Respect for the Ben runners
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Running from sea level to Britain’s highest point and back down might not seem like everyone’s idea of fun but, as Jenny Gillies remembers in her third Ben Nevis Race, it’s all about the atmosphere
The translation of Ben Nevis is tricky – it’s something along the lines of “venomous mountain” and, amongst the nervous crowd of 500 gathered in Fort William for the 2014 Ben Nevis Race, there is definitely a slight feeling of dread at the ordeal to come.
Starting at near sea level, runners are piped round the games field before streaming the mile up a tarmac road to the start of the tourist path.
It’s not just the agonising pull to the top that makes this one of the country’s toughest hill races, it’s the treacherous technical descent back down the rough, rocky side of the mountain that really takes its toll on runners.
This was my third Ben Nevis Race, but familiarity hasn’t bred complacency. Rather the opposite – I knew what was coming. Even within the hill-running world the Ben Nevis Race demands special respect.
The first timed ascent of Ben Nevis was in 1895, and between then and 1951 there were several ad-hoc races. In 1951 the Ben Nevis Race Association was formed and the race took on a more official form.
The record winning time for the race is 1hr 25mins, set by Kenny Stewart in 1984. When entering the race, runners have to show they have completed other category A hill races and to be confident in finishing within the 3hr 15min time limit.
The tough and demanding nature of the event breeds a special camaraderie amongst the competitors and this support is one of the reasons I’ve been coming back for more punishment for the last couple of years.
I really enjoy hill running, but generally not in a competitive manner. I probably only run one or two races a year, and spend most of the time just having a great time in the hills, without the pressure of performance.
So why enter the Ben Race? It was my husband who got me into running and, although I enjoyed training with him, the idea of entering big hill races didn’t appeal to me.
It all changed when I went to watch him run his first Ben Race. At the finish everyone from the winner to the end of the field, including my husband somewhere in the middle, was buzzing.
There was a feeling of shared achievement of surviving the Ben; everyone is back down and, for another year, the personal challenge is completed.
I have to say I was one of the last off the start line and looked ahead to see 500 of the country’s most dedicated runners flow along the road and up the hill ahead of me. Encouragement comes thick and fast from spectators and those pausing in their own ascent of the Ben, especially because I run for Lochaber AC and wear the distinctive local colours. This support is appreciated from start to finish and, if there was anyone I didn’t say thank you to, I apologise and it was solely because I was concentrating on not ending up on my face amongst the rocks.
Approximately an hour into the race, following the bums in front up the loose rocks towards the summit, the frontrunners bowl past, feet finding placement after placement in astoundingly quick succession.
The run along the summit plateau gets longer every year and, finally, the summit cairn and the welcome line of bright orange vested marshals appear. I handed over my numbered wristband to these hardy volunteers standing on the highest point of Britain and I paused – while scoffing Jelly Babies – to think that those men and women who dashed past me less than quarter of an hour before will now be crossing the finish line 4,400ft below.
Although the ascent is shattering it is the descent that I find the most demanding section of the race. Anyone who has been up Ben Nevis can attest to the vast boulder field that covers the top half of the mountain and the way down requires constant concentration and, as this year, a good nose for directions in misty conditions.
In good weather the way is clear, but in cloud it is less obvious. This year I heard a cry of “follow that Lochaber girl” behind me as I headed for a direct trod that I knew.
The final major landmark is an infamous bank where runners slip and slide down near vertical grass, the section being made even trickier this year by the Saturday morning showers.
Then you must keep the concentration up, with tired wobbly legs, for the lower half of the hill and ensure you’ve left something in the tank for the return along the road.
I finished, ecstatic, in two-and-a-half hours, all stress and dread forgotten. Stories of the day were swapped as we waited for all other runners to finish.
Lochaber AC runner Finlay Wild won, for a record fifth time, in 1hr 34mins, followed by Rob Jebb of Bingley Harriers in a contest that went down to the final stages of the race. Eight runners gained the Connochie Plaque, awarded to those completing their 21st Ben Nevis race, and 484 runners passed through the finish line.
The Ben Nevis Race Association organises a world-class event, and the race wouldn’t be possible without the support of local volunteers and the Lochaber Mountain Rescue Team, who keep everyone going with an inventive array of friendly banter (abuse) from bottom to top and back down again.
So then, next year? Definitely.
