The big city

I'm enjoying an ever so rare opportunity to travel 1st class rail down to London for one of my regular business meetings. With 4 seats and a huge table and "at seat" service all to myself it's a pleasant contrast to the noisy, cramped misery of my standard class return on Friday.
As a self admitted travel snob, I love people watching on these trips to the smoke and sometimes amuse myself by trying to guess the life stories of my fellow passengers.
With my planned train having been cancelled due to an "incident", I'd jumped onto the first available coach preceded by an elderly gent with a thatch of grey hair, he seemed to know the train crew pretty well as he chatted amiably over his half moon specs and with an accent that would have rivalled Penelope Keith I reckoned he was on his way to the House of Lords, but the clincher had to be his red corduroy  trousers, only ever sported by people so rich they just don't care what they look like!
Sitting across the aisle from me is Miss Trying to be Businesswoman, dark blue suit - check, laptop - check, "just a mineral water for me" - check, but OK magazine - FAIL and tights with more ladders than a chimney sweep -fail.
Mr See how Impressive I look is sitting behind me. Laptop out, iPad out, papers spread over the table......only minor issue is that he's spent the last hour playing Candy Crush or some equally mind crushing drivel on his phone.
I think it must be a condition of the rail franchise that every first class carriage contains at least one bewildered granny, bundled on no doubt, by well meaning offspring but struggling to keep up with the storm of requests "tickets please", "now I know I had them a minute ago", "hot or cold drinks madam?", " I'm 87 years old you know", bless em.
Mr I'm in for everything I can get is knocking back the free booze like an Alky in an off licence and shovelling in free bananas like a demented chimp.
Mr Out of his Depth, got on at Oxenholme - The Lake District (for the uninitiated this is the rail equivalent of Glasgow Prestwick I.e. it's no where near the Lake District) . He's sporting his full fell walking gear and has the look of a man just waiting to be told to get back to standard class where he belongs.
Mr and Mrs Lottery winner are on today too, just a bit too loud and a bit too much jewellery and fake tan, but firmly loyal to the dead giveaway Daily Record, I ask you Daily Record in 1st class.
Mr I'm so glad I'm away from the kids, got on at Carlisle, closed his eyes and has merrily snored the journey away.
And me......well Peter Perfect of course.

Had a bad Day?

I had a truly rubbish day at work last week. The week had started so well, coming off the adrenalin high from the GO33 and the luxury of 5 days with no travelling or hotel stays in prospect I settled down to sell all the remaining oddball sizes in our stock yard at work before the winter really kicks in. I’d been making great progress with some great orders and was on a real high and then something got dumped on me from above, not just a little dump. But huge great steaming excremental dump, a dump of Brobdingnagian proportions, the kind of dump that makes you seriously consider drafting your resignation letter because frankly you think “what’s the sodding point?”.

I don’t own a cat or a dog so kicking them is out of the question and the logistics and mess of kicking the family goldfish outweigh any satisfaction and release achieved. I even tried to hit the bottle, cracking open a nice bottle of red wine, but after half a glass my heart just wasn’t in it and you just don’t get the same release from a can of caffeine free diet coke and a bag of fruit gums.

A spot of serious man moping didn’t lighten my black mood and I couldn’t find a punch bag. With my legs still hurt from GO33 I couldn’t even go for a run to clear my head, so I did the only thing a frustrated and fuming runner can do….I entered some races!

As some of you may know I spend quite a bit of time in London on business. As people there know I “do a bit of running” every trip usually prompts a regular chorus of “What big race are you doing?” and “are you running for charity?” Generally they have no concept of the distances. Conversations usually run along the lines of

Q             “So this race you’re doing, how long is it?”

Me         “It’s a marathon its 26.2 miles”

Q             “But what about the big race you did last time for charity?”

Me         “The Edinburgh marathon, it was 26.2 miles too”

Q             “So why don’t you do the London marathon?”

Me         “because I didn’t get a place in the ballot”

Q             “How far is the London marathon?”

Me         “It’s a marathon its 26.2 miles”

Q             “So how far is a half marathon?”

Me         “Aaaaaargh”

You get the general picture. I suppose for most “normal” non-running people the concept of running any distance they’d normally drive in their cars to cover is beyond comprehension.

Anyway back to the “had a bad day” theme. I’ve been toying with a spring marathon to have a crack at improving my marathon PB (loch Ness, 2011 3:25:51), so while any sane and sensible person would kill two birds with one stone, with one marathon, 26.2 miles in case you’ve not been listening. I’ve signed up for two, namely Lochaber and Edinburgh. Lochaber will be my racing marathon and Edinburgh my fundraising one.

My running year is shaping up quite nicely now

March                   D33

April                       Lochaber Marathon; Highland Fling

May                       Edinburgh Marathon

June                      WHW (supporting this time rather than running)

July                        Lakeland 50

August                  Coll Half Marathon

October               Berlin marathon

Disappointingly I can’t say I feel a lot better as I still have to suppress the desire to run out and punch some-one but at least I’ve got lots of races to look forward to now. Mind you January and February look a bit empty…..reaches for credit card and entrycentral.co.uk……..

Cheers

Glen Ogle 33 mile Ultra Marathon

It wouldn’t be an Ainslie attempt at an Ultra if I didn’t mess up my work travel plans in the week before! At one stage it was looking like I’d need to be in Edinburgh on Wednesday; Lockerbie Thursday morning ; Larbert Thursday afternoon; Lockerbie Friday morning then drive back to Dumfries to pick up Ann to head back up to Strathyre on the Friday.

Thankfully Ann agreed to meet me in Hamilton after work on Friday and the Thursday trip was cancelled. I did however balance out this more sedate week with a 12 hour drinking marathon at the Balmoral Hotel on the Wednesday all in the name of business, its a tough job but someone's got to do it.

I’d been lucky enough to secure a room in The Inn at Strathyre for both the Friday and Saturday and the weather forecast throughout the week didn’t look too bad, so all in all a good weekend in prospect.

We arrived and checked in about 7:30 registered with Bill and Mike and enjoyed a pleasant evening meal washed down with a very restrained two pints of Guinness, my restraint being mostly driven by not having an en suite room and not relishing the prospect of sneaking across the corridor in the bare buff at 2 in the morning to relieve myself.

I was in bed by 10pm with all my kit and drop bag laid out and ready to go. Unsurprisingly a stupid o'clock am toilet trip was required, slightly enlivened by the key jamming noisily in the lock of the bog door, sorry if I woke you up.

With the alarm going off at 6:45 this left me plenty of time to get washed, dressed, panic , fart around have a cup of coffee and squeeze in a 3 further trips to the toilet before heading over to the 7:45 race briefing.

With a forecast of 8C and rain after midday, I’d opted for Shorts a long sleeved compression top, Harriers T-shirt and lightweight gloves, with my OMM Kamelika waterproof in my backpack.

Bill’s race briefing was pretty much of the “don’t get killed; look out for each other and let us know if you drop out” variety, having asked for a show of hands for any Ultra virgins, I reckon there must have been around 40 first timers, some looking fired up, some frankly terrified. We all trooped across the road to the start, making a pretty impressive sight in the early morning haze.

No hanging about, shortly after 8am we were off.

The first couple of miles are a pretty steady climb, gaining around 450 feet, since most of my Mabie Forest training runs start with an uphill mile; I was quite relaxed about this. I didn’t really talk to anyone on the climb but focussed on not going too quick and working too hard too early. On reaching the 3 mile mark I found myself running with Kirsty Burnet, Kirsty was probably running faster than I’d planned, but as I hate running alone, I increased my pace and we pretty much chatted right through till mile 10, near the top of Glen Ogle.

I’d recently listened to a podcast featuring Stuart Mills winner of last year’s Lakeland 100, an advocate of running hard and fast at the start of ultra’s and then just trying to hold on. I normally run a very conservative race, I reckon I have a finite energy budget and I generally try to spread my exertions over the whole race, but I was feeling very good and the pace wasn’t uncomfortable so I stuck with it. It was great to hear of Kirsty’s plans for next year’s WHW race, fingers crossed she secures a place.

On the switchback climb above Lochearnhead I met Pete Hunter for the first time and we got chatting to former WHW race winner Kate Jenkins too. The truth is that Kate ran up the switchback while the rest of us walked. Kirsty peeled off before the checkpoint for a comfort stop and I barrelled in to shovel in my first rice pudding of the race, I was conscious that quite a few runners didn’t stop here, but I felt I needed both a food and liquid top up before the forest loop.

As I passed the burger van I caught up with the distinctive tartan shorts of the running royalty that is Donald Sandeman, running his 10^th, yes 10^th Ultra of the year and looking fresh after the Jedburgh 3 peaks Ultra 6 days previously. We chatted pretty much the whole 3 miles downhill to Killin, clocking all 3 below 8 minute miles, definitely a first for me in an Ultra! After the pleasure of 3 downhill miles you face a solid 4 miles uphill back to the checkpoint, last year I walked pretty much all of this conserving energy. Fired up by how good I was still feeling I ran or run/walked most of the forest hill making up a couple of places en route. I’ve adopted a strategy of running 50 paces then walking 50, it’s surprising how much quicker you cover the ground than a straight walk. It’s mentally easier to run 50 paces than run up a whole hill, even if I trick myself by running 50, and then running 50 more and so on.

Back into the checkpoint for rice pudding number 2 and to pick up a couple of gels (at £2 each I’m far too tight to leave them around) and it was back down Glen Ogle. I say down because it has to be downhill, firstly because it was a definite uphill on the outward leg and secondly because the god that is my Garmin tells me so. But by heck it doesn’t feel like a downhill, I wonder of any other runners thought this too?

About half way “down” I could feel the first spits of the forecast rain, I decided it was worth sacrificing a few seconds to stop and put on my waterproof. As I got running again Noanie caught me up and although we ran the next couple of miles pretty much side by side we didn’t talk much, as Noanie, frank as ever said she was feeling sh**e and right on the edge of being able to keep running and talking. She did however promise to catch up on any of my dazzling conversation later in the bar. Noanie gradually pulled away from me and I only overtook her when she had to stop briefly when she dropped her asthma inhaler on the switchback to Lochearnhead, she went on to finish 5th lady in 4:44:18

The stop to put on my waterproof proved providential as from that point the rain just got heavier and heavier right to the finish. With 22 miles down Noanie said she was close to achieving a marathon PB (she needed to beat 3:50) sadly the combination of cold, rain and undulating cycle path meant we both missed it, only by a minute or so just before Balquhidder.

Passing through marathon distance in 3:51 and having chugged two Clif energy gels I knew that barring disaster I would beat last years’ time, I also knew that the race measures short and I only had 6 miles to go, that was all good news. On the bad news front, the rain was getting heavier, by now washing across the road in torrents, this section through Balquhidder and the head of Loch Voil is devoid of cover and I was soaked to the skin and my calf’s were hurting, just a typical Ultra then.

Whilst there is always the temptation to walk when it gets tough, the thought of a PB and getting out of the rain quicker drove me to keep running, I passed another three runners between here and the finish, two of whom looked pretty much done in. I’d given up trying to avoid the puddles by now and I was pleased that I’d managed to maintain sub 9 minute miles for miles 27, 28 & 29.

I knew from last year that the race has a sting in the tale with some short sharp climbs in the last mile and a half; I tried to run them all, dropping to a walk 50 run 50 when it was too steep. With about 1 mile to go I was passed by Craig Mackay, who’d got his second wind and was on a personal mission to beat Donald by 6 minutes (Donald beat him at Jedburgh by 6 minutes). Once Craig had pulled ahead I couldn’t close that gap, we joked in the bar later that he’d sussed my 50-50 strategy and he was running 52-52 to get ahead of me.

The 30mph signs at Strathyre were a welcome sight and I picked up the pace slightly as the infamous shoogly bridge hove into view, my sprint across the bridge only marginally impeded by a lady walking her dog, some people have no sense of occasion!

 

After a succession of finish line photos where I look like I’m dying, I was looking out for the photographer and as usual managed to miss her, round the corner and through the finish arch, 4:41:01 36^th place, over 17 minutes better than last year. To say I was pleased would be a massive understatement, I was absolutely flipping, bl**dy over the moon.

The finish area was slowly submerging under the constant rain and I felt heartfelt sorry for the volunteers huddled under the gazebos, a huge thank you is in order for all the volunteers who made the race possible.

Ann was waiting for me under a big umbrella, so I gratefully grabbed my goody bag and a cup of scalding but very welcome coffee and immediately headed back to The Inn. The puddles in the car park were ankle deep, but I couldn’t get any wetter and I couldn’t have cared less anyway.

Ten minutes after finishing I was peeling off sopping clothes and climbing into the sadly inadequate shower and by 2pm I was downstairs enjoying my complimentary bowl of soup and my by now customary recovery pint of milk, heading through to the bar I bagged the seat right next to the fire and enjoyed my first pint of the day.

I’ve had bad experiences after finishing longer races, so I know now not so piss around, get changed, get warmed up and get fed and watered and then enjoy the sense of achievement. The bar slowly filled with a mixture of happy and unhappy finishers, there were a few borderline hypothermic cases, a couple of DNF’s and overall a huge sense of achievement.

I really enjoyed being able to hang around for the after party, it was a privilege to be able to share peoples pleasure and sense of achievement at having completed the race in pretty challenging weather conditions, many having popped their Ultra cherry. There was the usual mixture of “never again”; “I hated it”; “I loved it”; ”I can’t believe I did it” and every emotion and sentiment in between and I enjoyed every second of it. A whole afternoon and evening catching up with old friends and making new ones, why wouldn’t you love running Ultra’s

Cheers

 

Not the Dumfries Half Marathon Race Report

Confession time!, I've started to write a report on the Dumfries Half marathon about half a dozen times, but every time I settled down either the creative muse failed me, work or running intervened.
I finally worked out why I was struggling as the truth is really, not a lot happened! It was all over pretty quickly (for an ultra runner) without major drama or incident.
The race is very well organised by Dumfries Running Club, starting at Dumfries College and run mostly on very quiet country roads. Experienced interpreters or race description-speak will have seen through the enticing words describing "spectacular scenery.....and a great view of Criffel Hill" as "great views, but you've got to run 1 mile uphill to see them" and "PB potential" as "its not exactly flat".

I'll be back!

Its the only race that I've run every since I took up running 5 years ago and I've improved my time every year, so no pressure there then.
Not only was the race was Dumfries Harriers club championship but Portobello RC and Clyde Runners were using it for theirs too, slightly disappointing that only 7 or 8 Harriers toed the start line for this major local race.
Given recent injury and post WHW lack of form and pace I'd have been happy with anything sub 1:40 so my eventual 1:35:48 made me a very happy bunny indeed. Decent goody bag and a technical t-shirt and a chance to catch up with a lot of running mates.
Quote of the day was Roy from Portobello demonstrating a proper city boy outlook with "does everywhere in Dumfries smell of cow poo?".

Would I recommend the race? of course I would, I'll be back next year for more.

Cheers

Coll Half Marathon 2013

The Short Version

We went to Coll, it was wet and windy, we ran a tough half marathon, we went to a ceilidh, it was a very long journey back home, it was great fun!

The Official Version

http://www.dumfriesharriers.co.uk/about-us

The Epic Version

5:30am in the dark at Oban ferry terminal, it must be time for our annual Dumfries Harriers trip to the Coll half marathon.
For this, our 3^rd trip some of us had decided to head out one day early to explore the inner Hebridean island of Coll, previous trips having been something of a blitz of travelling, tent pitching, racing, drinking, dancing and then travelling home.  Our early start meant that by 12 noon, we’d arrived, pitched tents got ourselves settled and in my case hired a mountain bike to allow me to join Ian and Dawn on a planned cycle tour of the island. Our group had been adopted by stereotypical American tourist (big camera, bum belt and slightly “in your face”) Tim from Baltimore, USA who we’d met on the ferry and who invited

Choppy sleeping like a log

himself to join us both for lunch and our cycling trip. Tim elegantly clad in his newly purchased “man about town” matching tweed jacket and flat cap had intrigued us all by pitching the world’s smallest, flimsiest, single layer one man tent next to our group and announcing that he didn’t have a sleeping bag, but was content to wrap himself in a sheet!, given the apocalyptic rain forecast a truly optimistic view.



Dawn's new necklace

Having invested £10 in my bike hire “It may look rough, but it’s just been serviced”, yeh right! Our trio (plus Tim) headed of on pretty much the only road on the island (towards the airport). Every turn of my pedals produced a wheezing asthmatic squeak from my bike, the back wheel oscillated constantly, the saddle sunk down and had to be reset every 2 miles and you could only change gear on the front ring by stopping, dismounting and lifting the chain by hand, apart from that it was great.

With a blustery wind blowing in our faces we all stopped after 3 miles to shed a layer, Tim tying his tweed jacket round his waste with the help of a length of rope found on the roadside. Passing the airport we turned off the half marathon route towards Crossapol beach. Pausing briefly for a paddle and for Dawn to experiment with a new natural seaweed scarf we cycled the full length of the

beach, the clapped out £10 bikes proving more suited for this stretch than Dawn and Ian’s tourers. Regretting the offer of Eileen’s OS map we managed to convince ourselves we were heading back to (relative) civilisation. Our theory of “look if there’s a house at the end of the beach, there must be a road” proving both optimistic and incorrect as beach track, briefly became tractor track then petered out entirely into a field. Choppy bravely volunteering to lead us through the gate with a prominent “Beware of the Bulls” sign sporting his bright red Dumfries Harriers top, what a guy!

Backtracking, we eventually re-joined the undulating half marathon route, through the dunes, past the golf course and the welcome sight of Coll’s main town Arinagour. I reckon we cycled 20 miles. Far from a gentle pre-race bimble it was our usual less than ideal prep for what we knew would be a tough race.

Duly showered we headed to the Coll Hotel bar for re-hydration and to watch Mo Farah win World Championship gold in the 5,000m as likeminded fellow committed athletes we should have partaken in a light meal and headed for an early night, but back in the real world we had 4 pints each, ate a huge seafood meal had a couple more pints to wash it all down and then rolled into our respective tents.

The weather gods were not kind to us and the wind duly howled and the rain hammered down, I could hear a few “goddams!” from Tim next door in his tiny tent, but he quietened down about 5am, he’d apparently given up on his tent and spent the night sitting in the gents bog.

With the ferry due in with the rest of our party and the rain still bouncing off the ground, we opted for a civilised breakfast in the Coll Hotel, chatting to a couple from Cornwall camping with 4 young kids, whose tent had collapsed during the night and who were feeding and drying themselves before trying to repair the sodden remnants of their tent. Duly fuelled and fed we returned to the now bustling campsite to help our fellow Harriers erect tents in yet another deluge.

The Race

The campsite progressively emptied as runners for the 5K and 10K events headed off for their starts and everyone congregated in the fabulous new An Crighe community centre, sporting the usual pre-race mix of club tops, bin liners and apprehensive faces. With a good 10 minute walk to the race start on the pier and what had to be the weekends worst dump of rain hammering down, I decided I needed my waterproof hat and gloves. I sprinted through the rain towards my tent, athletically leapt over tent guys and duly fell flat on my arse full length in a in a puddle, not a good start!

I PB’d the course last year but after a 6 week layoff due to post WHW race injuries and only two weeks of semi-serious running this was going to be my longest run in 8 weeks, I wasn’t expecting miracles.

With experience of the previous two years I knew this was not a course to set off too quickly on, although the highest point on the entire route is less than 200ft, it feels like you’re constantly going up or down and with a vicious strong headwind for the first 5 miles it’s not a race for fun runners.

I’d decided to stick between 7:30 and 8:00 minute miles throughout; I felt this was both achievable and sensible without killing me. At around the 3 mile mark I overtook 2 young guys, one of whom dropped behind,  the other caught me up, we got chatting, Rob had just graduated from Exeter uni and was heading off to Sandhurst in a couple of months, he’d done the race last year squeezing under 2 hours and was keen to do better this year, checking my Garmin I told him our current pace would put us 1:42 – 1:44, so he jovially announced “OK you can pace me round then” proper officer material there I think.

As the road petered out and we headed through the sandy track, we could see 4 guys doing the half marathon walk, wearing ladies summer dresses, it turned out they were Rob’s Army officer brother and his mates, one a Naval officer the other Marines. As we ran past they offered us a drink from a bottle of Jack Daniels and then encouraged us along, by running behind shouting “run faster or I’ll stick this bottle up your arse”. As by this stage I was breathing through my hoop, I was happy when we left them behind, apart from being passed by a topless Johnny Fling at mile 11, it was a pretty uneventful race for me. At mile 12 Rob pulled ahead but I had nothing left in the tank. The race has a horrid sting in the tail with a climb about half a mile from the finish, its only 60 feet but it felt like the North face of the Eiger to me. I’d overtaken one chap just before this and was neck and neck with another but completely failed to muster my customary sprint finish to pass him on the final downhill to the finish, clocking a course worst for me of 1:41:26. In truth since I’ve only run 60 miles or so in the last 8 weeks, with 6 weeks of no running I’m pretty chuffed with my time. If anyone asks why I was 4 minutes slower than last year I’ll blame it on the heavy hat and gloves I was wearing, as with perverse irony, the sun had decided to shine throughout the race.

I think the rest of our party were happy with their runs. Steve C knocked a minute off last years’ time, Rebecca won the ladies race and Andy clocked a 6 minute PB, Lesley continued her excellent season by chicking me and husband Neil (who PB’d), running 6 minutes quicker than last year and getting 3^rd lady and 1^st vet trophies. Peter Duggan broke his Coll hoodoo clocking under 1:40, Steve H and Hazel run a disciplined race saving themselves for their upcoming Reykjavik marathon, Ian A was happy with his first race since last year’s Berlin marathon, Dawn clocked under 2 hours and Anne was happy with her first half marathon in 5 years. Of Tim there was no sign, I felt a twinge of guilt that our cycling efforts the day before may not have helped him. The only down side to the race was the organisers bizarre decision to award the team prize to a running club who didn’t even have a team in for the half, we were robbed!

As we were changing for the party, a chorus of “goddams” erupted from Tim’s tiny tent, “goddam tent, goddam bee, how can there be a goddam bee in my goddam tent”, closely followed by various garments (and presumably the bee) being thrown from the tiny tent at near supersonic speed. I suspect Tim’s idyllic thoughts about camping and racing on a Scottish island were wearing very thin.

The Ceilidh

Whilst the race is tough it’s just a necessary evil to get you to the post-race party, comprising Loch Fyne Ales, local food and an epic ceilidh.

I managed to avoid the rookie error of drinking on an empty stomach this year but despite dancing most of the night I still drank too much. Every time I finished a dance a glass of red wine magically appeared in my hand and it would have been rude to refuse. Unlike past years where I didn’t make it past 10 o’clock, I made it all the way to 1am before staggering in the dark to my tent and collapsing into sleep.

I was woken up at 6:40 not by my bladder alarm clock as excepted but by more “goddams” from Tim, whose tent had finally given up the ghost and collapsed. As I gratefully allowed the tendrils of sleep to overtake me again, I was disturbed by the sound of manic slashing and another chorus of “goddams”, “now that’s how you take down a goddam tent”. Tim now being so fed up with the world’s smallest and crappest tent that he’s found a knife and slashed it to pieces in frustration and fury, I suspect we won’t see him on Coll next year!

After all the activity and bustle of the previous 48 hours, Sunday is a curious limbo time. The ferry back to Oban is at 2pm and following breakfast in the community centre the race day euphoria having worn off and the hangover having kicked in, there isn’t really enough time (or energy) to explore, just lots of laughs and reflections on the weekend and laying the foundations for next years trip.

In memory of Steve C’s interrupted race last year Neil & Lesley had produced a memorial golf towel, which was awarded this year to Hazel for a similarly lavatorial tale, I’m too much of a gentleman to divulge the details, if you want to know you’ll just have to come to Coll next year.

There are two ferries which take it in turns to service the Coll route, so having arrived on a deserted large ferry, the return trip was courtesy of the smaller Lord of The Isles. It was packed but we managed to secure two tables in the café, impossible to sleep on, but at least we had a seat and enjoyed a decent meal and loads of post-race banter.

New friend Roy spent the journey justifiably fuming that he’d been robbed of his V40 prize, when he’s challenged the organisers they admitted they’d given the prize to the wrong guy and suggested he find him and ask him to hand it over! Alex had lost his wallet so I volunteered to give him, Eileen and Roy a lift to Glasgow Queen Street; it was good to have company on the journey down Loch Lomond side.

So that’s Coll over for another year, if you’re looking for a fast flat PB course give it a miss, if you want a race weekend that is packed full of laughs and character and great fun I’ll see you next year.

Entries open for next year’s events on 1^st October, http://www.collhalfmarathon.co.uk/enter.php see you there.

Glasgow to Garda

No holiday plans this year?

Right up to the moment I listened to work colleagues describing holidays in America, Cyprus and the Algarve, this statement would have applied to me. A quick calculation showed that with weekends already booked for Coll Half Marathon and the Devil of the Highlands unless I went.....well pretty much immediately I'd rapidly run out of summer.

A quick phone call to Ann, "nip up to the travel agents and see if they've got any last minute deals leaving tomorrow or the day after?" And 36 hours later we're at Glasgow airport to check in for a 6:10 flight to Verona for a week on the shores of Lake Garda.

Now the fun starts!

Arriving at 4:30am, even the red eye business flights are two hours away, so the airport is exclusive home to the delights of the package holiday makers and no frills travellers, specifically the early morning Ibiza flight.

Now I admit I've become a travel snob and I've never been to Ibiza. I like my executive upgrade every time I check into a Holiday Inn, I exude a superior air when I manage to wangle 1st class on the train to London, I breeze through airports with the demeanour and insouciance of the seasoned traveller, sadly the groups we saw heading for Ibiza confirmed all my prejudices about any holiday destination where flip flops and a football shirt are the "de rigour" attire.

As I enjoyed the quiet sophistication of Wetherspoon's Eggs Benedict and black coffee, the group of lads heading for holiday hell were cracking me up.

"Haw remember when ya fund me bollock naked in Tenerife", I almost spat out my muffin.

I work in the building trade, so I'm not unaccustomed to colourful language but I hadn't realised just how many swear words it was possible to squeeze into one sentence. As the lads washed down their 3rd pint of the morning with some sort of shot mixed with Monster energy drink, I marvelled at their ability to multi-task. Drinking, swearing and ogling the group of nubile young ladies with the raw ardour of a starving man eying up a banquet.

Now I'm not saying I'd never go to Ibiza, only that I'd rather have hot pins stuck in my eyeballs and my fingernails pulled out as a more pleasurable alternative.

Whilst listening to the testosterone charged banter I was suddenly struck with a vision of The Inbetweeners movie, where the lads check into the Hotel Paradiso to be greeted by the sweat soaked, fag smoking hotel manager dredging a dead dog out of the pool, oh God what have I let myself into?

Thankfully our flight was the antithesis of the Ibiza flight. On time, civilised, quiet and pleasant and not a football shirt or flip flop in sight. We were whizzed seamlessly from baggage belt to transfer coach by a chain of reps, the temperature mid morning a pleasant 28C. The coach journey through industrial Verona and Rivoretto did nothing to dispel my nagging doubt that we'd really no idea what we'd booked.

The coach wound its way through olive groves and vineyards and cresting a mountain pass, you get your fist view of Lake Garda. Simply jaw dropping, virtually sheer cliffs plunging down to an azure blue lake with roads and villages clinging tenuously to the slopes.

A couple of stops in Torbole and then it was our turn, the only guests for the Hotel Panorama in Limone sur Garda (that image of the dead dog starting to creep back).

The coach stops in a lay by, we step out to the raucous din of cicadas, the cheery wave from the rep indicating we're on our own now, Hotel Panorama/Paradiso here we are.

I'd been worrying needlessly, check in took seconds and our balcony was a stone’s throw from the lake, no literary licence here either. The 6 storeys of the hotel being almost carved into the cliff, with the reception and restaurant on the top floor the pool and terrace 6 floors below; a further 40m down a staircase that UK Health and Safety would have kittens over, was Lake Garda itself. Having left Glasgow on time, by Lunchtime we were sunning ourselves poolside.... RESULT.

The only slight downside was that the hotel was "on the outskirts of Limone, along a picturesque lakeside path".

For my running friends I'll describe the path as undulating (you know what I mean), for my West Highland Way friends, it was like the roller coaster hills after the big gate at Crianlarich! For everyone else it was a genuinely picturesque but sweaty 1 mile hike into town itself.

I’m not going to bore you with the blow by blow details, tales of fat Belgians hogging the pool, Austrian sun worshipers sneaking out at 7am to bag the sun beds or the woman in the room next door with the persistent and annoying cough, suffice to say we had a brilliant holiday!

Glasgow airport I could happily give  a body swerve, Lake Garda I’ll definitely be back.

Injury Virgin

I’ve led a charmed running life, I’ve dodged the bullet, I must be one of the lucky ones. Well I was until completing the West Highland Way Race.

If you’re not interested in a depressing tale of self-pity and unjustified man moaning, look away now!

D plus 2, the Monday after the race a hugely swollen right foot necessitated a visit to Fort William A & E, they mostly ruled out a stress fracture in my right foot and I managed to drive home like a brave little soldier popping Ibuprofen and Paracetomol.

Bruised fat feet after the WHW race

I spent two days in my office at Lockerbie, wearing Jesus sandals and propping my foot on a pile of boxes beside my desk, pretty revolting for any unfortunate who happened by, Keith and his big fat foot with a growing quota of black toenails smiling at you. I hobbled and griped my way through the week and spent every evening lying on the couch with a specially designated bag of frozen peas on my foot and ankle. Not a problem as I’d always planned a full week of rest and the family were pretty understanding and none of them like peas anyway.

By D plus 8 I was almost walking like a human again, my foot was back to normal size and the pain had migrated like a Bulgarian on benefits from my foot to my lower right leg, but my shin muscle was now swollen and solid. Natural healing needed a boost so I booked a sports massage.

Forewarned from my only previous encounter with my Physio, when she had reduced me to jelly with a 45 minute session working on my legs, I put on my big boy pants and gritted my teeth. This time she concentrated a whole session worth of pain just on my right foot and shin. Having explained my self-inflicted race injury - “95 miles in a race really?” conversation went from strained through stilted through guttural grunting to stoic silence and bottled up tears. God it really hurt! As the session progressed her diagnosis edged towards a possible stress fracture and a firm but polite suggestion I should go and see my GP.

D plus 12, 7:40am “Good morning Doctor Raj, I’ve got a bit of a sore leg” – “95 miles in a race really?” prod, poke hmmm, hmmm 95 miles? “I think you need an x-ray”

D plus 12, 8:20am, Dumfries A & E, “Good morning, I’ve got a bit of a sore leg and my Physio and GP think it might be a stress fracture”, “95 miles in a race really?”

D plus 12 8:30, Dumfries A & E, “Oh good morning nurse”…. I’m sure you’re getting the idea. Explaining my condition successively to nurse, doctor, 2 girls in x-ray another doctor and finally another nurse the upshot was you almost certainly don’t have a stress fracture. Take it easy but yes you should be OK to run again.

D plus 12 18:00 Dumfries Harriers Tuesday Club run a steady six mile run. Five miles in and I’m noticing a small but nagging pain in my left knee, which by mile 6 grows in intensity and finishing at 6.5 miles feels akin to some-one stabbing my knee with a knife. On the plus side the right foot and leg feel OK. Retiring gracefully it was back to the couch and the frozen peas, but this time balanced on my left knee.

D plus 14 08:00 Saturday morning trail run, knee felt OK, slight twinge at 5 miles, decided to cut short and head for the car by 6 miles it was proper sore, by 6.5 miles I couldn’t sustain a run and for the first time ever in my running career, I did a half mile walk of shame back to my car, decided to give it 4 days solid rest.

D plus 19 18:00 Dumfries harriers Thursday Club run, gentle 5 miler mostly on grass and the knee gave out again, with only 3 weeks till I’m theoretically running the Devil of the Highlands I’ve got to admit defeat. There is no way I’m going to be able to run a 42 mile Ultra! Actually it’s a load off my mind once I’ve made the decision and sent my withdrawal email, the pressure is off.

D plus ?? well in truth like you I’ve lost count, but another visit to the Physio, this time to have the left knee mashed. By now I feel like a seasoned pro but handle the pain just as badly as before. Fortunately a power cut mid-way through plunges us into darkness and I can let my brave face slip in the dark as a tear rolls down my cheek. Despite some lingering muscle tenderness I feel better for the pummelling. I even take her advice and stick to my bike for exercise avoiding running short term.

So good news then?

Well sadly no, the left knee feels better from both the massage and the cycling but my right leg must have been feeling left out as it’s decided to get in on the act again and running looks as far away as ever!
Four weeks post WHW and I’ve ran a pitiful handful of miles, and whined and moaned through most of them. I’ve been out on the bike half a dozen times, which I’m enjoying and my only target race is the Coll Half Marathon in 4 weeks, which is definitely more of a social event than a full on competitive race.

In truth I’m far from seriously injured, merely enduring a succession of niggles, and having had an injury free running career to date, I’m taking it hard.

Many runners have endured more serious injuries and illness with great stoicism and fortitude and good humour, I think I need to take a leaf out of their book.

Cheers

West Highland Way Race Lessons Learned

Whilst it was relatively fresh in my mind I thought I’d record my thoughts on my training and preparation for this year’s WHW race. Everyone who attempts this epic race will have their own views and thoughts, no two runners are the same and there is no definitive right way to go about it, although I’m sure there are lots of wrong ways.

I found it very useful to read other peoples thoughts and experiences and pinched what I hoped would be all the best bits to build into my own plan. I’m very definitely not saying my way is the best way, but it was the best way for me to achieve my goal given my running history; experience and job, which was always a sub 24 hour finish. Over 800 people have completed the race, many have written reports and blogs of their experience, why re-invent the wheel when you can use this fabulous repository of knowledge.

The West Highland Way Race pod casts produced by John Kynaston are brilliant, I’ve listened and re-listened to them, so should you!

BACKGROUND

I built up to running this race after 18 months of preparation, running my first Ultra (D33) in January 2012, followed by the Fling and the Glen Ogle 33, I also mixed in 2 road marathons and the usual scattering of half marathons and 10Ks and ran the D33 and the Fling this year.

TRAINING & SPECIFICITY – IT’S ALL ABOUT THE WHW Race.

The WHW is off road, so from January 2012 I switched the majority of my training and especially my long weekend run to trails. I live 5 minutes from Mabie Forest which has miles of forest road and mountain bike trails, wherever possible I ran on these. Mid-week runs tended to be back on the road and as my fitness improved I found my road speed didn’t diminish. If your training for an off road race you should be training off road.

Don’t over train, it’s easy to get swept up with the social Media communities and chat groups, don’t get me wrong they are brilliant, I love them and participate enthusiastically. But…..just because someone posts in January “Third night of back to back runs, mileage for the week 59 miles, giving 214 miles for the month” doesn’t mean you need to match them. The race is in June not January, work out your plan and stick to it, your plan, not everyone else’s.

Every year there are people who don’t make it to the start line in Milngavie because they battered their body in January and February – Don’t over train.

I aimed to run at least once a month on the actual route itself, I managed this, but I still felt my knowledge of the 2nd half could have been better. I would say this is a must do, you need to know the route.

For me the WHW race was my A race this year, from January to June everything I did fitted into my overall training plan, I ran the D33 and the Fling not as races in their own right but as stepping stones to the Way itself. Physically I ran well in both races and mentally getting pb’s in both very much kept me on track, conversely I’m sure if I’d “bonked” at either race my head would not have been in the right place for the Way race.

I noted that a few people ran the London marathon the week before the Fling and possibly as a consequence didn’t have a good Fling and either subsequently pulled out of the WHW or struggled on the day. Now it’s easy for me to say the above as I didn’t get a VLM place but I suspect if I had I’d have deferred it.

I’m not one of the racing snakes at the front of the field, so I knew it would be a massive challenge and I would need to be completely single minded about my training, both in type, intensity and mileage. From January 1^st to June 18^th I ran 1044 miles in total against a background of around 1700 miles in total for 2012.

Practise running in the dark, you’ll start in the dark and almost certainly finish in the dark so practise it and I mean proper dark on the trail not street lit pavements. Get a decent head torch and try it out, what seems bright in your bedroom, may not be so effective in the great outdoors.

There is no magic bullet? – I’ve blogged about this separately, but for me it really was about putting in the training miles. It’s not the magic shoes or the latest compression gear or the wonder gel, for me it is simple. You’re going to run a 95 mile race; you need to put in a lot of miles and a lot of time on your feet. You can tough out a marathon on limited training; you could possibly bluff out a shorter ultra-too, there is no place to hide on a 95 mile race. If you’re not prepared to commit to the training don’t sign up for the race in the first place.

If you’re training for a marathon typically your longest run would be 22 miles, 85 % of the final distance. This equates to 80 miles for the WHW, palpably not feasible for all but the elites. The answer?..... for me it was back to back trail runs, typically 18 – 24 miles on a Saturday and 12 – 18 on a Sunday. Mid-week minimum of two runs 10 – 12 miles, sometimes squeezing in a 3^rd one.

My mileage plan was cobbled together from George Reid’s D33 training plan, John Kynaston’s WHW plan, a 100 mile Ultra plan I found on the web and fitting and stretching round the Balmaha & Tyndrum training weekends and the Fling itself.

SUPPORT

Make sure you arrange your support well in advance and plan your support dependant on your expected finish time. So what do I mean by that?

I was aiming for a 24 hour finish; your support runner can’t run with you until 50 miles (assuming you’re not within 4 hours of the leader), if they’ve been up all night on the Friday, they are going to be just as knackered as you are before they even start running!

My main support runner enjoyed a good night’s sleep on Friday a leisurely drive to Tyndrum and started running from Bridge of Orchy, he still ended up running 35 miles which is no small feat in itself.

Whilst enthusiasm is great, experience wins for me. I was lucky to have both an experienced and enthusiastic support crew. I saw (and have read blogs of) support crew standing around while the runner refilled their own back packs. The support crew has one single purpose, namely to help their runner get to Fort William and to allow the runner to concentrate on the single task of running. Now it could be that their runner hadn’t briefed them before hand, but your support stops should be like an F1 pit stop with the runner as the centre of attention.

On a similar vein, minimise the time you spend at checkpoints/support stops, I’ve read of runners just missing their target time, but when you read their reports they’ve spent ages at each stop when in reality all they needed was a bottle change and a snack. They could have been in and out in 2 minutes but instead farted around for 10.

Even with a sub 24 hour finish, my crew were knackered by the end, if you realistically reckon you’ll be running through the second night I’d have two separate crews.

Make sure your support know what they have to do, we had a get together 2 weeks before the event and ran through every aspect of support. Thinks we covered included

• Who would be running and which sections
• Vehicle logistics
• Who’d have the weigh card
• What did I expect food wise at each stop
• Approximate timings (for the first half at least)
• Food, your support have to eat too

By the time we’d finished I was happy that not only did I know what was happening but that the whole team knew the plan.

BE ORGANISED – WRITE LISTS

Starting in January I carried a notepad and every time I thought of something for the race weekend I wrote it down. If you think you’ll remember it you won’t. If you think you might need something, pack it, better to be there and not used than sitting in the cupboard back home.

Book your accommodation early in Fort William and remember you’ll almost certainly need to book for both the Saturday and Sunday nights.

I took both the Friday before and Monday after as holidays; if or when I do it again I’ll take the Tuesday too.

KIT & FOOD

Try out everything you might use on the race itself. You shouldn’t use anything on the day that you’ve not tried out thoroughly beforehand. This goes for clothing, shoes, kit and food. You can’t replicate a 95 mile run, so use your long training runs to work out what food suits you, you WILL need to eat on the day. You probably won’t feel like eating so you need to force yourself to keep refuelling. The same goes for hydration work out whether you want water or isotonic or both, some people swear by flat coke, whatever you opt for try it out first.

Personally I use a Salomon backpack with one bottle of Isotonic and one of water. Initially I used a camelback but I found it a real pain to refill and I ended up under hydrating because I couldn’t tell how much I’d drank. Lots of runners will swear by camelbacks, either way, work out well in advance what works for you.

Clothing is probably the ultimate personal choice, from marvellous Mimi Anderson who always wears pink to the speedsters who only wear vest and shorts irrespective of weather. I was lucky my race was pretty dry, but I still used 6 different running tops; 3 pairs of shorts, 4 pairs of socks and 2 rain jackets

SHOES

Very much a personal choice, I used Salomon Speedcross 3’s, I’d done most of my training in my original pair, but had bought and broken in an identical pair as back-up. Between Tyndrum & Bridge of Orchy I felt like I was running on gravel, when I took out the insoles, the underside was in bits. I’d run something around 800 miles in them, the grip was badly worn but they were comfy. With hindsight I should have binned them well before the race it would have saved my sore feet in the last 30 miles, something I’d never experienced before.

Take a variety of shoes both for running and afterwards, my feet were so swollen I was wearing sandals until the Wednesday, very smart with my business suit.

MENTAL ATTITUDE

This area is probably where I’ll differ most from some other members of the “West Highland Way Family”. From the moment I applied for the race there was never any doubt in my mind that I’d cross the finish line, the time may have been up for debate but I’d definitely finish.

It’s such a big race and such a big training commitment that for me you have to have an absolute certainty in your own mind you’ll finish, right from the start of the process.

LESSONS LEARNED

Having prattled and bored you with the Gospel according to Ainslie, what if anything did I get wrong and what would I do differently.  Happily with my OCD preparation this isn’t a long list.

I shouldn’t have started with very high mileage, knackered shoes
I should have run more on the 2^nd half of the route so I knew the route better

Provided you've not lost the will to live and have read this far I'll say it again for the record, there is no single right way to train and prepare for this race.

There are lots of things that can go wrong that are unavoidable and unpredictable like injury and sickness. There are however lots of things that you can avoid by proper preparation and forethought which will minimise the possibility of failure and maximise the prospect of success.

Cheers

K

West Highland Way Race 2013

Are you sitting comfortably?, if not go make yourself a nice cup of tea, grab a biscuit, put on your comfy slippers and settle down, for any race that’s 95 miles long deserves a race report of equally epic proportions.
I forced myself into an early night on Thursday night, knowing that sleep was going to be at a premium on race weekend itself, despite waking at 5:45am I quickly fell asleep again not waking till just before 10am. For some-one who regularly endures a poor night’s sleep 12 uninterrupted hours the night before a 95 mile race is unexpected manna from heaven.

OCD Kit Packing

I only had 2 or 3 small things to sort out since my kit was already boxed, labelled and packed into the car on Wednesday evening. A leisurely shower, breakfast and an hour lying on the couch reading before I headed North at 12:30. I’d borrowed my neighbour’s roof box to ensure we had plenty of storage space and since it was about as aerodynamic as a garden shed, I pootled up to Glasgow at a very leisurely pace. I stopped at an outdoor shop to pick up a small kettle and some emergency ponchos for myself and my support, I felt that given some of the less optimistic forecasts the ponchos might prove providential.

I checked into the Premier Inn, Bearsden just after 3 and quickly settled into bed, curtains drawn and lights out, I may have dozed a little bit, probably not, but the main thing was I was relaxing and not on my feet. It felt a bit weird checking in and trying to sleep mid afternoon, but then not much about the next 48 hours would be normal anyway.

Calm before the storm

Eileen texted to say she’d found a direct train from Edinburgh to Milngavie and would arrive about 7:15, so I said I’d pick her up and get a couple of things from Tesco at the same time, it would also give her a chance to try out my car for the first time since she’d be doing most of the driving.  My car has electronic auto-hold rather than a handbrake so it can be a bit disconcerting at first. Having picked up some bread and extra nibbles for the support team we headed back to the Premier Inn, where Eileen managed to reverse park first time unlike the plonker in the Micra at the end of the row who reversed onto the grass verge hitting a lamppost into the bargain, promptly getting out locking the car and heading into the restaurant without a second glance, bizarre.

I briefed Eileen on my OCD packing (labelled boxes each containing laminated lists of contents) and we headed over to the Burnbrae to get some food, whilst the pub was busy we only waited 10 minutes for a table and the service was pretty quick and the food was decent. It was good to have company over the meal and time passed quickly. We headed over to register at 9:30 and were in and out in 10 minutes, there were already some runners and teams already hanging around in the car park. It seemed strange to me that given you know you’re going to be on your feet for a long time why would you turn up so early, you’re burning energy and not relaxing.

We headed back to the hotel and I had a shower and a shave and had just got changed into my race kit when Zoe texted to say she was in the car park. OK she was in the wrong car park, but she quickly found us. Time for briefing number two and a spot of kit transfer and it was immediately obvious that the roof box was a good call, lots of extra space without being muddled with my own race kit. Back up to the room for a large cup of coffee and pretty soon it was 12:15 and time to head down for Ian’s race briefing. I was feeling really pleased my plan for the day had worked out, I’d pretty much done nothing but relax all day, was well fed and watered and hadn’t expended much nervous energy at all, in fact I was so relaxed I almost forgot I needed a drop bag for Inversnaid. We parked in the Tesco car park and walked round just in time for Ian’s briefing, a quick hello to fellow Harrier Caroline and her support crew (Lesley, Steve and Choppy) and a few hello’s and good lucks to fellow runners.

I made a last minute decision to put my on Goretex waterproof over my long sleeve top as the long forecast rain looked almost inevitable and whilst it wasn’t cold I thought it would be easier than trying to put it on whilst running in the dark.

Like all of the preceding week, I didn’t feel nervous, anxious or excited I just wanted to get started and get it done.

1am the hooter goes off and we’re away, the adventure has started.

I deliberately positioned myself at the back of the pack to avoid going off too quickly and immediately lost sight of Caroline; in fact not seeing her again until just before the presentation on Sunday. My run through Mugdock was pretty uneventful, mostly focussing on gentle 10 – 11 minute miles; not falling over and chatting to a succession of runners. “Is this your first?”, “What did you do it in last time?”, “Are your crew meeting you at Drymen?” repeating the same conversation many times over with different runners. I chatted briefly with Ian Minty, who had a particularly eventful race and went on to a well deserved and gutsy finish.

I do remember thinking that some runners had pretty poor head torches. I know I’m particularly obsessive about torches and my LED Lenser 170 lumen job, does make me look like a Chilean miner on a dark night, but it seemed stupid to me to risk your race, for the sake of a decent head torch.

The rain came on quite heavily on the Stretch before the Beech Tree, but the improved path meant very few puddles and I hoped dry feet. I was hoping to reach Drymen in just over 2 hours, around the same as my Fling pace and I wasn’t disappointed. Across the road and Eileen was right in front of me, quick swap of the bottles, shovelled down a rice pudding grabbed a sandwich and it was straight off, my strategy being to minimise time at checkpoints and stay on my feet wherever possible to avoid cramping up. I ate my sandwich on the first walking stretch through the forest and maintained a steady run on the flats and down hills and walked every uphill. I only remember talking to one girl, who seemed pretty upset that her support had missed her at Drymen and she hadn’t re-stocked, I offered her my water bottle and some spare gels but she declined. She didn’t seem in a good place and I felt she was already looking for an excuse to bale, since I’ve forgotten her name I hope she eventually made it. Not for the first time that day I was thankful my support were all WHW veterans and knew and avoided all the possible pitfalls.

On the approach to Conic Hill I said hello to Colin Knox as the first grey fingers of dawn started forcing their way through the overcast, keeping up a good yomp up the hill, I was rewarded with a surprise view of the loch as I crested the top. I passed a group of Scouts close to the summit, as a long time Scout leader I suspect they we’re doing a “dawn patrol”, where you climb to the top of a hill on the longest day to see the sun rise, with your leader encouraging and cajoling and promising life enhancing views from the top. I did it for years and never once saw a decent sunrise.

Balmaha 3:40

I took it very easily on the descent into Balmaha and on the last stretch through the forest was surprised to be passed by guys positively sprinting into the car park. I swiped my timing chip and once again the girls we’re standing right there to guide me to the car, bottles changed again another rice pudding and it was straight through, I asked for a change of top to be waiting at Rowardennan as whilst my waterproof is bombproof, I do have a tendency to sweat like a racehorse. Having decided from the outset to be relentlessly cheerful at each stop even if I didn’t feel good, I didn’t need to put it on as I was genuinely enjoying my experience so far.

Quickly up over Craigie Fort and along the beach I was completely on my own and sticking rigidly to my walk the hills plan, the 7 miles to Rowardennan whizzed by, I had been worried that 5am to 6am might be my low point as not only have I never ran through  night, I've never even missed a full nights sleep,. I needn't have worried the excitement, adrenalin and the views were fully occupying my mind.

On a less positive note, the long promised midges made started to make an appearance, I am to midges what water is to a man in the desert, I knew I'd get bitten, but even for me the bites were extreme.

Rowardenan 5:17

The miles to Rowardenan flew past as did marathon distance, I was surprised how many cars and support crews there were but once a again the girls were right there for me, waiting by the toilet block, charming! Another rice pudding and a change of top gave me a boost and I bounced out singing along to my iPod, passing team Santa baby who were busy re-fuelling the lovely Sandra. I know some people find the loch side quite boring, but it's growing on me every time I run it albeit this time I can't remember much about it.

Inversnaid

I was still feeling strong as I carefully trotted down the steps and grabbed my drop bag, the Trossasch's Rescue guys had put up a midge proof gazebo, or more accurately a collecting house for midges, still it was almost certainly better than standing outside, another refuel and it was quickly back en route partly for efficiency but mostly to get way from the winged devils. The technical section immediately after Inversnaid has lovers and haters in equal measure, I'm moving firmly into the lover category and I did most of the section to Beinglas in the company of Andy Cole, Andy is a WHW veteran and his measured conversation and advice was great company and made this section fly past.

Beinglas Farm 8:37

It's only on later reflection that the value of an efficient support crew really makes its mark, as once again the girls were waiting for me right at the checkpoint. The midges must have been awful as with hoods pulled up, midge nets on all I could think of was the Jawa's from Star Wars, made me smile anyway. I think I was getting the better deal as at least I could keep moving. Another rice pudding and I was quickly off again.

I'm pretty single minded about things, since I was lucky enough to get a race place, the thought that I might not complete it simply never entered my head. Arrogance or ignorance?, neither .I can be pretty single minded about things when I want to. So why is this relevant?, because the section from Beinglas to Auchtertyre is my least favourite, but happily Bogle Glen and cow poo alley passed without incident. I was lucky enough to bump into the irrepressible Helen Lees on this section. Helen has a uniquely Glasgow way of looking at our hobby, there is nothing fancy or precocious about her view and despite the roller coaster hills and occasional rain shower she had me smiling all the way into Auchtertyre.

Auchtertyre Farm 11:06

I'd phoned ahead, causing a momentary panic, I suspect, to ask for some hot soup and some attention to my feet as I could feel a couple of "hot spots" starting. Again I couldn't believe how busy the place was. A quick swipe of the timing card and onto the scales, where I think I was down about a kilo and I was jogging off to the car. It felt like a formula 1 pit stop as my team ministered to my needs. Shoes and socks off, feet dried, top changed, hot soup and zinc tape on the hot spots on the soles of my feet. Special mention must go to Zoe for the attention to my putrid; white and pongy feet, definitely above and beyond the call of duty.

I was still within 4 hours of the leader so I'd be doing the next section solo, but with the prospect of Andy joining me at Bridge of Orchy.

This was a pretty long stop for me, but worth it as I felt very refreshed for the next stage. It felt odd to be running past the By the Way and up past Brodies Store, but I stuck firmly to walking the hills to conserve energy. Although the zinc tape had helped, the soles of my feet still felt like I was running with gravel in my shoes. I stopped just before The Way goes under the railway line, sitting on a rock like a big Day-Glo garden gnome. I took off my shoes, shook them out...nothing, I took out the insole.............damn, the underside of the insoles were in bits, with debris, stones and crap in both shoes. I've probably done over 800 miles in these shoes and for the first and happily only time that day I was annoyed with myself, I knew the shoes were past their best, but I never thought to check beneath the insoles. Even after thoroughly clearing out the debris I could feel the lingering effect on the soles of my feet, I phoned ahead to say I'd need a shoe change at Bridge of Orchy. Despite or because of this I ran well on this section, almost certainly it was the prospect of company from Bridge of Orchy onwards and the knowledge that with 60 miles done I'd broken the back of the race.

Bridge of Orchy 13:16

Over the bridge and once again the A-team were there, Andy and Zoe all togged up to run. Shoe and sock and top change and we were off up Murdo's mount for our jelly baby. I struggled a bit on the descent to Inveroran Hotel as my feet were pretty sore but this was more than offset by having company.

At out team meeting a couple of weeks before I'd decided to ask Andy to join us around Tyndrum, driving up from Lockerbie on the Saturday morning and benefiting from a decent nights sleep on the Friday, so he could be fresh for the second half. Eileen was going to meet us after Inveroran Hotel and Andy was going to run with me over Rannoch Moor. The sun came out briefly here and the views were truly stunning, it really is a privilege to be able to run in this country.

My memory is starting to fail me here, but I remember running on this section with some-one who had three support runners. It made me smile at one point myself and the lady runner were happily chatting away whilst our respective supports shot off ahead. I ran the flats and kept walking the hills and was passed my a very chatty Donald Sandeman, on the last uphill before you turn down into Glencoe, Donald was running very strongly and went on to a well deserved 22:18 finish. I'd asked Andy to phone ahead for more soup, but lack of a phone signal meant it was all a bit last minute. I didn't enjoy the descent into Glencoe Ski Centre, I was just finding it very sore underfoot, but I knew I'd broken the back of the race and my sub 24 hour target was still very much on.

Glencoe 16:06

The girls had bought some really salty chips, and I alternated between chips and chicken soup even dunking the chips at one point, although I must admit I really didn't feel like eating anything at all by this point. The welcome news was that Peter Duggan was running out from Kinlochleven and was going to meet us at the foot of the Devil, in fact he met us just as we left the Ski Centre car park. Pete lives in KL and knows every inch of this section of the way, so his knowledge was going to be a big help.

We ran past Kingshouse Hotel and kept up a run till the way started to climb upwards, duly dropping back to a walk until the crest we then ran all the way into Altafeadh. Zoe was going to join us for the climb up the Devil and the section to KL. I think I coped OK with the climb up, albeit its much harder with 70  plus miles in your legs than when you are fresh. I didn't enjoy the descent into KL, or "The Devils Arse" as I christened it recently, but Peter diverted us all by pointing out every hill, peak, corrie and geographical feature around. At one stage it felt like a guided geography trip and it certainly helped speed the time along. I took it really easy on the steeper downhill's not wanting to risk an injury this late in the game.

Kinlochleven 19:02:10

Quick check in and weigh, change of bottles and I was just heading out the car park, when I felt really cold so an about face and I jogged back in to change into a long sleeve top again, plus hat. I didn't take on board any food, which I probably should have.

I found the climb out of KL endless and I kept having to pause for a breather, also my right foot was starting to hurt and I needed to stop and flex my ankle pretty regularly. I regretted only having run the Larig Mhor once as I knew in my heart that it dragged out and with my Garmin having given out on the climb out of KL. I had no idea how far it was to Lundavra but I do know I walked virtually all the way, I found the underfoot conditions awful, even on the flatter bits I couldn't muster a run and I was stopping every couple hundred metres to flex my ankle, which was not getting any better. I was passed by quite a few fellow runners on this section, my normal power yomp descending into more of a fatigued stroll.

The dark tentacles of night were starting to fringe the sky and it was feeling cold, I was very glad I'd switched to the long sleeve top. I wanted another layer for the last 6 miles and Andy ran ahead about 1/2 mile out from Lundavra, leaving me to cover the last bit on my own, which felt very weird being alone again and causing Eileen and Zoe a momentary panic as they thought I'd collapsed or something, no such thing. I remember the very welcome heat of the bonfire, and the music but couldn't tell you what they were playing. As soon as I stopped Zoe took charge, her Mountain Rescue experience really kicking in.

I was told in no uncertain terms to take off my waterproof and this was dried in front of the fire, whilst another thick layer was fetched from the car. I felt fine, but Zoe was insistent I was going nowhere until I was "sorted". An uncomplaining Andy had managed a complete kit change before we headed off on the final 6 miles to Fort William. Whilst standing at the fire I could hear wild shrieks and singing which turned out to be Sandra and her support runner, evidently enjoying every minute of it and powering onto the finish.

By now it was full on dark and lack of knowledge of the route, the underfoot terrain, darkness and tiredness all dictated a cautious approach, I felt sub 24 hour was still in sight, so lets not do anything stupid now.

Conversation dwindled to all but the essentials and I was very glad to sense rather than see the final hill up to the fire road.

"Am I still on for sub 24?" I asked Andy, the response was "Your last two miles were 20 minutes each and you've got 4 miles to go and 1 hour 15!" even in my bedraggled and tired state I could work out what was needed.

Zip up the man suit, pull on the Mojo socks and remember Fiona Rennie's words, "you're doing this of your choosing", no-one is making you do it!

time to run

I started to run, Andy matching me stride for stride, on the whole 4 miles to the leisure centre I spoke once "Is it in the bag?", wisely either Andy ignored me or decided silence was the best way to keep me moving. I kept the run up all the way, I could feel my foot hurting with every pace, but decided that if I kept running the pain would last less than if I dropped back to a walk.

Other more competent writers have described this section to the road as never ending, I agree it did drag on but at least it was down hill and I passed 4 or 5 runners on the down hill. I think we surprised the girls who'd parked at Braveheart Car Park and were expecting a broken man to hobble down the hill, I don't remember exchanging words, just thinking, I know this stretch its only a mile, its nearly over.

I kept up a run all the way in, in fact the last mile was probably my fastest mile of the day, around 9:40, not sprinting, but not too shabby after 95 miles and again passing 3 runners walking on this section.

Fort William 23:30:25

Into the car park, dodge round the rescue vehicle, head for the finish arch, swipe the card, shake Ian Beattie's hand, onto the scales, but most importantly slap the leisure centre doors, job done.

I can't honestly say I felt the surge of emotion other runners have described, just an overwhelming feeling of JOB DONE, thank god, now I can shower and sleep.

I went inside, sat down and rather unreasonably demanded a pint of chilled milk from my support team, I hope my only prima donna moment of the day. We didn't hang around but headed straight back to the Travelodge and I got an uncontrollable fit of the shakes en route, by 1am I was trying to negotiate my battered limbs into the shower and hobble under the duvet.

A thoroughly disturbed nights sleep followed, I was exhausted but incapable of finding a position that wasn't painful for my feet and my body decided to give up entirely on regulating its temperature alternating between violent shivering and sweating so much that I had to get up and change sheet, pillow and flip the duvet over, nasty!

I managed to eat two complete breakfasts before limping along to the presentation, WOW it was an incredible feeling to be part of this event, and I've now got my own goblet.

 

I owe a huge thanks to my support team Andy, Eileen and Zoe, to my family for putting up with an absent father for the last 6 months and to all the marshals and organisers who made such a special event possible.

 

Cheers