Fraserburgh Half Marathon 16/11/08
It’s been a funny kind of year, running wise. You probably all know I was 40 this year, and have been focussing on the long stuff to celebrate, with my first two ultras and four marathons. So I’ve spent all year training for the long stuff. But in spite of that, most of the year has seen me running very well over the short stuff, and disappointingly slowly at anything more than 10k. Which is part of the reason why I trekked all the way to Fraserburgh for the last half-marathon of the year.
The other reason was that I didn’t exactly know where Fraserburgh was when I set off. I stayed overnight at Elgin, which I assumed was close by, and was passing the morning looking at the cathedral when – entirely by chance – I saw a road sign with the worrying legend “Fraserburgh 60 miles”. Fortunately the roads were largely empty as I raced against the 10:30 registration cut-off. At least this got the heart pumping sufficiently to make up for the lack of time for a warm-up! Not that I usually bother with a warm-up….
130 souls turned out to brave the biting winds on a cold but clear day in the far north-east. I didn’t recognize any of them (I’d be hoping to see the Forres Heb 3 folk, but no doubt they were elsewhere). The course was a fair one: a small loop round the park; a larger loop round the local estate; and then five miles out and back, going first up the main road to Aberdeen, then up a private drive, down a muddy farm track, a mile and a half along a disused railway line, and up a country lane until the turning point. “Goodrunguide” claims it is the equivalent of 13.4 miles on the flat (though how they work this out….) But the key would be the wind, which looked like it would be with us for the first half, and against us on the way home. Discussion in the changing rooms was all about how much clothing to wear in the cold….. In the end I went for gloves and a long sleeved t-shirt under my Portobello top. The old timers tell tales of having run this race with snow on the ground….. bbrrrrrhhh!
I’d run 16 half marathons since I’d set my pb of 1:34 in March 2007, without getting anywhere close to threatening it. So it was time to try something different, and I was up for the Buchanan approach – blast off as quick as you can and hope you don’t die before the end. With a narrow start to the course, I pushed up towards the front and tried to start fast. The Garmin takes a little while to tell you anything sensible, so I avoided looking at it until we are out of the park. 6:30 pace! That was far too fast. The brakes go on, and 4 or 5 runners go past. The wind is all over the place on the initial loops – in your face one minute, pushing you into the road the next, and it makes it hard to settle. My legs are also refusing to warm up. The first mile is passed in 6:55, so I’ve slowed too dramatically, and I start to focus on the pace of the chap in front. The next two miles go past easily enough – 6:57, then 6:51 – and I’ve found some folk going at the right pace to hang onto. The Garmin is set to show my pace on the current mile – not overall time or average pace – on the grounds that if I can get each mile right, then the overall time will take care of itself.
Mile 4 is the first gentle incline, and I’m getting a nasty stitch. My usual Saturday run in 3-4 miles a little quicker than I’m going, so this is about the point my body might expect to stop. I do all that “breathing out hard as the opposite foot hits the ground” and pressing your fingers into your side to try and make the stitch shift, but its not budging. And I’m also no longer gaining on the runner in front. I have to give myself a stern talking to about having come so far in order to run hard and therefore knowing this was going to hurt. But as some of you will know from Wednesday nights, I need to work on my beasting….
I smile at a speed camera, and as if by magic the stitch is instantly gone. Off the main road and onto the private drive and I’m picking up the pace again. The first water station approaches – but I’m cut off from it by an inconvenient landrover. Still, I pick up a place in exchange for missing out. I get to the five mile point in 34:30, which would be a new pb for five miles. Onto the railway track, which promises at least to be flat for a while. We’re running along the top of an embankment which offers good views over the countryside, and the occasional walker and dog all courteously keep well out of our way. Onto the country lane, and a couple of noticeable hills. Amazingly the wind is behind us up the hills, and I’m still picking up places. The first runners coming back appear on the other side of the road. There are a lot of them – this is irritating because I’m running as hard as I can and I ought to be winning!
The turn is marked by another water station. Another landrover does its best to keep me from supplies, but this time I’m ready to give up a few seconds. Around the turn and then – oh gosh, where did this gale come from? Suddenly it becomes hard work. The pace doesn’t drop too far, but this has become a struggle. And then we’re running into the wind and up a mountain (not that I recall running down one). Mile 9 takes 7:10 – which is the average I need to break my pb. I can’t afford to slow down anymore. Fortunately Mile 10 is back down the hills I was blown up earlier, and I can focus on the runners in front, who are definitely getting nearer. I’ve also been telling myself that a new ten mile pb would be enough consolation for the effort put in so far – and I keep pushing to break 70 minutes for ten miles for the first time.
Back onto the railway track, and those nice views mean we’re exposed to the full force of the wind. I start to feel very cold. Still, no point stopping now – I’d freeze walking back. Both times I catch a big guy to hide behind it becomes clear they’re being blown to a standstill, and I have to press on. My pace drops to 7:20. Then at last we’re off the railway and into some shelter. Up the farm track and down the drive I focus on a private battle against another runner – they get ahead on every slight downhill, but I’m stronger on the up and into the wind. Onto the main road and there’s a downhill back into the town. Into mile twelve. Only eight minutes to survive. The next runner is too far away to catch, and I can feel my legs emptying by the second. One final turn into the park and a final raise in pace just in case anyone’s thinking of overtaking me, and over the line straight into a crowd of little children waiting to hand out goody bags. I flick over the watch – 1:31:15 – Hurray! And 21st place. And (before anyone asks) the Garmin says this has been the full distance.
It is nice to get into the showers whilst the water is still hot and the changing room is still dry. And Fraserburgh lay on a “western isles” style feed afterwards – with at least eight different sorts of soup. I went for the mince and potato - real post-run soup: the kind you have to eat with a fork. Certainly good enough alongside a head full of happy thoughts to keep me warm on the long drive home.
Report Richard Dennis
Website and photos here
Fraserburgh
Known locally as 'The Broch', Fraserburgh is a windswept fishing town 50 miles north of Aberdeen. Located on the edge of the coastline where the Moray Firth meets the North Sea, this large town takes its fair share of pounding from high coastal winds.
As a major fishing port, its true heritage is its bustling harbour which stretches for more than half a mile and has provided the large town with centuries of prosperous growth. Largely dependent on its fishing industry, the town still boasts an award winning beach which is a reminder of its early days as an old-fashioned seaside resort.
Dominating the town's seafront to the north is Kinnaird Head Castle and Lighthouse which is now Scotland's Lighthouse Museum. Visibly odd looking, it was previously a 16th century castle before being transformed in 1787 by the Northern Lighthouse Company into one of Scotland's first lighthouses.
Thomas Blake Glover spent his childhood in Fraserburgh. He went on to found the modern Japanese Navy and the successful Mitsubishi motor car company.
With a long stretch of sandy beach and dramatic coasts offering spectacular views, Fraserburgh is an ideal destination for total escape.
