29 September: Harter Fell

Harter Fell is new to me and Geoff - but unlike Geoff, I haven't wanted to get up it for the last 3 years! Apparently it's the last in a collection of Lakeland 2000'ers he's been collecting in his summits album - but it's only a short walk, and we've never found an excuse to spend a day in the Lakes doing a short walk before.

Today is the day though, and a drive over the Wrynose and Harkdknott passes takes us to the Jubilee Bridge in Eskdale and a rather sunnier outlook than what we had yesterday.

Harter Fell turns out to be rather nice, with great views of the cloud-strewn hills around upper Eskdale, and a wonderful peace and quiet. Or at least it is peaceful and quiet until the local Angry Shepherd gets to work taking in. He's got quite a loud voice for shouting! Whatever the soundtrack, the fell itself makes a lovely easy climb to a rocky dome of a summit, and it's thoroughly enjoyable. On top, we wonder what to do next, and decide on visiting the Woolpack Hotel further down the valley on the way to Boot. This could involve either a short walk back to the car and a drive, or a rather longer walk. I vote for the walk, which how we come to be contouring an overgrown brackeny hillside and diving in and out of becks on a shortcut to the path. Rather surprisingly, we meet a couple coming the other way, who are clutching a guidebook, and asking us how to get to where we've just come from. I'm sure our route isn't in their book, but they went the way we told them anyway.

We meet up with the Angry Shepherd and his friends and ALL their dogs at Penny Farm. The pub itself turns out to be excellent, with its own brewery. Well worth a visit. The short walk back up the valley leaves me feeling like I've had more than enough of mountains (about 11000' worth) for one long weekend, so after a quick bit of shopping in Grasmere, it's time to go home again. Surely I've done enough hill training now?

28 September: Planned Walk Break

Ordinarily I'd take a day off after a long run: days off usually involve nothing more than a bit of cycling and dog-walking, but these ones are going to be a bit different as I'm staying over in Grasmere with Adrian and Geoff and we're going hill-walking. It'll be alright though, I can surely handle a bit of a walk after all, can't I?

It doesn't feel that easy on Friday morning as we head up alongside Taylorgill Force by Seathwaite, on our way to the Corridor Route to Scafell. It's drizzly again, and cold in the wind, but even so, once we're up past Styhead, it's great to be in such inspiring surroundings. Cloud drifts across Lingmell and the great crags of Scafell and the Pike, and ahead of us is the great chasm of Piers Gill. The dull plod is over and we're on the interesting bit.

We see lots of people plodding up from Wasdale as we cross the faint track across to the screes below Lord's Rake. The signs warning visitors to stay out of the Rake because of the danger of landslip have long been buried under fallen boulders, but even so we're the only ones there this morning - quite reassuring given the amount of loose rock in this steep gully. The Rake itself seems to be relatively free of debris at hte moment: most of it seems to have tumbled down and out onto the lower slopes , so it's easy to haul ourselves up the right-hand side, looking up at the "Damocles Boulder" up at the top. This huge block detached itself from the wall of the Rake several years ago, and lodges itself there: its position is becoming more precarious with every freeze/thaw cycle and one day it's going to crash down in a shower of broken rock. We'd be extremely unlucky to be there when it does fall - even so, it's nice to be out of the firing line and up the West Wall Traverse. The walls of the gully close in at the top, just at the greenest. slipperiest pasrt of the climb, before we're spat out onto the misty summit plateau and go around to find the cairn and a couple of other visitors. It's cold on top, and although we briefly get a view, it's not a place to stay for long today.

We go down by Foxes Tarn, another horribly loose route, and double back to Mickledore. All this is just a way of avoiding Broad Strand, the rock scramble that a lot of people like to look at, before going around the way we've just come down. We meet a couple there who ask if we're going up. No, we say, but Geoff has a look anyway, squeezing through the gap to the platform. The rock is so greasy he has trouble coming back. The hesitant couple, who have been there for 20 minutes, are horrified to learn that he hasn't actually been up Broad Stand by stepping across to the platform, and promptly ask us for directions to Lord's Rake.

We continue in thick fog, up to Scafell Pike, with a thinner than usual throng at the cairn, then through the boulders across the ridge and down to Esk Hause, before making the long descent alongside Grains Gill to Seathwaite. We have a cup of tea at the farm before spending the evening back at the Lamb in Grasmere, which is full of people come to watch the England rugby team in its bid to qualify for the World Cup quarter finals.

27 September - Roman Around

Thursday's run starts with a short jog to Winsford Station. An odd way to get to Windermere, but you've got to start somewhere!

Three hours later, I'm faffing outside Penrith Station. It's 25 miles to Windermere across the hills. The weather forecast is good, so of course it's just coming on to drizzle as I jog down the main road and across the A66. Traffic lights play hell with my mph, but not as much as the hills are going to later on. I run down the road towards Keswick, and promptly miss the turn down a scruffy path that is the start of my route to Tirril. Grassy fields, bullocks, grey skies - not an impressive start to a classic hill run. At Tirril, I resolutely avoid the Queen's Head, quite possibly the Best Pub In The World, and take the lane up to Celleron and Winder Hall Farm. I've started climbing properly now, but it will be a while before I really feel like I've found the slopes. Past Winder Hall, I try to find the original route of High Street, the Roman Road over the tops, but instead get all tangled up in yellow gorse. A short, careful walk takes me higher up the slopes of Heughscar hill, and on the way I get my first view of Lake and Mountain: Ullswater suddenly appears in front of me, with the fells spread out beyond.

Now the real work begins, with a long, wet 1200' climb to Loadpot Hill. I pass a lone walker near the trig pillar, wearing winter clothes! I wonder if I'm a bit underdressed, but it's still too warm with the effort of climbing to wear anything more than a t-shirt.

Suddenly, the sun comes out and it's a different world. Great views open out, across Ullswater to Blencathra, and right across the big fells to Great Gable and the Scafells, the only hills with cloud on them. Helvellyn is nearby, but it's too late in the day for the light to pick out its combes and ridges so it just looks green and hulking across the valley.

The going is good now, across Wether Hill and Red Crag to High Raise. I see only two other people, out for a walk on the ridge, amazing on such a clear day. It seems like a long time since I've had a view in the Lakes, and it's especially helpful on the long, grassy whaleback hills I'm running on today. I get taken by surprise by the sharp descent off High Raise, which can only mean a long than hoped-for climb up to High Street. I cross Rampsgill Head, then it's the big one - I need a quick out-and back to find the summit.

It's a delightful run along the long curving ridge to Thornthwaite Beacon, with just a short climb up to its turretted summit, but I'm only too aware of the choice from here: follow the Romans down into the Troutbeck Valley, or make two more sharp climbs from the col up Froswick and Ill Bell. There's no argument really, despite the dark clouds chasing me down from the north. The two summits are a refreshing change from the grassy humps that precede them - sharp little rock-crowned cones.

Coming down from Ill Bell, there's a nasty surprise. I should really be running across Yoke (hardly a summit), on a soft, peaty track, enjoying the views of Lake Windermere a few miles to the south. Instead, I find myself on a horrible, two-metre wide path of sharp rock and rubble. We'd seen diggers up here last summer on our reverse walk on the same route, and this was the result. Later, I read about another "disabled access" track that's been made in Langdale - this seems similar, and it's a disgrace. I wonder how runners on the Kentmere Horseshoe race avoid it?

Nevertheless, I eventually get down to the Garburn Road, and make the descent to Near Orrest, where the last treat awaits: a sharp little climb from grteen fields up to Orrest Head, and a fine view of Lake Windermere. The climb's not really what you need after 24 miles and 4500', but the view is worth it, as the Langdale Pikes begin to disappear into the gloom.

A little descent through the woods takes me straight to the main road opposite the station in Windermere - and in 5 minutes, I've got a table to myself in the pub, and a pint in front of me.

I've felt fit and well throughout the run, thoroughly enjoyed the day, and I'm looking forward to having a couple of days off walking with Geoff and Adrian in the Lakes. Life is good. Really!

25 September: The Dark Side

Tonight I learn that Tom Annable can jog a warm-up REALLY fast, and that you're never alone on the internet, or on the A556.

Leaving work at half five, I set off on a comfortable jog along the bike track, and arriving at Tom's road a few minutes aheadf of schedule, run across the Blue Bridge and up the hill and back to use up a bit of time. I'm planning on a nice comfortable joh back to Rudheath as I've been assured that Colin will be coming along. As it turns out, Colin's away.

Running back the way I came with Tom, conversation becomes a bit one-way, and I start to feel much more tired than I had on the way out. I consider various possibilities: is there a headwind? did I eat? am I sickening for something? No, the answer lies in my watch which tells me that we're running at a bit quicker than my half-marathon pace. By the time we reach Rudheath I've worked up quite a sweat. Bernie can't quite work out why he saw me running along the A556 away from Rudheath, forty-five minutes before we arrive!

The run to Navigation hill is a let-off after that, and I'm feeling a bit more composed by the time we're doing the stretches. It's at about this point when Dave tells me he's found this blog via the young person's social networking site we're trying to be trendy on at the moment. Not that it's going to make me any more careful about what I write!

The hill session itself is great fun and I thoroughly enjoy it. I don't konw if I do have a masochistic streak, but I just enjoy running up and down hills, even narrow, tarmaccy ones with speed humps. In fact the speed humps are quite fun too. After 14 reps, the second lot on the Mow-Coppish steep hill, it's dark, and time to run back to Rudheath. By the time I get back to the office, I'm curious about how far I've run, and I'm surprised to see that it's 16 miles: it really hasn't felt that long.

Twenty minutes of cycling takes me home, and towards another "day off". Odd thing is, with this marathon training, I get more days off than ones I have to run on. Still, the Lake District is next, so I'll need all the rest I can get before then!

23 September - Me and John Parrott

I'd spent all day on Saturday feeling like death, after only a few bottles of London Pride at the bash the night before, so it came as a bit of a surprise to wake up this morning feeling almost alright.

Now, you can have two kinds of races: good, and bad. 99% of bad races come about because you start off much faster than you can hope to run the distance, get knackered, and spend up to nine-tenths of the race feeling awful and being overtaken by an increasingly ageing demographic of the field. Good races happen when you get it just right at the start then spend the rest of your time actually racing people rather than cursing them as they fly past.

Last year, the Sutton Six was firmly in the Bad category for me. It's not a particularly quick course considering it's tarmac, with some small hills at the start. The problem is that there are three of them and you do part of the same 3K loop twice, so it's easy to accumulate an overdraft at the Lactic Bank if you gun it.

Last year's torture: Conveniently forgetting that I'd run about 10 miles a week on average for the previous two months, I set off at a cracking pace, and everything was great for about a mile. Then it got seriously bad. I considered calling it a day at 3K - but eventually crawled to the finish in around 42 minutes. This year, learning my lesson, I set off only mildly too fast and slowed right down at the first sign of a hill. At 2K, I caught up with John Todd's daughter Gemma, running another really good race - and at 3K I actually felt nice and relaxed. The same hills came and went around the second loop, and then we were off and over the bridges.

The long downhill stretch was where I really died last time, but this time it was a lovely run and I forgot all about racing for a minute or two, which was how I came to lose touch with John Parrott. I've beaten or been beaten by John, who runs for Stockport, and probably doesn't play a lot of snooker, in close finishes all year - and when I'd found myself with him again within the first kilometre of this race I decided to stay close and see how he ran the course. Easy on the ups, quicker on the downs, all the way. Good man.

Amyway, John and me, we're close, for 5K, or as close as two blokes in short pants and vests can be when we don't actually know one another. Then he has a drink at the water station, my mind wanders, and he's gone. I spend the last 3K of the race alone, gradually catching someone from Chester Tri ahead (John's shot away into the distance by now), but too gradually to make any difference. I settle for a controlled finish, and as a result miss my PB by 1 second. Again. Oh well, I'm sure I'll smash the PB to bits properly when I'm not marathon training!

We don't hang about at the finish too long, as the parking for the race is in a muddy field along a very single track lane, but do get the chance to say hello to Stuart Doyle, who's run "33 something", and Mary, who seems happy that it's over! Gemma's had a good run, and Barry Chambers completes the Vale Royal finishers on the day.

Guilt (force 6) strikes on the way home, as I remember that I'd originally thought to do another 13 miles after the race, but then I remember all those sensible things about recovering properly from races - and the two hard runs I have coming up on Tuesday and Thursday!

18-20 September: Pick & Mix

Oddly enough, I was feeling a lot better by Thursday, but stull not quite 100%. The original plan had been to do a couple of hours in the evening with Helen, picking up with Ken's group for part of the run. Helen couldn't make it though, so I set off on my own in the rain at half six, and only just made it to Knight's Grange by seven - I'd forgotten how long it took to get from the Whitegate Way to the Grange! Still, at least there wasn't much of a break before I got going with Ken and the gang. We had a run down to Vale Royal Abbey and back along the river, a nice easy 55 minutes worth - I made sure to stay behind Val and Jo so as not to hijack their session! These runs always seem to be very chatty and relaxed after the more intense interval sessions with the other group.

Back at Knight's Grange, I was still feeling full of energy, so I jogged over to the track where there were a few doing a 8x1000m session. John Carroll was there, trying to get back some fitness, and so was James, just about to begin his last rep - so I did a kilometre with him at my 5K pace - silly in the middle of a long run, but fun. Afterwards, Tom was the only one going on a long warm-dwon, so I ran a road lap with him before I peeled off in the pitch blackness for home. It's all pretty flat, and my night-vision is reasonable, although I will admit to walking the steps down to the locks on the Weaver! I'd been running for exactly two hours by the time I got home.

I've had the last two days off, in preparation for the 10K at Sutton tomorrow. I've decided to treat it as a standard race day, and ditched plans to do a long run off the back of it - I think it would take too much out of me and I have hard days planned later in the week. I just hope I can get myself in the mood for a good run tomorrow, I really need to lay the ghost of last year's dreadful race on the same course when I finished at a stagger! Still not feeling great, but it's got to be lived with!

15-16 September: Digging in

This is the hard bit, really. Last week was great, a real tonic, with no fast running and plenty of scenery, but niw it's time to knuckle down!

I did one of the runs I wasn't going to do on Monday, a four-miler. I couldn't see the point in doing short runs like this as part of my training, but I did go out, partly because it was a nice evening, and partly out of curiousity to see how I'd do after yesterday's relatively quick 18-miler. The answer was that I did fine, once I got over my expectation that I'd feel awful! The hills flew past, and I had to remind myself I had go a tough interval session lined up the next day.

Tuesday was a quality interval session with the club. I worked late, and went straight to Rudheath once I'd finished, met up, and went out to Carey Park for 36 minutes of effort, 6 sets of 3/2/1 with 1 minute between each interval. It really is getting dark MUCH earlier now! It was a bit difficult to stay on track, as quite a few only did part of the session, and others were running on vari-speed setting, but I did the whole set at 5K pace, if anything a little stronger towards the end, so I was well pleased. The club sessions, and club people, are great for getting you motivated and running hard, even when your mind is telling you to go and lie down!

On the jog back to work to pick up my stuff though, I felt incredibly tired and then quite unwell. I felt sick all night and most of the next day, then had trouble doing anything much on Wednesday! I hoped I wasn't going to go under with some sort of bug at just the wrong time from a training point of view.

16 September - Back to the Plod

I really DON'T want to do this today, but I have to. It's a great day, warm, breezy, sunny. I'm afraid that good news bypasses me a bit this morning, as I know I've got to do a long run - not a nice, gentle, hill run, with great views and exciting bog and rock, but a long long plod along the Whitegate Way.

Actually, it's not that bad in the end - I manage 18 miles as a reasonable 7:52 pace, and don't finish it feeling too tired, although I do of course beat myself up about not finding it easier or doing it faster. I even tell myself it's quite pleasant to switch off and just run, with no navigation, no distracting views or wildlife, no photographs to take. Well, perhaps it is in a way, but writing this as my fifth blog entry of the day, it's hard to find anything exciting to say!

14 September - Ridiculous and Sublime

We'd been out late on Thursday night, at a production of Jamie the Saxt by Robert McLellan at Auchrannie. It was a really good evening, and alongside my completion of the North Arran shore by walking the dogs over the westerly stretch in the morning, and a lovely afternoon's lazing at Lochranza Castle, made for a great day.

The play lasted a good three hours (none of it boring), but it still meant a later night and therefore a later breakfast than I'd planned! I'd decided to run the "Two Glens" route - a circular from Lochranza up Glen Catacol, Gleann Diomhan, and down Gleann Easan Biorach. That'll be Three Glens then. Oh well.

I've done this as a walk several times, the first back in 1995, and the going has been getting rougher ever since. The "path" is now a terrible mess of bog, mud, water and boulders for most of its 8 miles now, with good stretches only at the very lowest extremeties of the Glens - a real pity, caused by too much water running down the channels created by feet.

However, the run around the coast to Catacol is a nice start, flat road all the way, and it's not too bad up to the turn for Glean Dionham either. It's cool and showery, idea for running. At the entrance to Diomhan, they're building a huge new deer fence, possibly to protect the gorge and its Arran Service Trees (a variety of Rowan). From here on in, the going is rough. Not just ordinary rough, it's about as bad as it gets. It's quite lucky really, as there's a 1300' climb to do on this run, and the awful going is a good excuse to go very slowly. I'm talking about 5K per hour slow! It's possible to jog a few strides now and then but that's it. It rains a bit, then clears, then the top of the pass comes into view - with even a view of the lower slopes of the high hills.

There's a waterlogged bouldery area , then on the way down it gets really bad - all your favourite obstacles from the the way up, but this time there are deep peat bogs too. I sink into a few of them, hop and stumble down - but at least I'm getting quicker - 6K and hour almost!

The sun is out now, and I've escaped the westerly wind, so it's warm too. After wading a burn, I find dry track, and immediately run into two lady birdwatchers who ask if I've seen any Golden Eagles. There could have been a whole flock of them for all I know - I've been too busy watching the ground! Eventually, I get to run fast - downhill to the Distillery, and back to Lochranza for a shower.

The afternoon is spent on an idyllic walk from Blackwaterfoot to the King's Cave and back. It's wet at first, but changes into the most beautiful clear and sunny afternoon. We all enjoy it, and it seems a pity that we've got to pack and go home tomorrow. Ah well, the forecast is wet, at least!

12 September - Walking Pace (nearly)

The new path up to Coire Fhionn Lochan from Thundergay makes it a definite proposition for a short run - 1100' of ascent and descent in 3.5 miles there and back. However, we're walking it today, up towards the clag which is lurking just below the level of the pretty lochan. Paula and both dogs are along for the trip, which makes for a very pleasant morning outing. It's a shame there's no view when we reach the water, but it does clear a little while we sit down on the gravelly shore. On the way back, there are views across Kilbrannan Sound to Kintyre. It's a lovely, quiet place today.

The afternoon requires the use of boots. I'm taking Dizzy up the Cioch, and along the ridge to Goatfell. Dizzy's quite competent on rock, Tugger less so, and Paula doesnt get on with it at all, so it's just the two of us. Cioch na h-Oighe looks terrifying from Sannox, and it doesn't help that most of the guidebooks describe it as a "tough scramble". In fact, in just over 2000' of up from Sannox Bay, there are only a couple of rock steps to make things awkward. The dog accomplishes the second, harder step much more easily than I do. The big, blocky granite of Arran is quite deceptive and is often much harder than it looks, as holds are sometimes in short supply. Knees and backside assist with the climb. Once up, the ridge is a delightful place, a great humped switchback of granite tors with big drops into the glens either side. It's not worth rushing along here, and we take our time.

There's a little grass on the way to the next top on the ridge, Mullach Buidhe, and another 600' or so to climb, but it's good fun. Dizzy is sometimes over-confident, and takes a header off a big block into a shallow pool. Luckily, he's OK. We've been playing tag with the clag all the way - luckily it's a great deal higher up the hill than it was this morning. On Mullach Buidhe though it catches up with us. It's not all bad news though - there are big holes in it, and it makes the ridge quite atmospheric.

North Goatfell is next on the list, a lumpy summit of bare rock, then we're off along the Stachach - Arran's version of a pinnacled ridge, which leads direct to GOatfell. There's more enjoyable scrambling to do before we reach the summit and meet our first other people of the afternoon. There's a couple with a labrador, and a group of 3 up from Brodick. The "usual" path from Brodick is not my favourite, and it's not just snobbiness on my part either, it really is the least interesting way to reach the summit. We take each other's pictures (I explain it's usually just me or Dizzy in our photos, depending on who's taking them), before I set off down the mountain.

My brain has obviously stopped working, as I not only embarrassingly miss the main path altogether, but then fall on my arse and slide painfully down a big wet slab, before forgetting that I wanted to go to Brodick and taking the path down to Corrie instead. I could have got back on the path again I suppose, but Corrie has a hotel and a bus-stop too, and I've never used this path before, so I carry on. It's quite a pleasant descent, but I think it would be a poor way to climb the hill - too much same-of and then an irritating tramp alongside the forestry, before it finishes off along a scrappy concrete road.

Tying the dog outside the Corrie Hotel, a guy approaches me and asks me if I'm Marcus. I am, of course! It turns out to be Michael Sayles, a regular from Outdoors Magic. We've never met before, but he recognises me and Dizzy from photos. There's just time to have a pint before it's time to leave - I just about get away from the beer garden before the midgies get nasty!

11 September - Tat-dodging

I love Arran - it really does have that Island Magic. Its annoying bits (Brodick, Geriatrics in Buses, Buses, Tourist Tat Shops, Interpretation boards, Psychotic Lochranza Sheep) are easily avoided just by getting out into the hills and glens, or along the roadless bits of the shore. However, today, it's raining. That's no excuse for finding myself in the Old Byre Show Rooms in Machrie, which sells a startling array of Tweedy Knitwear and Woolly Tweed items, but even so it's depressing. The Ballymichael Visitor Centre is either worse, or better, depending on your point of view, as most of it is closed. Island business have an annoying habit of having a random closing day during the week - it might be better if they all picked the same one, but they don't.

It's a relief to arrive back at Lochranza and to get out for a run in the afternoon. It's stopped raining, so I head out around Newton Point. This used to harbour one of the worst bogs on Arran, a real nightmare after a walk around the North Shore - the dogs had to be dangled in the sea to get the worst of it off them before they could be allowed anywhere half-respectable. Now though, there's another of those lovely raised stone tracks across all the really bad stuff, and it makes a great route to the Fairy Dell, where I cut up through fields to reach the upper track and descend pass the home of the Arran Stonemen (don't ask!). It's only a short run of about 5 1/2 miles but still a great antidote to tat - as is the Catacol Bay Hotel, sadly cleaned up and painted beige nowadays (as opposed to its glorious bright orange and blue decor of years gone by). You can still get a decent pint and a great pizza there though - although I do miss the dayglo posters announcing "Great (Carry) Hooters" and "Big Jugs" as the cheapest way of buying your ale.

10 September - The Boguille

I'm on the Isle of Arran, in the Firth of Clyde, for a week. It's one of my very favourite places, but it's provided a few trials over the years, and this week my patience has been tested - an awful start to the holiday when the guy who owns the cottage we're renting forgets we're due, and we only manage to get in after finding a guy called Pablo via a neighbour and a call to Corrie Golf Club. It's been a rush to get away as usual, and after a lot of unnecessary hassle on Saturday, Sunday produced some grey weather and a general feeling of shittiness, although we do get up Glen Catacol for a couple of hours - one of my favourite places, and definitely one of the dogs' favourites, so it's not all bad!

Today is Paula's birthday, so I'm celebrating with a morning's running over the old Boguille road to North Sannox, with a run back along the wonderful North Shore and a trip over the hill. The sun's even shining, and the first few miles are glorious. Then I lose the road. How on earth can I lose a road?! Well, on Arran, anything is possible, but the old road over the Boguille (a pass over the hills between Sannox and Lochranza) hasn't been used for a couple of hundred years, and the bog and bracken has taken over in places. The running stops, and the cursing starts - but after a bit of sploshing about in the bog I find a wet runnel which proves to be the right wet runnel to follow. The going is pretty reasonable for Arran, which tends to be rough, but even so there is high bracken (which they're treating with herbicide at the moment), stray boulders, holes, and general wetness, so it's not too fast.

A short way down from the missing bit of old road, I startle a short-eared owl, which flies a hundred yards away and then stares at me, waiting for me to vacate its home patch. Apparently their diet is largely voles - and there are lots here - the dogs spend a lot of time trying to catch them but have usually been disappointed. An easy climb to about 800' means I have a glorious 80o' of descent to the first farm at Sannox, which is hugely enjoyable, before I hit a short stretch of tarmac and round the corner down to the shore. I know that there's a length of forestry track to follow almost as far as the Fallen Rocks - walking, it's a bore, but today it's lovely and quick. Even so, I'm glad to get to the narrow path, and the going along the shore is wonderful, with only the sea, and a few birds for company. The main road sticks close to the shore around most the island's 70 mile coast, but here there has never been one, the only access being on foot or by boat.

All too soon, Laggan cottage comes into view, and I have to make the tough climb up to the 850' contour to slip back between the hills to Lochranza. The start is brutally steep, but it soon gets better, and makes a nice job of following a grassy terrace up to a high col. From here, the path used to be a dreadful mess of bog and stones, but it's been surfaced in stone over the last couple of years, and the descent to Lochranza's Newton Shore is pretty quick. I've been running for 2 hours and 40 minutes for my 14.5 miles, and it's been thoroughly enjoyable.

We spend a lovely afternoon wandering through the gardens at Brodick Castle, and have a good meal in the hotel in the evening. The Arran brewery at the Cladach makes some really good beer, and it's hard to deny yourself a few bottles at the end of a good day!

6 September - Night comes in

Helen and I are running from the house tonight - an earlier start, and eralier finish, a more civilised suppertime! Or that's the plan anyway. As it turns out, the route, which is a loop of the Common, along the Weaver, along through Vale Royal Abbey and Whitegate, Petty Pool, then back across the fields to the Whitegate Way and a return via Moulton is just as log as it sounds and it's getting quite dark again by the time we finish!

It's still a lovely evening to be out though, and the miles slip by easily. It's amazing just how much good running there is within easy reach of home, with all kinds of different surfaces and environments along the way, and hardly any road. We're out for just over two hours and cover over 14 1/2 miles. On the way back, Helen asks me if she's developing blurred vision, or whether it's just getting dark - it is the dusk light though, coming earlier all the time now. When it's coming on at 6pm, it will be time for me to run this race! Weirdly, she gets a stitch about 13 miles into the run - I hate stitches, and avoid eating anything too substantial for hours before a race to avoid them. Getting one half way through the marathon would be no joke!

I'm feeling pleasantly tired by the time we get back to the house and demolish a few pints of Ribena - tomorrow has got to be one of those days off - too much to do before my trip to Scotland!

4 September - Flying (a bit)

It's a lovely cool morning, and I'm enjoying the bike ride into work. I arrive unfashionably late, feeling a bit tired, and get stuck into some nitty-gritty. Days at work are often fun. I work with a team of ten fabulous women and one man. I'm supposed to be a manager, although I'm sure they manage me, and we prepare wills for people. Morbid? No, not at all.

The important bits about management are pretty easy to learn: you have to remember that nobody really has to come to work, or help you in any way, and that you should write a message on your hand which says "make time talk to people". It's miles more interesting than just telling people what you want them to do. They soon stop doing it anyway, so best to find out what they'd like to do and try to fit that into a vague plan. Of course, sometimes people just look irritated when you want to talk to them, which might well mean they're trying to get on with some work, so best leave well alone if that happens.

Today, making the effort, I find out that Kim can't trust herself to go shopping on her own because of all the dizzy spells she's been having. Kim is funny, clever, great company and an all-round good person to have on your team. It seems especially unfair that whilst I'm allowed to go prancing about all over the Lakes District in a pair of underpants and a vest whenever it takes my fancy, she feels unable to get to M&S unaccompanied. I ought to do something about it.

Of course, I haven't really thought of anything sensible before I'm back on the bike and on my way home. I'm going to go to the interval session tonight because I feel like I need sharpening up, but I'm not at all sure that my body is in the mood.

As it turns out, it is more than in the mood, and surprises me by getting all fed up and sulky about rinning at 4min/K pace on the first 4 minute interval along the Whitegate Way, and then continues to argue with my head until I'm at 3:30/K pace. As I'm enjoying it so much and not feeling in the least bit tired my head gives in for a bit, in fact until the very last interval, when it reigns body in a little and leaves something for tomorrow. I can't remember enjoying a session more than this one, and I'm beginning to think that all the heave-ho and slow going of the OCT day is beginning to pay me a dividend.

Tomorrow's objectives are simple: meet up with Helen for a mid-week miles run after work, by when I sincerely hope that I will have suggested something worthwhile to Kim.

1 to 3 September - Back to the Lakes

The Lakeland Trails Series was an idea that started late last year. Andrew Terrill was looking for an opportunity to meet up and do a run with some forum contributors from the Outdoors Magic site and the Garburn race in June was selected. It seemed like a good idea to enter the series of four: Hawkshead in April, Garburn, Derwent Water and Coniston (October) so Lindsay and I both did that. In the end, Andrew couldn’t make it in June but we’ve still had a good time out running and met several new people along the way. I also thought it would be good training for Snowdonia.

So, this is the day of the “Derwent Water” event. As we pass by on the M6, the Coniston Fells are bathed in sunshine, likewise the Howgills, every detail of stream and gulley highlighted by the low-angled morning light. It’s a beautiful scene, and a rare one in this damp and cloudy summer. Turning off at Penrith, a glimpse of Great Mell Fell with its low summit obscured by cloud gives us a clue as to what the weather will be like in Keswick. Halls Fell on Blencathra is the last sunny slope we pass, and looking ahead, only the summit of Catbells is visible above the murk.

It’s not raining though, and Hospital Field next to Fitz Park is mercifully dry. Dragging a car out of the mud is not the best way to end a day out. The usual Lakeland Trail Series paraphenalia is set up on the field: a marquee, gazebo, Pete Bland stall, climbing wall, bouncy castle and bouncy start/finish arch. Hundreds of yards of tape surround the central arena and it looks like it will be another one of those “around the field” finishes I dislike so much!

I can’t fault the organisation of these races though, and the “Challenge” event kicks off right on time at 10 am. Heading back to the car with my number, I bump into Lindsay who is parked yards away from us. We deliver mum to the marquee and park her in her wheelchair, then I meet up with Ward Linney who we’ve got to know through the Outdoors Magic forum “Running and the Joy of Being Alive” thread. He scored a good victory over me at Hawkshead and probably would have done so even if I’d not had a nightmare race there, but got injured at Garburn and walked in to a late finish. We do a slow warm-up together and he tells me he’s been able to train for only three weeks before this race, so it doesn’t look as if today will be a fair challenge between us.

As usual, there aren’t enough toilets. Granted, the only right number is two per runner, but six is far too few, and there are several of us heading towards the bushes before the race starts. Lindsay, Ward and I meet up in an amazingly relaxed starting pen (no rush here!) – and we’re off two minutes early.

The first 3K or so is almost flat, along a disused railway track bed, and the early pace is frenetic. I go through 1K in just under four minutes, and need to slow down. Luckily everyone around me seems to do the same thing. It’s still a good hard run to the turn for the first hill though, and already it’s clear that the race will be longer than 14K – the kilometre markers are coming at intervals of about 1200 metres!

We turn off up a steep lane, then disappointingly lose more than the height we’d kust gained as we cross the river, then start to climb again up a series of lanes before we finally gain the broad open valley of the Glenderaterra Beck. It’s raining now, refreshingly welcome on a warm and muggy morning.

I’ve taken the same head-banging option as everyone else (pretty much unavoidable on a very narrow track with copious high reeds and bog on both sides) and set off uphill at a speed designed to produce an overdose of lactic well before the top. As we head through a very swampy section, I decide I need to repay my oxygen debt and walk a few yards, which costs me half a dozen places. It’s frustrating, but I’m soon running again and at least feeling on top of the climb as we cross the beck and hit a steep section up on to the flanks of Lonscale Fell. Occasional bits of walking save energy and don’t lose any places coming up here, the pace is so slow. In any case, it’s soon over and everyone is flying again on a level traverse across the steep slopes. The group of six who passed me on the way up isn’t far away, and on top of the crags I catch them again. I don’t know quite how I lost touch again not far afterwards, probably a lapse in concentration as I was looking back across the valley at the long line of runners still on their way up!

The pace is hotting up now and I’m running faster than anywhere else on the course as the path dips across the hillside. A long, pounding descent is relieved by a brief climb, then we’re at it again, descending gradually to a corner. This is where the route drops 700’ back towards Keswick down a hard track through gorse and woodland. It’s incredibly fast. There’s no way you can afford to hold back on these descents if you’re to preserve your place and your quads – it’s a real skill to stay in control without painful braking and it’s one I’m still learning, but I am gaining on the group in front – on the last steep section, I launch myself downwards and the momentum takes me past the orange vest of a Bowland runner. A skitter round on the road and a hop up onto an embankment takes us back into Fitz Park. Bowland is thinking about a comeback, so I put in a sprint to the finish, and stay ahead.

It’s been a good race in the end, and before long, first Ward, then Lindsay come in too. Soon after that, it really does rain, so we make an early exit, stopping for a really nice lunch at the Rheged centre on the way back.

Conan is spending some of his Sunday doing the Manchester 100 bike run. As it involves an early start, and a night on the floor, Lindsay decides to spend the night at our house (sensible girl!).

This seems like a good excuse to go out for a bit of gentle exercise on Sunday morning, and it’s great to have some company again for an hour’s easy running from home, doing a similar circuit to my Thursday night run. It’s a grey old morning again, but luckily it doesn’t deteriorate into rain until after we’ve finished! Although it’s very easy-paced, we do allow ourselves one moment of recklessness, zooming down the big hill down to the river. Half way down, my legs remember what they did yesterday, and I’m relieved to make a successful right turn onto the track without tipping straight into the water!

Monday is a much nicer, fresher day with some sunshine. Although I don’t have a run planned, it seems a shame to waste a good evening, so I head out for a quick four miles around the Common which improves as it goes along. The hills are feeling easier with each run now, and I’m enjoying putting some effort in each time I reach one – I wonder how much I’m going to enjoy meeting the big one at mile 22 next month?!