Benbecula Half 3/6/06
I hadn't done this Heb3 Half before and was interested in the tales of 'flat and fast'. It did mean however a long journey to the stepping off point on Skye then a short ferry across to Loch Maddy. While we waited for the ferry in Uig a convoy of ancient MacBraynes buses turned up to continue their time-travelling tour of the western isles. I wonder if they were as comfortable as they were beautiful.
The crossing was calm and though Loch Maddy appeared grey and a bit forlorn the welcome was warm, and we were shipped (at no cost) in a modern swift minibus about 45 minutes down single-track roads to the sports centre that marked the start and finish of the race. The well equipped campsite was right next door. When I say well equipped I mean they had a shelf of romantic fiction next to the washing machines.
Th
ere was a stiff breeze rattling the tent, but we got set up and had dinner
on the go before dark. In fact there wasn't really dark at all. Just a slightly duller shade of grey.Next morning and we were woken by the birds peeping like mad. The wind had dropped to a modest breeze and while it was still gusty enough to fly a kite (or indeed a tent) we were assured that this was about as calm as it got in these parts. We had also heard not to go off too fast (with the wind behind you) but save something for the last few miles (with the wind in your face.)
We registered in the sports centre then ran about the fields at the back to warm up. I had slept well but lacked oomph from running too many races too many weeks in a row. We made our way back over to the campsite where the start was and after everyone gathered there the race organiser set us off with the (highly commendable) least fuss and speechifying I have ever seen. I think it was “Ready.....” then a blast on the airhorn. (Manys a councillor or big wig take note.)
picture nicked from srac site - many thanksAll 58 of us set off down a road. As the start had taken us slightly by surprise Mary found herself further up the field than usual. I think we went west and north for a while but it was all much of a muchness and although there was a sense of being by the coast to start with, then heading inland in the second half, you felt you were never far away from a lochan or patch of salty marsh and swamp. The whole area is flat and waterbound with causeways joining islets and a military base somewhere in amongst it.
In fact after we got sunburnt during the run on what appeared to be a cloud-covered day we wondered, comic-book style, whether we had been exposed to escaped radiation from a more man-made source. However, unlike in comic books, we were not imbued with superhuman abilities and both ran rather unexceptional races.
During the first few miles I ran (as warned) quickly, enjoying the wind on my back. A group of five of us broke away from the pack. Terry Coyle hared off followed by a more moderate Toby from Forres. Then Chris from Rotherham (which seems a long way to come for a race but his sister lives locally,) then myself and Chris from Stornoway. At 3 miles there was a right turn and a water station. I enjoyed the first few miles and wondered what the locals did for entertainment on this flat watery land. (Snorkelling of one sort or another?) On the long straight roads you could see the front runners way ahead. I tried not to let the distance tire me by thinking about it. I was almost glad of the occasional undulation or bit of gravelly unmetalled road.
About half way Chris from Stornoway appeared on my radar then steadily moved up and overtook. I felt I was going okay; keeping the same distance behind Rotherham so although I put in a little more effort - as you do when being overtaken - I didn't feel it was shameful. I watched as a couple of miles later he did the same to Rotherham. I felt if Rotherham tired later on (in the headwinds) I might move up from 5th to 4th.
From about mile 8 there was a definite shift in the wind, and it was getting more difficult to pretend you were moving forward - tacking - with the help of the wind and not just stuck head-on in a wind tunnel. At such times I found it best to look directly forward and the impression would be of great speed with the wind rushing past your ears. When you looked down at your feet you could see the ground was moving considerably slower. A couple of 90º corners somewhere about mile 9 or 10 and I took the liberty of looking back to see if there was anyone bearing down on me. I was wondering what I hoped to see. If there was someone approaching fast its not like I had anything else I could pull out the bag and suddenly put on a 3 mile sprint to the line. Probably worse than that I saw nobody for what looked like the best part of a mile. Okay, it cheered me up and I felt I could relax and enjoy the swampland scenery, but could I have turned the heat up a bit had there been opposition? I pondered these questions as we went through the last few miles. I felt really pretty good considering, and tried at various points to shorten the distance between myself and the man ahead but he seemed if anything to be getting away. At the final turn onto the coastal stretch of the last couple of miles I'm sure the street sign said Princes Street, which I enjoyed. The road turned full into the wind for the last blast and the flat geography let us see the sports centre from over a mile off. I tried to speed up and finish in style and was surprised that my watch said I had run a leisurely 1.25.
I spaced about, unsure if that was a defeat or a victory, enjoying the marvellously original horse brass they gave out instead of a medal. I also liked that some cheerleaders were pom-pomming in the finishers. After watching Mary come in 6 mins stronger than last week (and therefore 6 mins more pleased) we had a swim in the pool - more a scuffle than a swim as some aches and pains were giving me jip - then into the canteen for really tasty food and a cuppa (all at no cost) while the results were very promptly ascertained. As Mary and I both won age group prizes (plaque and delicious wine) it turned out to be a victory. Hurray!
The bus then arrived outside and drove us back through the emerging sunshine to the ferry terminal just as the ferry was approaching. We celebrated on board. The whole trip had a slightly unreal feel and the cider increased the effect. (Mary as driver stayed sober.) By the time we had driven 130 miles through an unusually cloudless Skye to Glen Nevis and put up the tent it felt like we had been in another world. The red wine, olives and bread as the sun went down were spectacular.
Highly recommended.
Report pb
Results and photos here
Links to other 2006 Heb3 races;
Stonoway
Skye
Barra
Harris
cloudless Skye
