didn't present any decisions at all, feet couldn't get any wetter by now.

On through the treeless Garabhan forest and up the stream which was once a path onto Conic Hill. For me the rain persisted only occasionally uninterrupted through to Kinlochleven at 80 miles, but because of its effect on the ground underfoot in the darkness, the first 20 miles were the worst. I'm normally quite philosophical anyway about bad conditions, can't take a joke shouldn't have joined sort of approach, but in addition two images helped to keep me going through this stretch. Firstly, it was not going to get as bad as last year's UTMB, when four hours of torrential rain were followed by a rapid drop in temperature and a snowstorm on one of the highest cols on the route, and secondly the thought of Debbie Consani falling in the canal in the middle of the night on the Grand Union Canal Race, reasoning that she was already so wet it wouldn't make much difference, and going on to win the race. Can't throw in the towel in the face of that sort of example.

Hokas are comfy but steep grass and wet rocks are not their best territory so I descended the far side of Conic much more carefully than usual, silly to ruin your day with a fall this early on. I couldn't find Steve immediately at the packed fairground that was Balmaha car park but got him on the phone to say I was fine and carrying straight on. From here to Rowardennan was weirdly uneventful. After the crowds at Balmaha I saw almost no-one for the next 7 miles, the ground underfoot improved, the rain didn't seem so bad and I arrived spot on my target of 5 hours 30 minutes. I had set out on a 23-24 hour schedule; I knew I was underprepared this year due to around 6 weeks out with a rib injury but it seemed a bit wimpish not to give it a go. The drop bag was welcome as I had been sucking on empty for 3 or 4 miles, a milkshake downed and a litre of flat ginger beer in the bag. I had decided to fuel mostly with liquids this year and it seemed to be going OK so far.

On along the Loch. Through Inversnaid without stopping then the tortuous bit which I was quite happy to walk mostly, a quick pause to look back from Dario's post, then on along the bit which always seems further than it is to Beinn Glas.   I passed Graeme McClymont who said he was struggling this year; I knew he'd get it back and I told him he would be OK (he was, he went on to finish in 22nd place in 22.15) At Beinn Glas I chatted with Graeme Reid who arrived about the same time, and John K who was not running for the first time in many years but acting as Race Control (which I think means he's supposed to know where most of the runners are most of the time.......). I always enjoy the next bit up to Derrydaroch, then dislike it from there to the last hill in the forest above Crianlarich;  Saturday was no different but at least we didn't have cows all over the track like we usually do. I met Marco as I crossed the main road, then plodded up the hill to the cow track, along there in company with another runner who I'd not met before, then the hard work in the forest. Eventually I saw the WHW sign that signals the start of the last little hill, then it was soon down, down, across the road and jog round to Auchtertyre to meet my crew for the first time. At 11:25 from the start I was still on schedule despite the conditions.

It was worth the psychological boost to get a quick cup of tea, change to a dry shirt and pick up my favorite hat (which is sadly incompatible with a headtorch) but the shoes and socks stayed on without change until Fort William. Ditch the rucksack at last, pick up the bottle belt with one of Complan and one of fizzy water (time to switch to more savoury sensations), a marmite butty for the hill out of Tyndrum and hit the road again.

Pit stop at Bridge of Orchy

The section went well. On the open ground just before Tyndrum I heard shouts ahead, two runners coming in the opposite direction turned out to be Debbie and Sharon, neither competing this year, out to meet the crowds. Hugs from both, a word of congratulation from me on the GUCR and we carried on our separate ways. The ford in Tyndrum was to be avoided we were told by the marshal at Auchtertyre, so down the lane from the station and along the main road to rejoin the WHW at Brodie's store  -  easier in the conditions maybe, but I'm sure it felt longer. I walked steadily up the hill, eating and drinking most of the way, then a conservative but continuous jog all the way to Bridge of Orchy, rain all the way. I met Jan and Julia again here and decided not to stop but just picked up more Complan and fizzy water and carried on.

Murdo tM was in his normal spot near the top of the first little hill, together with a gaggle of young ladies (how does he do this?). I stopped for a chat, was required to autograph a hat for a reason that escaped me both then and now, thanked him for the regulation jelly baby, and crested the hill. I heard later that Murdo was at that spot for around 10 hours, what a hero.

At this point the track turns downhill, and so did my race. I'm normally happy to bound down here, it's a gentle gradient and an easy surface, but I suddenly felt overwhelmingly weary. It would be convenient to think that Murdo had spiked my jelly baby, but on reflection I think it was just payback time for the miles I've missed this year and the extra effort I put in in keeping to my schedule for the first 60 miles in the fairly difficult conditions. I had run a reasonable Highland Fling a few weeks previously but finished it feeling much more tired than in previous years although I didn't want to admit this to myself at the time. From this point onward I was just slow. I didn't feel bad, I was hydrated and maintaining weight, and eating more than enough to keep going; I just found making progress was hard work. Still, I ran to the start of the Moor, walked most of the first long hill, then shuffled most of the rest. Somewhere along here, on what is generally felt to be the bleakest part of the course, the rain stopped for a while and for all of two minutes the sun came out. As good as a shot of adrenalin. But it wasn't to last and by the time I was on the final down hill to the Glencoe Ski Centre it was gloomy and wet again. As I chugged in to the checkpoint Graeme Reade was just leaving, he'd been making up time on me steadily ever since Beinn Glas and would go on to beat me by nearly two hours this year, a solid performance.

I had blown any chance of a respectable time by now, but I knew I could and would finish OK so it was just a question of how much more time to trade for a comfortable final marathon. The weather was closing in again  (photo at the head of this post) so I dallied for a cup of hot Oxo then trundled off down the road towards the Kingshouse. The ladies were off to check in at the hotel in Fort William, I said I would be around 3 hours to Kinlochleven. The first half of this section to Altnafeadh always goes quite quickly, to nearly 5 of the 10 miles done before tackling the Devil's Staircase gives you a bit of a boost, and the subsequent climb was slow but continuous and uneventful. I jogged easily down the other side, slower than some years, faster than others, reflecting that this is real Hoka territory, no need to pick out individual stones to land on or avoid, just cruise through the lot.

As I reached Kinlochleven the rain was slackening and the sky was lightening all round, it finally looked as though the weather was going to improve. The flip side was that the midgies which had barely bothered me all day could now get out to play. There was quite a social scene inside the checkpoint, people sitting around in comfort with cups of tea, George Reid (supporting rather than running this year) who I had been seeing on and off all day, John K, local man Peter Duggan. I paused for a minute or two while Julia hunted my weight card. I was feeling good enough but very tired; I'm getting too old for this game I said, ah you were already too old when you started replied marshal Julie. At the weighing I was the same as at Milngavie, it's just a question of putting on more clothes to balance the weight loss I explained.

I was prepared to go through to the end on my own but Julia made the offer of company and I readily accepted. It's a bit bizarre she said later, I would normally think of a 15 mile trip in the hills as a full day out, with preparations, packed lunches and so on, but here I just turn up at 10pm, look for a spare jacket in the car, grab a headtorch and wander off into the night. We were not pushed for time so I delayed the start for tea and a sausage roll (definitely one of the all time best ultra foods for me on several occasions), then off on the last leg. It took a while, and I was passed by several runners going more strongly, Tony Thistlethwaite en route to his 9th completion, Tim Downie who has passed me here on more than one occasion before, and somewhere by Jon Steele who I had managed to keep my nose in front of all day but who came through to a storming last leg. The Lairig Mor was long, the hills in the forest tiring, but then all that was left was to drift easily down the big track to the road and on to a 26 hour 23 minute finish. 

Not one of my better times, but not one of the worst either. I found out at the prizegiving next morning that out of 172 starters, only 119 runners had finished. In 59th place I just squeaked into the top half of the field, I'll take that given the preceding and concurrent circumstances. I picked up my 6th goblet and also a prize for being the "oldest finisher"  -  a lovely piece of glassware but I'm not sure it matches my self image as a dynamic young ultra-athlete......

It was sad to see that so many friends with so many completions each  had not made the finish. It just wasn't your year guys, you'll be back. But it was also great to see the first time entrants who had made it, a dream that started a year ago now fulfilled, runners like Silke and Caroline, who had put in their hard miles in conditions far worse than Saturday's so were able to shrug off the conditions and make it to the finish. And the winning run by Terry Conway, breaking Jez Bragg's long standing course record by 6 minutes was a truly top drawer performance.  Julia had to leave on Sunday morning but Jan and I were able to drift off after the prizegiving to catch up on some sleep. I resurfaced for the celebrations at the Nevis Bar, all happy relaxed faces now, looking back a day or so and forward a year, you know how it goes. Good to catch up with Ian Beattie, thanks to him and the whole organising team for what was as always a memorable couple of days.

We left early Monday morning and the Scottish weather, having shown us who was boss over the weekend, went into siren mode to lure us back. We drove through a dry, sunlit Glencoe, my mind wandering back over the visits of our youth, for in our memory the weather is always good. Perched on a belay on the Buchaille's Rannoch Wall gazing dreamily out over the Moor while a companion struggled with difficulties above, creeping over the bald vastness of the Trilleachan Slabs down the Etive valley, making sure you hit the obligatory hundred miles an hour over the bridge by the Kingshouse on the way home. Jan and I headed south at a more responsible speed, and stopped for breakfast at 8.30 at the Bonnie Braes cafe somewhere opposite Inversnaid. We sat outside in the warm sunshine under a cloudless sky, eating our bacon butties and looking out over a millpond-calm Loch Lomond.  Rain?  What Rain?

Focus...............or Relax and Enjoy it?

The reports by Thomas and Marco on their recent Edinburgh Marathon runs were fascinating. Thomas had targetted the race, done some specific preparation, worked out a detailed plan for the day, and was rewarded with what he was aiming for, a great race and a PB. Marco on the other hand decided to enter quite late in the game, ran 36 miles the weekend before and a 10k race during the week. He thought the marathon would be a training run, no time target involved but he too got a great run and a PB. So how come?

There's a lot discussed about focus. Get your act together, decide what you want, plan for it, make it happen. Some nerves on race day are good, channel the energy, you won't go so well without them. But I have two little tales of my own to tell, apologies if you've heard them before.

I came to running quite late, decided the shorter distances were probably a bit fast for my ageing muscles so my first real race was a marathon. I trained for a few months and got round in 3 hours 37 minutes. This is OK, I thought, should be able to crack 3:30 next time. But I couldn't. I ran a 3:40, another 3:37, a couple of 3:34's and on one frustrating day a 3:31, but I couldn't get under the magic number. Focus, I told myself, take care of the details, get a plan and stick to it, don't be distracted. It eventually worked, and I completed a race in 3:24. I was totally knackered. Quads shot, took me half an hour to walk the quarter mile back to the hotel, had to sleep for the rest of the day. That's it I thought, that was my best shot, mission accomplished but I'm not going to get any better, in future just enjoy the day out, no pressure on times. The next marathon was the following year, I was working towards the Highland Fling two weeks later, the marathon would be a training run, there was no tapering involved. On the day I looked at the watch twice, once at half way and once at six miles to go. I finished in 3:17, it was a walk in the park, we spent the afternoon sightseeing.

By then I had got involved in the West Highland Way Race. First time out I just wanted to finish, but after that I read that an average performer ought to expect to get under 24 hours, so I worked at it. Each year I learned a bit more, improved a bit more, focussed a bit more, and on my fourth attempt at the race I got there with a finish just over  23 and a half hours, job done. The following year (last year) I turned up totally relaxed, nothing to prove. I was as fit if not fitter than previously, had done more miles and fewer races that year, but then struggled badly over the latter stages to finish a second or two over 26 hours, worst result for 3 years.

So this makes me think that Thomas/Marco results were probably not down to different approaches suiting different individuals, but that different approaches can work (or not work!) for any of us on different days. If you knew on any given day  what  was going to work for you, you could plan your approach accordingly..............and that would be a very cute trick.  Keep calm and carry on everyone.

Miles and Motivations

It's the time of year when a lot of nervous talk starts flying around about the first of the longer events of the year, the West Highland Way race. Have I done enough miles? How should I be tapering? What are the conditions going to be like this year? If you read all of this stuff you could get worried. Or maybe not.

I haven't done as many miles as I would normally have done by the end of May, a rib injury put me out of action for nearly six weeks, but that's water under the bridge, can't do anything about it now. But I've averaged around 2000 miles a year for the past six or seven years, that's more than enough in the bank. I haven't done many long runs this year either, the Hardmoors 55 and the Highland Fling are the only times I've topped 30 miles, maybe I should go out and do another one? Again, maybe not, I'm not sure what it would achieve, anyway I'm not going to worry about it. In fact I'm not going to worry about anything.

Don't get me wrong, I don't underestimate the event, 95 miles in one go is a long way, not the sort of thing anyone can do easily off the couch. It's just that I think I'm past sweating the small stuff. Unless something really unforeseen happens I'll make it from Milngavie to Fort William. It will be a great day out; it will feel wonderful at times and hurt a lot at others. There will be times that I'll wonder why on earth I started this journey, and others when I'll know the answer. I'll put a hell of a lot of effort into the event, but not "everything."  I want to do as well as I can, but not at the expense of getting wrecked for a few weeks afterwards, nor that of giving up things that I enjoy such as beer, coffee, junk food, rock climbing and whatever else runners more dedicated than me will forego to improve their performance. Maybe I'm a dilettante, maybe I'm getting old, maybe I'm just lazy, but I'm swaying more these days to the enjoyment and less to the achievement side of the hill.

Don't worry about your taper guys, you'll be fine.

2012 Highland Fling

Four days before the Fling I realised I needed some new shoes. The treads on my Hoka Mafates, which I had long known were looking a bit the worse for wear, started to break up big time. Looking back over the diary it seems that they had run up around 700 miles so I couldn't really complain. The problem was that I didn't have time to go to anywhere that stocks them, and to add a bit more complication I thought I would try a different Hoka model, the Evo Stinson, for a change. A quick check on the internet revealed that the Climbers Shop in Ambleside had one pair left in what I thought was my size, so I got on the phone to them. Was the sizing the same as for the Mafates? Don't know, said the guy on the other end, but I'm the same size as you, I'll go and try them both. A few minutes later he called back; they seem the same to me he said, so they were in the post. I took them out of the box and ran 53 miles in them; they're magic.

With three quarters of the UK locked in to continuous downpours, it was great to drive up to Tyndrum on Friday morning in ever improving weather. The car was left strategically near the finish for an immediate post-race nap (we senior citizens need this sort of thing), and the train caught for Milnagavie in company with Mark and Helen Leggett who had the same plan - apart from the nap I assume. It was turning into a beautiful sunny afternoon, with promise of more of the same for the morrow.

I had no great hopes or plans for the race as I had been out of action for a while recently and turned up with a lot fewer miles than I usually have in the bank at this time of year. Just go out and enjoy it and don't get too trashed. I was confident I could get the distance OK but the time might not be spectacular. 

Gathering for the early start with the "auld men and lassies" on a cool, clear morning in the station yard, it was good to catch up with so many people I only see once or twice a year, including George and Karen who had just arrived having run down the course from Tyndrum through the night. Then it was the traditional Fling one-line briefing from the new Race Director John Duncan and we were off. I settled down near the back, deciding to take it very easily to Rowardennan (and then slow down.......). I ran most of the section to Drymen with Graeme Morrison (and dog Penny, on her 4th Fling) and Keith from Ambleside with whom I chatted about the Lakeland 100 which he is running later this year. They got a bit ahead as I walked for a drink break just before the checkpoint, so I trundled into Drymen on my own in 208th place (thanks to John K for the post race stats). 

I passed quite a few people on the next stretch through the (now almost treeless) Garabhan forest, because I'm happy to keep running gently here while a lot of runners adopt a walk/run strategy. Going up Conic hill I heard my first cuckoo of the year, then it was a quick clatter down the other side and on to Murdo and the drop bags. I probably wasted too much time at the checkpoints this year, but it was a nice day to linger over a rice pudding or two.

It's always a surprise that after seeing so many runners before Balmaha, you can run the rest of the course pretty well on your own, and this year was no exception. But on the bit alongside the road a car slowed down and I heard a hi Andy - it was Debbie and Marco, here supporting Thomas. Thomas himself stormed past me in the last bit of wood before Rowardennan, the first of the 7 o'clock starters by a long way. I was feeling OK by Rowardennan and decided I should put a bit of effort in, so I ran all the way to the single track. A half mile or so before Inversnaid I was caught by Andy Johns, also a 7am starter. I managed to keep him in sight until we reached the hotel, but then had another five minutes for a picnic because it was so nice just being there. 

I think I was slower than I should have been along the technical bit after Inversnaid, not sure why but it seemed to go on a bit this time, but then I was happy enough on the climb at the end of the loch. Just before the summit I heard faster feet behind me again, and pulled over so the two leaders of the 8am start could get past. Ludo Pommeret was in the lead, but Scott Bradley (the eventual winner) was barely thirty yards behind and looking much more comfortable. A bit further on, maybe half a mile from Beinn Glas, I caught up with Keith Hughes who, not being able to run because of an injury, was walking the route and had started from Milngavie at midnight. I walked with him for a few minutes, then pressed on to the last checkpoint at Beinn Glas. 

I arrived at Beinn Glas in 7hrs 43min. I knew that last year I was here in 7:39 and went on to a 10:18 finish. So I wasn't going to break any records, but I was pretty pleased in the circumstances and was still feeling good. Had a brief chat here with Neil MacRitchie on medical duty rather than running this year, then set off up the hills to Derrydaroch. This bit went fine, but after the farm I suddenly felt the lack of miles in the legs this year, and slowed badly over the next mile or two up to the level track above the main road. I never really enjoy the forest switchbacks on the Fling, much better on the West Highland Way race when you're going so much slower, but I can remember how they unfold now and it didn't seem too long before the WHW sign showed up signalling the last ascent. I enjoyed the long descent down to the road, then across to where you know it's just three flat miles to the finish. A glance at the watch showed that if I could get a bit under 9 minute miles from here to the finish, then a sub 10 hours was possible. I tried for half a mile or so but it was really hard work and I accepted I wouldn't keep it up. A bit of a motivation dip after this, but then I reasoned that I was still having a good day so I picked up a bit for the rest of the way. On the bit by the river Ritchie came smoothly past, on his way to a finish in just over 8 hours. Then I was soon at the big gate, back to the river again and could hear the sound of the piper. George and Karen welcoming just before the finish, then I was done. 10 hours 9minutes 48 seconds, 76th out of 362 finishers. Officially a PB, but a bit of a fraud as my previous best was only a minute slower to the old finish line. Still, it's in the book and I'll take it.

Time for one of the best beers of the year, my hour's sleep in the car, then back to the finish for the chat with those that have finished and to welcome those still coming in. As an ultra finish the convivial scene at the end of the Fling takes a bit of beating.

I've now run the Fling 6 times, and my last 4 finishes are all within a 14 minute time band. Consistency or complacency? Not that it matters, really, still a great day out, thanks to John D and all his helpers for making it happen.

So why does my Garmin tell lies?

I have a Garmin Forerunner 305 and while for most things it's a splendid bit of kit, there is one bit of measurement that it's rather bad at.  Now if you're training to run long races, one of your key records will be the total distance you've run; for example I always feel reasonably confident if I've covered about a thousand miles before the first big event of the year, the West Highland Way Race. But if your races start to involve a lot of real hills, the quantity that becomes as important as your mileage and maybe even more so is the total height of ascent you have accumulated. Bob Graham Round aspirants will talk of needing to build up enough "10,000 ft weeks" and so on. And this is where the Garmin starts to go wrong; not just a little bit wrong but seriously wrong at times, sufficiently to question it's usefulness at all for recording height gain. This has bugged me for a year or two now so I set about trying to find out the reasons for the problem and what I could do about it.

While I hadn't bothered to gather any proper evidence, my feeling was that in hilly country the Garmin was overestimating the ascent a bit, but as the route becomes flatter the overestimation goes up substantially. I first looked at a couple of outings to see whether this was actually true.

Last Sunday I went for a walk in the Lakes, a slightly extended form of the Kentmere horseshoe but convenient for this exercise because I have the exact same walk in a guidebook, the author of which gives the total ascent for the round as 4400ft. It has quite a bit of up and down, but also some long stretches with gentle gradients once you are on the main ridge. My Garmin told me that the total ascent was around 4800ft. So, accurate to about 10%  - not great but in the ballpark.  The following day I went out for a steady six and a half mile run along a straight and level section of my local canal towpath; allowing for the odd thickness change in the footpath bed, maybe a total height gain of 10ft. The Garmin showed a total height gain of 724ft.  So here we have the issue.

I've found it very difficult to get any real information on how the Garmin works, but I've managed to piece together the following - any comments or additional gen would be most welcome!

First, there is an inaccuracy whenever the Garmin takes a height reading; I've found a few views on why this happens but I'm happy to just put it down to "the system". It makes small errors all the time and larger errors less frequently. If I look at the elevation trace of my canal run it's very noisy but most of the variation is within +/-15ft though there are occasional peaks and troughs at +/-50ft. The trace of my Kentmere walk was much smoother and enabled me to compare the map height at each top with the height recorded by the Garmin, which gave the following comparison:

Top                        Map Height       Garmin Height     Error

Yoke                      2316                 2321                     +5

Ill Bell                     2483                 2491                     +8

Froswick                2360                 2394                     +34

Thornthwaite Crag  2572                 2570                     -2

Gray Crag              2293                 2233                     -60

High St                   2718                 2728                     +10

Mardale Ill Bell       2496                 2525                     +29

Harter Fell              2552                 2588                     +36

Kentmere Pike        2396                 2423                     +27

Shipman Knotts      1926                 1958                      +32

So again, not very scientific but you can see the spread of accuracy, similar to that on the flat.

But secondly we have to think about when the Garmin takes the readings and what it then does with them.

On a Forerunner 305 there are two modes of data capture. Mode 1 collects and processes a set of data once per second. A lot of data in a short time, useful for downhill ski-ing, mountain biking, and maybe runners doing sprint sessions but too much for distance runners, especially as in this mode the data store is full in 3,5 hours. Most ultra runners will have the Garmin set to Mode 2, which is called "smart" capture. A simple interpretation of this is that it collects and processes a new set of data when it sees that something has changed - direction, speed, etc.

When it constructs a trace for any parameter over time  -  position, height, heart rate, etc - the Garmin then applies a "smoothing" algorithm so you see the trend rather than the noise of all the individual readings. This works better for some parameters than for others, for example position (ie the "map" track) and heart rate are quite smooth, whereas pace is always quite noisy.  Height ("elevation" in Garmin-speak) seems to be noisy for flat courses and much smoother for hilly ones.

It's easy enough to see where the over-estimation of height gain comes from, look at the sketch below:

 

This shows the elevation of a track. The blue line shows a runner progressing along a level course A-B-C-D. The red line shows the Garmin interpretation of the elevation it thinks the runner is at. It underestimates at A, overestimates at B, and so on. So unless the red line is completely smoothed by the algorithm to match the blue one, the Garmin will record height gains from A to B, and from C to D, where in reality there are none. This is a gross simplification, but it shows the problem. Now imagine that the runner is actually going uphill, as below:

Again there are errors in the Garmin elevation record, but because there is now an actual height gain, the degree of over-prediction will be less. Again a huge simplification, but you get the point. So it will be easier for the algorithm to smooth the trace if there are actual elevation changes than if there are none, and I could surmise that the steeper the route, the more accurate the Garmin will get, which seems to agree with what I find in practice.

So where has this little exercise got us?

Well, if you're still with me, I think I've convinced myself that

1. Garmin "height gain" is inaccurate because there is an inaccuracy in the initial readings.

2. The system is able to compensate better for the inaccuracies as the course gets hillier

3. There seems to be some sort of semi-logical explanation for this.

What I don't have is any way of applying a correction that will work consistently, even an empirical one. For example, I suspect that the inaccuracy would be different on a continuously up and down course than on one with the same overall height gain comprising one big hill and flat for the rest of the route.

 

What I do seem to find looking back over quite a few records is that if the outing shows a Garmin height change overall of around 300ft per mile, then the record starts to look believable. Below that, I think the errors are significant and I don't think I'll bother with them.

Any comments or contributions welcome!

Wandering with AW

Rainbow over Martindale

As my regular reader will know I haven't been doing a lot of running lately. Actually I've just started again, which has now presented me with the interesting problem of how to make up for missing the best part of four weeks then fitting in a taper before the Highland Fling in two weeks time. Well. no-one said this game was supposed to be easy.

But in the meantime I felt I should get out a bit, and while any movement involving sudden deceleration (like a foot hitting the ground every running stride) brought with it some incentive not to try a repeat, I could walk more or less OK. My main adventure for this year is the Tor des Geants in September, which basically consists of walking up a lot of big hills, so I thought it wouldn't hurt to start early and get some uphill practice in the bag. But where to go? My biggest local hill is Snowdon and while it's a fine peak I feel I have some personal acquaintance with almost every rock on the main paths by now. No, I would go back to the Lakes, which apart from the Lakeland 100 route and the odd day Bob Graham wondering (no, not a typo) I know much less well.

Start walking in the Lakes and you immediately run up against AW. Not many folk are immediately recognised by their initials alone, but Alfred Wainwright's "Pictorial Guide to the Lakeland Fells" must be known to anyone who ever pulled on a pair of boots. So much so that the 214 tops detailed in his series of hand written and illustrated books are now known simply as "The Wainwrights", a list to sit alongside the Munros, Corbetts, Nuttalls, and so on, and collecting the Wainwrights is a pastime to which many Lakeland wanderers devote a fair amount of time. Jan and I know several people with pieds a terre in Cumbria who are devotees, including one couple who having completed the set a time or two are now setting about revisiting them in alphabetical order; retirement affects us all in different ways.

Now I've never been one for ticking off lists but I guess you know what's coming. I decided the best way to get to know the Lakes better and do a bit of uphill training at the same time would be to have a tilt at the Wainwrights. To put the thing in perspective, this is not like setting out on the Munros. Joss Naylor once visited every top within a long, long week, but by any measure he was (and still is) a pretty handy performer and if you read the accounts he was a bit tired when he finished. A calendar year, or maybe a summer, might be a more sensible objective.

So I bought my "Wainwright Map" and got started. In five day trips so far I've clocked up 55 tops. The low hanging fruit is always the easiest of course and the thing will get harder, but the days are longer now and maybe I'll even get a bit fitter. And part of the fun is the evening spent before any trip trying to work out an interesting route over a reasonable number of hills. I was surprised to find when I started that over the years I had already climbed around 60, so I set a simple rule for this year. Any top that I have not visited before I would make sure that I did on a day when I could see the view, which left me this 60 "in reserve" for days of mist and low cloud.

Wainwright Map

What I've found already is a lot of pleasure in going to places I would never have considered. Sitting alone on the splendid summit of Cold Pike watching the crowds on the Crinkle Crags to Pike o' Blisco motorway; lunch on the warm springy grass on top of The Nab under a blue sky, and a dozen other memories already.

Will I see it through this summer? I hope and think so, once I've embarked on something I don't give up so easily. But I'll have to get back to a bit of proper running again now. Watch this space.