When I signed up for the Two Breweries Hill Race in the Scottish Borders, I could never have known what would happen…
I knew this would be a tough run. It is some 30km in distance and takes in around 1600m of total ascent. I had heard the hill gradients were particularly steep and the terrain would be frequently unforgiving.
My friend Lynz was keen to take part and we decided months ago we would run it together as a fun outing, rather than as a high-speed, lung-busting race.
Back on home ground
Peebles is where I completed the last few years of my schooling after my parents moved the family from Hertfordshire to Scotland in the mid-1980s.
Although I left home in my late teens and started a career as a journalist, mum and dad stayed near Peebles – next to Glentress Forest – for another 30 or so years. They then moved south to Cheshire when dad retired so they could be closer to the canals and their canal boat.
I saw Peebles as my home town – and even today I have a strong connection with the Scottish Borders. I am still friendly with old school pals and, indeed, on the night after the race I planned to meet some of them for a meal and drinks.
But, as I have said, I had no idea what would happen as I ran the Two Breweries Hill Race from Traquair to Broughton. During the challenge, a phone call changed my life in a way that only two months previously I had expected would be at least another decade away.
The start of the race
After the first section of the race on fairly flat tarmac, the race route headed straight uphill. It climbed and climbed until the first hill top – and then continued to undulate, sometimes at crazy gradients, until the final flat section, again on tarmac.
It was clear that even though Lynz and I planned to complete, not race, it would still be a punishing outing.
The weather was also warm and this seemed to have quite a dramatic affect on Lynz, who felt dehydrated and nauseous at times.
As we ran, we chatted to other people and Lynz and I met some lovely runners, including Russell, Gio and Iain. The latter two stayed with us for much of the second half of the race.
At the start-line, I was surprised to bump into an old friend, Donald, who lives in Peeblesshire.
We also enjoyed running some sections with members of Lynz’s club, the Westies, who were distinctive in their yellow vests. A fellow Highland Hill Runner, super-speedy Catriona, won the women’s race.
The race atmosphere was very welcoming and while Lynz and I knew we would not be as fast as the front-runners, we felt we were capable of making it to the finish line without too much concern.
Runners should be able to navigate the route and everyone had to carry a map and compass.
A phone call that changed my life
As I climbed the long and steep slope towards the last summit on Trahenna Hill, my phone rang. It was Hubby G, who asked urgently if my dad had got hold of me. I knew it wasn’t going to be good news.
My dear mum had received the devastating diagnosis of terminal cancer fewer than seven weeks before and her deterioration had been fast, horrific and gruelling. I had visited twice in the previous month and stayed as long as I could before being required at home. I knew that mum would not be with us for much longer, but I was due to be visiting Cheshire again the next day.
G said that my dad had told him the hospice had called and he was heading to see mum straight away. My brother was already en route from Livingston, my sister would be heading down soon from Ayrshire and G was on his way from Inverness to meet me.
But I was still on a hill in the middle of a race.
I was upset but I knew I could only go at the speed my legs would carry me downhill after a tough hill route. Lynz was a bit behind me at this point, so I waited for her to reach the hilltop.
She declared she felt faint and awful. She wasn’t sure why, but she needed to sit down and rest. I explained what had happened and she said I needed to run on. I didn’t want to leave her but she was with race marshals at the hill checkpoint – and she urged me on.
Although Lynz’s car, parked at Broughton, was my lift back to my own vehicle at Traquair, I figured I might be able to get someone to give me a lift.
So I ran down the hill as fast as I could, given the way my mind was whirring with thoughts and upset. I called G and my brother and spoke on the phone as I ran.
Finally, I crossed a flatter field of grass and joined the road to reach the finish line.
It was then that dad called – and, so very sadly, he told me that mum had passed away. It had been peaceful at the end, he said.
I stopped to talk and cry. While there was relief in knowing mum would suffer no more, I felt my heart breaking. I had loved my mum so long and so deeply.
I told dad I’d be there as soon as I could.
The last section of the race was a blur. I saw the end – and at the same time spotted my friend Donald. I ran into his arms and sobbed. He held me tight and let me cry. I said I should try to finish the race, so I jogged on.
Donald caught up with me (he had finished a wee while before and his legs seemed to be much more tired than mine!) and again he hugged me.
The race organisers and volunteers looked on a bit bewildered. I expect they were wondering if their race really had been so bad as all that. I must have looked broken.
I explained to them what was happening and one of the volunteers also hugged me tight. Their kindness made me cry again.
Checking my phone, I saw that Lynz was on her way to the finish line and it seemed sensible to wait for her. She cried with me when I told her the news.
From there, I returned to my own vehicle and began the journey towards mum and dad.
A poignant thought, or two
What strikes me now is that the place where I received the news of mum’s death will always be in my memory. In addition, there is a great poignancy to the location.
I can take some comfort in the setting of the race amid the hills of the Scottish Borders that mum so loved and admired.
Although, she moved with dad to England, it was the landscape of Scotland’s Lowlands and especially the hills close to Peebles that she often spoke so fondly about.
In the mid-80s, when mum was part of a group of walkers, I joined her on a walk of the local hill Cademuir.
It also felt fitting that I had not been running the race in my usual competitive style. It was a day out with a wonderful friend.
Mum was not a competitive person and I think she spent decades trying to fathom my innate drive to be faster and fitter. I am happy that I did the race in a way that mum would have enjoyed and approved of.
As I drove from the race southwards to see mum for the last time and to be with dad, my sister and brother and Hubby G, the sun was setting over the hills around St Mary’s Loch. The scenery brought more comfort, although tears, too.
I told mum out loud how beautiful it was.
I am going to miss my mum so very much – the thought that I will never again have a chance to call her for one of our long and lovely chats again is unbearable – but I will always have the hills to go to. I imagine the Two Breweries Hill Race will become a bit of a pilgrimage for me from now on.
RIP my wonderful mum. Susan Russell: April 4, 1946 – September 24, 2022.