When training to run a marathon, in my case the Loch Ness Marathon on 1st October last year, you need to get a lot of miles under your belt – about 30 miles per week for 16 weeks minimum. Keeping the training interesting, instead of yet another canter round the local park, is a challenge in itself.
One favourite training run was down the Union Canal in Edinburgh, (towpaths are nice and flat). At the canal basin there is a shiny metal notice embossed with a pretty ribbon of silver showing the canal stretching as far as Glasgow, joining the Forth and Clyde canal. Why not run along the tow path, and stop only at the Sea? The more I thought about it, the more romantic seemed the idea of running from coast to coast, from North Sea to Irish Sea.
I worked out it was 63 miles, (satisfyingly just over 100 kilometres), and reckoned I could run this in two days, starting at Leith Docks, and breaking my journey in Falkirk. I booked a bed in Falkirk, and next morning set off braced for a wet journey. The weather forecast showed a black cloud with two raindrops. In fact the entirely rain-free clouds had almost disappeared after an hour. I was determined to run the first 26.2 miles in a respectable sub-5 hours, so good weather would be a bonus.
Barge Humbug
The Union canal was built in 1820, to serve as the principal freight route from the West Lothian coal fields to Edinburgh and Glasgow. The huge spoil heaps which now loom over the tow-path are now softened with trees and bushes, but still made me slightly uneasy as there had been heavy rain during the night. It must have been a noisy industrial landscape a hundred and fifty years ago, but now was tranquil and beautiful.
Parts of the route are dramatic, with several aqueducts, one towering fifty feet above a rocky hillside burn. The older bridges had accumulated stalactites, while the newer ones were all similar and had the initials MM. No doubt Mickey Mouse had had a hand in building them. One or two river craft stood out. A dredger looked like a mini digger stuck precariously on a very small barge, rather like a child’s Meccano construction. There was also a small craft entirely painted in camouflage paint. This seemed a bit optimistic. There were only two directions to take evasive action and anyone approaching with hostile intent could see from 200 metres that there was a big stripy boat bobbing on the canal.
By mile 20, as Linlithgow hove in sight, the sun was beating down like a tom-tom. No sun cream. A lightweight sleeveless running vest. Bad news.
I was soon counting the half miles as well as the miles. Some of the milestones are the originals from 1820. At mile 26 I had been running for 4 ¾ hours so I reckoned the first sub-5 hr marathon was in the bag. I was still several miles short of Falkirk, and felt like I had glow-in-the-dark shoulders.
Rock around the clock
The first day’s journey’s end, after over 30 miles, was to be the 620 metre Falkirk Tunnel, hewn out of the rock when the canal was first dug. I welcomed the notice at the entrance that cyclists had to dismount and walk. I too walked through, albeit without a bicycle. The tunnel is totally straight, so both ends are simultaneously visible at all times, an ingenious substitute for overhead lighting in the early 19th century. On the far side, I popped into a shop to buy sun tan oil and trudged across town to my overnight accommodation, at what had looked on the internet like a quiet family hotel. As I arrived, at about 3.00 p.m. on a Saturday afternoon, the entire street outside the hotel was solid with happy drinkers, and the bottom floor of the hotel had been cleared to accommodate the maximum number inside. Half a dozen attractive Eastern European barmaids were all working flat out. Had I got the right place? I struggled to the bar, and asked for a pint and a room key. Both were swiftly produced, and I found my way to a room upstairs and at the back of the building.
That night, fortified by a dish of Chinese noodles (good source of carbo-loading) I turned in for an early night, but the Land of Nod stayed distant until 1.30 a.m. when the last of the revellers had departed. This was not ideal. Paula Radcliffe sleeps for 11 hours, plus an afternoon nap, when she is in full training, or did before a small mini-Paula arrived on the scene.
Next morning I woke early, feeling sore but not stiff, and made my way downstairs. A miraculous transformation had occurred. Neat tables and chairs were set out for breakfast. We were back in quiet family hotel territory. I had no idea what a second consecutive marathon distance would be like but I packed away a hearty breakfast and set off.
Executive toy
Two miles on, I came to a marvel of modern engineering, the Falkirk Wheel. This is like an enormous executive toy, basically two pods on stalks swinging round a central pivot, except the pods are giant water filled gondolas, capable of holding eight canal boats at once, and the wheel is 35 metres high, with each half revolution taking 15 minutes. The Falkirk Wheel was built for the Millennium, which is when the Union Canal was linked to the Forth and Clyde Canal, going on to Glasgow, and both canals returned to navigability. Hence MM on lots of the bridges. Two hundred years ago, a sequence of eleven locks was required to descend the 100 feet from the Union to the F&C. The Falkirk Wheel is well worth visiting, and is free, although a ride in a special boat that takes a spin round the Wheel costs £8.00. However, the Wheel is also the best place from which to visit a marvel of the Roman period.
In fairness the canal really should have had CXL emblazoned along it, as it follows very closely the 43 mile coast to coast line of the Antonine Wall built in about 140 A.D., or CXL in Roman numerals. The Antonine Wall, now a high bank and deep ditch filled with bog loving plants at the bottom, is a short and pleasant woodland walk away, (short and pleasant assuming you have not run 30 miles the previous day). The site includes the huge Roman fort of Rough Castle, which is free and open to access all year round, and boasts fearsome defensive pits which, filled with sharp stakes and hidden in brushwood, were the razor wire of their day.
Most people have heard of Hadrian’s Wall, 100 miles South, and twice as long, but not the Antonine Wall. What people don’t know is that Hadrian’s Wall was abandoned almost the year it was finished, and the ruinous cost of it led to a major falling out between the Emperor Hadrian and the unfortunate Governor of Britain whose brainchild it had been. It was the Millennium Dome of its day. Just as the Falkirk Wheel, also a Millennium project, is practical and impressive, so the Antonine Wall, built of turf not stone, and half the length, was the successful building project of the Roman period, while Hadrian’s wall was the white elephant.
Having now reached the Forth and Clyde Canal, I faced my first “fork in the road”. Right went to Grangemouth left to Glasgow. The F&C was built in 1770, and linked the port of Glasgow to the first navigable stretch of the Forth estuary. Not relishing an extra seven miles running to Grangemouth and retracing my steps, I successfully oriented myself and set off on the final 25 miles.
Onward !
Leaving Falkirk behind, beautiful open country opened up. A family of swans had built their nest on the tow path, and four large cygnets lounged in the sun, causing me to take a prudent detour. Herons fished at intervals, no doubt competing directly with the now more numerous anglers. My legs felt OK, and my ego was comforted whenever I overtook a chugging canal craft.
No milestones help you on this stretch. My pace slowed mile by mile and after 3 hours I found I was not far over half way between Falkirk and Glasgow. If I slowed to a walk, I would have maybe thirteen miles to walk, with only half a litre of water, and a blazing sun. No doubt I could get a drink if I searched for a house to call at, but that would just add to the distance. At this point a canal boat came into view round a bend in the canal. Its name in large letters was “Onward”.
Somehow I found some energy and carried on running until Glasgow was visible in the distance. At last my legs gave out and I slowed to a walk, now keeping pace with the canal boats rather than leaving them far behind. The last five miles into Glasgow were not urban sprawl, but attractive countryside. The canal had now widened and reed beds were alive with bird life. Distant tower blocks could be seen, but a finger of green space snaked right into the heart of the city.
I said goodbye to the canal at the 26.2 mile mark, descending through the grid of streets. My second consecutive Marathon time was just under 6 hours, not just under 5 hours as the day before. I picked up the pace as I ran down the hill to the Clyde estuary. At least I would finish in style. The Antonine Wall is under the streets of the Metropolis, but maybe a Roman soldier in CXL had the same elation as he saw the sea, his feet sore and his skin chafed and sunburnt. I made my way to Queen Street Station, by taxi, and the twenty minutes before the train left were spent in an exhausted heap in a rather upmarket station bar with a pint of chilled lager. I don’t suppose that Paula Radcliffe includes this in her training programme but it went down a treat. What I looked like to the other clientele, I dread to think.
Having taken over 12 hours, and an interesting night, to run (and walk) 100 km from Edinburgh to Glasgow, most of it in the footsteps of Roman legionaries, I boarded a train which retraced my steps and deposited me back at Waverley Station in Edinburgh. The journey time? 52 minutes.