Race Reports

Self-Transcendence 24 Hour Track Race at Tooting Bec 2010

So what on earth was I thinking when I entered the Tooting 24 Hour track race? That had not been in the plan for 2010.

The plan was to build up to the WHW, see if I could manage Speyside to complete the SUMS then just jolly about for the rest of the year knowing I had done what I set out to do.

So, why the change of plan? Three things I think made me enter (1) Heck, why not? (2) Well, it's just a crazy thing to do. (3) A feeling of needing/wanting to get something more out of the year after the trouble I had at WHW. That third reason was probably the biggest one as I feel there is so much more to come from me for the WHW and that I could, with injury-free training (no back problems) and things going right on the day (such as my feet not falling apart), run a much faster WHW time.

So, I was looking for a sense of satisafction perhaps. It's silly that I didn't already have that, after all it's been quite a year for me. My best yet I would easily say, and yet I wanted more. So a few days before the entries closed I sent I my form. I didn't really expect to get i as it is normally over-subscribed but with Perth Ultra Fest being only 3 weeks before it there was a good chance that this would be the year I might get in. And I did.

Crikey. What now? I have major achilles problems after Speyside, and then even worse after the Gallovidian, so complete rest basically until the day itself. My fitness and endurance won't change any in the last few weeks and it was just about getting to the start line as recovered as possible. It was the ultimate in tapering - ie. doing absolutely nothing! I couldn't even swim as this affected my achilles as well. Not the best build up (AGAIN!) but there you go, no point getting upset about something you can't change.

I didn't tell many people I was doing the race, only a handful infact: some who were at Perth, and a close friend or two at home. I didn't want to make a big deal out of it, no extra attention, or pressure. Those who did know were fellow ultra-runners or non-runners who already thought I was nuts so the idea of running for 24 hours was just another crazy thing to add to the list of things I do.

I did have a few nerves before the race, but surprisingly not that many. Nothing compared to how I felt before WHW. I actually only felt nervous the day before and a little on the morning of the race. What was there to be nervous about after all? It's only running round a track! Ah, ignornace really is bliss ha ha.

So, running for 24 hours, how do you do that? I thought I knew I could do it. After all I had done it at the WHW. Surely this would be 'easier' after all there were no hills. It was flat, no rocks, no tricky scrambling along a loch side, no Devil's staircase to climb and no knee-shattering descent into Kinlochleven. So I started at 12noon on Saturday 25th September 2010 with a rare sense of confidence and for the first few hours it felt comfortable and although I was at times going faster than my schedule I felt happy enough. My main concern had been my achilles but after the first couple of hours I think my achilles had both come to accept that I was going to keep going and that they needed to just get used to it.

The first four hours I had to keep myself in check, telling myself that it only 'appeared' easy and that the real race wouldn't start for another 10 hours or more. After the first turn-around I picked up my first ipod to try and give myself a wee boost and to prevent any competitive urges kicking in. I wanted to get settled into a better rhythm and to focus on my own race. I only put one ear-phone in so that i could still hear other runners and knew when i needed move out of the way for the faster runners. Proper race etiquette is crucial in a race of this sort, probably more than any other race. I think everyone there had an mutual respect for each other that they were all happy to abide by the race rules and were willing for everyone to each do their best and to get the most they could from their race.

6 hours gone and things started to go wrong. I had been feeling a bit queasy for some time and I had hoped it would die down. I had scheduled regular walk breaks each hour and I hoped that my break at 6 hours would have been enough to just ease it off. It's surprising how quick a 5 minute walk break goeas past in a 24 hour race! I was no better and next lap round I walked over to our car, round to the front and did what was arguably one of my most impressive vomiting sessions! To say it was projectile would be an understatement and considering how little I thought I had eaten and drank it just kept coming and coming. Normally I am quite a girl about throwing up and end up in tears (well it is pretty gross!) but this time I just finished my business, walked round the car and washed my face with water and a cloth and set off round the track again as it nothing had happened. I am a whole new person when it comes to vomiting now ha ha. Good job too as this sequence of events was to repeat itself again a hour and a half later, and again....

It got to the point where I was reduced to walking as the jostling motion of running was making my stomach was to erupt continuously. So I marched on. I couldn't take anything. I managed to take my salt tablet each hour (after learning a new swallowing technique) but that was my limit. No fluid and no food between 10pm and 6am! How I managed to keep going is beyond me frankly.

My legs were getting sore and I was really concerned about the prospect of cramp since I wasn't managing to get any fluids in. I hoped the walking would help me out and it's possible that it did. But the pain was really putting me on a dowener when combined with the sickness. I have never been so ill in a race, and I am shocked at how 'early' it came on. The one thing I had worried about before the race I was no longer worrying about - both achilles. The nature of the race (flat track) and the economical running style you need to adopt for this sort of race meant that they weren't being overstretched and so they didn't give me as much trouble as I expected, and the longer the race went on, the more other muscles became sore so the less notice I took of my achilles. The unchanging motion of running on a flat surface means that you are always using the same muscles and all the burden becomes very focused on those muscles. No uphills to give your hamstrings a heavier load and then no descents to use your quads whilst easing off on the hamstrings. Everything was just constant, so it was almost like working half as hard again just because of the incessant flat running.

But pain is pain, and the biggest battle with pain when running is getting through that mental acceptance barrier. It took me a long time to get there at Tooting, and it was a heck of a battle to get through as there is nothing at all to distract you. No beautiful scenery to inspire you, no changing underfoot conditions and most importantly no finish line for you to keep aiming towards: it's just you and your pain. Getting through that extreme pain barrier is always a massive mental release, but I had lost sight of it. The constant need to vomit and the pain I was experiencing meant I had a huge mental wall built up and I just couldn't see I way around and I was really doubting I would ever reach my target for the race.

It's a this point in the race that you really need support. When are feeling ready to call it a day and happy just to walk til the end or to just stop completely and go to sleep. I hadn't got emotionally involved in the build up for this race beforehand like I had a the WHW. At that race I just knew that I would battle on every second to the finish as I had worked so hard to be there and I wasn't about to give up just because it had become really hard. And I think that because I hadn't built this race up in the same way that it was that much harder to motivate myself during those incredibly tough hours in the middle of the night and the early morning.

Throughout the race everyone was very supportive of each other. There was a great camaraderie. Each runner had their own lap counter who would often be shouting messages of support, and sometimes they would just "Got you Vicky." Even that was always a boost as you knew that was another lap done and dusted. To start with I was actually nervous about having a lap counter, always worrying that they might miss me (or I might miss them if I was off in some dreamworld) but after a couple of hours I stopped being nervous and knew they were always looking out for me. At midnight we got new lap counters, which i think was a great idea as it must be so difficult to keep completely focused on the race for a full 12 hours always knowing that are runners there depending on your attention - that's a lot of pressure. The Tooting lap counters were absolutely fantastic though. I can't praise them enough.

There are two people who I need to thank more than anyone for my Tooting result: Paul Hart and Adrian Stott. Throughout the race Adrian had been willing me on to do well, always having a kind and supportive and encouraging word to say. He really thought I could do 100miles, and he kept saying so to me.He said:

"If you can just keep going, if you can just pick it up, you never know what might happen".
"The 100 is there if I want it. It's still possible."
"When you've seen as many 24 hour races as I have you learn that magic can happen in the last hour."

I don't know why Adrian thought I could do the 100miles, I don't even know if he really did or if he thought it would be just a good motivator. I didn't believe him for a long long time. I just smiled when he said things like that to me and thought that'd be nice but it's not my goal and it's probably far beyond me at. But whether he thought it or not, it certainly planted a seeds of an idea in my head that had at times given up any thoughts of goals and just wanted it to be over.

The person crucial to the events that unfurled at Tooting for me was of course Paul. Without his support I would never had achieved what I did. And in that entire 24 hours there was one particular moment that will always stand out as one of those magical turnaround moments that you sometimes get in a race. He told me that there comes a point where you have to make a decision and you have to decide whether or not you are going to run again. Sure you can keep walking but you won't get the same satisfaction from the result and you will always come away wishing you had run again and thinking you could have done better and had let yourself down by now trying. Or, you can start running, even if it's just one lap then you walk a lap and keep going like that. then at ;least you can come away knowing that you really tried and that you did your best. The crucial thing to remember is that those first 5 or 10 minutes of running are REALLY going to hurt, but if you can get through them then you know you can keep going.

It was around 2am and I forced my legs into a run. It really hurt. But to be honest, walking hurt almost as much! It came only a lap at a time. I had no energy from being unable to eat or drink but gradually a ticked off the laps, one by one. There was still lots of walking but at least I now knew I could run. I was managing the odd sip of water but only enough to wet my mouth and I would then let it trickle down my throat without really swallowing it. It was the best I could do at the time. I knew the porridge was coming at 6am but it seemed a long way off so i tried a couple of red grapes from the food table. They went down, and stayed down, so every few laps I would grab a few a slowly work my way through them. They helped quench my thirst and I felt like I was giving myself energy, even if it was a psychological.

6am came and I knew that if I wanted any chance of keeping going to the end that I had to force it down myself. It took 4 laps of slow walking to get it down, but I did finish it all. I walked a couple more laps so as not to upset my stomach then started running again as much as I could. Eating the porridge really gave me a lift. I did feel I had a little more energy but it was hard to judge as I was naturally exhausted after such a long night. But mentally it gave me the strength to really start to push. I was asking Paul every lap what I needed to do to reach my 92mile target. I wanted to know what pace I needed for each hour and how many laps I need to do. I was making him count them down for me.

I needed him to literally spell things out for me each time I came round as my head was pretty messed up. At 6am I had convinced myself there was still 8 hours to go. I no longer had any judge of pace and needed him almost to direct what I was doing. Like I said, he was crucial to keeping me going.

The prorridge was kicking in, as was the adrenalin. My pre-race target was in sight and somehow I was going to do it with loads of time to spare! I finally started enjoying the race. The countdown was on. Having a 'finish line' is a great motivator I really pciked up my running now. I was running for longer periods and only walked when I absolutely had to, and even then it would only be for one lap. I wouldn't allow myself any more than that.

We were getting into the final hours now and you could sense the excitement building, and the relief starting to set in. It was almost over. But there was still work to do, and I was flying! I couldn't believe it i was going to get my 92miles! Dead cert. That was my target as that was the RRC Bronze standard distance for a Senior Woman. I knew if I could get that then I would have done myself proud. What an achievement to get that at my first ever 24 hour. I was so happy. 3laps, 2 laps, 1 lap to go... oh it was brilliant. Paul was supposed to be giving me a flag for me to mark my acheivement and when i came round for the second last lap he said we're saving it for the 100! I was annoyed to start thinking he was going to make me miss my moment of glory but then in the last 2 laps before the 92mile mark that little 100mile seed starting to grow into a real possibility in my mind. I looked up at the clock to see the time and saw there was 1 hour 50 minutes to go till 12 noon, and I thought to myself "Let's do this!" As I came through the lap mark all the counters were cheering. "Go Vicky! You're awesome!" It was just an amazing feeling to have people shouting things like that at me. As I came round the far side of the track I yelled at Paul "I'm going for the 100!" His face was apicture and I could see how proud he was. I had reached my target and now I was going all out to go one better, well 8 actually!

Adrian was right. Magic DOES happen. Those last 110minutes of that 24 hour race were the best minutes of my running life. It was a mixture of unbelieveable pain, pure adrenalin and complete joy. I was running as fast as I could and since at times I was the only person running I looked like i was flying round like a sprinter. Whereas in the first few hours I was moving aside to let the fast runners through, now everyone else was moving aside for me! All the other runners were cheering me on each time I went past. It was thrilling, like nothing I had ever experienced before. And now all the lap counters were joining in and the spectators that were arriving for to watch the final coiple of hours were all cheering me on too. And what a surprise I got when I saw Lee and Dave arrive. I smiled and waved frantically at Lee - she must have thought I was a maniac ha ha.

In a lot of the photos which Paul took in the final two hours I am grimacing in pain. They are not the most attactive photos I have of me running ha ha. I may look awful on the outside but inside I am jumping for joy.

I was completely focused on reaching the 100 mile mark but worried that the earlier boost from the porridge would wear off. I was still struggling to drink and was only able to manage little sips of water. Then Paul handed me some melon and I wolfed it down. It was just what I thought I needed. It stayed down and again helped quench my thirst. I had tried some peices of orange in the previous two hours and although they helped they also started to burn my lips. I kept taking the melon, almost grabbing it off the plate Paul was holding. You would have thought I was ravenous. I just kept thinking if I can just keep it down it'll give me the strength I need to get there.

I knew it was going to be close and even though I was completely spent I was forcing myself to run. I knew if I walked then I could only allow myself a half lap at the most if I was going to make the 100. It was agony. I had my music turned right up and i was chanting away to myself the whole time. Sometimes I was even shouting at myself. I must have looked like woman possessed! I was!

There were a few more runners running in that final hour, and especially in the last half hour. The end was in sight and they were all trying to get the maximum out of the time now. But nobody was passing me. I was still running and running hard. Adrian and Paul were constantly working out how much I needed to do and what pace I needed. With only a handful of laps to go I knew I would do it. I knew I had the time. It was all very surreal. It kind of felt like my very own Olympic Games. Everyone cheering me on, that magical target in sight, doing something truely extraordinary for such an ordinary girl. So many thoughts were going through my mind. It was a sort of mini-flashback of my running career, all the ups and downs. And here I was about to put the cherry on top of the cake. What a journey. What a rush! I was high as a kite!

"How many more to 100?!" I kept yelling at Paul and Adrian, and they kept telling me, and each time I would ask them to check with the counters to be sure. And then here it was, the final lap and a half. I couldn't believe it. Everybody was shouting my name and I pushed on hard. Paul handed me the flag. I had to run round through the lap mark and half way round the lap again to the measured point on the far side of the track. As I went past the lap counters a shook my fist to say "I've done it!" I grabbed the corners of the flag, wrapped it round my shoulders and smiled the biggest smile. I really had done it. I raised up the Saltire and charged through that 100 mile mark! MAGIC!

I kept running the rest of the lap flying the flag and got an enormous roar and applaus as I finished the lap infront of the lap counters. Their encouragement was 2nd to none. Brilliant bunch of people. Once through the lap I stopped running. I couldn't run anymore. I was absolutely shattered. I kept walking round as I was determined to keep going the full 24 hours ha ha. Well, there was only 10 minutes left. Round the far side of the track I got a hug from Paul and then continued on. As I walked round I cheered on all the others who were still going. I was so completely over the moon. I have never been so happy with myself after a race. I really did myself proud.

And when the claxon sounded for the end of the 24 hours and I dropped my little marker bag I literally could not walk a step further. Paul came over and gave me a massive hug and told me how proud he was of me, and for once I was proud of myself. Paul had to help me walk the 50 metres it was to the car as my legs were starting to shut down. They weren't the only thing to shut down as less than a minute sitting in the chair beside the car I promplty threw up the entire contents of my stomach. And it was disgusting! Black. I did feel slightly better for doing that, but not much. My legs were that broken that I could not walk across the track to the prize giving, I had to be driven in the car! How about that for service ha ha?

What a race. Not only did I manage to break the 100 mile mark, I even finished 3rd lady! How completely insane is that? I completed 100.6 miles, finishing 15th overall. And regular readers of my blog will kow I go on about trying to get RRC standards, well 100 miles gave me my first ever Silver Standard!! I cannot tell you how happy that makes me. Maybe I'll make an ultrarunner out of me yet.

I want to say a huge thank you to Paul of course, and Adrian, Shankara, my lap counters, all the lap counters, all the other runners and supporters and to everyone involved in the Self-Transcendence Tooting Bec 24 Hour Track Race. It was fantastically well organised and supported and has given me memories that will last a lifetime. If you are every crazy enough to do a 24 hour race I can definitely recommend this one.

One of my special memories from this race that will last with me forever is Adrian Stott saying that had hadn't seen a final 2 hours like mine to a 24 hour race since Don Ritchie broke the world record!! It doesn't get much better than a accolade like that does it? I am so proud of myself for doing something that really should have been beyond me. Thanks to Paul and the other supporters and runners I finally have come away from a race completely and utterly content.

The aftermath: well I couldn't walk, there was lots of throwing up and I was to be frank, broken. But I felt brilliant! All through the race and in the week following I swore I would never ever do another 24 hour race, but half way through week two I started thinking about what 24 hour options were available to me and I was already planning a training routine! This was all despite the fact that I really am utterly wiped out and have a pretty rotten injury to deal with. I have achilles tendonitis in both achilles. It is not surprising since I was suffering with it before the race anyway. It's three weeks since the race and I thought I might attempt a wee run. 2 miles. It was 2 miles too far. I thought my achilles had been on the mend after 3 weeks rest but they definitely aren't. Plus my legs were just not into it at all. The were sore, tight, heavy, awkward. Everything felt unnatural to them. So, it looks like my planned 3 month break might actually happen after all.

I think my legs probably deserve a rest. Well, It's not as if I will top Tooting before the end of the year is it? Ha ha.

Oh, and guess how shocked I was when I was given a copy of the newpaper to find not only was my photo in it, but I got the headline in the report too! My name, bold as brass! A very special one off moment that I will treasure.

__________________________________________________________________________

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

WEST HIGHLAND WAY RACE 2010

WHWR 2010

It’s been 2 weeks since the WHWR and I haven’t had chance to blog abut it until now.  For the first 9 days it was because I was so ill, and then life took over and got in the way after that, so I made a point to set aside this afternoon to write about it before all the pain disappears from my memory and I start thinking it was easy!

I have been thinking about how I would fit such an enormous event into a readable blog, covering all the important events and feeling of the race, and combining them with the events and feelings that I have had post-race.  The ‘during’ and ‘after’ thoughts are naturally very different and I am in danger of confusing the two.

So, the best way I should probably address it, is to go through the race, as specifically as I can (you don’t have to read it all but I want to remember as much as possible), and then leave any ‘reflection’ till afterwards (if I can).

Thursday

Thursday night was spent packing all my kit, making sure I had all my food, all my possible changes of shoes, clothes, medical kit, foot kit, head torches and the like. I also finished adding songs to my ipod which I was going to take should I need a little musical inspiration during the race.  I wanted to get as much done so that I could spend Friday off my feet and resting as much as possible. 

Friday

I had hoped to stay in bed, and ideally asleep for as long as possible on Friday but I was awake at half eight and up by nine. I took my anti-inflammatory tablet that I have been prescribed by my doctor for my back pain.  I always take it first thing when I have my bad days so wanted to keep this as normal.  I was restless and I still had an incredibly sore throat (and now had a raw patch at the back of my mouth) so I headed up the town to Boots to get some anaesthetic throat spray whilst sucking on yet another strepsil.  I had spent the whole week with both hayfever and a cold, and I was really fed up so went to Boots to stock up. The throat spray was rotten and reminded me of being at the dentist but it did briefly numb the back of my mouth so I was grateful for that.

Last kit checks done and I went back to bed around 1pm.  I couldn’t sleep.  But I was good and lay in bed with an eye mask on for the best part of 3 hours.  Up again once Paul got home and indulged in a little more carb-loading.  I don’t know why but I expected that in the last few days before the race I would be stuffing myself silly with pasta, potatoes, pies etc till I was full to bursting.  In actuality I hadn’t eaten much differently to a normal day, maybe just a little extra at lunchtime.  Perhaps I was too nervous to really eat.

All the kit was ready at the door and we were just waiting for Alan to arrive some time after nine, and then Marian and Sandy to arrive too.  Alan, as punctual as always and we loaded up the car with all our gear.  In the house it looked like I had so much stuff that it would never fit but it all did easily, and there was no bother getting in Marian and Sandy’s stuff either.

Journey Up

 

9:30pm came and off we went.  Being the runner it meant I got the front seat, whilst Paul, Marian and Sandy squeezed in the back.  Alan was driving (as it was his car and he is a very skilled support driver/chef etc).  There was plenty of nervous chatter and lots of quiet moments as we all looked ahead to what was going to be a long weekend (for us all).  We arrived at Milngavie at 11pm and the car-park was already jam-packed.

Milngavie

We found a space and all got out of the car to stretch our legs and survey the scene before us. Lots of excited chatter, nervous faces, hugging, parking problems, and sleeping was taking place.  I took a few moments just to settle myself, then thought, right, what do I need to do? Register. So I headed across to the church hall and signed away my life, well at least the following 37 hours of it anyway. It was quite overwhelming. I couldn’t even decide what arm I wanted my wrist band on. I couldn’t even get weighed as I didn’t have my kit on so I had to tell the poor guy that I would be back to do it later.  I am sure all the marshals and helpers were already used to runners being a little all over the place. Before heading back to the car-park I thought I would collect my race goodies so headed over to see Adrian Stott. A hug and a kiss and good luck wishes later and I headed back over to get kitted up.

I didn’t want to rush myself and make myself more nervous than I was already.  So I just went about sorting out my kit and then preparing my feet. Shoes on, and I headed back to get weighed. I mulled around a little in the hall, visited the ladies room and back across to the car-park.  It was really thronging now and must have looked very odd to any normal people passing by. Although I am not sure how many normal people would be walking past Milngavie train station after midnight on a Friday night anyway.

In my bag of goodies I found my race buff. Bright red and has Dario’s name on the marker post which I thought was a really touching tribute to the wee man.  I had brought a buff with me but decided I would wear my shiny new red one instead.   I checked my pack one last time and now there was nothing to do except make countless trips to the toilet, just in case, and wait for the race briefing.

Tubby had arrived and was getting himself sorted.  So that was a relief.  We all just stood (or sat in my case – with my legs up) around the car and chatted to whoever walked past.  I tried to eat some of my jelly beans, normally a staple of any longer runs I do.  I managed to eat about 4 of them before deciding that they just weren’t doing it for me. I said to Marian that I was sick of them already and I hadn’t even started the race.  Not a good sign.

The briefing came and we all gathered round for our final instructions.  I gave Tubby a good luck hug and went over to spend the last few minutes with Paul.  He was nervous for me and I could tell.  I was nervous too, but not in the sickening way that I had been in the lead up to the race.  It was an excited nervousness.  I knew I had not been able to train the way I had wanted. I’d had injuries, sciatica problems, back issues, lack of mileage and general feelings of inadequacy, but despite the setbacks, I had achieved something I hadn’t last year, and that was to get to the start line. Goal number one done and dusted!  We both knew that was something in itself, but we also both knew that there was a huge task ahead. Would we make it? Only time would tell.

The start.

Everyone gathered near the underpass ready for the start. Last hugs all round. I gave Karen and George a final hug too.  George Reid and Keith Hughes had already run all the way from Fort William to Rowardennan, and were now ready to set off with the rest of us for the return journey. Those guys are crazy!  I stood and chatted to John Kynaston for a few minutes and wished him luck. Adrian did his pre-race speech and included a minute’s clapping for Dario (and another WHW family member).  I knew Paul was up on the banking somewhere but it was dark and I couldn’t see him.

On went the head torches. 5,4,3,2,1. West Highland Way here we come!

Milngavie – Beechtree

As we ran up the steps and along the high street there were people all around cheering us on.  I was somewhere in the middle and saw people zooming off into the distance. My thoughts briefly wandered to thinking about what crazy sorts of times they would be finishing in.  Then I started thinking about what sort of time I would finish in.  I had a number of ideas of times I thought I would be happy with, and used these to create schedules for my support crew.  In all honesty that’s what they were really for.  I didn’t want to think about times for myself.  I didn’t need that sort of pressure today.  It was just going to be one section at a time; just get myself though one section at a time. Break it down and don’t think about the whole.

This first section is so easy to run in the daylight.  It’s completely runnable: smooth track through the park and on towards Drumgoyne. However, when you have only got a small head torch (and not a particularly powerful one) and you’ve given away your little handheld torch to a fellow runner whose head torch is not working (thanks to Penny the dog) running becomes quite difficult.  I have done 2 night-time runs n preparation for the race but both were many months ago, and even then I did not enjoy them.  The world closes in around you and it is hard to work out which direction you need to go.  The worst thing is the difficulty with perspective.  Working out where stones were in reality compared to where you could see them.  It’s only a matter of millimetres of course, but trying to run with that disjointed view of the world is hard work.

I tried as much as I could to make sure that I could always see a bobbing head torch somewhere in front of me to try and extend my field of vision a little and give myself something to aim for.  At one point not long before exiting Mugdock I had nobody in front of me.  I really struggled with that little stretch, even though it was probably only 200m or so.  Once out of the park I could now see the little snake of bobbing lights threading their way northwards.  It was a comforting sight.  In fact it was actually pretty inspiring. Whilst everyone else is sleeping soundly in their beds, here we were, our little crazy gang, setting off on an equally crazy journey into the Scottish night.

 I was starting to feel better being able to ‘see’ where I was going better, plus the darkness was already starting to ease by the time we had passed Carbeth and were heading towards Drumgoyne.   And despite all my pre-race visits to the toilet I was already needing a relief stop. I knew it was just a nervous bladder but I also knew I wouldn’t feel comfortable till I’d sorted it.  There had been nowhere obvious to stop early on but I knew a great place to stop (from my Fling experience) a couple of miles before the pub. The only difference between the Fling and this race, was the length of the stinging nettles, and as we all know, unlike men, ladies can’t pee standing up. Ouch ha ha!

I arrived at the pub and swapped my bumbag and bottle for my backpack.  Paul said I was ahead of my schedule by a couple of minutes but I wasn’t really thinking about it.  I grabbed a swig of water and ate half a yumyum, said ‘ta-ra’ (very Cilla) and headed off.

Beechtree - Drymen/Forest

I struggled with the gate across the road and had to let the guy behind me open it.  I then set off along the next section in a line of runners.  I wanted to keep with a group of runners so that my ‘sight’ issues wouldn’t continue, and I could use the line of lights to keep me focused.  I know it is not ideal to run at somebody else’s pace but I decided it was worth it for this section rather than struggle with the darkness anymore.  The pace was faster than I liked but it wasn’t too fast that I would stop and run by myself.  People took turns at the front, being the designated gate-opener.  Having people around also made the race less insular.  Once we hit the road I felt like I could settle into things a bit more.  I think this was one of my favourite parts of the whole race.  There was no sound other than the tramping off shoes on the tarmac. Slow walking up the hills and faster on the flats and downhills. The soft glow of the coming dawn only enhanced the atmosphere.  The silhouette of Conic was in the distance.  In the past being able to see the hill from here has unsettled me but this time I just looked at it and smiled. 

About half way along the road it was light enough to switch off the headtorch.  It was still dark but my eyes adjusted quickly and it felt much more comfortable to run with it off.  I was constantly analyzing my energy levels and although they were not what I would have liked at this point it felt as easy to run as it did to walk so I ran.  Soon I arrived at Drymen. I ran straight through as my crew was waiting for me at the forest car park.  It would be easier to stop there as it would be quieter.  The car park came sooner than expected. Sandy was waiting on the road for me.  As I chatted with him into the car park I nearly went flying when I tripped on a stone. It was a close call.  That would have been the last thing I needed at that stage of the race.

My crew all still had their head torches on.  Paul nearly blinded me with his each time he looked at me it was that bright ha ha.  Sandy replenished my pack.  I asked him to change from full strength Gatorade to a 50:50 ratio with water.  I was taking Succeed tablets every hour so knew I wouldn’t suffer with cramp even with the dilution.  I changed my top and put on my Montane shell.  It had been a little breezy for the past few miles so I expected it to be a bit chilly over Conic.  I ate half a tuna sandwich, gulped down some water and headed off out of the car park.  Margaret and Steph were still there from Tubby going through earlier. I smiled and waved as I left.

Drymen/Forest – Balmaha

I had set off with a packet of McCoys salt and vinegar crisps but decided to wait till I was through the forest before I would eat them. The sandwich needed time to settle and there was some good running to be had in the forest so I wanted to take advantage.

The forest was a lonely place.  I could no longer see any runners ahead of me or behind me.  This is where the negative thoughts started to creep in.  Questioning my energy levels and wondering how I was going to be able to sustain my running for another 75 miles.  I had let myself start to think about the whole rather than the parts and the weight of it was immense.  It was difficult to block out but I knew I had to.  I focused on eating my crisps as I continued up the hill before the descent towards Conic.  Part way up I heard one of the gates bang shut behind me and that reminded me that I wasn’t out there along.  This lifted me and I was able to enjoy the run down towards the bridge.  The ground was so dry after months of dry weather.  Even the normally muddy bit just before the bridge was dry. 

As I started the climb of Conic I felt lifted again.  I loved Conic in the Fling, and again it was proving to be a highlight.  I could see runners ahead. I was walking, they were walking. It was good.  I reached the top before I knew it.  I made a specific point of making sure I took in the view.  I stopped twice, just to look. I wanted to fully embrace it and it was spectacular.  You could see further than I have ever seen from Conic before, with not so much as a hint of haziness.  A clear indicator that it was going to be a hot day.  On my right, to the north Ben Lomond and ahead, to the southwest the Clyde.  Loch Lomond was almost luminescent below me.  A majestic dawn and a perfect way to start the day (let’s discount the fact that this was not the start of our day).

Moment over and it was time to get back to the race.  Dry ground meant for easy running and I ran the descent carefully to protect my quads.  Fast turn over of short steps.  No major leaping or bounding.  I made ground up on the runners ahead, and overtook three before reaching the forest.  I was careful not to get carried away and ran gently still down through the forest.  Alan was waiting at the corner before the car park and directed me to the rest of my crew.  As I arrived in the car park there were plenty of people there and I was appreciative of the applause.  It was funny to see everyone in midge nets again.  I hadn’t yet noticed any until I stopped and I felt a few then.

 I tried to eat a brownie but I couldn’t stomach it at all.  Instead I ate some more tuna sandwich.  I was really thirsty, despite drinking little and often so gulped down some nuun drink.  I changed into a short-sleeved top. I ate some more yumyum, took some carrot cake and set off walking through the car park whilst eating the cake.  

Balmaha – Rowardennan

The icing which I had thought would go down well, didn’t.  I had to resort to trying to eat around it.  Not the easiest thing to do when you are trying to run, so I walked, until I reached the corner where we leave the road.  I saw Alan Young coming along with his camera so thought I better run.  Got to make it look good haven’t I? Ha ha.  But then of course I hit those steps and it was time to walk again.  I couldn’t eat the cake as I climbed as it was too steep, and I needed to breathe, so the cake remained in my hand, getting stickier and gooier by the moment.  There was a very friendly marshal at the top of the hill taking numbers and he gave me a few words of encouragement. Little did I know at that point how much I was going to need them. 

This section was really tough for me.  My head was getting into a real state of negativity.  I felt tired.  I shouldn’t feel tired yet.  I was only 20 odd miles into it.  I had fuelled and hydrated well.  I tried to tell myself it was all in my mind.  It probably was but it was difficult to convince myself of this.  I have previously been told that no matter the standard of runner you need to always be able to change your game plan.  If you can’t adjust then you probably won’t get through it.  This was definitely going to be one of those such times.  There are some good miles of running in the first part of this section and I did my best to run where it was flat but found myself wishing for a hill so that I had an ‘excuse’ to walk.  Not the ideal mind-set for such an early stage of a 95 mile beast.  I longed for company.  I normally love the isolation of the long distance run but in this race,  on this race I longed for somebody to talk to, or just to listen to.  I did pass a couple of runners, but the problem with passing runners is that unless they stick very close to you then you quickly become isolated again.  As it turns out one of these two runners was only ever a few hundred metres behind me all the way to Rowardennan but I wasn’t to know.

 On arriving at those short sharp hills in the last few miles before Rowardennan rather than being glad to see a hill and being able to walk, I found them really tough to get up.  My energy just wasn’t right.  In contrast though, the burn in my calves felt strangely therapeutic.  I suppose it gave me something else to focus on.  Strange the twisted mentality of the ultra-runner. 

As it turns out it was no wonder I was feeling a lack of energy. I arrived at Rowardennan 2 minutes faster than I had in the Fling!  Whoops.  No wonder I had had such a head-funk! Shouted my race number to the marshals and Paul guided me to the car where I prompted flopped myself into the chair.

Here Paul re-vaselined my feet and changed my socks. Whilst he undertook this delightful job I wolfed down some porridge freshly made by Alan.  It was a magical elixir.  Delicious, and went down so easy.  Even with all the added midges!  I told the guys I couldn’t face any more beans so not to bother restocking those.  My pack was filled with fluid and another packet of crisps was put in the pocket.  It was getting hot and we wanted to make sure I didn’t get dehydrated.  I was struggling with food overall so asked Alan for one of his bananas to take with me hoping that that would go down ok.  Last but not least I was recovered in Skin-So-Soft.  The midges at Rowardennan were definitely present, and yet I remember them being worse last year, but I wonder if that was just because I was support last year, and now as a runner I didn’t notice them the same. 

Rowardennan – Inversnaid

I had been lured into a false sense of security.  People say if you can run, even at a slow pace, then you can ‘stay ahead’ of the midge.  Well, even when I was running I was still being swamped by them.  They were everywhere. There was no escaping them.  I got myself into the habit of blowing on my face to try and at least keep them away from that area.  So with each exhalation I directed my breath upwards towards my face.  Sounds daft, and I must have looked daft in equal measure but it did provide brief respites from the little blighters.

The struggle of solitude of the previous section was gone now.  There were two runners just ahead of me.  As we knocked off the miles we kept changing our running order until we all decided it would just as easy, and much more enjoyable to run together and swap our ‘reasons for being here’ stories and then our ‘what we hoped to get from the day’ stories. As we switched from the wide track onto the narrow trail another runner caught up with us.  I recognised her from The Cateran Trail Race as being Jane Grundy.  The conversations continued and I learnt that she has twice done the UTMB and that for the WHW she was hoping for sub 24 hours (which she smashed).  I was worried that perhaps I had gone too fast in these early sections; what with getting to Rowardennan faster than I had in the Fling, and now finding myself running along with Jane.  Pacing was a great concern to me before the race.  I have not had the experience to be able to plan timings for each section specifically and much of what I was doing was going on how I felt at the time.  If my legs wanted to run then I let them run.  I love the narrow trail section to Inversnaid so my legs wanted to run so I found myself and one of the other runners ended up pulling away a little at this point.  I didn’t really want to be ahead of Jane at this point but I thought that if my legs can run and they want to run then that’s just what I should do.  So I did.

Although you cannot see Inversnaid till you are almost upon it, you can tell how far away it is by looking across the loch to the hydroelectric power pipes coming down the hill on the far side.  On arriving at Inversnaid I was feeling really upbeat and all ready for a good chat with the marshals.  But no sooner had I started walking across to them then the great midge army descended upon me.  Hmm, maybe this wasn’t going to be much of a pleasant stop after all I thought.  My drop bag was brought across and it was simply a case of refilling my bladder as fast as I could, grabbing whatever food I thought I would eat on the next section and getting out of there as fast as I could.  Those midges were vicious!

Inversnaid – Beinglas

So I escaped from Inversnaid with a Mr Kipling fruit slice packet and a tuna sandwich.  The cake went in my pocket and I started eating the sandwich.  It wasn’t easy to eat as I was struggling to make saliva now, but slowly and surely I worked my way through it.  It took me a full 25 minutes to eat it but once it was down it was fine; so far so good on the stomach front.

 This is one of my favourite sections of the route.  I was alone for the majority of it, catching and passing 2 or 3 other runners, but for the most part I had it all to myself and it was great. Twisting and turning, scrambling up and down rocks, swinging from branches, the whole works; just the way I like it.  I always smile when I pass the ‘alien rocks’ and think of my training runs with Karen, George and all those other crazies. Good times.

 For all that I was really enjoying this section I was starting to feel a little tender on the soles of my feet and I was sure that I was starting to develop blisters on my heels.  I knew I was going to get my feet looked at once I got to the farm so I just continued on without trying to think about it too much.

The final mile or so before Beinglas has plenty of descents and I was starting to feel a little aching in my quads.  I couldn’t hold back though as I was bursting for the toilet and planned to use the toilets once I got there.  But I couldn’t go fast enough though and about half a mile before the farm I had to find myself a quiet little spot.  My quads paid the price for my hurrying though.

I was so pleased to arrive at the farm.  I arrived in 8 hours 47 minutes.  It was faster than I had planned, much faster but so be it.  Paul was waiting just over the stile and guided me down to the chair.  I told him I thought I was getting blisters but when he took off my shoes there was nothing showing (YET!) and so he smothered them in Vaseline and put on new socks.  I once again kept the same shoes on as they generally felt ok.  Sandy refilled my backpack with everything I needed and Marian gave me my medication (from my doctor -  it was  as close to the time of day I would normally take it so I had this written into my schedule for Beinglas).  Alan had made me some more porridge.  It went down really easy once again. It was a great choice for fuel for me.  Once again I had a small bottle of Nuun drink which I find a great antidote to all the sweetness I was getting from my Gatorade (even though it was diluted) and Alan also gave me a cup of tea.  It was almost like a normal breakfast at normal breakfast time of day, porridge and a cuppa.

Sandra, Soph and other Fetchies were at Beinglas and gave me lots of support and encouragement.  I heard Sandra comment on how slick my crew were and I would have to agree.  They are all very experienced both in racing and crewing and know what they need to do.  They had my schedule so knew exactly what food, drink, kit changes etc that I wanted at each stop, so I didn’t have to really think about anything, they just got on with things.  A great time, even if I do say so myself!

Beinglas – Auchtertyre

I left Beinglas (with a fresh Garmin) at exactly the same time that I left the farm at the Fling.  I wasn’t too worried about it as I knew I was really going to slow things down in this next section.  It’s always a bit of a slog up the glen and I was starting to feel a little bit sore in my legs.  My energy levels were in a major slump and I was back having a bit of a low point.  I walked a lot of the section from the farm to the underpass with Elaine Calder.  I have met Elaine a couple of times before at Scottish 100k events when I have been supporting Paul, so I again thought ‘oh no I have gone way too fast if I am here at the same time as her’.  Sometimes knowledge can work against you, and again it was making me anxious that I had gone too fast.

 I was feeling tired and my feet were really starting to hurt and I was dreading hitting the forest.  Those hills!!  I didn’t enjoy the forest much in the Fling either. In fact I don’t think I have had one enjoyable run through it.  This time it was torturous though.  After a brief chuckle at the sign for Glenbogle which always makes me think of the Monarch of the Glen television program I started into the forest.  The flatter bits which I ran in the Fling I mostly walked this time, and instead of flying down the final descent out of the forest I was very tender-footed as my quads were killing me.  I actually think what I was doing was more like power walking down the hill rather than running.

At the bottom of the hill and through the railway bridge there was a small group of spectators.  In a way I was glad because that gave me the impetus to run along to the road.  I arrived at the road just behind another runner.  He was wearing a flat cap which I thought was just brilliant.  Why not?  We hadn’t timed our arrival very well though and ended up standing waiting for a gap in the traffic for a full four minutes (yes, I timed it!!).  By the time a gap appeared another runner had caught up with us.  I turned round and it was one of the guys I had run with just out of Rowardennan.  It’s funny how you don’t notice where people are around you in these races unless they are in front of you.

The mile or so to Auchtertyre from the road is really flat and should make for some fast running.  If I’m honest I really wanted to walk.  My feet were getting pretty sore and my legs were tired and sore.  I hadn’t quite managed to pass to that next plane of pain and it was a bit of a struggle.  There is always a point in the longer races where you need to pass through a certain pain barrier mentally for things to start to run smoothly.  You need both your body and your mind to accept it fully and to embrace the pain, and it is not until you pass through that point that you can really start to work those later stages.  Immerse yourself in it fully, don’t try and fight it, use it to spur you forward.  If you try and fight it then you are going to lose because it is only going to get worse the further you go.

 I was still struggling on my way to the farm and on my way through the final field Alan was standing with his camera.  I had to run, naturally, but as I past him I told him ‘I hate running’ and he laughed at me.  He followed along behind me the last 100 metres to the farm.  I checked in with the marshals, handed my pack to Sandy and climbed on the weighing scales.  I had put on a whole kilogram!  The marshal told my crew to keep an eye on me as this wasn’t a good sign.  I tried to make a joke out of it and told him not to tell everyone and made a joke about how I always put on weight, even when I am dieting.  I was trying to lighten the issue as I knew it was actually quite serious and I was nervous about getting pulled out.  I knew I would need to be careful between here and Kinlochleven (the next weigh in).  I couldn’t understand how I had put on weight though.  I was certain I wasn’t drinking too much as I was only drinking by thirst, plus it was really hot and I was sweating plenty.  My left hand had been swollen by the time I reached Beinglas so when I put on the second Garmin I put it on my right wrist. That too was swelling a little.  I am not sure what the hand swelling signifies but I would be interested to find out.  It was a horrid feeling though.

After the weigh in we headed to the car for kit change.  I just took a bottle of juice and my bumbag as it was only a couple of miles to Tyndrum where we would have a bigger stop.  I remember seeing Soph and she told me I was looking good.  It was very kind, but very untrue. 

Although I was now past half way it didn’t feel like it.  To me half way would be Tyndrum where the Fling finishes and the Devil begins.  I left Auchertyre after 11 hours and 13 minutes still having a low point.  I was hopeful that things would pick up after Tyndrum.

Auchtertyre – Tyndrum

 I started walking out of Auchtertyre with another runner.  We bonded over our shared pain.  He seemed to be really suffering and was struggling to run at all.  As the road gentle descends towards the main road I gave myself a wee kick up the bum and set off running.  If I can’t run here then I’ll never get running.  Under the bridge and onto the track I decided I would run/walk this section just as I had done in the Fling.  It was ok to be low on energy after 50 miles.  I started to accept that it’s perfectly normal and stopped beating myself up about it.  Seven weeks earlier this was the furthest I had ever run in my life so I needed to reacquaint myself with reality and accept that this race was going to be a whole new ball game.  I was determined that by the time I crossed the burn just before Tyndrum that I would be back in a positive frame of mind.  I remember finishing the Fling and thinking at the time that I had given my all and there was no way I could have contemplated continuing up that hill out of the town for even one more mile never mind forty-three.  So naturally I had a bit of a mental battle to win in the space of a couple of miles.

I won though.  I arrived at Brodies feeling ready to keep going.  I was only 17 minutes slower than I had been in the Fling, which was not part of the plan, but there was nothing to be done about that.  That’s the way my legs had wanted to play it out so that’s what happened.  It wasn’t my legs I needed to be worried about however it was my feet.  The pain in the balls of my feet was increasing and I felt the impact of each foot plant right up through my body.  I knew the blisters were developing on my heels though, but on taking off my shoes to re-Vaseline and change socks they were not yet at a stage where they could be dealt with properly, so Paul put fresh socks on and then a fresh pair of shoes.  I ate a little porridge here and had a salt tablet and some Nuun drink. 

Tyndrum - Bridge of Orchy

Before the race I had put in special request for a fruity ice lolly at this stop so I was delighted to set off up the hill with my fruit pastille lolly.  It was really hot now so the ice was a real tonic.  Marian walked up the hill with me and held onto my pack whilst I had a comfort stop.  After she headed back down the hill I continued to walk until I finished my lolly. 

The higher up the hill I went the stronger the wind became.  On the flats and downhill’s I was still determined to run.  It was tough into the wind but I couldn’t let these miles be wasted.  The 6 miles to Bridge of Orchy are such good running.  A lot of people don’t like this section as you can see so far up the glen and it seems to go on forever but I really like it.  The views are stunning and you can get through miles without noticing them go by (on a normal day).

My legs were flagging but they still had running in them so I found myself overtaking a few runners over the course of the section, all the time finding I had to battle the wind.  It was really strong and some of the gusts meant that although you were actually running you didn’t seem to actually be moving forward.  I had my music with me on this section.  I had filled my iPod with a load of songs that I thought would be really motivational but I ended up just listening to 3 songs on repeat: Don’t Stop Believing, A Town Called Malice and Pull My Heart Away (which always reminds me of last year’s Tour de France):  I did walk a little on the two gradual climbs but then found myself sailing down towards the train station sooner than I thought.  Sandy was waiting for me and ran down the road with me.  We crossed the main road no problems.  There were quite a lot of people around and it was nice to hear the claps and shouts of encouragement.  Paul, Alan and Marian were waiting by the bridge for me.  I ate some cake, swapped to my bum bag and bottle and set off, telling the Lord of the Bridge that I was passing through.

Bridge of Orchy - Victoria Bridge

So here we are the point of no return.  I had a fantastic run from Tyndrum to Bridge of Orchy.  It should have been the start of a fantastic second half of the race. It wasn’t. Quite the opposite actually, that was the end of good part of the race.  From here on I leaned just how much determination you can fit in one body. 

 I ran out of Bridge of Orchy and even made it a wee bit up the hill before I started walking.  I was thinking positive.  I’d already done a huge part of the race, only 35 miles to.  I can easily make it from here surely? Easily?  Definitely not!  By the time I got to the top of the hill my legs were crumbling a bit and seeing Murdo on the top taking numbers and handing out jelly babies was a real plus.  It’s funny because I was having such a low but he was so cheery that you couldn’t help but be cheery too.  At first I declined his offer of a jelly baby (don’t ask me why) but he was determined I should have one and ran after me along the trail and made me take one.  Thanks Murdo.  The top of this hill provided another one of those ‘stop-and-take-it-all-in moments’ like the one I had on top of Conic about 10 hours earlier.  On the top of the hill beside where Murdo was standing the Saltire was flowing and whipping in the highland wind.  Seeing the flag made me feel really proud of myself and proud to be part of such a fantastic race, and also made me very proud to live in such a beautiful country.

The descent into Inveroran is not particularly steep but it is quite rocky.  It is normally tempting to let lose a little and fly down the hill knowing you will be meeting you support just round at the car park anyway.  All previous attempts at this hill I have run really well, slightly careful but at a good pace.  I couldn’t today though.  The pain in the balls of my feet was becoming really pronounced.  I could feel every little rock and was hoping for some respite once I hit the tarmac but this time it did not go away.  Every foot fall sent pain waving up through my legs.  I was convinced I had giant blisters that had burst and that all I needed was a couple of Compeed slapping on and I would be sorted.  Just really bad blisters I thought.  On arriving at my crew at the car park Paul and I had a somewhat heated exchange about whether or not I really did have blisters on the balls.  He tried to convince me that I didn’t but I wasn’t buying it.  I changed back to my previous shoes convinced that the latest pair was just not doing me any good.  There were definitely blisters forming on my heels though and another was starting to form between the ball of my left foot.  This fact nobody could deny, but they were still not quite ready to be burst. I think the problem with these blisters is that they were forming so deeply, not just on the surface, that to burst them was going to be a major operation.

Whilst my feet were being dealt with I had yoghurt, some Nuun drink, some water and 2 salt tablets.  I set off with Marian (who was going to run Rannoch moor with me) whilst finishing off half a yumyum.  The yumyums I had at the Fling had dried out and were hard to eat after Balmaha so keeping them in a sealed container this time really did the trick as they were still moist and sugary and going down ok.  I was not in the best of fettle as we walked jogged along the road to the gate onto Rannoch Moor.

Victoria Bridge – Glencoe

Ah Rannoch Moor; my poor Rannoch Moor.  So long it has been my favourite part of the whole West Highland Way.  Every time I have run across here I have loved it.  It is such a remote, dramatic and awe-inspiring yet brutal place. On one of my solo training runs across here back in the spring I had one of the most wonderful, life-infusing and spiritual moments I have ever had whilst running.  You’d be hard-pressed to find somewhere that can have that sort of effect on you. 

I had been so looking forward to running this section.  Once here you would know you had the meat of the race done and that the finish was becoming a bit more of a reality.  It is a fairly long slog up the moor, around 6 miles up to the summit.  There are normally lots of little bits I can run where the route flattens out a bit and the occasional descent but I was even struggling to run these now.  Marian kept up the chatter trying to distract me from the pain and telling me her WHWR stories.  If she felt we had been walking too long she would ask me if I wanted to try and do a little run.  I always tried.  Sometimes I managed a respectable distance and sometimes it was only about 100metres before I would have to resort to walking again.  On the climbs the gradient felt like it was just that couple of percent too steep; it was just the wrong side of runnable or non-runnable. It was incredibly frustrating.  The trail was begging to be run.  Even though a lot of the way up is very rough underfoot there is usually a small little rut that you can run along.  But today it just wasn’t happening.  I have never taken so long to get over the moor and I was losing my rose-tinted spectacles.  It was actually quite a sad time for me.  The majesty was fading and was being replaced with pain and frustration.  I even found myself crying at a couple of points.  Not proper sobbing or anything like that.  It was more of an emotional release and a strange feeling of loss.

For me running has a huge psychological base and I can get very emotional about certain things.  I make no apologies for it.  That is part of what makes me the person that I am, it’s what drives me, what inspires me.  Everyone is different.  I am not out there to be faster than other people.  I am out there for a whole host of reasons but the main one, the purpose of my running is to connect with myself, to find fulfilment between me and the ground that I am running on.  I enjoy that inner calm that running can bring me.  Rannoch Moor had been one of those places where I could feel the calm.  So it was sad that I was losing that special feeling I had for so long associated with it.

 I was praying to reach the summit and it was a really hard work getting up the final mile (which of course is the steepest).  I knew that rounding that corner and taking on the full panorama that spills out before you as you start your descent would give me a bit of a lift and I was desperate for it.  The sight of the Buachaille Etive Mor, Glencoe and the tiny little white speck that is the Kingshouse hotel cannot fail to move even the coldest of hearts.  But the pain when I tried to run could freeze that heart right back to ice again.  It felt like each step I made a red hot poker was being stabbed up through each foot and through my legs.  I have never experienced anything like this before.  There was no way round it.  It’s not like a blister where you can slightly tweak your running motion to try and put less impact on it.  It was the whole of the ball of both feet, so every single step I had to re-live the pain, over and over.  Of course when you are running on trails there is little you can do to alter your gait anyway and you just need to run in whatever way the trail dictates to you.  The descent to the Glencoe Ski Centre (the next checkpoint) is really rocky.  With every step I grimaced, moaned, shed a few tears and clenched my fists.  But stuff this for a kettle of fish, there was no way I was not going to run this bit.  I have never not run it and I wasn’t about to start today.   

There is a slight diversion to the route (new to this year’s race) and rather than running down to Blackrock Cottage directly you have to take a sharp left hand turn and run up to the Glencoe Ski Centre car park.  It is a new bit a path added to try and divert walkers up to the Glencoe Ski Centre to take advantage of their facilities.  It is the perfect spot for a checkpoint really, but the new bit of path really is horrible.  I hated it on my training run and I hated even more this time.  As I turned sharp left to take the path I landed on my left foot and felt something pop in my foot.  The pop was followed by a god-awful pain.  I am generally quite polite when I am out in public but I found myself shouting expletives at full volume.  Marian later told me she had never heard me swear before (told you I was polite) so to hear me shout “F*ck!!” at the top of my voice came as quite a shock to her.  The shock would have been short-lived however because I found myself repeating “f*ck, f*ck, f*ck!” every time my left foot touched the ground all the way to the car park!

I arrived at Glencoe after 16 hours and 22 minutes.  If I thought I had been at a low point before this I was wrong.  After checking in we went over to the car and I slumped against the far side.  I needed a moment to gather myself.  These are the times when you find out what sort of stuff you are made of.  We all joke about ‘toughening the f*ck up” on our blogs and I know one very lovely lady who even has it on a t-shirt, but we are getting a bit beyond that now I think.  Running 70 miles is pretty tough I reckon.  It was now time to switch to another currently well-used phrase “Go hard or go home.” Paul instinctively must have sensed we had reached this transition and asked me in a very unsympathetic and slightly mocking manner whether I wanted to quit and just get in the car and head to Fort William.  Well, it might have seemed unsympathetic and mocking to anyone else but with Paul knowing me the way he does the tone of his voice had just that edge that he knew would provoke the required reaction from me.  I responded with a whimpered “No,” and it was decided that I would swap to my bum bag and bottle and we would have a big ‘foot stop’ at Altnafeadh.

 I suppose some would think there is a danger in getting too emotional about these races and maybe there is, but if it wasn’t for my emotions there was no way I would have left the Glencoe Ski centre car park in any other way than the front seat of Alan’s car.

 Glencoe – Altnafeadh

I think if I had known what was in store for me at Altnafeadh then I would have set off back across Rannoch Moor and headed back to Milngavie!  I could barely run down the road to the A82.  I was doing something that was a cross between marching and power walking and jogging in slow motion.  It was awful, and I had a weird sense of embarrassment or something akin to it.  A gentle downhill on nice smooth tarmac and I couldn’t even jog properly.  My legs were literally seething with frustration.  Damn my useless feet! I hated them, with a passion.  They were ruining this race for me. (Or were they making it? – discuss…)

Both Sandy and Marian were ‘running’ with me along this stretch.  We reached the A82 and crossed.  I swear the driver of the white van that was heading south stepped on the accelerated and tried to run me down though! Idiot!  But, the idiot drivers on our nation’s roads provided discussion for the mile run down to the Kingshouse Hotel as an attempt to divert my attention from the pain in my feet.  Having both Sandy and Marian there was a great help.  I could join in the discussion if I wanted but mostly I was happy just to listen.  After passing through the hotel car park where there were more supporters and well-wishers we set off along the road.  It seemed to take forever.  Frankly everything takes forever when you are reduced to marching.  I remember always being surprised by how close you come to being back on the A82 before you turn through the gate to head up the hillside.  Whenever I think about the section from Kingshouse to Altnafeadh I always mistakenly think it is an easy bit of running, but you’ve actually got a bit of a climb up the hillside and again it is rocky underfoot which does not make for easy running when your legs are tired.  It wasn’t an issue this time as I couldn’t run anyway.

Once we finally reached the roadside again I managed something that almost resembled a jog for the last 100 metres to the car.  Paul had got his ‘surgery’ all set up and I promptly sat down in the chair and had a drink of Nuun while Paul took off my shoes and socks.  He cut into the blister on the heel off one foot with his surgical scissors to release the fluid whilst Alan handed me a tuna sandwich.  I never did eat that tuna sandwich.

It fair nipped when he sliced open the blister.  I think I even muttered a few things under my breath and gave him a dirty look.  Squeezing out the fluid wasn’t much better but I thought just grit your teeth and try and block it.  It’s nothing really.  It’ll be over in a minute and I can get back to the trail and forget about it.  Never have I been so wrong.  Fluid released Paul now took out his secret weapon, and I don’t use the word weapon lightly!  He started spraying the wound with tape adherent spray for sticking plasters and tape to your skin.  Oh dear god I must have jumped three feet out of the chair and screamed like a banshee.  It felt as if somebody had taken a knife and jammed it straight through my foot and was twisting it round and round whilst pouring vinegar on it.  In no uncertain terms it was unbearable!  I cannot even begin to express the pain I was in.  Needless to say I think I scared the people in Glencoe village about 6 miles away with my screaming and howling echoing down the glen.  My screaming was even a point of discussion on the race forum afterwards!! (Something I am strangely proud of – maybe there is a bit of Janet Leigh in me ha ha.)

The spray needs to dry a little and get sticky before you can add the plaster so I had to just sit there and wait for the next rush of excruciation to consume me.  In the mean time Alan gallantly had torn a huge sheet of blue tissue paper off the roll he had in the car.  It was half to wipe up all the tears off my face and half to drown out the noise of my crying and screaming.  I turned the air completely blue when Paul started sticking on the plaster.  At a normal race he would have just settled for sticking the plaster straight onto my foot but due to the distance I still had to go and the underfoot conditions he didn’t think a normal blister plaster would have any chance of sticking and would just end up making things worse.  Paul is very experienced at ultra-running and all the problems that come with it and so I knew he was doing it for my own good, but it really didn’t feel like it at the time.

In all honestly the remaining two blisters are now a blur in my memory.  I remember Helen Johnson and her crew being there and trying to be sympathetic and trying to boost me up but it was a bit blurred.  I remember Paul telling Alan and Marian to hold me down before he started spraying each time.  Alan was holding me down across my legs and Marian held down my shoulders.  I couldn’t escape.  I just had to take it.  I screamed and screamed and cried like the whole world was coming to an end.  (I am even crying as I write this and re-live that pain!  Three weeks later and I still have three big red and tender holes in my feet!)  My head was buried in the mass of blue tissue that Alan had given me and I screamed into it with my whole body lurching from the pain.  It was so utterly and completely horrendous.

And then I had to try and put my shoes back on! ‘Oh dear god you have to be kidding me?’ was the thought that went through my head. One at a time they went on. “F*ck, F*ck, F*ck!! The tears were streaming down my face.  How the heck was I supposed to cover the last 20 miles like this?  My feet were completely and utterly broken. Between the pain that was now in the blistered areas and the pain in the balls of my feet every single step was torture.  I managed to stand up and take a couple of steps to where Sandy was waiting with my pack. I couldn’t look at him and just robotically put on my pack.  I didn’t say ‘Bye’ to Paul and Alan, I just stepped tentatively back onto the trail. Each step was followed with “F*ck!” and I didn’t even have the energy to hide it or say it under my breath anymore and I didn’t care.

[In case you are wondering those three plasters didn’t move for days!!]

Altnafeadh – Kinlochleven

The stop at Altnafeadh was 18 minutes of pure hell, fitting then that we were at the foot of the Devil’s Staircase.

 I set off up the hill 18 hours and 1 minute into the race.  It was torture.  I have never really struggled with the Devil before and always wondered what the fuss was about and why it had such a cruel name.  I finally had my answer: it was for days like these!  The Devil is a great calf burner and I have previously got to the summit in pretty good time (for a non-elite runner) but this time I think it took me over an hour.  A couple of times I was just so far gone and drained of energy and spirit that I actually couldn’t move forward and found myself almost tipping over backwards.  Thank goodness Marian was there behind me to push me upright each time.  I later learnt that as my progress was so slow up the Devil that Sandy thought that that was it, that I was literally too broken in body and mind to finish and that we would be calling it a day at Kinlochleven. 

It was such a relief to reach the summit and to start the descent.  I love running the next two miles, just knowing you are on top of the world and have this mega huge descent coming up on your way to Kinlochleven.  The trail is quite good for a couple of miles and any other day I would have bounced along happy as a lamb.  By this point I had settled into the pain in my feet again and although I was still swearing with every third or fourth step I had forced myself into a zone where I just kept going no matter how sore it was.  The sooner I got to the end the sooner the pain would be over.  It was still too painful to run though and in my mind I had accepted that the only way to the finish would be by marching and walking as fast as I could.  It was still in my legs to do it, I knew that much, but I just had to really focus to make sure my feet didn’t stop me.

 I never enjoy the final section before you reach the track.  It is so rocky and it was really difficult with my feet, especially if there were any big steps down to take which would really jolt me and send an extra large spasm of pain up through my feet.  The arrival of the track was a relief and I knew I could make good progress down here.  The good progress was obviously in the context of the race and was still pretty slow.  You can only go a certain speed marching downhill.  My legs were holding up to it better than I thought.  They were hurting now, but nothing like the way my feet felt.

I had another comfort stop about half way down so I felt happy enough that my insides were working reasonably ok considering.  My hands were both swollen now though and I couldn’t fully close them.  It’s not easy to tie you tights drawstring with banana-bunch hands ha ha.

By the time we reached the bottom my quads were pretty sore.  I had hoped they wouldn’t hurt too much since I wasn’t properly running down but the miles had started to take their toll now.  We marched/jogged through the town and arrived at the checkpoint at 21 minutes past 9.  It had taken me 2 hours and 20 minutes to travel the 5 ½ miles from Altnafeadh, and it was just under 4 hours since I left Glencoe!  It takes such a long time when you are not running!

Just before the checkpoint I remember seeing Gavin and he shouted at me that I was fourth lady!  I said something incomprehensible back to him which was meant to be along the lines of “You mean fourth last to go through?” and then I started wondering if he had even said anything to me at all and was I hallucinating?  None of it made sense to me.  There must have been some big miscommunication somewhere as never in a million years would I ever be fourth lady ha ha!

The Kinlochleven stop was quite swift really, and much more pleasant than either Glencoe of Altnafeadh.  I think it was because we could all sense the finish line now.  I was probably there for about 10 minutes really but it was just a case of get some food into me, have a drink, fill up the pack and get going again.  I think Sandra said something nice to me but I was on another planet by this point really.  Nothing out-with a 1 metre circumference of my body was registering.  The body was gone and the mind was gone.  I was in an auto-pilot mode and just wanted to get out of there and to the finish. 

Kinlochleven – Lundavra

Paul didn’t seem too impressed when I didn’t start running as we left the checkpoint.  It was no surprise to Marian though.  I put Paul straight about what was going to happen.  I just said “Don’t expect me to run because I can’t.  It’s not that I don’t want to, I just can’t.  My feet are broken.”  He asked me to try but I couldn’t.  I picked up my pace though and made the effort to go as fast as I could.  Once we hit the hill I felt no pressure to run to start with but Paul kept going ahead and then stopping and waiting and looking back down the hill.  I found this really tough.  Who can go up this hill at the best of times?  It’s a real killer and frankly the last thing you need after 81 miles.  Marian was behind me again as we went up, and she dutifully pushed me upright every time I started tipping over backwards.  About ¾ of the way up Paul told me I really needed to start moving because at this rate it was going to take me well over 7 hours to finish the race as we were doing well over 30 minute miles. This pushed me over the edge and I shouted at him “Give me a break! We’re going up a massive freakin hill!  You can’t expect me to go fast!”

 The thing I dislike most about this hill is that once you have reached the top, you haven’t really reached the top.  It might not be quite the calf burner it has been for the previous mile but you still seem to always be going upwards, even when you are going downwards!  It really is wretched.  And the Lairigmor is no improvement.  The track along here is just strewn with rocks and there is very little smooth ground to run on (or march on).  Paul and at times Marian kept asking me to try and run, and unexpectedly on the odd occasion I could manage something resembling a jog for a few hundred metres.  But the pain in my feet was just unbearable.  I forced myself to keep going as fast as the rest of my body could make me go.  It must have be painfully slow for both Paul and Marian and I know how difficult it is for Paul to run at my pace at the best of times, never mind when I am reduced to the wreck that I was at that point.  Paul kept looking at his watch and I shouted at him that if he wanted to keep looking at his watch then would be kind enough to do it behind where I couldn’t see because it was making me feel like sh*t!  I never swear at Paul.  I never shout at him (D33 excluded) and I felt absolutely awful but it was making me feel like a failure and that I just wasn’t going fast enough and that I was disappointing him.  All these thoughts were attacking my mind and I hated it.  If I started thinking I was a failure and that I wasn’t going to make it within the time limit (I had lost all sense of time by this point) then it would be a real struggle to carry on and I didn’t need any extra mountains to climb.

I know he was doing the sorts of things that would motivate him but every person is different.  This sort of approach would work for others and in a way it did work for me as I kept marching and jogging as hard as I could the entire time.  I never stopped once.  He said he just wanted me to keep going and that he was worried that I was going to lose all the good work I had put in up to this point in the race.  That approach worked for the gutsy stubborn side of my character.   But I needed some support as well.  Perhaps it was the emotional side of me that needed the support.  I needed to hear something positive.  I told him to say something nice to me.  I needed pushing back towards a more positive frame of mind.  I guess the guts and the emotions work well together but each side has different needs.  It’s complicated job supporting somebody like me ha ha!

We were winning the battle with the mind but the body was still struggling.  It is hard to run across the Lairigmor as the track is really rocky and I was swearing continuously as each misplaced foot twisted round all the rocks.  Every now and then I would yelp in pain when I banged my foot extra hard against the ground catching a rock in just the wrong way.  I was gradually losing my focus and couldn’t see the rocks very well.  There was still plenty of light; the sun hadn’t quite sunk behind the mountain yet; but I was really struggling to see.  Marian took my pack and got my jacket for me as it was starting to cool in the fading light, and Paul hunted out my head-torch.  Jacket on and backpack back on we carried on.  The light from the head-torch wasn’t great but it was a vast improvement on before.  I was clearly struggling with my eyes as Marian never used her torch at all, all the way to Lundavra.  Funny things happen to your eyes when you are this far into the race I even though I had my head torch on I was staring to see things.  Rocks were moving around, shadowy figures kept appearing, and even at the start of the climb out of Kinlochleven one of the way-marker posts actually bounced up and down in front of me!  The further we went the more my eyes played tricks.

If the details of the run are becoming a bit sketchy now it is because even at the time they were sketchy.  I was tired and it was growing increasingly dark.  The pain I was feeling had literally swallowed me whole and I am not entirely sure what it was that enabled me to keep going.  I vaguely remember laughing as we past the spot where I had accidently knocked Alan off his bike on one of our club runs and I smiled as I passed the point where I overtook Wendy Dodds when I ran the Devil of the Highlands race back in 2008.  Those were the two light-hearted moments I remember from the very difficult, emotionally draining and physically painful 7 miles from Kinlochleven. 

 The next thing I remember is seeing the glowing flames of the bonfire at Lundavra. Seeing the flames must have been akin to what English sailors must have felt when they were sailing home from a long voyage and they came within sight of the white cliffs of Dover.  It was a sign that I was close to home.

Lundavra – Fort William

 Paul, Marian and I had decided that I wouldn’t stop here other than to let the marshal know that I was here so when Alan tried to guide me over to the fire and our kit I said something vaguely about not stopping and pushed him away.  I feel bad about it now but I wasn’t thinking straight at the time and it was if he was trying to stop me from carrying on and I was so focused on getting to the finish that I didn’t want any sort of deviation.  I didn’t see what positive effect stopping could have at this late stage.  There was nothing that was going to take the pain away, nothing that would make me less tired so what was the point in stopping?  Paul was supposed to stop and take out his contact lenses as they were becoming very painful and he was losing vision in one eye.  But for some reason, I don’t recall why he carried on through with me.  Marian stopped here and Sandy took over for this final section. 

It was dark now and we all had our head torches on.  It was helpful having Paul ahead so I could tell which way we were aiming and with Sandy being behind me I could see the ground immediately in front of me slightly better.  This last section is approximately 7 miles but I broke it down into sections.  The first was between Lundavra and the forest.  I found the route coming back to me as we went along and even though it was dark I knew when we were going to go uphill and when we would go down.  Paul and Sandy kept up the chat and I was in the middle swearing away to myself.  I had taken control of the pain and was able to keep moving forward, I just couldn’t run.  That was completely out of the question.  My feet were shot and my legs were so tired now that they no longer had the urge to run.  There was relief in no longer feeling the frustration I had earlier. My legs were actually really painful now but I missed the point where they went from ok to knackered.  It must have blurred into all the other pain and sneaked in there without me noticing.

 We reached the forest; that was the first section done.  This was going to be the hard bit.  I knew that all we had to do was get through the forest and it would all be downhill from there, literally!  There are parts of this forest that seem as dark as night even in the middle of the day so to actually go through it in the middle of the night was a very surreal experience.  Even Sandy said he was seeing things and that it was like the Enchanted Forest.  It seemed to take forever to get through that forest.  Every single step downwards especially the big ones, Sandy had to hold my arm and help me down.  My legs weren’t working too well by this point and each time I hit the next step I would curse.  When you need help to get down each step you become aware that there are a lot of steps in that forest.  The worst bit was going down those old wooden stairs into the bottom of the gorge before coming up the far side.  I hate going down there as they always feel so wobbly so I was glad once we had passed them.

After a couple of mis-turns we finally climbed the last hill and made it out of the forest. “Thank god for that” I breathed.  But no time to stop, turn right and get to the top of the climb.  We were finally at the track.  It is about 2 ½ miles down to Braveheart.  Paul was determined I was going to run down it.  He reminded me of the way I had run down it when I did the Devil; I had been like a runner possessed.  God I would have loved to have run like that again.  Even just a jog would have been great but the pain was just too much. My feet felt like the soles had been ripped off them and I was convinced that when I finally took my shoes off that my socks would be dripping in blood; that is how painful they were.  I had nothing in me that could mask the pain enough to enable me to run.  It upset me that I couldn’t but there was nothing I could do.

Paul ran on ahead so that he could take his contacts out as he literally couldn’t see anymore in one eye.  I could see his dot of light disappear into the distance swerving from side to side so I was worried about whether or not he would get down ok.  Not long after he left me and Sandy, another runner came down the hill with his support.  He said some words of encouragement but I couldn’t really tell what he said.  Some time later Ellen and Sarah came flying past.  They recognised me and told me I was doing great and to keep going.  In that moment I got more of a sense of the time of day back and coming to the realisation that Ellen was going to be finishing just ahead of me made me realise that I had not only nearly finished this ridiculous race but I had done it in a hugely unexpected time. I almost had a cry but had to work hard to hold it in.  I didn’t want to fall apart under the enormity of what I had done when I was so close to the end.  That’s right, the end!  I was nearly there! I almost couldn’t believe it but the pain certainly brought home the reality.

Sandy was great company down to the car park.  We both nearly fell over the large arrow in the middle of the track that had been laid out to make sure nobody took the ‘official’ route down to the road.  The arrow was made out of tree branches.  I thought I was still seeing things and nearly ran straight into them ha ha.  Sandy said he thought he was seeing things as well so that was funny.  Further back up the hill I thought I had seen a couple of shadow figures on the side of the track so what a shock I got when two more figures appeared and started talking to us!  Dear god what a fright I got.  They were real! Ha ha.

The track seemed to go on forever, even Sandy thought so.  I honestly thought we were never going to reach the car park.  I told Sandy I wasn’t stopping though and so once again poor Alan got shoved aside when he tried to stop me.  I didn’t even try and construct a real sentence, I just said “No!” I recall Sandra was there cheering me on with some others but it was all a blur yet again.  I couldn’t stop.  I might not have been running but I was forcing my body forward with every last ounce of energy I had.  It was agony but I was so close now that I just had to keep going.

Paul rejoined me and Sandy for this final mile into town.  He had managed to sort out his eyes and was back with full visuals again. He looked behind and thought somebody was coming and tried to get me to run.  I tried; dear god I did try but I only managed about 10 steps.  My legs were just a seething mass of pain and couldn’t handle it. I didn’t care if another person passed me.  What did it matter?  This wasn’t about racing anymore, it was about seeing whether or not I had it in me to finish.  I didn’t care what anyone else was doing, this was my West Highland Way Race and I was actually going to finish.

I was still compos mentis enough to tell Paul I wanted photos of me finishing and he went sprinting ahead once we reached the sign for the end of West Highland Way.  I pushed on for the finish.  It is exactly ¼ mile from the sign to the Lochaber Leisure Centre where the race finishes (I measured it on a training run).  I had endured more pain than I have ever been through in my entire life and I had kept going; I kept digging deep down trying to find something within me to force me to continue.  I was determined that nothing was going to stop me no matter how long it took.  And here I was closing in on the finish.

I had no idea how long I had been out for; it didn’t matter.  I just knew that if I didn’t run these last steps that I would always regret it.  And somehow I broke into a jog and the jog became a run.  “Come on!” I shouted at myself.  The pain consumed my entire body but in that moment something just took hold of me and once I started I couldn’t stop!  I reached the car park; I turned left up into it.  I could hear the cheers and clapping.  I couldn’t really see where I was going but I could see the light of the door into the leisure centre.  That golden magical light that told me I had done it.  I ran up the steps into the leisure centre in a wave of euphoria and pain.  I think I told them my number and then I got a huge hug from Mark, which I promptly followed with “That f*ckin’ hurt!” (I apologised to him later for swearing.)  Everybody laughed at me.  Geraldine passed me the Quaich so I could take a sip of whisky which is part of the tradition of the race.  I really don’t like whisky at all.  I only took a sip and it tasted foul but it really was the water of life.  Nothing has ever tasted so foul and so sweet at the same time.

After I had my whisky I got a huge hug from Paul.  I sobbed into his shoulder.  I couldn’t believe it.  I had really done it.  I finished the West Highland Way Race!  Only a few years ago I couldn’t even run 1 mile and now I had just finished 95 of them! How much does that rock?!

Finish/Post race

I got hugs from Sandy Alan and Marian.  What a team.  My race number was cut off and I was weighed.  I had put on 3kg since Kinlochleven!! That was very scary.  Everyone seemed happy enough that I wasn’t going to keel over and apparently there had been much worse cases of banana-bunch hands than mine and that I would be ok.  We were directed through to the kitchen so we could have some food and drink.  We needed it, and my crew: Paul, Marian, Sandy and Alan all deserved it.  Without all of them I would never had made it to Fort William. There has been talk on the forum about whether or not runners should be allowed support and for me, for my first race of this distance, my support crew were a huge part of my race and I would not have completed it without their help.  I may be the one with the goblet but it was a real team effort and I couldn’t have shared it with a better group of people and I will always be grateful to them.

Whilst we were eating Adrian came in and gave me a hug.  That was lovely.  I don’t think it had properly sunk in yet and I now that I had finished and was no longer pumping adrenaline through my body I was becoming very sleepy and asked if we could head to the hotel.  As we were leaving I realised I didn’t know what my time was. 25 hours, 41 minutes and 48 seconds.  Not too shabby, even if I do say so myself ha ha.

I needed help to get into the car; I couldn’t even lift my own legs into the front seat!  I’m not sure if it was the first time, but that was certainly one of the times I swore I would never ever do it again. Ever…

Prize giving

 The prize giving for the West Highland Way Race is something really special.   I did wonder how it would differ from last year’s with Dario no longer being with us and I think the committee did a really fantastic job.  Dario liked to give a wee snippet of information about every single runner as they all came up to receive their goblet and this year, where possible Adrian took over that role.  I thought that was a lovely touch.  The most wonderful thing about the prize giving is that no matter what time you took to finish the race you are a winner.  Every finisher receives a beautiful crystal goblet and it is presented to every runner individually.  At other races you will see 1^st, 2^nd 3^rd and category winners go up to receive prizes, but here, every gets their second moment of glory; the first being when the reach the finish line.  At the West Highland Way Race we are all winners.  What better race philosophy is there than that?

With the exception of our wedding last year, this was the proudest moment of my life.  I had done something I never thought possible and I have my very own goblet to prove it.  There will no doubt be many more races, but this one was special.  I think the first time you do a truly mind-blowing sort of event like this you walk (or shuffle) away with memories that will last a lifetime.

The Aftermath

For 10 days following the race I was really ill with dizziness and nausea.  I had expected to be sore and stiff and to have really sore and blistered feet but I didn’t expect to feel so ill and run down.  I guess the length of time I was ill for shows just how much the race really took out of me.  I put so much time, energy and hard work into running the race.  It was  a long time coming for me, from the first moment I decided that one day I would run it (before I had even run my first marathon!), through all the set-backs and injuries and finally I made the start line.  Even then I wasn’t sure I would make the finish.  But with each step I took along the trail, and to borrow the lyrics of The Alarm, I was “one step closer to home.

I wanted to write this race story in a much detail as possible to remind myself how hard it was. To make sure I didn’t forget the pain and anguish during the race and the pain and sickness I felt afterwards.  It was in essence an attempt to make sure I didn’t even contemplate trying to do it again.  But would you believe it (of course you would) the exact opposite has happened!!  So long as my back holds out and at some point before I come to my senses (whenever that may be) I will be back, and I will be back with hard-as-nails feet so that I can at least try and run right to the finish.  So watch this space….

Two Funny After-thoughts

It has taken me longer to write my race story than it took Paul to run his race last year!!

The blog for my Fling race was 8 pages of MSWord; so naturally this would be at least double; 22 pages to be exact! Apologies if you wanted the short version but you know what they say, there are no short cuts in ultra-running!

__________________________________________________________________________
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

HIGHLAND FLING 2010

 

READER WARNING! This was 8 pages in MSWord! So folks, put the kettle on, get a packet of biccies and get yourself comfy...

What a difference in just the space of just three weeks. I went from having my worst race experience of my life at the D33 to the best race experience at the Highland Fling. I had no idea that was going to happen. I was expecting quite the worst. Although I had tried to get back into a positive frame of mind after D33 I found it very difficult with the problems I have been having with my back and the sciatica pain I have been having. Although I had had a good training week 2 weeks before the Fling, the week beforehand was not a good one. Monday involved a physio appointment with pseudo-acupuncture, Tuesday was a difficult 7 miles that should have been easy, Wednesday was a doctor appointment (x-ray for back is now in the pipe-line) and Thursday I ran a measly 3 miles and my leg felt terrible. I was really worried about what would happen on Saturday. I even had thoughts that I may have to pull out as early as Drymen. I spent most of the week feeling sick with nerves. Completely the opposite of how I had been at the D33. I barely slept a wink on the Thursday night because I was that worked up.

Friday came and I started to settle down. There wasn't much I could do so I just had to accept whatever happened. We headed up to Milngavie after work. I had eaten a large pasta lunch and then had apple crumble straight after work so I only had a sandwich for my dinner. Wanted to feel fully fuelled but didn't want to still be feeling full in the morning so that I could try and avoid any gastro problems. At the Premiere Inn they were offering a free glass of wine and some haribo sweeties when we arrived so we took a glass each and a packet of sweets each. I traded my glass of wine for Paul's haribo. Didn't want to risk even the slightest dehydration from the wine, and I am a sucker for the haribo anyway ha ha.

I didn't sleep well that night. I never do before a race. 4:30am came too soon. I ate my shredded wheat, took my painkiller, Imodium and an anti-histamine (just in case). Showered to wake myself up properly then set about getting into my kit, checking the taping on my toes was ok, lubricating all the necessaries and putting on sun cream. 5:15am and we were off to the train station car park.

It was already buzzing with lots of activity. I was feeling excited but not at all nervous. A sort of calm before the storm. Paul dropped off my drop bag whilst I went to collect my chip. It was all starting to become real now. I met lots of people I know and we were all wishing each other good luck. There were a lot of nervous faces around. I met up with Frank my running buddy for the day (and for many races previously) and suddenly it was time for the race briefing.

The ladies and the male supervets were setting off at 6am, with the other 2 male categories and relay runners to start later. We gathered in the underpass and exchanged last minutes hugs and suddenly we were off! There were whoops and cheers and everyone set off up the steps. I am sure those at the front went racing off but Frank and I were in the middle of the pack and we just set off at a jog. Paul was waiting with the camera just where we turn off the main pedestrianised zone. We smiled and waved. I was so excited to be actually doing the race. I was really hoping for a positive day, especially after recent events.

We were all pretty packed together so we just had to follow the pace everyone else was doing. Luckily everyone around us was in no hurry so we just went with the flow through Mugdock Park. The plan was to walk all hills from the outset since this will be part of my WHWR plan. So as we turned up the little hill in the park we found it no problem to walk. It was a positive thing. It made sense to save our strength for later. I couldn't help but just run a few wee steps when I saw Shanksi with his camera though ha ha. It was just a few steps though!

The running was easy. My mind jumped back to my 2 runs during the week and I couldn't believe how different I felt. It was good. Frank and I talked about everything under the sun. In fact, so much of the race was really about the banter. It was just like being out on a fun training run. My favourite story of these early miles was Frank telling me about a friend of his who had an incident in South America whilst crocodile hunting! It made me laugh so much. I mean, come on, running 53 miles is surely a piece of cake compared to going up against a giant crocodile in your canoe!! ha ha.

I started to need a pit stop as we ran alongside Craigallian Loch, but couldn't find a space amongst runners until we were past Dumgoyach Farm. Runners were spreading out by now but there were still plenty to chat to. Davie Hall was at the pub taking pictures so another smiley face to add to the collection. Paul and Les were waiting for us. Paul filled up my bladder pack (I had just run with a bottle on the first section) and I tucked into a piece of flapjack. I had already eaten my jelly babies and packet of beans. I was deliberately making sure I ate plenty in these early stages in case I couldn't later (again, the same as in the WHWR plan).

Time was 6 mins slower than I had done the leg on my training run but I didn't know that. What I mean is that I knew I was slower but I didn't know by how much, or really care if I'm honest. I had prepared splits and pacing for every section of the race all diligently calculated from my training runs and included an allowance for tiredness (I'd been very JK in my plans) but I hadn't even opened my race folder the whole week before the race so I couldn't remember anything! All I knew was that my training run had taken me over 5 hours to Rowardennan and I was spent, so if I was at Rowardennan in less than 5 hours I knew I had gone too fast. That was the only timing/pacing number I could remember from my entire folder of plans! And I am so glad. Without the numbers all mashing around in my head I could just run how I felt. I could just enjoy the run. If it wasn't fun then I was going to hard and I knew I would just reign myself back and settle into a better pace.

So Frank and I, refuelled and raring to go, set off again along the old railway line. Our new running companions - a couple of Troon Tortoises! From here to Drymen the banter was classic. Frank had been reunited with Bobby Miller and what a hoot we were having. You would never have known we were in a 'race' apart from the odd observation about people going too fast, and making sure we walked the hills. Those short sharp climbs on the road had been really tough last time I faced them but we were busy chatting away. At this point we were running/walking with Soph and Sarah (both of whom I first met on WHW training runs). Much laughter ensued. Frank was a little nervous when Soph said she had a flare in her backpack. She said if she didn't 'need' it during the race that she would set it off in the finishing straight, and she did! Classic. Ha ha.

We had been walking the hills, but as we crossed the field to Drymen there was a photographer at the top of the hill so we laughed as we decided to make like we'd run the whole hill. I had to tell Frank to slow down as he was getting in my shot! ;o) ha ha.

Les was waiting at Drymen fro Frank so he stopped to refuel here. Paul was waiting for me at the forest another mile up the track so I headed on without him. On my way up to the forest I ran with Ellen and another lady for a while. I thought to myself if I am roughly at the same place as Ellen at this stage then I must be doing something right as she has a lot more experience at these things than me. The track up to the forest seemed easier this time but I think that is because it was so muddy last time.
I met Paul at the forest car park. Same refuelling as before, refill with lemon gatorade, pack jelly babies and beans into pockets and glug down some water. I was only able to manage half a piece of flapjack at this point. It is quite heavy and although it is great fuel I can only really stomach it very early on. The plan was to set off with a packet of McCoys salt and vinegar crisps. Had these on a couple of my training runs and they are magic. A real antidote to all the sweet things you find yourself eating/drinking during races.

The stop was swift, just like before, 4 minutes maximum. Frank had caught up, we waved to Margaret and Mary who were supporting other runners from Dumfries (Seb, Craig, Norman and Ali) and we were off along the forest track. I was really looking forward to Conic. Madness I know. But it didn't let me down. There’d been a good bit of running in the forest and towards Conic. Frank and I caught back up with Ellen and her running partner at the bridge just before you start the climb. We talked about when we expected the first of the vet runners to arrive. We figured it would be round about half way up, and lo and behold, Thomas appeared. We all said well done and said how great he was running. We didn't have long to be impressed by the way he was running before Ritchie appeared too. Seeing those guys run up the hill was pretty impressive. Walking suited me just fine. It wasn't slow walking though. Frank and I were fairly marching at a pace. It was helping Frank stretch out his hamstring so onwards and upwards we went. About three quarters of the way up the third runner came up past us. It looked like it was going to be a good race. As we closed in on the top of the route I looked to the north and a fantastic vista was laid out before me. It really was stunning; with the morning mist gently creeping its way down the mountainside towards Loch Lomond. Had I more time I would have stopped and really taken it in. It's no wonder people love the West Highland Way as you really are blessed with some beautiful sights.

My plan had been to walk both up and down Conic, but I was feeling relaxed and my legs felt good so we thought it would be ok to gently run down. Frank found a great line down that was soft underfoot and made for easy running. I was very conscious not to mash my quads at this early stage. We got down to the steps, some walkers stood to the side and said well done and just as we reached the gate one of the Montane photographers appeared. I was gutted not to have got a photo on Conic but hoped there would be other opportunities. I love running down through the forest into Balmaha. The trees here are beautiful, and I love the smell of pine forests.

As we arrived at the car park there was a good crowd of people, and lots of shouts and cheers. People seemed to know who I was which was weird but strangely kind of cool. (Must be the blogging). Paul was waiting. I told him I was feeling really good and that I was having a great time. He was really pleased as he had been worried about me because I had been so nervous beforehand. I took 2 painkillers just to take the edge of anything I was feeling. This time I ate a piece of cake and a handful of pretzels. I had been taking a salt tablet every hour but felt the savoury food really helped to keep me balanced as well. I set off with a bottle and a belt for my beans etc and just walked while I ate, and expected Frank to appear alongside as soon as he was ready. I didn't want to stand around too long in case I started to stiffen up.

It didn't take long before I heard him coming. I wondered if he'd been tormented seeing the empty strongbow cans on the side of the route. He had. We caught up with a female runner. She asked us if it was ok to walk in these races as she was absolutely shattered. I felt bad thinking of how tired she must be especially when she thought it would look bad if she walked. Everybody walks at some point, even at the sharp end of the field. It was shame she felt so tired so early on. I hope she made it ok to the finish.

I love the little beach section. How often do you get to run along the beach when you're not on holiday? The only thing is that you have to be careful not to get lots of grit in your shoes. Poor Frank did so we stopped on the road whilst he emptied the contents from his shoes.

Paul had met us as we ran through Milarrochy and he also stopped just on the side of the road a little further on (before the killer hills started) just to cheer us on. What better race support could you ask for? A lot of people ran without support, the race is designed so that this is possible, but I am new to this game, so knowing Paul is out on the route supporting me is a great help and makes the whole thing seem a little less daunting. He's the best support crew I could wish for.

The 5 miles before Rowardennan are pretty tough. There are some really tough little hills in there. More vets were catching up but every time we hit one of the hills everyone walked up at the same pace.  They seemed to really slow everyone down.  It was quite a nice feeling though, knowing that more experienced runners walk up these sections.  I was also pretty pleased that I was able to keep working away at these hills and I think on only one of the hills I actually felt the burn.

We were making great progress and I was glad to see we were going to going to be over 5 hours before we got to Rowardennan. The plan had worked!! Ahem ;o)

The West Highland Way gives you so many beautiful landscapes along the way but one of my favourite on the bottom half of the route is just a couple of miles before Rowardennan. You are running along through some very young trees along a nice gravel path when you come round a corner and have to climb over a couple of rocks on the route.  If you look up at this point you get (weather permitting) the most fantastic view of both the Loch and Ben Lomond.  This point also means it’s not far to the checkpoint, and half way!

As we arrived at Rowardennan I clicked in my chip (5:20hrs) then went to the car where Paul was waiting with supplies. My pack was fully restocked so I popped that back on and grabbed myself a piece of yumyum. Water and pretzels followed.  Frank was suffering at bit with his back and leg and so he took some more painkillers.  It really was very good of him to run with me when he was clearly struggling with these ongoing problems.  I called us the Dumfries crocks because we both have had such bother with our backs and hamstrings etc thanks to our friend sciatica.  I set off again whilst Frank got himself sorted and took the opportunity for another pit-stop.  Again he caught up quickly and we ran until the hills started.  There are so many climbs on the track section from Rowardennan that it took a while to get along here and I was really glad to get onto the narrow trail again.  We met lots of runners along this section; vets catching up with us, and others who were slowing down were forced to endure our chat.  We even walked a little with one of the Fling dogs which seemed to be having a great time.  Along the narrow trail in the last mile or so before Invesrnaid some on the non-vet males started catching us.  Whenever we heard one coming we would shout ‘runner coming through’ as if we weren’t really runners and didn’t count ha ha. They were all very appreciative though.  Literally 400 yards before Inversnaid Marco Consani came flying past. He asked me how I was doing and I replied that I was still smiling. “That’s the main thing” he shouted back.  The last time we had met racing was at D33, and believe me I was NOT smiling then.

It was great to get to Inversnaid.  Frank shouted at the tourists to stop torturing him with their pints which got a big laugh.  I had a drop bag here, and just as well as Frank was running low on supplies.  I was happy just to get some water from the tubs so gave Frank the bottle of Gatorade from my bag and the jelly babies I had put in there.  I still had plenty in my pack to keep me going.  A few people who arrived at Inversnaid after us set off before us whilst we had a few hello’s and did some stretching and chatting but we some caught up them where the trail started to get technical. We were let past a few pretty quickly, but for a lot of the next couple of miles it was a bit of a traffic jam really.  So many people hate this section and I got that distinct impression from other runners around us, but I love this section.  I love it. Scrambling over roots and rocks, climbing down past KD’s alien rocks, past the cute little mountain goats, almost never able to break into a run, it was brilliant, apart from never feeling I could go full throttle along it due to traffic.  I was made for that section.

Frank and I chatted away to whoever was around us. Some, who were still feeling ok talked back. Others, who had seen better days, weren’t really responsive.  I felt their pain though. I knew what they were going through. I had been there myself. Ultras are like that though, sometimes they love you, sometimes they hate you and often you don’t really get to chose which one it is going to be. That’s just the way of these things.  We always had an encouraging word for anyone we were with though. There is a real camaraderie in ultra-running that makes it different to other races.

By the time we reached the bothy Frank was out of fluids again. He took a drink from my hydration pack. A fellow runner came past and asked if there was any vodka in there. I had to disappoint him. Frank filled his bottles up from the stream and we set off again for the last mile or so to Bein Glas.

I though we were going well again and passed a few runners on the final mile into the farm. As we arrived I saw my good friend Susan for the first time.  I ran straight into a big hug. It was brilliant.  I was so happy to see her. As soon as we’d hugged Paul set about getting me sorted. I changed into a fresh top.  Susan put some more sun cream on my arms for me whilst Paul and I changed my socks. I had felt some hotspots and thought it would be good, even though it didn’t feel completely necessary to get my socks changed.  Paul told me I was doing fantastically well and I was so pleased that he was pleased.

All my stops were very smooth and I was ready to go again in no time.  Frank was really in pain now and I think he had hoped for a longer stop but he gallantly set off soon after me and we set about walking up the hills in this last section.  I admit I was getting a bit tired now so was glad to be walking the hills.  I wasn’t too tired that I couldn’t run up the hill for the camera again though.  It must be an ego thing ha ha.  We picked off a couple of runners on this section but it did seem longer to the midget bridge than last time I had run it. To be fair last time I had started at Bein Glas and not Milngavie!  We arrived at the underpass at the A82 to find Paul, Mary and Margaret waiting. I only wanted a quick stop, grabbed a bit of yumyum and some jelly snakes, glugged some more water. I gave Frank another bottle of Gatorade as I had spare. Wiped my face with a facecloth and I was set.  Frank set he would catch me up so I headed up the steps.  That first hill from the underpass is a bit of a killer so I happily walked up expecting Frank to appear as he always had done. He didn’t.  I came to some runnable sections and my legs were itching to run. So I did.  I even started running the slopes. I felt good: tired but good.  And I could literally smell the finish.  I thought I would just keep running since I felt good and still assumed Frank wouldn’t be long. I figured if he didn’t catch me before the forest then he definitely would in the forest as it has some nasty little hills in there.  I could see runners ahead and found that they were getting bigger in my view.  I tried to eat some of the jelly snakes but they just burned my throat after I had had one of those moments where you sort of throw up but swallow it again.  No big deal in the grand scheme of the race but for some reason the sweets seemed to burn. I forced a couple down as I was tiring but it wasn’t pleasant.

I arrived at cow poo junction as everyone seems to affectionately call it and the cows were spread right across the path.  The cows were very docile so I wasn’t too bothered. They seemed quite bemused though, and no wonder after having all these crazy people running through their patch.  I did wonder at the time how Debs M-C had got through as any reader of her blog will know she is not a fan of the cows.

The runners that had been in the distance were now much closer and as I arrived at the gate into the forest I saw one just disappear at the top of the hill.

Before the race I had been dreading the forest but now I was here I was thinking “Bring it.”  I was feeling so charged up now. The end was close.  All I had to do was run positively through the forest and then it was flat to the end.  The hills still needed walking but I ran all the other parts and picked off more runners.  I even caught up with Bobby Miller who had disappeared ahead just before Drymen all those hours ago.  I said hello and he told me I had paced it well. I thanked him and then we charged down the final hill towards the railway bridge. Magic.  There was a group of supporters sitting just the other side of the railway bridge and one of them shouted “Ach you’s are just showing off now!”  It made me laugh as I continued to run strong along to the road.  This time I was already running when I saw the photographer!

There was no traffic so we were straight across the road. I had couple another group of runners and ran with them through the field. Paul was waiting for me at the bridge. He gave me a bottle and handful of jelly babies and I was off. Literally a 30 second stop.  I caught the group of runners bar one by the time I got to the first gate.  Along the tracks to Auchtertyre Farm I passed more runners.  I recognised some of them from earlier in the race from when they had passed me.  I felt pleased that I had paced the race well so that I could finish in such a positive way and was getting to be the person doing the passing this time rather than being the runner getting passed.  By Auchtertyre Farm I caught the other runner from earlier. She stopped here with her crew and I kept on. I didn’t know how long she was stopping for so I used this sense of not-knowing and the fact that I had passed he with literally 2.5 mils to go and I was determined I wouldn’t be passed again before the end. 

 I did have a few walk breaks in these last miles. They were hard. I was tired.  I was finishing feeling so much better than I could have hoped for but I was still tired.  I had run 50 miles already so of course I would be tired.  But I was so positive and determined by this point. I had been running so well in these last few miles that suddenly a sub11.5 hour run was on. I couldn’t believe it.  I had sneakily hoped for 12 hours. I thought it would be tough but I would have been pleased if I could manage that. So when I looked at my Garmin coming along the side of the river in Tyndrum I had a wee moment thinking “Oh my god, this is completely mental. I can’t believe I might get under 11 ½!” As soon as I hit the tarmac I broke back into a run. I was determined I was going to get it.  It was so close now that I couldn’t lose.  Les from the club had run out to meet me and told me I had such-and-such a time to get under 11 ½. I ran through the gate and turned towards the finish line. I could see Paul standing in the river with the camera.  The piper was piping on the hill and I was suddenly coming over all emotional.  I gave myself a mental shake telling myself I wasn’t allowed to cry this time. Not after D33. This time there would be no tears. No even happy ones.  Paul shouted something at me but I couldn’t tell what it was.  Some of the other DRC runners were up ahead cheering me on. I smiled and waved like lunatic and charged up towards the finish line.  There was lots of shouting and cheering.  As I crossed the line I pumped my arms in the air and shouted “Yes!!”  Somebody shouted at me to click my chip, and for the second time in the race I tried to chip in with my Garmin.  I got it right in the end though. Final time 11:28:51. Magic.

Les came over and congratulated me and then Paul appeared from down the trail and gave me a huge hug and told me how proud he was of me.  I had done it! I had just run further than I ever had before and I felt on top of the world.  I was so happy that luck had been on my side and kept my sciatica at bay.  I could not have done what I did if there had been even a hint of it.  I know that for sure.

The three of us walked back down to the others of the group. Lots of hugs and congratulations were passed round.  It was so lovely.  Everyone was there to share it with everyone else. We took a few photos and then Seb and Craig appeared along the trail. They had started a 7am.  We cheered them on as they flew past.  They had had a great race too.  As had Marian and Ali who both got sub 11 hours.  As a result we won the second ladies team prize! Marian and Norman from the club both got individual prizes too.

We headed back up to the finish area to mingle. After cheering in Frank as he finished I gave him a hug and thanked him for his fantastic company.  He helped make it a really fun run for me.  I was determined that I was going to get some stovies so quickly had to sneak away as I had heard tales that they had run out last year and I love stovies so had to make sure that wasn’t going to happen to me.  And you know what? It was worth running 53 miles for. Bloomin' marvellous.  There was such a great atmosphere at the finish.  I got to speak to JK, Murdo, Santa, Shanksi and loads of others before Paul and I headed off to our B&B to get a shower.  We stay at a really great B&B whenever we are in Tyndrum and we always get a nice bit of home-made cake and a cup of tea when we arrive. The couple who run it are really lovely but think we’re mad!  I would tell you where it is but then we might never get booked in again so I think I will keep quiet about it.

I was so pleased with how I ran the Fling.  I really have to thank Paul for all his knowledge, support and patience before and during the race.  I couldn’t do any of it without him. He is my rock.  I also have to thank Frank.  There is never a dull moment when he is around so you can imagine that there are going to be a lot of highlights when you run together for most of a 53 mile race. He kept me right early on, making sure I walked all the hills and just helping the miles pass by. I really appreciated it.

 

After having such a mind-blowing and fun experience at the Fling I am more than happy to be a middle-of the-pack runner. It’s a fun place full of banter and who could object to that?

After looking at the results and splits on the Fling website I saw that 36 of the runners who checked into Bein Glas before me then finished the race after me. I guess that shows how strongly I finished the race, and it gives me some confidence going forward towards the full West Highland Way in June.

Hope lady luck is on my side again…

___________________________________________________________________________
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

DEVIL O' THE HIGHLANDS 2008

You could tell this race was a big deal for me. Instead of 2 or 3 days of pre-race nerves, loss of appetite and inability to sleep – I had over a week of such pleasures. The tapering might have been resting my legs but the rest of me was becoming highly agitated and restless.

But a surprisingly solid 5 hours sleep on Friday night meant I was awake in a shot at 3:45 on Saturday morning. It was still dark outside which was very weird as I hadn’t seen the dark since the spring.

Our B&B landlady had very kindly got up to prepare us breakfast for 4am. I had brought my own cereal but could hardly swallow it so I settled for 2 slices of white toast and copious amounts of black tea.

After breakfast we went back upstairs. I was to get myself completely kitted up ready to race, take my Imodium, and spread lashings of Vaseline in all the necessary areas so that all I had to do when we got to the Green Welly Stop was register and pin my number on.

I was strangely calm as I got my kit on and checked the contents of my bumbag. At this point I think Paul was getting more nervous than I was. I had been worrying about this race since I entered it 10 months ago. The past 6 weeks I had been in an almost panicking state as my training hadn’t gone to plan. I had been unable to train on holiday due to a heat wave, I had been struggling to train once I got back from holiday and on my last LSR I hurt my back (jarring three thoracic vertebrae and jamming my three right floating ribs together) only a few miles into it so had to cut my run short. The issue with my back was quickly sorted with an emergency physio appointment but I was really worried about having missed my last LSR. All in all it meant I had been an absolute nightmare to live with these past few weeks.

So it was really strange to be in such a relaxed state only 1 hour before the race. I felt completely calm. It’s funny because normally I will in the toilet queue right up till the last minute because of pre-race nerves; this time it was because I didn’t want to end up being caught short without a bush or clump of bracken to hide behind.
I met George and Karen and ‘Ultracat’ inside the Green Welly before heading outside to get ready for the race. It was great to finally put faces to these people who had been conversing with me these past few weeks. Last minute hugs and good luck wishes were exchanged and the support crews headed up the hill to cheer us on for the start.

5-4-3-2-1 and we were off. There was lots of cheering and whooping – everyone was incredibly wide-awake for 6am. I set off up the hill running alongside Marian. I knew she would keep me right going up this first hill as I have a tendency to shoot off. Once the first steep climb was over I found myself pulling slightly away from Marian slightly so decided to head off at a comfortable pace, all the while checking my garmin to make sure I was doing anything too silly.

Even in my most ambitious of pre-race plans I had elected for a conservative 11:30m/m pace to the first check point at Bridge of Orchy, so to find myself running at 10m/m pace and chatting away to other runners was quite a surprise. I was feeling good although the ache in my knee and the pain in my ankle which had appeared after a massage earlier in the week were both playing on my mind.

On arriving at Bridge of Orchy my lovely support crew (my fiancé Paul and our friend and clubmate Doug) were on hand to give me water and an energy bar and restock my Lucozade and jelly bean supply. It was at this point I put on my Montane Featherlite as it had started to drizzle during the last mile before Bridge of Orchy. I didn’t want to get too wet too soon as I knew that the forecast had predicted much worse in store. I didn’t stop, just kept walking and Paul and Doug walked with me as I put on my jacket and took some bites form my energy bar and filling my ears with encouraging words. As I zipped up my jacket and set off jogging up the hill Marian appeared behind me. I asked her how she was doing, she said fine, so off we went up the hill. I decided I would definitely walk the steeper sections of this hill as I wanted to save my legs a little for the less ‘easy’ sections of the course. The path winds up through the forest with very few midges around to my surprise and then opens out onto the top of the hill before descending down a rocky path on the other side of the hill down to the Inverroran Hotel. I am quite well known for my blistering descents but having been told by Doug “no heroics, just take it easy on the other side” I followed one of the other runners at a sensible pace down the other side. Once I hit the road at the bottom I found out why there had been no midges in the forest – they were all here!! We literally ran into a black cloud of them as soon as we got onto the road. Its no wonder all the support crews had midge-nets covering their heads!! They were getting in my eyes, ears, mouth, everywhere. Nasty little blighters! Good job I had my skin-so-soft on or else I would have suffered much worse than I did. The midges meant I couldn’t stay long with my support crew at Victoria Bridge as I just had to get moving to get away from them, so after a quick drink of very strong tea and a digestive biscuit I set off along the old military road that would lead up and over Rannoch Moor.

In my hurry to get moving I didn’t realise that instead of pressing the lap button on my garmin I had pressed the stop button!! It took my 32 minutes to realise what I had done (luckily I was wearing a watch as well), and I then spent the next 32 minutes cursing myself my being such a numpty. On the bright side, this was a distraction from the rapidity with which I was becoming very tired and the soreness was now no longer just in my right knee and ankle. In fact, by the time I reached Glencoe I was really starting to hurt.
After stopped long enough to make sure they had checked in my number and to be told I shouldn’t still be smiling and I sped off down the road towards Kingshouse. A sudden need for the toilet stop had taken me by surprise. I checked behind to make sure there was nobody too close behind, checked in front to make sure the marshals at the road couldn’t see and I dived off the side of the road and into a ditch. It’s a lot easier for men to relieve themselves whilst out in the open and I don’t think they appreciate the difficulties it can cause for women. Anyway, I was quickly back on to the road running quickly down to the Kingshouse Hotel where my crew were waiting for me.

I was pretty wet by this point. I had 2 hot spots on my left foot so a change of shoes and dry socks were needed. I also changed my top and put on my bright red Nike ACG storm jacket – never have I loved a piece of clothing as much as I love this jacket (and I love clothes!!). I munched on a tuna sandwich, drank water, and took more painkillers whilst Paul and Doug changed my shoes, dried my feet, put more Vaseline on them and put new socks on for me. (It’s lovely to be looked after so well!!) They told me that I was closing in on Wendy Dodds as she had not long left Kingshouse when I arrived. This was a great piece of encouragement as Wendy Dodds is one of the Greats of the Ultra-Running community.

The next 3 miles would lead me up and away from the road and then back down again before setting off up the Devil’s Staircase. Paul and Doug would meet me at the bottom with a change of drink and new food for me there, so with a lighter load I set off along the track. The path quickly became waterlogged as I had expected and for long stretches it was like running up or down rocky streams as the constant rainfall for the past few weeks had waterlogged the mountains above. I quickly passed a group of runners who had almost immediately started walking as soon as the trail led uphill. I was momentarily stuck behind them and found it more painful to walk at this point than run so I made my way round and past and headed off along the path/stream. I was really tiring by this point and my legs were in a lot of pain. The earlier pain I had felt in my knee and ankle did not exist anymore. It wasn’t that they weren’t sore, it was that everything hurt so much that there was no way to distinguish one pain from another. As I arrived at the bottom of the Staircase Paul and Doug were waiting with a cup of tea ready and my drinks and supplies for the next section. I said how much I was hurting and how tired I was. It was clear to them that I was thinking that I shouldn’t be hurting at this point as there was such a long way to go (another 20+ miles). “Of course you’ll be hurting,” they said, “you’ve just run 20 miles!”

A couple of guys passed me, including Rupert who I’d been chatting to earlier (this was his first ultra too!). Before the next group could pass me I determinedly set off up the Staircase. The plan had always been to walk up, and at this point I didn’t really have a choice. Even walking at times seemed to be a tough ask! But keeping Rupert in sight ahead of me and the guys in luminous yellow behind me I purposefully matched my way over the wet and slipping rocks upwards into the ever-increasing rain and wind. I was so glad at this point that I had changed from my Montane jacket to my super-waterproof Nike ACG storm jacket. So in spite of the driving wind (which luckily was behind me) I was keeping warm enough even at this slow pace. When we had recede the route back in May it had taken us 29 minutes to get up to the top, so I was feeling pretty darn pleased with myself to do it in 24 minutes this time (mental pat on the back).
As I passed the cairn at the top I felt a sense of accomplishment. I knew I was probably past the half way mark now and the next section involved a massive decent down into Kinlochleven. It wasn’t long before I passed Rupert and another runner who were already making their way down. Tricky footing for the top half and serious steepness on the second half means that for a lot of people this is a really hard section of the race. The footing for the top half was made especially tricky by the heavy rain which had transformed much of the path into a flowing stream. Soaked feet were unavoidable. Descents can be very hard on the quads and knees and knowing that there was still a long way to go I held back from hurtling head-long down the track. But downhill is downhill and anyone who knows me knows how much I love descending on the trails so I really enjoyed this section and finally managed to eat one of my cereal bars. All I had managed to eat to this point was sports jelly beans and a couple of digestive biscuits. As I made my way down the track section of the descent I started to close on 2 runners who I had been catching odd glimpses of earlier. We all arrived at Kinlochleven together which was good as I wasn’t entirely sure of the way through the town.

I was met at the checkpoint by my support crew. A fresh cup of tea was pushed into my hands and I munched on a digestive. Other food was offered but I just couldn’t face it. The digestive was hard enough to get down. I tried one of the Cliff Energy Shots but had to spit it out because I just couldn’t swallow it. I was doing my best to eat and drink but it was becoming harder and harder and I was really feeling sick at this point.

I had been feeling so great coming down the hill into the town but I now felt absolutely terrible. My feet had dried off on the descent so this was one less thing to worry about. I tried to get across to Paul and Doug how much pain I was in. I really was suffering both physically and mentally. I knew that this was going to happen. I had been warned that there would be bad patches. Really low points where you have to fight against what your body is telling you and go with what your heart and your spirit tell you. Disassociate your body from your pain so that they become two separate entities. You run as if there was no pain at all, you’ve put that in a box and are choosing to ignore it. I had experienced something similar only once before so I knew I had it in myself to reach this mental state. But today I was going to have to call on my spirit on a level I had never experienced before. It was here, as I set off up the hill out of Kinlochleven that I knew I was becoming an ultra runner. Being an ultra runner is not just the physical act of running further than 26.2 miles, it’s the mental, emotional and spiritual process which you have to go through to get to the finish line. When you tackle an ultra for the first time you discover who you really are, and if you have an experience like I had, then the person who crosses the finish line is not the same person you set off as many miles and hours earlier.

I had covered 29 miles and still had 14 to go. My legs were so tired by this point I didn’t see I would be able to run again. I was distraught. I was walking up the hill out of town and passed a group of walkers. They were lads in their late teens I guessed and not to be outdone by a girl, one of them decided he was going to march on up the hill and charged passed me with great purpose. His mates laughed as he went charging up the hill. I said (to myself) “I bet you couldn’t do that if you’d just run 30 odd miles.” Boys and their egos. As it turns out I was actually grateful to this young lad as I reached the top of the hill, not far behind him I might add, he was quite out of breath and pretending that he was too busy stretching to notice that I was passing him again. What a great confidence boost. Paul and Doug had informed me back at the checkpoint that even if I have to walk all the up hills from here on in, I could still make it under nine hours. I reminded myself of this as I broke into an uncomfortable jog along the track along Lairigmor.

The pain in my legs was becoming quite unbearable and I was breaking into tears every few hundred yards. The pain and the emotional trauma were all mounting up and it was becoming very overwhelming. And every time I started to cry I would become breathless and I could feel my panic levels start to rise. Anyone who doesn’t suffer from asthma won’t be able to fully appreciate how scary this can be, especially when you are miles from help and you have no idea how far behind the next runner is. I would have to give myself a severe reprimand and tell myself to pull it together and stop being so soft.

I carried on along the track walking the up hills, running the flats and the down hills. This plan had worked well thus far and seemed to be starting to pay off again as I started to catch the runner in front. It turned out it was one of the runners who I had run into Kinlochleven with. We ran along together for a short while but as we reached an uphill section I fell behind again. I wasn’t flustered by this as I knew my downhill ability would come into play soon enough. We were both struggling with our footing. The track was wet, with flooded stream after flooded stream crossing the track in quick succession. Earlier on I had been able to run lightly through them and been able to keep my feet fairly dry, but now my legs were too tired and too heavy to be able to lift my feet properly. So I just charged on through the streams and soon came to pass the runner in front again.

As I carried on along I caught the next runner in my sights and realised that this was the other man who I had arrived at Kinlochleven with. So he now became my next target. In a 43 mile race you can’t think of the whole thing as one race. You have to break in down into sections. Firstly you break it down into checkpoints. Then, when things are starting to get really tough you break it down into even smaller chucks – to the next hill, the next corner, or the next runner in front. At the same time I was checking my garmin to give myself an extra mental boost. Rather than nine or ten miles to the end, it became 3 or 4 miles till Paul and Doug would be waiting for me.

So with a combination of a run/walk strategy and mental distraction I made my way ever closer to Lundavra. With around 3 miles to go I could now see two runners ahead. More importantly I knew that this runner was the Wendy Dodds, one of the great female runners of the ultra community. I couldn’t believe it and what a boost. I didn’t think I would be able to catch her and it was enough for me just to be able to see her ahead. I kept saying to myself, “look how well you’re doing Vicky – that’s only Wendy Dodds ahead of you!” I was closing on Wendy and the other runner but was quite happy to stay behind them. The suddenly I caught sight of Paul running towards me! There was about 1 mile to the car park at Lundavra and he had come out to meet me to see how I was doing. I had a great surge of emotion and a new found determination. I didn’t want him to think I was just sitting back and waiting for the end of the race, and I realised that I would not be happy with myself if I did do that. So spurred on by Paul running alongside me and giving me lots of mental support I really picked up my pace. From an average pace for the section being over 15 minute miles I brought it down to around 13 minute miles. I quickly covered the ground between myself and the 2 runners ahead and luckily when I reached them we were on a slight downhill and I was able to run really strongly past and by the time Paul and I reached the car park neither runner was in sight. Plans to change my shoes were shelved so that I could keep my lead. A quick drink and re-loading with jelly beans and I was off. Paul told me to walk the hill as I had made a big enough gap between myself and the following two. As I rounded the corner I received a good luck cheer from Les who was waiting for Marian. I tried to walk, but I got the urge to run. I had felt the same urge at the Wharfedale Off-Road Marathon. It’s a great feeling. Even though you’re absolutely knackered and you don’t know if you have any energy left your legs automatically want to run. It’s like you no longer have control.

Once I got to the style I knew I would have to hold myself back as there were still some tough little ascents to come in the forest. So I walked the next couple of up hills. I felt a sudden loss of adrenalin and found I was even walking along a flat section. Then I saw the next group of runners ahead and that was enough to spur me into a run. I passed them just before the footbridge but quickly lost my momentum going back uphill. One runner came passed me again. It didn’t phase me as I knew there was a good downhill once we were through the forest and I could catch them all again there if it came down to it. But the runner was barely 10 feet ahead when he turned and realised one of his group had stopped for a toilet break. So again I passed him. That made it eight runners I had passed since Kinlochleven.

The section through the forest was tough. Sharp ups and downs made it difficult to get any rhythm and lot of the ground was slippery under foot. But I kept on pushing, knowing that as soon as I was out of the forest all I had to do was get down the last descent and then along the road. Three miles of running that favoured me. There were lots of walkers through the forest and all were absolutely fantastic and stepped out of the way to let me through so that I didn’t have to go round them. There is one section where you go down an almost tunnel-like section of trees with big wide steps, each 3 or 4 feet long, and as I ran down through here the twenty or so walkers that were sitting or standing on either side of these steps gave me a huge cheer. It really was fantastic. I felt like a real athlete and this was my Olympics and I was being cheered on by the crowd. Wow!

I remembered from when I had run this section in practice that there was still another steep hill to climb and as I climbed I found myself confronted by big warning signs and orange tape. For a moment I panicked thinking I was going to have to turn back but then I realised that I was overreacting in my hyper-emotional state. Due to a new road being built through the forest there was slight diversion to the path. A slight diversion, but a very muddy one! It didn’t take long however from this point to get to the edge of the forest and find myself at the top of the track that would lead down to the road. And, as if by magic as I came out onto the track Paul appeared round the corner to run down the hill with me. So after getting a quick video of me heading towards him he broke into stride alongside me. This was just what I needed as I had absolutely nothing left in me. All that was keeping me going at this point was adrenalin. The pain and fatigue in my legs were making me feel almost dizzy. My breathing was becoming loud and laboured and I was having to work to get every single step. Paul was talking to me the whole way down but I couldn’t respond. I didn’t even have the energy spare to grunt any acknowledgment. That’s not to say that I wasn’t grunting! Goodness I could have scared a grizzly bear with the noise I was making. Growling at myself, pushing my body for every last thing it could give me. About half way down the hill two runners in white appeared in front. We were closing on them fast and I knew that I was running well in spite of the noise I was making and the pure unadulterated pain that I was in. I went flying past the two runners at a pace I didn’t realise I still had in me. Paul told me they had a very startled look on their face when I came past. And with that I was determined that they wouldn’t beat me to the finish.

Even when the track started to level out as we neared the road I kept working hard, forcing my muscles to keep going even though they were screaming at me, begging me to stop and rest for a while. My body pulling me one way, and my heart was pulling me the other. Somehow I had made such good time between Kinlochleven and Lundavra that if I could keep going at a good pace I would be reach the finish in under eight and a half hours. Well, telling me that was like dangling a sparkly ring in front of a magpie – I had to have it!

Doug was waiting with the car at the car park onto the road. I saw Alan there on his bike with his friend as well. I didn’t stop to say hello or rest; I just threw my drink into the back of the car and charged onto the road. I had to do it! I had to get under eight and a half hours. I was so close I couldn’t lose it in this last mile. I had 11 minutes to get from the bottom of the track to the finish line. Every muscle was screaming, my lungs burning and my heart felt as though it would burst. Paul and Doug passed in the car beeping the horn in support. Alan came passed on his bike and cheered me on. Round the corner les was coming the other way and said I had 8 minutes to make it. Oh my god, was I going to make it? I couldn’t remember how far it was along the road. I had to do it, it was so close. Imagine, just imagine if I could. I was starting to cry. I was so emotional I couldn’t hold it in. Please let me make it.

I came round the corner and I could see the roundabout. I yelped out loud. It was not a yelp of pain but a yelp of joy. Indescribable, immeasurable joy. I was too scared to look at my watch. The finish line was right there. Everyone was cheering. I was no longer crying but was running with the biggest smile on my face; smile that held so many emotions.

I crossed the finish line in 8 hours 26 minutes and 6 seconds. A massive 45 minutes faster than my most ambitious target. I did it! On August 9th 2008 I became an ultra runner. There was an air of disbelief at the finish. How on earth had I managed to do that? How had I managed to finish 5th lady in my first ultra-race? More to the point, how had I managed to finish my first ultra race?

In the days since the Devil I have been on a rollercoaster ride of emotions. Initially it didn’t sink in and all I could think about was how sore my legs were. Then the reality of what I’d done hit me and I was an emotional wreck, hardly able to stop crying. This was huge! What I had done was huge! Nobody else had done it for me, I did it! I had done something pretty darn remarkable really.

One week on, and I still have my emotional moments, but these are interspersed by long moments of quiet contemplation and self-reflection. I feel quite calm and at ease with myself. There is a peacefulness that has come with running the Devil. I pushed myself beyond what I thought I was capable of and found I actually quite liked it!