Pipers, Porridge and the Man Behind the Route

Frae Maidenkirk to Johnie Groat's

-          Robert Burns

Today is Robbie Burns Day.  As such, the obvious decision for me was to wake up early and head to Burlington to run in the 36^th annual Robbie Burns 8k Road Race. 

I say this without hesitation; the absolute best races in Ontario are held in Burlington and Hamilton.  The organization of every event I have participated in out in the west end is light years beyond efficient.  The volunteers are genuinely interested in helping out and the communities are graceful and considerate as us runners take over their streets on many Sunday mornings throughout the year.  This said, it’s the final little touches that put the organizers of these events on a different plain than others.  I speak of things like the hot tomato soup after the Boxing Day 10 Miler in Hamilton and, with respect to today’s race, the Bagpipes that lead you to the start line and the bowls of porridge waiting for you at the end.  Absolutely world class in my mind ... it’s at times like these that I really question my steadfastness towards being an east-ender for life.

Anyhow, back to my adventure.

As I have alluded to in an earlier post, when this whole adventure of mine started, I knew I had to either start or end at John O’Groats, but other than that, I didn’t have a clue how I would go.  The thing is, once I started researching, the answer came fairly quickly.  References to John O’Groats on the Internet are frequently (re: almost always) coupled with references to Land’s End and the popular biking/hiking trek that takes it’s travellers from the farthest corner of England to the farthest corner of Scotland.  While LEJOG (Lands End to John O’Groats) is certainly appealing, the distance is much longer than I care to tackle at this point. 

Fortunately, at the end of many of the articles about LEJOG, is a reference to a Scotland-only variant of the hike which seems to have been born from a line in a Robert Burns poem ... quote above ... full script in the link below.  I find it quite a good read, but perhaps I’m a bit biased at this point.

http://www.robertburns.org/works/275.shtml

Somewhere along the way, the town name has been inverted.  ‘Twas Maidenkirk, ‘Tis Kirkmaiden today.  Kirkmaiden is tucked away in the far south-western tip of Scotland and, by choosing it as my starting point, I would basically be running from the most southerly point of Scotland to the most northerly point (mainland that is).  Yes please!

While Kirkmaiden to John O’Groats is a popular journey, there’s actually no set path to follow.  It’s really up to the individual to decide how to get from point to point.  This challenge seemed a bit daunting at first, but I soon came across the walkhighlands.co.uk website which is an unbelievable resource for the many paths and trails that criss-cross Scotland.  Come to think of it, at first, the site was a bit overwhelming itself due to seemingly endless number of options it presented.  It was like trying to pick a Dosa from the menu at Udupi Palace, so many good choices, each one giving you what you need.  After a few weeks though, and with a little help, I nailed it down.  Here’s an overview of the route broken down into three sections:

The South – Kirkmaiden to Edinburgh

The Middle – Edinburgh to Inverness

The North – Inverness to John O’Groats

The South – Kirkmaiden to Edinburgh

Kirkmaiden is located a bit inland from the actual southern tip of Scotland, so I’m planning to make my way all the way down to the coast, specifically, the Gallie Craig Coffee Shop.  From GC, I’ll head north along, hopefully, quiet roadways, pass through Kirkmaiden and then aim for Castle Kennedy.  That’s where I’ll hook up with The Southern Upland Way (SUW), a glorious trail that stretches from the West-to-East in southern Scotland. 

While this isn’t the Highlands, the country is constantly rolling along the SUW and should prepare me well for the bigger vertical later in the trip.  What makes this choice of route all the more special for me is that it passes just north of the town of Newton Stewart.  My maternal grandfather, one of the most remarkable and influential individuals in my life, was born in Newton Stewart.  He left for Canada when he was only six and even though he never spoke much of his birthplace, he was so unique and special that I am convinced his early years in Scotland made him the man he became.  So, I will be taking a short jaunt down to Newton Stewart early in the run, just to see it for myself and see where my history lies.    

The SUW cuts through the heart of the south of Scotland (yellow) and, conveniently, crosses the Scottish National Trail at Tranquair (blue).  The Scottish National Trail (SNT) is quite new and takes its travelers on a south-to-north path (generally speaking) through Scotland which is perfect for my needs.  After a short jaunt on the SNT, I’ll be close to Edinburgh where I’ll stop for a day to explore the city ... and down a few pints. 

The Middle – Edinburgh to Inverness

Oh the middle!  The meat and potatoes of my trip!  This is Scotland in all its glory, at least to a guy who’s never been and believes everything he reads on the internet ... Did you know that an average city of 1 million people produces about $1.5 million in silver and gold just in its sewage each year?   I’m seeing a new Discovery Channel show on the horizon, get your sluice boxes in the drains boys ...  

From Edinburgh, I’ll travel west to Glasgow for another touristy rest.  Then I’m moving on up through the Highlands, skirting Loch Lomond and aiming straight for Cairngorms National Park, home to many of the UK’s highest mountains.  The Cairgorms are undoubtedly the most difficult portion of my journey and the portion I am looking forward to the most.  This is where I’ll separate the wheat from the chaff; where I’ll break or I’ll persevere.  I expect to learn a great deal about myself as I pass through and I hope that I’ll like what I find. 

After the Cairngorms, I make my way to the Great Glen Way (yellow) which takes me along Loch Ness to Inverness.  And no, I did not choose this way because of Nessie.   I don’t tend to subscribe or care much about myths, legends and the like.  This said, I’ll be about 800km in at this point and may be predisposed to seeing things that are simply not there.  Anyways, it’s just a wee bit to Inverness, where I’ll spend my last rest day of the trip.

The North – Inverness to John O’Groats

Damn ... I really wanted to run the Cape Wrath Trail.  The Cape Wrath Trail snakes its way through the Western Highlands of Scotland.  These are the glorious, rugged Highlands that us foreigners see and hear about in TV and Movies.   Picture the Harry Potter films and the train that takes the kids to the school at the beginning of most of them.  That bridge the train crosses ... yep, that’s along the Trail.   However, the Cape Wrath Trail crosses through many mountains, burns, bogs and there are few settlements.  This is truly one of the most remote places in Europe and it requires some well-honed outdoor skills to navigate.  I have none.  I would be putting my life at risk to attempt to cross to Cape Wrath and that is not the point of this adventure.  This said, I do see myself crossing it at some point in my life.

The north-eastern side of Scotland isn’t that much more populated than the west and, as a result, there are very few route options here.  And the one(s) that are available are almost always panned by those who travel along them.  It’s not the towns that cause the dislike, it’s the fact that you’re on the A9 and A99 roads all the way and, from the sounds of things, there are some pretty harrowing stretches along the way.  Many people claim that it’s a tough way to end such an epic journey.

With this in mind, I needed to find out whether there was a better way to the top.  This is when I turned to the man I mentioned at the beginning of this story, Charlie Ramsay.  I wasn’t sure whether Charlie would respond to my questions, but he did and did so in the most genuinely helpful way.   He pointed me to the “North of Scotland Way” which John Butler, a LEJOGer, came up with a few years ago.  Instead of going straight up the coast, this route darts inland from Inverness and, while many miles are spent on roads, my hope and belief is that I won’t be dealing with the traffic that I would on the A9.  Plus, I will be flirting with the Western Highlands on the way, so I’m hoping that scenery will be worth the extra 75kms that will be added to my journey.

The image that follows is not an exact representation of the North of Scotland Way, but it follows a similar path and is the best I can do at the moment with my modest Google Earth skills.  I am forever indebted to Charlie for his kindness and assistance and for showing me the way.

There you have it.  In total, the run will be about 1,050km.  I’m planning for 32 days of running which will amount to roughly 33k a day.  Clearly, I’m not attempting a FKT or even obscene daily mileage.  This adventure is not a race for me; it’s about seeing Scotland, meeting the people and remaining balanced.  And I am looking forward to it more than anything else in my past. 

For now,

Craig

There’s no questioning that you are a runner ...

... a male runner ... if you have ever taped your nips.

Canada really threw a weather curve-ball at us this past week.  Last Saturday was pretty much a perfect day for running ... in my mind at least.  The temperature was hovering a bit above the freezing mark in the morning and the winds were light.  That’s still shorts weather for me.  T-shirt for a base and a long-sleeve for a bit of warmth.  Absolutely glorious and completely comfortable. 

There was a bit of snow later in the day, then the temperature shot up and the snow turned into a heavy rain by Sunday morning.  When I woke up, the thought of staying inside until the rain stopped had crossed my mind.  However, I am going to be running in Scotland so I need to get used to being outside in the rain.  As such, I decided to head out. 

As I was getting ready, the rain was really coming down hard and I considered putting some band-aids on my nipples.  Yes, that’s right.  When it’s wet out, I tape’em.  I’m not ashamed to admit it. Wicking fabrics are like cheese graters when they get a bit damp and I have had a few unexpected and uncomfortable post-run showers over the years as a result. 

The absolute worst incident occurred during the 2012 Scotia Marathon 5k.  The race started just south of the CNE and made its way to City Hall.  I had decided to park my car at Liberty Village, figuring a 4-5k cool-down run after the race would be nice.  I don’t recall there being any rain as I made my way to the Start Line, however, by the time the race began, it was a total downpour.  Half way through the race, I could actually feel the heaviness of my water-logged clothes and shoes weighing me down.  After the race, I pigged down the requisite bananas and yoghurt and was just starting to run back to my car when I felt a couple of lightning bolts shoot right through my chest.  My areolas had been scraped clear off and the pain was crazy intense.  I was having a hell of a time moving without irritating them.  Running was out of the question.  Going shirtless would have been ideal, but that’s not my MO ... especially in downtown TO.   I had to settle for a sort of zombie walk, lurched forward with very little arm swing.  Longest 4k walk ever ... but I’m not really here to focus my man bits so I digress ...  

I took a chance and decided against the taping because I’d be wearing my rain gear and figured that it should keep my t-shirt dry.  Thankfully the gear worked and it turned out to be a very enjoyable, albeit very wet, run up to Edwards Gardens and back.  The deep freeze came along as quickly as the rains did however, and by Monday, TO was dealing with wind chills in the -20’C range. 

This is where I’m quite different than most.  I actually enjoy running when it’s cold.  I guess I’ve been conditioned from a very young age to accept the cold.  I grew up in the town of Ajax and we’d often head to Uxbridge and Bowmanville for exhibition hockey games during the season.  For the games when the other goalie was playing, I’d sit on bench in these ancient buildings, just staring at the ice that had formed on the walls, trying my best not to cry because I was freezing.   It wasn’t far from torture, but after a couple of years, it just became a part of my life.  I wasn’t necessarily looking forward to these games, but I also knew I didn’t have a choice, so I tried not to think too negatively about it and that’s what got me by. 

When it came time for my Tuesday night run, the wind-chill was -18’C.  Oh well ... I layered up, did a proper warm up with high-knees and butt-kicks inside the gym and then headed out.  Within 5mins my body temp was completely normalized.  Fingers were fine, toes were fine and, in fact, my core was a bit too warm. 

There you have it.  It doesn’t take much for your body to heat up when you’re exercising regardless of the temperature.  The secret is to head out with the right frame of mind.  If you’re dreading the cold; obsessing about the cold, you’ve already lost.  Your mind will tell you that you’re cold the entire run.  You will hate it and you will find a reason to not run the next time it’s the same temperature.

Perhaps I’m a freak?  Perhaps my physiology is tuned just so that it is not affected by the cold to the same extent as other folks?  I’m no physiologist or scientist so I’m open to those thoughts, however, I do feel, deep-down, that I don’t get turned off by the cold because I don’t fuss about it.   I do know one thing for certain though.  Thursday night was even colder than Tuesday and it too was an immensely enjoyable run.  Bring on the rest of the winter I say.

For my next post, I hope to share my route.  I nearly have it all punched into Google Earth, I’m just in the process of adding the final sections and figuring out how to share it with y’all.

For now,

Craig

How did I get here?

I was a typical Canadian child growing up with my sporting life focused solely on hockey.   Perhaps “atypical” is a more fitting word for me as us goaltenders sometimes exist on the periphery of the whole hockey team dynamic.  Nevertheless, hockey was all I did when I was young.   That is, except for one brief moment in the fall of Grade 6, when I decided to give cross-country running a try.

I was drawn into cross-country after watching my sister succeed in the sport.  I realize now that I consider my sister as one of my running hero’s, but at the time, I simply thought that if she could be successful at running, than so could I.  Call it arrogance, call it jealousy, call it whatever you like.

However, while she would be leading the training runs for the entire school, I would be screwing around with friends, chasing each other around trees and piles of dog-shite.   Reality slapped me good and hard on the day of my first, and last, race.  I remember little about that day, but what I do remember, I remember vividly.   The race started in a wide, open field and funneled everyone into a series of forest trails.  I started out too aggressively and was probably mid-pack by the time I reached the woods.  I began to panic as my heart started pounding through my chest; a feeling I was not familiar with and a feeling I DID NOT like at all (it’s funny how time changes one’s perspective on these things).   I was looking for a way out of the pain and I found it when a class-mate of mine, Mitchell, got tangled up with another runner and they both went down hard.   As I went by, I was only thinking about Mitchell and whether it’s proper racing etiquette to help a fellow runner up.  I didn’t.  The guilt of not stopping and lending him a hand overwhelmed me until he went blazing by.  That’s when I realized that I was doing little more than walking ... I had quit at that point.  I shuffled to the finish line, in 50^th place, four spots from last.

I figured then that I was not meant to be a runner.  My beliefs were reinforced by my absolute hatred of having to run (aka walk) 6 laps of the track in high-school gym class.   I never once thought about running after high-school, not even when people, including my future running coach, would comment that I must be a runner because of my slight physique.   My retort always being that “I can’t run 100m without doubling over”.  I had established a nice, comfortable, sedentary lifestyle, complete with a big, lumbering and equally non-running Bernese Mountain Dog.  I maintained this mindset until I was 35 or so. 

At the time, a few of my friends had been running to stay in shape.  I don’t recall what motivated me to join them, but I did and for roughly four weeks, we’d run on Saturdays and Sundays in Mount Pleasant Cemetery in Toronto.   During those weeks, I came to realize that I didn’t actually hate running.  I don’t think I truly enjoyed it yet, but it certainly didn’t feel like a chore. 

At the end of those four weeks, we were signed up to run a 10k on Toronto Island.  The race was organized by one of Ontario’s Triathlon Series, so it wasn’t a huge event and that suited me just fine.  I recall two things from this race.  First, I ran with my phone in my one hand and my keys in the other because I didn’t have pockets in my shorts.  Second, I remember getting to 8k and realizing that I wasn’t tired at all, unfortunately, I didn’t know how to run faster at that time.   I ended up with a 48:30 or so and for a brief moment, I actually liked running.  This was short-lived, however, and it couldn’t overcome the gravitational pull of my couch and TV.   I stopped running altogether.

The following spring I was in meeting at work and we needed a follow up.  When I suggested meeting again the next Monday, a co-worker commented that he couldn’t because he’d be in Boston.   He didn’t travel for work, so I asked why and he responded that he was running the Boston Marathon.  I was completely taken aback and intrigued at the same time.  I am fortunate enough to work for one of the sponsors of the race, but up to that point, I had paid little attention to the employee training program that allowed us to get into Boston without qualifying as long as we raised money for charity.  It took an off the cuff comment from a co-worker for me to comprehend the amazing opportunity that was available and to remind me that I may just enjoy running.

I could write pages describing what happened next ... and I may just do that in a future post, but for now I’ll just provide the Coles Notes version:

I signed up, through work, to run in the 2010 Boston Marathon.

I pulled a marathon training program off the internet.

I started my training for Boston running four times a week.

I dropped down to running three times a week by March because my body was sore all the time.

I finished the Boston Marathon.

I sat on a bench after the race, feeling a whole world of awful and I promised myself that I would qualify for the 2011 race.

I was once again blessed by the running gods who reconnected me with Albert Dell'Apa, my former co-worker and the best darn running coach in Toronto.

I got my Boston Qualifier at the 2010 Scotia Toronto Marathon, thanks to Albert’s coaching, guidance and encouragement.

I didn’t listen to my body and I over-trained for the 2011 Boston Marathon.

I paid dearly for that mistake during the race and have been paying for it ever since.

It hasn’t been all negative since 2011.  With Albert by my side, I have been able to post some pretty decent results in 5ks and 10ks and the dislike I once felt for running has been completely replaced by an undeniable love for it.  Unfortunately, my body falls apart in any race that is longer than 10k and it did so in a massive way in 2013. 

I had signed up for the Chicago Marathon and was being extremely cautious with my training.  I was looking for a good quality tempo run and, as such, signed up for the disaster that was the 15k Midsummer’s Night Race (I’ll refrain from elaborating as to why the race was a disaster ... if you were there, you know).   By the end of that race, my knee started to get flaky and I knew, once again, that a marathon was out of the question.  So I never made it to Chicago, but nonetheless, I kept running.   The knee pain eventually dissipated but I started getting pains in other places.  Thinking I was just dealing with shin splints, I kept running.  After six weeks, I finally got it into my head that perhaps it was more than just shin splints.  One bone scan later, it was confirmed ... stress fracture of my tibia.

Give or take, a stress fracture equals about ten weeks of no running.  However, when your Osteopath provides an assessment that your running issues are due to you being unbelievably weak (paraphrasing here ... a bit, not much), that ten weeks actually turns into about five to six months as you focus on building up your general fitness level before hitting the roads again.

As my body was healing, my mental state spiraled out of control.  I became irritable and erratic.  I closed myself off from the world as much as I possibly could and faked interest whenever I was forced to be part of it.  When I was by myself, I did things that I still find bewildering.  When I was with others, I was unbelievably and embarrassingly belligerent.  I was in a state of mania for days on end and utter depression for even longer.  This cycle kept repeating itself ... over and over and over.  I had fallen apart completely.

I have always struggled with being me.  I do not like myself much.  When I’m in a room with people I don’t know and even with people I do know, I tend to feel completely inadequate.  In my mind, there will always be someone more interesting, someone funnier, someone better looking ... whatever ... in short, I’m often overwhelmed by my sense of feeling lesser than everyone else.

The thing is, when I’m running, I feel that I’m equal.  I don’t care if I pass other runners or if they pass me, whether it be on the street or at the end of a race.  The times speak for themselves and I stop judging and comparing myself to others.  In the back of my head, I know I’m a fairly good runner and that makes me feel amazing.  If only I hadn’t rejected running earlier in my life ...

When I lost my ability to run, I lost the tool that kept my mental state balanced.  In the past, before I ran, my family and my close friends kept me stable during my uneven periods.  But with my self-imposed isolation, I didn’t have them.  It’s really no wonder that I collapsed.

Fortunately, all things pass.  I returned to running in March/April this year and sought out help to understand my thoughts, feelings and behaviors.  I got myself into a much more positive place and similar to what I did at the end of the 2010 Boston Marathon, I made a commitment to myself.  This time, it was to figure out, by the end of 2014, what I needed to do in life and then to work towards that goal in 2015.

For the longest time, I couldn’t figure it out what I truly needed.  I was missing my a-ha moment.  Then something happened.  

It was two days before I was to leave to Portland to run in the Hood to Coast relay race with one of my oldest friends, Daryl F.  My mind should have been focused and obsessing over the relay; Hood to Coast after-all, is an iconic race complete with its own movie and cult following.  Instead, I was kind of dreading it.  My training had been all over the place, I was having more knee and shin issues and I was really concerned about letting down a bunch of people I didn’t know. 

I had been watching an embarrassing amount of TV at the time, with a primary focus on the show Boundless, as well as, the Long Way Round and Long Way Down series.

For those not familiar with Boundless, it follows two Canadians, Simon Donato and Paul Trebilcock, as they travel the world competing in endurance races.  I find the show both entertaining and compelling because it isn’t solely focused on telling an endless story of their successes.  Rather, it highlights the pain, suffering and mental anguish that Simon and Paul encounter with every event they sign up for.  The show humanizes them and, for me, I feel a connection to them.  I have yet to complete anything that compares to what they’ve done, but I have slogged through 25k training runs in -25 C temperatures and have crashed through the wall more than once, so I feel like a kindred spirit.  I’ve been there and I’ve pushed through and when people ask me why I do it, there’s really no good answer other than “just because”.

The Long Way Round and Long Way Down series are better known and follow Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman as they ride their motorbikes first around the globe and then from the top to bottom of the earth.  Similar to Boundless, LWR and LWD focus a great deal of time on the suffering and internal struggles that Ewan and Charley face throughout their journeys.  That’s what resonates so powerfully with me.  It shows real people struggling with real challenges.

For one episode in the second season of Boundless, Simon and Paul undertook the “Ramsay Round”.  The race, which is against the clock not other racers, takes Simon and Paul on a 56 mile course over 24 Munros (mountains over 3,000ft) in Scotland.  The goal is to complete the course in less than 24 hours.  This episode solidified a few things in my mind.  First, that Scottish Highlands can be a hostile and unforgiving place, especially when undertaking a challenge like the Round.  Second, that regardless of the brutality, those same Highlands are remarkably beautiful.

The route in the Long Way Down series runs from the top of Scotland to the bottom of South Africa.  Every episode starts with a recap of the route and always mentions “John O’Groats”, located in the far, north-eastern corner of Scotland, as the jumping off point.  The continuous repeating of the name resulted in an almost Pavlovian response with me.  No, I didn’t yearn for dog food, but I did think about Scotland continuously throughout each episode regardless of where they were riding.

And there it was.  Two days before heading to Oregon, I figured out what I need to do in 2015.  I need my own adventure and I know that it has to involve Scotland and that it has to include John O’Groats and that it has to involve running.  It will be my adventure, not someone else’s.  It will be by myself, for myself.  It will break me down and show me what I am capable of.  It will allow me challenge my core beliefs of inadequacy and, hopefully, it will be the trigger that enables me to finally like myself.

A lot has happened since August.  For the longest time, I kept this idea mostly secret because I wasn’t completely convinced that it was even feasible.  I’m being more open about it now because [a] physically speaking, I am stronger than I have ever been and [b] I have mapped out a route that is just shy of 1,000km which I believe to be manageable in 30-45 days.  I’m currently targeting the July/August time-frame, midges be damned.  This blog will be updated as my training progresses and my planning kicks into high gear.  I’ll write about the challenges; the good weeks and the bad.  I’ll write about the people who are helping me and perhaps even the products I’m using.  And then as my adventure gets going, I’ll write from the roads and the trails.  I hope it’ll be somewhat of a good read and an even better adventure.  I can’t say for certain that I will complete it, but one thing I do know is that I won’t quit on myself.

Craig