Hellrunner - My Race September 2007

Hellrunner: Scots to the Slaughter July 14, 2007 Mugdock Country Park

Who in their right mind would sign up for a race aptly named Scots to the Slaughter? Well, I’ve never been known for my mental stability, so I paid my entry fee and lined up for the first Scottish leg of the Hellrunner series, without a single clue what was in store. All I knew was that if was a tough adventure race and it was “not necessary to be able to swim”. The clue was in the latter part…

Paul Magner from Trailplus commented: “We created Hellrunner back 2004 when we came up with the idea of an off-road running experience that would put a smile on people's faces as well mud and sweat on their brow. If I were to ask any runner to describe their favourite run, almost everyone would describe an off-road route. Yet most runners stick to usual races, pounding away 10k, half and full marathons on concrete”. He continued: “Hellrunner is a multi-terrain race made up of three zones. There will be everything from trails to water-filled areas and plenty of steep hills. Everyone gets very wet and mucky. It’s nature at its toughest. Courses are marked but there are no mile markers - that’s for those softy road running types. All participants need to know is that the course will be probably more than 10 and less than 12 miles in length. But with what’s in store, who’s counting?”

Armed with a the checklist’s most important element – a sense of humour - a small field of less than 300 runners turned out on the sunny Saturday evening in July. A mixed bag of competitors – from the sprightly adventure race veteran to the novice in shiny new trail shoes to the guys who’d bet each other in the pub – gathered, ready to set out on the unknown. There was to be no chip, no markers and no route. The devil playing the bagpipes sent us on our way – through a cloud of smoke and fireworks.

The race started with a trot along a pleasant narrow trail, leading us into a false security. The biggest obstacle was the amount of people in the confined space. I’m sure I was more of an obstacle to others though, as I skipped around rocks and puddles.

The course – only distinguished with strips of tape from tree branches - made its way up the first of many hills. A few Londoners went racing up with excitement and then burst at the top. I’m sure the only hill they experienced was the ascent out the tube station if the escalator broke down. The entertainment of watching them pussyfoot round the first mud bath was worth the entry fee alone.

There was no point trying to stay clean, so I waded though the shoe-sucking mud, thankful that I’d tied my laces tight. On through some the forestry, the swinging branches were the next obstructions. A pine tree branch in the face would definitely leave a mark, so most runners cowered and shielded themselves – whilst the not so cautious yelped and cursed.

Out of the forest and across a bogey field, there was gridlock as we queued to pass over a few stiles. Up and over, the path continued down some steep rocky hill sides. The momentum meant my feet were moving faster than my brain and my heart was racing from sheer exhaustion and adrenaline. On through more marsh and bogs, the challenge was to stay vertical and not dislocate a hip trying to retrieve my feet. Up a few slippy hills – smile at the photographer – and it was on to more welcoming pine tree forests. The spongy bed of pine needles was a delightful surface to run, but the army assault course of fallen trees stopped me from tuning out. Having to concentrate really made the minutes and miles pass quickly.

Deeper into the forest and further from daylight, we were suddenly thrown into darkness. My eyes adjusted enough to see my steps and the runner it front. The concentration was deathly silent. I could actually hear my blood pumping and faint sound of panting from the runner behind. Heading towards the circle of daylight, we tackled another deep bog. Back into the bright summer’s light onto a rocky trail, it was humorous to hear the slurping of mud and the shrieks and giggles of runners struggling with their balance.

We continued along a rocky trail for about a mile before turning up another steep hill. My thighs were aching as I reached the top and turned along the path before making my way down again. The gradient and slippy terrain was almost suicidal. Some runners gave up and actually went down on their backsides. Back on the trail, I tried to stamp off the mud as my feet were starting to weigh more than me. Another mile along, I was heading down towards the more familiar track of the West Highland Way, but not before a marshall directed me on a small detour – a completely unnecessary vertical incline. The high-pitched squeals in the distance suggested that we were in for another adventure. I slowed to a stomp as I struggled with the gradient. At the peak I followed the path round the corner and was faced with a very wet descent. Slipping and slushing about in the jungle-like environs, I was desperately trying to stop myself falling face-first. The angle forced us to gather a scary momentum and runners grasped on the long grass to stop themselves from falling. The St John’s Ambulance Crew stationed at the bottom reassured me that I wasn’t being a big fairy after all. I was starting to wilt in the heat, so I was glad to see the only water station, which marked the half-way point. I didn’t know whether to drink it or throw it all over me.

Finally I was on the West Highland Way, passing the Carbeth Huts. An easy pace for about a mile before an official sent us up a path less travelled. Living close by, the Way is a regular training ground, but I was totally unaware that these paths existed. Up though a faint track the route winded and twisted, with sharps bends and detours. “Is anyone else feeling nauseous” someone shouted from the back. Nods and agreeing sighs, before we climbed over the obstacles and ducked under trees. Heading down, the pace was dictated by the runners in front. It was like the M8 during rush hour. One person slows down and it has on knock-on-effect on everyone. Single file we dodged fallen wire fences, swinging tree branches and the remains of a Ned’s camping site. The combat-zone conditions triggered camaraderie amongst runners. There was respect and an unspoken non-competitiveness. No one tried to overtake and fore runners stopped to hold back tree branches. I’m sure it was a different story at the front of the field though.

With eight miles down, we were back along the West Highland Way. The adventure part was over. The last two miles consisted of a few more inclines and narrow paths. Retracing the track of early stages of the race, a marshall shouted: “Back to the castle. Just listen out for the bagpipes and you’re there.” Just when you thought it was over, it was just one more for good measure. With an evil glint in his eye, another official sent us up a vertical ascent up a steep muddy hill. And that is what the organisers call the “Hills of Hell”. Every race in the series has a killer finish. I grabbed on to grass and branches to pull myself up, as my feet came away from underneath me. I passed one runner practically going up on his stomach and a girl taking one step forward and three steps back. Sprinting down the other side - praying not to trip - it was back on the trail for the last 200m sprint to the finish line.

When I finished I was on a complete high. Although I looked like Worzel Gummidge and my shoes were only worthy of the bin, I think I’ve found my favourite race. It was a hoot. After months of long distance pavement pounding, my body and mind were in danger of cracking up. I was starting to fall out of love with running, but Hellrunner saved the day. If definitely put the fun back into to running. It’s your worst cross-country nightmare, but I’ll be there next year.

Fact box.
Scots to the Slaughter at Mugdock Country Park Glasgow was the Hellrunner’s first visit north of the border. Other events take place in Delamere Forest, Cheshire and Longmoor Camp, Hampshire. Following the success of this year’s event, the organisers will be back again next year. For further information, visit http://www.hellrunner.co.uk/, email info@trailplus.com or call 01628 820368. There’s also a Little Devil’s Fun Run on the day. See website for details.

Results

Male

1 Chris Steele 1:03:32
2 Nick Fish 1:03:49
3 Matt Williamson 1:05:18

Female

1 Megan Mowbray 1:15:59
2 Lisa Pettes 1:17:56
3 Claire Thomson 1:21:44

Devil o’ the Highlands - My Race July 2007

Speak of the Devil / Better the Devil you know

When I first started running, even the thought of a marathon – a mere 26.2 miles - was usually met with comments that involved hell and freezing over. Little did I know that several marathons down the line the devil would grab me and drag on a gut-wrenching 43 miles through the Highlands.

Since my pavement-pounding debut many moons ago, many have been impressed with my dedication and devotion to running. More are bewildered as to why I actually enjoy long distance running. But few shared my excitement when I signed up for the Devil o’ The Highlands (DOTH) – a 43-mile hill race along the West Highland Way from Tyndrum to Fort William.

Garry Milne, Race Director came up with the idea whilst running the West Highland Way Race in 1994. I put that down to delirium. Nevertheless I had to agree with him when he said: “the most enjoyable and beautiful part of the route is from the village of Tyndrum all the way up to Fort William”. He toyed with the idea for a few years, until his long-suffering wife bullied him into stop talking and start organising. Enlisting the help of his athletic family, including his Father Stan who was a race director for the West Highland Way Race, they formed The Bigrace Group. Since the event’s maiden voyage in August 2003, it has attracted international athletes keen to take part in one of the world’s most scenic ultra marathons.
Unlike an ordinary ultra, this is advertised as mountain race. Not just 43 miles, but over 6000ft in ascent - in a region known for its unpredictable and severe weather. Because of this, the registration process and race guidelines are very stringent. Applicants are selected on case-by-case basis and must possess the desired level of ability. The race rules are: Runners have 12 hours to finish and must pass through the four manned checkpoints. Each runner must have a back-up team and as it’s a mountain event, the minimum survival equipment – map, compass, waterproofs and foil blanket - must be carried at all times. Participants are allowed companions, but not pacers. The difference being that if you’re chasing a prize then you are not allowed anyone to help you along. And each runner must carry their own pack at all times.

Parking up at the Green Welly Stop just after dawn on June 9, I put my enrolment down to a temporary lapse of sanity rather than an aspirational achievement. I had walked the route and jogged most of sections, so I thought it was a case of stitching some bits together, upping the pace and getting to Fort William within the time limit. Naïve I know. Thankfully my equally unhinged side-kick, Marco, was there to experience the pain too. We’re known by our nearest and dearest as the certifiable fruitloops. I’m not sure whether we’re compatible or just a bad influence on each other.

We met up with my bleary-eyed support teams – more to do with a night at the Bridge of Orchy Hotel’s bar than the god-awful hour - to go over last minute details and hand over my supplies. The weather forecast predicted hot sunshine and 25 degree heat. Given the Scottish highlands’ famed fickle weather, I had packed for every eventuality from a Sahara to Everest adventure.

Last minute hugs and words of encouragement and I lined up with the other 52 runners. My stomach was in knots, my eyes resembled a startled rabbit and my hands were flapping about attempting to elude a midges attack.

Stage 1 - Tyndrum to Bridge of Orchy 10.75km/6.75miles
Bang on 6am, Garry honked the horn and off we went, trotting up the gentle slope out of the village of Tyndrum on an old military road. The easiest section of the route was made more enjoyable with the fresh morning air and the magical sight of the rising mist. The combination of fear and anticipation meant that no one was in the mood for conversation. The only sound was the scuffling off trail shoes, swishing sound of energy drink in back packs and the odd toot from drivers on the A82.

Over the first few miles there was a mix of enthusiasm from the over-expending runner who got caught up in the first spurt action to the over-cautious who started to walk at the first sign of a hill.

After a while, the field was split and people started to relax and settle into their stride. I spent the rest of the stage chatting to two other gals. Up and over the rocky track we excitedly gibbered about previous races, running experience and how we ended up there in the first place. It was like a mobile coffee-morning, but it was nice to chat.

As the train line at Bridge of Orchy drew nearer the army of support teams – clad in midge nets – came into sight. The railway underpass, which donates the entrance to the village, was a haven for the highland pests. Shielding my face, I jogged down the minor road, flashed my race number as I passed the checkpoint and crossed the A82 to meet my support team.
Jill and Sara looked like they were having the toughest time. Ducking swarms of Scotland’s scourge that filled the air like smog, the tried to look cheery, but I felt their frustration. Jill’s welcoming words were: “next time can you choose a race that’s not in Scotland”. Non-disputable advice which I banked for a future ponder as I stripped off a few layers of clothing, grabbed a bag of jelly babies and headed off for the next stage.

Stage 2 - Bridge of Orchy to Kingshouse

Bridge of Orchy to Inveroran 4km/2.5miles
I could still hear the cheers behind me as I stepped on the trail, which immediately started to head steeply towards the first major peak - the Mam Carraigh ridge which stands at 1000ft/308 metres. I didn’t have much of a game plan, but I knew I was going to walk the three peaks. I started to slow down and settle in to a stomp as I continued up through the woods. I was probably going a bit rapid, but I was otherwise in danger of asphyxiation by insects. I ran and stumbled out of woods on to the track which marks the beginning of the rougher country underfoot.

Heading over the ridge the morning sunshine was beaming down. Cloudless blue skies allowed for magnificent views over the sparking Loch Tulla and the magnificent Rannoch Moor in the distance. Feeling the burn from the uphill, the downhill offered little relief as the rocky zigzag route down to Inveroran was tough on the ankles and taxing on the brain.

Inveroran to Kingshouse 16.1km/10miles
Passing the Inveroran hotel over a few bridges and stiles and it back on the Old Drovers road heading towards Rannoch Moor. Feeling quite self-righteous, I passed the runners who blew up exerting themselves over the previous peaks.

Rannoch Moor is the most remote, but most splendid part of the race. A magnificent plateau dotted with innumerable lochs, lochans, peat bogs, streams and surrounded by heather-clad country and mountains. To the unaware runner you’d be forgiven for thinking you’re wilting, when in fact there’s a cheeky wee incline most of the way.

Up and out of the moor, the path then swings around the flanks of Meall a' Bhuiridh to reveal the head of Glencoe. Still feeling energised, I bounced the two miles down the hill to the second checkpoint at the White Corries ski lifts.

I desperately searched for my support team, but they were nowhere in sight. Panic set in. Quick call from my mobile and I tracked them down at the Kingshouse Hotel – a short distance across the A82 and along the minor pot-holed road. By this time, the gals had stripped down to their shorts and tees and were topping up there tans. There were amazed and confused when I said that I was “absolutely loving it”. I topped up on fluids, grabbed a cereal bar and headed passed the hotel and campsite and over the bridge. A few sleep stirring campers lifted their heavy heads and waved over, whilst others looked on in shocked.

Stage 3 - Kingshouse to Kinlochleven 14.5km/9miles
A pleasant 2.7 miles along the Way, with a few skips over streams and jumps over stiles and I was at the foot of the dreaded Devil’s Staircase - the highest point at 1798ft/549m. Aptly the race was named after this hill, because of its energy draining ability. By no means a mountain, but not an ascent I wanted to waste energy by running up. I decided to walk/stomp up, as I knew I’d be faster. Strangely, I was actually looking forward to the rest. I passed a few runners on the way up. The simultaneous rolling of our eyes was the unspoken language that screamed we should be doing something else on a sunny Saturday morning. Why can’t I be like a normal girl and go shopping? To add another cruel twist a photographer was heading towards me as I pulled my dead legs up. Snapping away I asked him if hair was OK. Thankfully he humoured me. Nearing the summit, I passed and chatted to some Dutch tourists, who shouted behind me “You must come to Holland to run marathon. It is very flat. Not like this crazy country”. Thoughts of how Dutch people trained for the WHW kept my frazzled brain occupied for a while.

Views from the summit were spectacular. I had trained on this section two weeks prior and I was battered with forceful hailstones and snow. Yes, even in May! This time the crystal clear day provided magnificent views of Lairig Gartain that runs through Glen Etive and the mighty Buachailles.

Skipping along, the track meanders its way down for the next six miles. The rocky route and downhill gradient was unforgiving on the quads and my toes ached as my feet pressed forward in my shoes.

Trying to enjoy the sights of the glorious mountain ranges and the glistening eight-mile reservoir, I was cautiously aware of my stepping. One false move and I’d be backside over elbow. En route I passed a few male runners who were really pussyfooting around the rocks.
Nearing Kinlochleven the track continued to drop and my toes continued to scream as the pipes of a town’s aluminium smelter came in to view. My tired legs were suffering from the concrete pounding as I turned towards the next checkpoint. Again, I frantically searched for my support team. I was starting to question my choice, when my half-naked soon-to-be Brother-in-law Paul hurled himself across the street and said: “The girls are parked at the end. I can’t run with you and I don’t want to panic you, but you’re third lady”. What? Me? I’ve never been known for my speed, but One-pace Debs was on for a place. I suddenly felt lighter and more energised. Springing away, I figured Paul was having a rare wee day of sun-basking, but I later discovered that Marco had swiped his t-shirt at the last checkpoint.

A quick pip-stop, restocking energy drink, packing some food and slapping on more sunscreen and I was on my way to the finish. Unfortunately it was along the toughest and most draining section. Up until that part I was feeling pretty fresh, but experience had warned me that that was about to be zapped. I accepted that it was going to hurt, but I knew I’d get through it.

Stage 4 - Kinlochleven to Fort William
Kinlochleven to Lundavra 12km/7.5miles
Leaving the town, my jovial stride proved short-lived as I turned up the steep track towards Lairig-Mor (330m/1100ft.). Climbing up and up through birch and mountain ash, the sun was out in full-force. My skin felt like it was melting. Drips of sweat – which were running faster than I was - were stinging my eyes and blurring my vision.
After a staggered ascent I finally reached the Lairig-Mor track. From there on in it was an isolated jog through a long empty valley. The undulating track was very tough on heavy legs. Every incline felt like a mountain. My energy levels were depleting, so I frantically stuffed jelly babies in my mouth. My thighs were searing with and the rough terrain was making my feet slip and ankles roll. I knew I was in danger of losing a nail or two, but hey ho, toenails are so over-rated.

To keep positive, I knew I was going to finish. And finish in a better time than expected. I had got that far so I was committed to dragging myself to the end. Passing another few male runners, their shocked faces on seeing a girl overtake, continued to provide sweet satisfaction.
After a series of mental peaks and troughs, I eventually reached the track which drops down towards woodlands. The change of scenery and terrain was a welcome sight.

Lundavra to Fort William 10.5km/6.5miles
The walkers were out in force – although there seemed to be more sitting enjoying the sunshine than walking. It was great to see some smiley faces and hear some cheers of support. Meeting other people en route forced me to be positive and pull myself together. I couldn’t show weakness after all.

Running into more forest spruce, the track crossed a high stile followed by a steep climb up a hill. A narrow dirt track curves around a hillside before I was faced with the most welcoming sight of the day – the mighty Ben Nevis. The name translates as venomous or malicious mountain. Quite fitting considering its sight would suggest the ending was near, when in fact there was still over five miles to go.

The additional stiles were becoming more difficult to climb as a continued on the roller-coasting path through the pine forest. The new terrain – a lovely blanket of pine needles – and the shade were a pleasant relief. My legs started to rebel as I hit more inclines. My brain couldn’t grasp it. If fort William is at sea level why oh why was I still climbing? Negotiating the last stile with limited grace – much to the amusement of on a few chuckling onlookers - I hit the long winding gravel track. My legs were like jelly, my hands were shaking and I was starting to feel quite emotional. Out of nowhere the photographer appeared again forcing me to smile and reform my running style.

I continued on my scuffle down towards the Braveheart Forestry Carpark on to the main road, for the last stretch. I desperately willed the 30mph sign to appear, as I knew the town of Fort William would be round the corner.

And there it was. My oasis. I used up the last ounce of energy to step over the finishing line. After running for 8 hours and 49 minutes my legs buckled like I’d just jumped off a bar stool after drinking 10 shots. My waistline had shrunk, my hair looked like something the cat coughed up and my skin was so salty, you could shake me on a bag of chips. I finished third female and joint 20th overall. I would have cried with joy, but it would have probably used up the last drop of liquid I had in my body.

After the initial jovial celebrations, my support team had to grab me as I stumbled back on to the main road. The only cure, of course, was to slump on the grass and watch the pain of the other runners coming in.

So, will I be there next year? Count me in. Will I be attempting the full 95-mile journey in a one-er? Of course. Just as soon as hell freezes over.

2007 results
John Kennedy 06:31:18
Philip Atherton 06:51:38
Duncan Gilmour 06:54:12
Marco Consani 07:03:23
Helen Johnson 07:07:53

Fact box.
Devil o’ the Highlands is organised by the Big Race Group. The event is non-profit making race, sponsored by the Green Welly Stop, Del Monte and Arnold Clark. For further information, visit www http://www.devilothehighlandsfootrace.co.uk/. Next race scheduled for August 9, 2008. Entry forms are available online. For information on the full WHW race, Visit http://www.westhighlandwayrace.org/

Join the club - My Race March 2007

Going clubbing

It’s 7pm. I’ve just finished a long and stressful day in the office. It’s freezing. The rain is torrential and it’s blowing a gale. I’m standing shivering with a group of “athletes” waiting to embark on a sprint through gloomy city streets. I begin question my sanity when I not only volunteered for it, but I wouldn’t change it for the world.

If you haven’t already joined a club, then you will have probably toyed with idea since you first donned your running shoes. With companionship and improvement in performance – you know it makes sense. Once you’ve caught the “runners’ bug”, signing up should be a no-brainer. But then you line up at a race surrounded by a gang of whippet-thin zombies in matching vests and your confidence is thrown and replaced by intimidation. Well, have no fear. Nowadays running clubs are far more diverse – not only in terms of members’ ability, but also in their attitude to running. Of course there’s always going to be a squad of “fast boys” or the “elite team”. But there are more of the just-for-fun runners and plodders. It’s isn’t just a domain for serious athletes. And there isn’t a club in Scotland that wouldn’t welcome new members.

I swayed with the idea of joining a running club for years. I used every excuse under the sun. Not enough time, too busy at work, too slow or I prefer to run alone. But when I bit the bullet (after sitting nervously in my car for half an hour) and turned up for the first session, I’ve never looked back.

Ask any club runner what they have gained for joining and they will rhythm off a list of reasons. Here’s a few if you need convinced to sign on the doted line.

The benefits

Performance boaster: This will be top on the list for all recruits. Join a club and you’re pretty much guaranteed to shave chunks off your recent times. Scheduled training sessions, personal training plans, knowledgeable advice, speed work and healthy competition will all help you on your way to a new personal best.

Kenny Richmond of Bellahouston Road Runners said “I started out with jogging to keep fit, but quickly got bored. I joined the club four years ago for some company whilst out running. The structured training and competitiveness during sessions has improved my running significantly”. Kenny now runs 32min 10Ks and 2:31 marathons.

Competition: This is particularly strong if you know your fellow runners, as you will have set your sights on beating some of them. Don’t deny it. Even the non-victory hungry runner can stir a latent competitive streak triggered by running in the company of others. A little competitiveness can drive you further and really improve your performance.

“Above everything, I enjoy the competition within the club” said Kenneth Stewart of Perth Road Runners. “Not only is there friendly rivalry amongst club member during training and races, there’s also the rivalry between local clubs – something I had not experienced when I was unattached”.

Camaraderie: Boxing gloves aside, camaraderie and support are a key plus factor. All club runners share the same common goal – to be they best they can be and possibly even enjoy the process.
Even if you enjoy the personal space of solitude running, it is great to hook up with others once a week or so for a group run. You may also find running friends who you can join up with outside of club sessions. The support of others is particularly valuable to relieve the boredom factor on long runs or to keep you going during tough sessions.

Support: Not only is there the support to get round a gruelling training session, there’s usually someone to cheer you on during a race. And possibly scrape you up at the end.

Caroline McDermott has been a member of Gala Harriers for two years. “I started running to lose weight, and I found that I really enjoyed it. After running by myself for a year, I met some girls from the Harriers who encouraged me to join and run with like-minded people. It took a while to pluck up the courage to go, but I’ve never looked back. I am not their fastest runner and never will be, but joining a club and training "properly" has enabled me to improve my speed. There’s also the friendships you make, the support you get from when you're down or having a bad session plus the appreciation of your efforts when you've had a good run”.

Top advice: Forget paying loads for personal training. Most runner clubs have a network of experienced coaches, who can provide you with structure and analysis to your training. Little tips on your technique, such as ‘lift your head’, ‘unclench your fists’ or ‘loosen your shoulders’ are invaluable – and without someone knowledgeable watching, are likely go unnoticed and uncorrected. And if you’re entering a race, a coach can advice you on types of sessions to include in your weekly schedule to maximise your performance.

Susan Harper joined Penicuik Harriers last year: “The club training involves speed sessions and hill reps and has added another dimension to my running. Although they aren't in the least bit easy, everyone manages to have a laugh. Members are very supportive, and the coaches are always on hand to help out with any queries and training suggestions. I’ve managed to knock four minutes off my 10K time, which definite proves that the club has helped my running significantly.”


Good value for money: Actually it’s great value for money. Most annual memberships range from £10 - £100. What a bargain! All that guidance and wealth of knowledge - for next to nothing. The alternative would be to pay £50 per month on an over-priced, under-used gym membership. For an extra value perk, when you sign up to your local running club you’re more likely to get discounts at your local running shops.

Something for everyone: Most clubs are a real mixed bag of ages and ability. Some will moan if they have to run over six miles, whilst others are marathon veterans. Most clubs have “packs” which divide members according to their ability and speed. Everyone is made to feel part of a group and no one is left behind.

Neil Campbell of Carnegie Harriers said: “You’ll be joining group of like-minded people - who all enjoy running and are supportive of others - to help you grow and develop into areas you might never have thought about getting involved in. Clubs are for everyone, not just elite runners. We have a wide range of ages and abilities. All that is required is that you love to run”. Neil now competes in marathons, hill races and ultra-marathons.

Variety is the spice of life: Structured training schedules are a mix of sessions, which vary in distance and pace. Unless you’re very self-motivated, solitude runners often have a tendency to run the same routes at the same speed regardless of the distance - with no variation in gradient and terrain. Running with a club means that the routes will be more diverse. Forget you’re usual set circuit – your club miles are more likely to take in scenic trails, rolling hills, river paths, mystical woods and delightful country tracks. And if you’re running with others you’re less likely to get lost if you go off the beaten track. Unless you’re in my pack. My lack of direction is the best source of adventure in my life.

Feeling a little Wanderlust? Your running shoes can take you anywhere. Well, packed inside your suitcase of course. Not only are there fabulous races on your home soil, but most major cities hold road races. Whether your fancy a sprint round the Eiffel Tower in the Paris Marathon, 26.2 across the North Pole, the Himalayan 100m race or Barcelona’s San Silvestre New Year’s Eve 10K there’s always and excuse to combine a holiday with a race. And there will always be someone willing to chum you along.

Safety in numbers: This is particularly important for winter running, isolated locations and female runners. There are also people to guard you from unleashed dogs and the local neds - when they start pelting you with abuse and snowballs.

Social networking: It’s not all about running. There’s lots of fun too. Graham Macnab of Lochaber A.C. "Although I benefit from the motivation and enjoyment I receive from training and racing with like-minded individuals, I really enjoy socialising with them too. We all compete to improve personal performance and represent the club, so the camaraderie before, during after races is great. The social aspect of the club is very important and results in a lot of fun at various sporting and non-sporting events."

From summer barbecues, post-race karaokes, curry nights and Christmas ceilidhs there will always social outings on the calendar. Throw in some running for good measure and there are training weekend breaks, fancy dress fun runs, relay races and racing holidays. Through blood, sweat, tears and like-minded interests you will meet life-long friends. They will see you at your worse, listen to your tales of injury woes and cheer you up when you need it. Running clubs aren’t without their romantic possibilities (and scandal) too.

“Running became much more fun when I joined Kinross Road Runners” said Judith Dobson. “I met lots of supportive people who gave me encouragement to take on new challenges and improve my running. The club coaches organise training sessions and it's easier to motivate yourself train with a group plus the long Sunday runs seem to pass quickly when you've somebody to chat to. The main benefit from joining is the friends I have made”.

Wealth of information: Running clubs are a great source of local knowledge – from who’s the best physiotherapist or sports masseur in the area, to challenging running circuits and scenic trails or which local races are best for PBs

Community spirit: Most running clubs are organised and attended by local people, so you can part of your local community – and possibly give a little back. Raise the profile of the area with locals races and fund raising events. Stuart Aitken of Wee County Harriers said. “Anyone who stays in Alloa (wee county) knows someone in the Harriers. We are a small club with about 35 members of varied experience and ability. We’re a close, friendly bunch with a strong social spirit. There is gruelling weekly training sessions and long runs on Sunday – which usually end with tea and toast in the local sports centre.”

Team player: You don’t need to worry about what to wear on race day, as your club vest (and shorts if you’re brave) will be practically uniform. You’ll feel proud to be wearing your club colours. The downside to this is pressure to succeed if you’re seen in a club vest.

Fashion parade: Worry not about what to wear on race day. On the other hand, worry lots about what to wear to club training. Forget an old sweatshirt and tatty tights. You can’t blend in to the night, when you’re running with 50 people. There’s more pressure to turn out with matching ensembles and the latest gadgets. Thank heavens for discounts at local running stores.

A real runner: I know this is a little shallow, but for me the psychological shift that allows you to call yourself ‘a runner’, rather than someone who runs is well worth the annual membership. I know, I’m a running snob. I’m ashamed to say that I analyse every runner I see on the road and mentally characterise them as a ‘real runner’ or ‘novice’ according to their gear. And before you all tut, I bet you do it too. I’ve even got my passengers playing the game.

To summarise the benefits John MacDonald of Scottish Athletics said: “Running clubs provide runners with the expertise, motivation and structure to develop their abilities safely. All Scottish Athletics affiliated running clubs have qualified coaches to help runners create their own personal training programmes, encourage them to stick to these and monitor their development to reduce injury risks. Membership of affiliated clubs also opens up opportunities to compete in league events and team championships”.


The benefits are plenty, but for the sake of balance, I better give you the flipside.

Firstly, for anyone with an unpredictable work schedule, the infinite convenience and flexibility of running is the key attraction. This is what will have lead you to training predominantly on your own - when it suits you. Running clubs have set training times and sessions, which might not fit into to your daily work or family life. The good thing is, you don’t need to go to all training sessions. Even once a week or a few times a month will help your performance and keep you motivated. You don’t even need to race if you don’t want to. You can do a little or as much as you want. Just remember, what you put in is what you will get out.

Being part of the running “cult” may also effect your social interaction with the rest of society. Marco Consani of Garscube Harriers commented: “I’ve lost so much weight that my arms look like matchsticks hanging out my club vest. All I talk about is running and I hobble more than walk. I can’t drink more than four pints without becoming a gibbering idiot and there are frightening pictures floating about the internet. My toes look like they belong to a frostbitten mountaineer and I have friction burns in places that have never seen the light of day. I have spent more money on running shoes than the economy of small country and I think it’s normal to prance about the streets in a pair of tights. That aside, joining a running club is the best thing I have ever done. It changed my life forever..for the better.”

Finding the right club: There will probably be more that one running club in your area, so be choosy. It’s worth contacting a member to answer any question you may have or trying out a few training sessions before committing. Then you get an idea of members’ ability, how busy or friendly it is and whether your own level will be catered for. Some clubs may have a hill-running focus, for example, while others are more road-running friendly. Some are fanatical about their position in the league tables and want to recruit new members who are willing to race regularly, while others end every week’s training session with a few beers.

Scottish Athletics has a directory of nationwide affiliated running clubs. (Contact 0870 145 1500 or visit www.scottishathletics.org.uk). But that isn’t to say that non-affiliated groups, such as one operating out of your local gym, aren’t worth a try. Women might consider checking out the sociable and beginner-friendly Women’s Jogging Network, which operates female-only running groups. Jogscotland is a great way of starting out for people with little or no running experience. Groups all over the country offer a warm welcome to joggers of all ages and stage. For further information, vist www.jogscotland.org.uk.

Still not convinced? You don’t even need to run with a registered club. Go out with groups from your gym, friends or workplace. The main thing is you get out there and have fun. And running with others can add to the enjoyment.