Barrathon 30/06/07
The Island of Barra is located on the southerly tip of the Outer Hebrides and is ideal for a half marathon for two reasons. 1. The circular road around the island measures a mighty 13 miles. (OK, just a little short but you just add on a wee bit at the end to make it up) 2. The hospitable people of Barra really know how to welcome visitors. The fact that it requires two overnights on the island is an added bonus. The undulating course, beast of a hill at 11 miles and strong winds are mere details.
Mary and Peter kindly offered me a lift to Oban in plenty of time for the boat to Castlebay. OK, so we left Edinburgh at 07.42 for a boat at 13.40 but I didn’t want tears at the quayside as the boat disappeared down the Sound of Mull. Last year friends of mine were bitterly disappointed by the punctual departure of the Barra boat so I wasn’t taking any chances.
Thankfully the other members of the party also (just) made the boat for the five-hour journey to Barra. Sufficient time to strategise, feed and register for the race although we didn’t actually get round to catching up on missed sleep. Despite complaints of tiredness, aches & pains, spirits were high in the Porty camp and the weather seemed to be playing ball too.
We arrived in Castlebay to a stunning evening, flat calm and blue skies. Maybe the morrow would hold some PBs and a couple of trophies after all. Ben and Peter marched us off to the unofficial PRC wild campsite which boasted 180° sea views and its own heli-pad. Poor Richard had to make do with a mere hotel two miles down the road.
Portyland
We woke the next morning to distinctly greyer skies and much flapping of the tent – the wind had picked up overnight and we were now looking at racing with a brisk Easterly. Obviously the bad weather forecast for Sunday was arriving a little sooner. Nevertheless, 129 runners were piped to the start line just after 10.30.
Having raced Barra before I knew what lay in store – an initial hill in the first mile, stunning scenery for the next 3 miles, hard slog across the north of the island followed by difficult undulations down the east coast culminating in a thigh-burning hill and a long down hill to the finish. I had scrutinised previous times for the course and knew I stood a good chance. As ever though, I was beset with self-doubt. I’d had a bad cold the week before which was still lingering and meant I couldn’t train the last two weeks. I genuinely wasn’t convinced that I could pull this off.
Once we were off though, I somehow found myself running up behind last year’s winner and overtaking her on the first hill. Stupid move I thought. You’ve shown your hand now Amanda and are going to have to deliver or face a tough fight over the next 12 miles. How I regretted that bold move. Every passing runner was a potential female runner in my head, filling me with fear and my legs with lead.
By mile four I was really hurting and only just managing 7 minute-miles. I couldn’t manage anything faster but was terrified of who was catching me from behind. The next mile was sheer hell. No beefy man to shelter behind, running uphill into rain and that Easterly wind. Two HBTers bombed past clearly enjoying the benefits of sharing the load but not stopping. I was ready to pack it in when thankfully another male runner appeared and indicated I should tuck in behind. Hurrah! He pulled me up the rest of the hill and then moved on. What a gentleman?
I managed to get an energy gel into me and started to recover a bit. The East coast of Barra is undulating and peppered with beautiful (but annoying) inlets which take you back down to sea level before heading back up again. The inlets also allow you a good view of who is in front and more worryingly who’s behind. I didn’t dare sneak a peek across the inlets to see if any female runners were catching. Better to focus on catching runners ahead of me (in my dreams but I’m sure Bert would approve!).
By the time I reached the dreaded hill I knew there wasn’t much left in the tank. I comforted myself with some wise words from Peter and Ben. They had told me it was highly unlikely that the race would be won or lost on the big hill. Everyone struggles on it. Just get over it as best you can and then go hell for leather on the descent (oh and watch out of the short/sharp hill in the last 500m – that’s where you could be beaten). Suffice to say I plodded up the hill.
On reaching the summit I belted down into Castlebay, eyes stinging with the rain but absolutely determined I wasn’t going to fluff it this time. Up over the sharp hill and finally, the finish line appeared. Oh and a priest… handing out the medals. I might have been a little disappointed with my time but hey, I’m delighted I was first lady home!
From all accounts it was all action at the front of the race. Ben came in second with Peter and Willie fighting it out in the last few hundred metres and thus securing the team prize for another year. Mary and Richard did a tremendous job of working together to battle the elements and came in very close together. Alison pulled out the stops and managed a PB (N.B. having already completed the previous three races last month!).
The highlight of the weekend is always the buffet afterwards followed by the awards ceremony. The ladies of Barra had been up til 10.30 the night before so we weren’t disappointed: sides of salmon, crab, herrings and salads galore. The awards ceremony proved a bit of a marathon too. Eight bottles of wine, one bottle of Cognac and enough crystal glass to stock a restaurant, we were clinking the whole way back to the campsite. And no, we didn’t drink it all. All eyes are firmly on Harris next weekend. Honest.
Well done everyone for a great effort and a fantastic weekend, and many, many thanks to the organisers on Barra for a tremendous event.
Report Amanda Henderson
Richard's story
Barra's great attraction is that you have to travel over on the Friday night and can't get away till Sunday. On a small island with limited camp sites and 4 nice hotels, there's a real community feel to the event, helped by the largest post-race buffet anywhere. By this stage in the Heb 3 you know most of your immediate rivals. And the infamous hill means there's a sense of "us against the course". Finally, you have the chance to join Benny and the Vets or to be one of Richard's Girls - who could resist?
The evening before the race Richard drove us round the course - the following photos are taken from his car with the weather much prettier than the next day.Eight brave porties made the trip this year, making us the largest club contingent - and we came away with eight bottles of wine and much else (though alas, not one each). Having been blown off course at Benbecula, I was hoping to get back on track for my aim of breaking 5hrs for the Heb 3, which meant running about 1:40 here. I set off in the middle of the pack, enjoying watch Ben and Pete storm off at the front - the course starts with a sharp rise, so you can watch the leaders disappear. Just behind them Amanda was tracking Issy Knox at the front of the ladies race. The first third of the race went to plan - I avoided my usual downfall of starting too quick, and started moving up the field. Not too far in front I could see Mary running down the third lady: at least there's a race to watch, and with my mind taken off the pain of the running, I go past fifth lady to keep a good view. Five miles in 37:48 - OK so far. The wind springs up into mile five, and third lady is blown backwards. Lest the same thing happen to M, I catch up and start murmuring Bert-like encouragements. Mary suggests we catch some tall looking gents up ahead and hide behind them for a bit. This works and shelters us across the top of the island to the half way mark. The four of us have picked off a few runners who have got isolated into tackling the wind on their own. This working together stuff really seems to work.
Next up is Jim Bruce, Mr Heb 3 himself, who I've never beaten in a race. I suggest we hang back for a bit, and get no argument. We turn back down the east coast, and as we go past Mile 8, disaster strikes - Mary's number blows loose, and she slows to sort it out. For the rest of the race she stays 20-40 yards behind, letting me do all the pacing - grrrrrr! (I need to work on my Bert impressions!). At mile 9 I screw my courage to the sticking place and move alongside Jim. He mutters all sorts of encouraging things, and then sprints off. Grrrrrh again! Miles 5-10 in 39:07 - slowing up a bit already.
From Mile 10 onwards the hill dominates the horizon and all our thoughts. Alison "Mrs Ben" afterwards complains that it was much smaller than we'd said it would be - and the Garmin says it's only 350ft up over the course of a mile - but it doesn't feel like that. Miles 10 and 11 are 8:30 and 8:38 as the hill brings back the sort of shuffle I do at the end of a marathon. But I catch Jim again, and we start "sprinting" towards the top. Hooray - he drops to a walk, and perhaps is broken.
Over the top and steeply downhill. Jim comes flying past and disappears into the distance - second year in a row. GrrrrrrrrrrrH! At least only one other runner does the same as opposed to the six last year. He is being chased on by wife and kids on bikes who keep shouting he must overtake the man in front - so it seems heartless to try and fight back. The machine gun rapid feet and gentile grunting at my shoulder of Ms Hunter is another matter - there is a last sharp "step" to go up in the village before the 200 yrd sprint to the end, but I've enough left to hold out. 7:16 for the last mile and a bit shows the impact of the hill.
Does that say slow at the top of the last incline?I've run 1:41:24 - all of 5 seconds faster than last year (though the wind was stronger last year, I think it was more in your face for longer this - at least that's my excuse). But I find I've rather let the side down by not producing some dramatic triumph - as everyone else has. Mary has held on to be third lady and first old lady. Ben runs yet another stunning race largely on his own to come second to some chap from the Scotland Marathon Squad. Pete and Willie battle round together in a tight leading group to finish 4th and 6th (2nd and 3rd vet). Amanda has somewhere gone well past Issy to win the ladies race. Alyson has taken almost ten minutes off her Benbecula time. Making her first Heb 3 Porty appearance, Karen comes 20th out of the 50 ladies. Benny and the Vets win the team prize by a full fifteen minutes (Porty being the first team ever to successfully defend the trophy), and Richard's Girls come fifth - in spite of being the only team with painted toenails. The prize giving becomes almost embarrassing as our table groans under the weight of cutglass and alcohol. And we spent a very pleasant evening reflecting on our triumphs in a local restaurant.
Report Richard Dennis
Photos Mary, Peter, Amanda
Ben Kemp 1:22:11
Peter Buchanan 1:24:14
Willie Jarvie 1:24:18
Amanda Henderson 1:35:52
Richard Dennis 1:41:28
Mary Hunter 1:41:35
Alison Wilkie 1:52:32
Karen May 2:00:21
Philosophical symposium.
