Tuesday 22 December 2015

Catching up on the Marcothon : Day 9 - 22

Well....the running is still happening, although the poetry stalled a little when the boy was in hospital for a week....

Here's a round up of the rest of the rhymes up to today!


Day 9
Let the wind blow high, let the wind blow low
Around Braco Castle in my Hoka I did go
Dodging puddles and river overflow
Is this still Storm Desmond?

Gotta keep smiling folks we're on day 9
We all signed up to try and do the time
Just be gald you're not also trying to rhyme
Twelve hours til the next run!

Day 10
Back to the 'battle of Sheriffmuir'
We enjoy the challenge and wanted more
Better than that, for the peace and quiet
That kind of head space you just can't buy it

Cori dog shot off at pace
I think he and bambi were having a race
Bambi won, Cori fell in a bog
After leaping a fallen log

Day ten done and aren't we glad
Another (almost) 5 in the bag
The Angels in the stars were shining down today
Keeping us safe as we started off our day




Day 11
Friday already and time to go
But disappointingly there's no snow!
Another 4 miles, that's it done
Before I catch the train for Glasgow Christmas fun!

The rhyming now is harder to flow
With still another twenty days to go
Maybe I'll get my mojo back
If I try and keep having a crack

And of the run not much to write
Except Cori dog trying to start a fight
A silly wee spaniel took us by surprise
Jumping out of the woods with its glowing eyes

No harm was done and off we did trot
All the way home, without getting caught
Now Cori's off to bed and I'm getting fed
To make sure drinking later doesn't go quickly to my head!

Day 12
Today on the plan was a run with the gang at Glee
Alas circumstances meant it wasn't going to be
Emotional day with just the 3 done
Still just in there, I'm clinging on!

Day 13
A sunday run up Sheriffmuir
Slipping and sliding not hitting the floor
The skies are blue, it's blinking cold
But we decided to be bold!

We put some of the world to rights
All while wearing thermal tights
And earned ourselves a breakfast bun
Now it's scoffed and in my tum!

Day 19
Life gets in the way they say
I've not managed a poem every day
So much messing in my mind
I just couldn't find the words to rhyme

I've kept it going when times were tough
They say I'm made of pretty strong stuff
Last night the boy got home to stay
And won't be in hospital on Christmas Day!

A celebratory 10 today
A clearer head and I was on my way
A tail wind out, a blowy return
All supporting good calorie burn!

Revived by biscuits and a cup of tea
A happy Saturday for me
Feels like we're almost on the home run
All completing the Marcothon

Day 21
Day 21 we're almost done
Another 10 days left to run
But what about on New Year's Day?
Can't stay 2016 without a run I say!

This morning was a mellow plod
Along the river and thru the bog
Then as a wee treat, a quick blast in the gym
Been neglecting my arms and it feels such a sin


Day 22
It wakes you when you're sleeping
And you know it's time to go
The Marcothon is every day
No matter how fast, the rain, wind or snow

So, you'd better not cry
You'd better not frown
Running around in the country or town
The Marcothon you're going to complete
Yeaaaah the Marcothon, you it won't beat
That's it folks, day twenty two is done.....

Wednesday 9 December 2015

Marcothon...Days 4-8...there will be weather


weheartit.com
Day 4
A short excursion for today
I had to do it come what may
No time later on, with things to be done
And I'm still doing the Marco-fun

With Clark at home tucked up in bed
I know he'd rather be running instead
One week post-op it can't be so
But he's still there motivating me to g

Running under crystal skies
Just a slight burning in my thighs


Feeling good, it's just day 4
I know I'm ready for many more!





Photo by Adventure Buddy
Day 5
Day 5 and Desmond came to play
And I had to get to By The Way
With course fee paid I couldn't be late
Wanted to learn how to navigate

A 4 mile trot round Kirsty's loop
Followed by a great plate of soup
Home again through the storm force
Worth it for a very useful course





Photo by Clark Hamilton Photography
Day 6
Time to top up the vitamin D
Sunshine, killer hill, Cori dog and me
Then thru to Frandy we did go
To see the reservoir overflow

Rewarded with a breakfast bun
Doubles the Sunday morning fun
And then it's time for Sunday chores
While Cori dog lies on the sofa and snores










Cori Dog
Day 7
Woken by the simulated sun
I knew that it was time to run
Time to pick a different way
'Battle of Sherrifmuir' was the order of the day.

The climb it is both long and steady
Cori dog was definitely ready
Puffing away I brought up the rear
And although it was pitch dark I had no fear

Until Cori caught the scent of a fox
'Oh no, Cori dog, please don't get lost!'
But lit up like a Christmas tree
For hundreds of meters him flashing brightly I could see!

Only as far as the cattle grate
Work today, so cant be late
Just shy of 5 miles we have done
Another happy tick in the Marcothon!

Day 8
A night of sleep I was not blessed
So this morning put me to the test
Only doing the min-o-thon
To keep me in the Marcothon

Down by the river, slip sliding along
I almost broke into a song
With a final burst thru the ice bath of glee
That's day 8 in the bag for me!

Thursday 3 December 2015

We do run, run, run...

Helen & John Munro..doing what they do best
It's that time of year again....and what little I care for Christmas, other than this photo which always makes me smile.. 
 
One of the best things about December however, is the 'Will I? Won't I?' and excitement about the Marcothon.  And once again I did.....
Link to the Facebook page and more info can be found here:  Marcothon Facebook
 
This year, to add to my challenge, I'm trying to write a wee rhyme each day, so my intention is to blog these too so that I remember when I'm old and stuck on the sofa..  I hasten to add that Keith Ainslie (who is the true poetry master of Marcothon) should be given all credit for his..... I'm just using the concept as a distraction while I'm running.
 
So far...
 
The day before...
 
Can't wait for Tuesday, no sir-ee
Another Marcothon for me
Early alarms and dark night skies
Needing a head torch to help my poor eyes.
 
A couple of months injured
Rehab and much rest
It's time to get out there
Put mind and body to the test!
 
With friends all signed up
And ready to run
One thing guaranteed
This is going to be fun!
 
Day 1....
 
It's day 1 of the Marcothon
3,000+ runners can't all be wrong?
Throughout December, in the daily grind
For 3 miles of running the time we must find.
 
The alarm went off at early o'clock
I can't just turn over or walk round the block.
The dog is poised and ready to run,
Knows when we get back, it's time to fill his tum.
 
The paths they were slippy
My heart missed a beat
It took all my focus
To stay on my feet!
 
Five minutes of trudge
Then endorphins kick in.
And for the rest of the day
Wearing a great big smug grin!
 
Day 2..
 
Day 2 brought with it wind and rain
Better than the ice tho which was such a slippy pain
S 4ish miles I'm soaking wet
But the weather hasn't got the better of me yet!
 
With Ainslie's poems he's off to a winner
I might try and keep it up but I'm just a beginner
Thinking of rhymes takes my mind off the dark
As I go running round Braco Castle park.
 
With calories burned I'm scoffing my food
My run certainly helped to brighten my mood
And with each new day the challenge to run
Hope that by Christmas there'll be a less wobbly tum!
 
Day 3
I saved my run til Thursday night
Out with the club, oh what a fright
My legs are used to a slow pace
But speedwork a must, to improve my base.
 
I spent the day in mindless wonder
Would I survive or would I chunder?
Mark had promised to be kind
But who knew what would be going on in his mind?
 
Driving home the rain was thrashing
Through the puddles we'd be splashing
Turning the dial up to Scotsman
Going to go running, because I can!
 
Arrived and met the hardy bunch
A steady (fast) run with a killer end hill punch!
We lost a couple on the way
But I finished another Marcothon day!
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 



Thursday 24 September 2015

Weebles Wobble...or the tale of the CDNF

It’s taken me a long time to write this, what for one reason or another, and as I sit here on a flight (and what turned out to be several flights over a couple of weeks to get to the end), after a long week away with work, with brain drain and a full belly, this may not be the best time to start telling my tale.
Many will already know that my CCC quest didn’t go according to plan.  And while this is immensely disappointing, it’s not without explanation, of which most, if not all is justified and avoidable.  I’m not sure in starting this tale if I’m going to let everything out but we’ll see how it goes.
Step back to the time between completing the WHW and heading out to Chamonix, and the Garmin stats tell the story.  Training was minimal as I focussed on recovery, and not wanting a repeat of last year’s fatigued challenges.  I rested pretty much through to the Devil, and while I was somewhat emotional that day about not running in Johnny Devil-Fling’s first directorship of this event (which a few years ago was my first ultra), I remained part of the day through my role as one of the sports massage therapists working at the finish.  That in itself was tiring enough for me to know that not running was the better plan.
As the CCC drew closer, the fear increased, but it was too late to make many material changes.  I started to increase my activity levels, and (probably half-heartedly) tried to improve my diet…but the knowledge that the ‘holiday’ and the beer, baguette and cheese fest was coming didn’t really aid my motivation.
The worst of the fall carnage (pre bruising)
A couple of weeks before race day, I took up the opportunity of a "free" place in the Sheriffmuir Road Race – literally the closest race to my house, and a challenging 11 mile route on tarmac.  I had a plan to run steady and slow on the out leg (mostly downhill) and then challenge myself (a little) on the uphill return.  Fast forward to the half way turning cone….all going to plan, no stress or worries, good tunes, nice weather….grab a bottle of water, smile at Caroline who was marshalling…..and fall flat on my face….on a flat stretch of road.   F***********CK that hurt!!!
After being scrapped off the road by Caroline and a passing runner, and trying not to cry, I dusted myself down (doused bloody knees and elbow with water), swallowed a large dose of MTFU and assured everyone I really was fine to continue (‘I can’t not finish the race!!??’).
BOOOOM what an adrenaline rush as I tried to catch up some of the places I’d lost and claw my way back up the hill to the pub for my finish beer…….. In reality, what happened was I ran straight through the finish line, almost flattened a small child, and launched myself at the first aider who scrubbed my gravelly wounds with saline and a wire brush (actually a wipe, but it felt like the former)!
So, that was that.  Ice, rest, arnica, painkillers and the best part of a week without being able to put weight through my right leg…. Not the ideal tapering situation.
Gairloch sunset
I could’ve, maybe should’ve seen this as appropriate timing to seek medical deferral from the CCC….but was still hoping for a miracle.
There was no question I wasn’t going to go to Chamonix, and after a weekend ‘up North’ with Clark, followed by a re-carpeting of most of the house, I flew over to Geneva on the Wednesday before my race (which was on the Friday).  Several of the Scottish contingent were already out there and the TDS guys were already running (with mixed success).
Just vanning
 
Messages were starting to come through from race HQ regarding the forecast, which was unseasonably hot.  The messages mostly concerned carrying an advisable 2 litres of fluids.  Not good for pasty blue Scots, who’ve not seen the sunshine, never mind heat for a while.  And I was still struggling with prolonged time on my feet, which my knee was objecting to.
The big beer (before we drank the pub dry)
Helen and John met me at the lovely apartment I was sharing with them and the wonderful Hetherington’s, and took me to the Expo to spend some cash on race goodies and new running shoes (as you do (but not for the race)).  We probably went for food, and maybe a beer at our adopted home for the week “The Green Welly” (a practiced haunt from those who’d been previously).  Chamonix was awash with great people we knew (and too many to mention!), and it seemed like every corner you turned there was a friendly Fling t-shirt wearer or a saltire waver for the whole time I was out there.

Double ding ding up the mountain
Thursday I was instructed to go with David up the mountain, and breathe the air.  So, some further application of MTFU and my first cable car experience with a trip up to Aguile du Midi.
WOW.  That is all.
Air duly breathed.  A million pictures taken.  Cable car back down (scarier than the ascent).  Some more news of heat and challenges from those in the OCC event.  My fear levels were increasing.
Registration
The compulsory kit list is pretty spectacular.  Even when the forecast is for 30 degrees and clear blue skies.  I guess the organisers ‘know best’ and for a race of up to 26.5 hours and 60 miles of over 6,000m  ascent you can’t take risks.  David and I packed, repacked and double checked our bags. Several times in fact, living in fear of being rejected at registration.  And off we trotted to stand and queue, for what seemed like an eternity, outside the sports centre, until final we successfully emerged with our new wrist bands, race bags, and permission to board the start busses!  GULP.
Race day.

Start bus successfully boarded at 0630.  Temperatures already c16-18 degrees.
Another first for me with a drive through the Mont Blanc tunnel – that’s a pretty spectacular engineering achievement – and dropped us out in Italy (to the tune of 80 mobile phone texts pinging with the “Welcome to Italy” text).  Courmayer is a pretty town with wonderful mountain views.  David helpfully pointed out the ‘reasonably sized’ one that would form our first climb (NB – reasonable in comparison to some ginormous exhibits circling the town).
We walked up to the start area (a good 15 mins from where the buses drop you) and it was still relatively quiet…No queue for the portaloo!!  We met Donald and Tommy, and some others, and generally milled around, drank coffee and soaked up the atmosphere as more and more runners arrived (the race accommodates 1,900 entrants).
The start time was getting closer and I’d been ‘advised’ to try to avoid ending up too far back in the start pens, so as my fear levels accelerated I abandoned Donald (who stayed minding some bags of others who by this point were clearly in a VERY long queue for the loos)…
The crowds gathered, there was a helicopter and a drone flying overhead and the countdowns were beginning.  Dum dum de dum, dum de dum de dum….and the first wave of elite and speedies were off.  I shed a wee tear of fear.
Ten minutes later…dum dum de dum, dum de dum de dum….and my wave were released.  A clatter of footsteps and poles on the streets, to the cheers ‘Allez Allez’ and the ringing of cow bells..  We were off on our adventure.
I didn’t find the volume of people too much of an issue, and kept myself amused checking out the kit choices (seriously, some people should check their rear view in a mirror before leaving the house!), and trying to guess nationalities.  There was only really one bottle neck on ‘the climb’ and it was a welcome wee breather.  I don’t think I have EVER (aside from maybe my time running in Peru) experienced such a challenging ascent…heat, altitude and 7 miles of near constant uphill.  I think David H had said I would be at the first check point after 3hrs 45m….I’m not sure to this day if he meant the top of the hill dib point or the refuge at Bertone.  Regardless, it took me 4 hours to get to the ‘summit’ of this first climb.  It was pretty, I definitely wasn’t.  I’m not going to download all the thoughts, conversations and struggles, aside to say, I had decided it was not my day by the summit.  I sent a couple of texts and got some encouraging replies to ‘try’ the next few miles which were downhill.  And that was where the knee issue kicked back into play and confirmed my decision that my CCC was over, before I even got to the second C.
Nice view to end my race
I walked, shuffled and enjoyed the views on the descent to Refuge Bertone.  I even overtook a couple of people.  The checkpoint was very quiet when I arrived…a few broken souls and some decimated refreshment tables.  I found one of the ‘organisation’ who spoke some English and advised I was withdrawing.  She checked I wasn’t in need of medical assistance and then checked and double checked I didn’t want to continue.  I didn’t.  My barcodes were then removed from my bag and race number.  No going on now.  She advised what would happen next (myself and the other withdrawals would need to wait on the checkpoint closing, and be walked off the hill (it was about an hour downhill to a track road) where we would be collected in a jeep and taken back to Courmayeur and bussed back to Chamonix) and a small band of us slowly gathered over the next hour or so.   I was surprised how many people there were still coming in, and while a couple tried to convince me to go on, I didn’t want to further injure my knee, and knew deep down it was the ‘right’ decision and that I would never have made it to the finish.
Eventually, after what seemed like hours sitting in the sun (no point not topping up my tan while I had the chance) we were walked off the hill and eventually back on the bus.  Rush hour back through the tunnel and it took FOREVER to get back to Chamonix…unfortunately so slow we didn’t get back for the start of the UTMB.  The bus dropped us in town and to add to my misery the walk back to the apartment was pretty much along the final mile of the race route.  That hurt.
My memory is a bit faded what happened next that night.  I’m sure there was beer, food and cheering at the finish line, while news filtered through about progress of others. 
Saturday John, Helen and I went a hike up to Flegere along the final stretch of the race route.  Weather was roasting and the climb was steep.  We had the pleasure of seeing Caroline Moles at Floria on her final descent and could see how hard she had worked to achieve her CCC success, and after some lunch at the café and admiring the views (along with Elaine, Andy, Karen, Vicky etc who also came up) we had the privilege of seeing Xavier Thevenard come through the final checkpoint to ultimate go on to win UTMB.  Epic!
We went back down and one of the best memories of the trip was seeing Nathalie Mauclair achieve first female winner in UTMB.  Words cannot describe the atmosphere.  It was phenomenal!  If you’ve not seen the video I recommend a look on the UTMB website or YouTube.
More cheering, beer, food, chat…the whole place was buzzing!  After seeing Matt Williamson storm home I was exhausted and had to call it a night.  Same again on the Sunday really….coffees, pottering, cheering, flag waving.  Sunday I found really hard emotionally.  Far worse than seeing CCC finishers.
I spent some time in the afternoon (after trying a wee walk shuffle that lasted about 10 minutes) sitting at the end of the town (with a wee French cheer squad and super-enthusiastic wee woman (she was my French Wee Chief Fi from Skye) shouting ‘Bravo Bravo Finishaaaaah’ (you’ll have to imagine the accent)), at the foot of the final descent watching runners who had been on the go since dinner time on Friday enter the final 15 minutes of achieving their dream. 
There were tears (mostly me, not them).  And when I got myself in check, I headed back to the finish and watched the final runners come through in 46+ hours…including a wee guy of 73!  Wow, just incredible.
More food, and a lovely evening along at the chalet where Matt, Caroline, Carol, Keziah etc were all staying, made a perfect final night before we all headed home on various flights the next day.

I was on the late flight home Monday night, and after all the packing faff first thing, Helen and John let me chum them on the train up to Mer de Glace, where the views were tremendous.  We took a wee gondola car, and many many steps down to see the ice cave carved into the glacier.  Helen and John took the train back down as they were on an earlier flight, and I had a wee slow shuffle back down the trail admiring the views and savouring these last few hours of my holiday. 
The waiters race
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
After a final indulgence of some cheese, baguette and wine (be rude not to)..…and a potter around the town to watch the Waiters Race, it was back to the airport and back to my boys.  Full of hopes for 2016 and a boot up the arse with some clear ideas of what steps I need to take to make it.

Emotional in many ways, and an experience to remember and learn from.

Wednesday 24 June 2015

Team Hobbit and The Quest for The Goblet

The start (photo by David Friel)

Where to start?  At the beginning or at the end?

Another epic weekend of WHW Race adventure with so many lasting memories created,whether by runners, crew or the vast team of race officials and support.

It's an emotional journey,right from the days you start to get involved in the race, years before you actually toe the start line, and continues even in the days and weeks after mid-summer weekend is past. Then it usually starts all over again for the next year....a wonderful spiral to be involved in, and maybe one you never want to get out of....

Reading all the updates on facebook this week you can't help but be touched by the camaraderie shared, and friendships, some of which were only created on the day, that will last a lifetime.  Everyone goes through a lot on race weekend. Some of what happens will remain 'untold'....'what happens on Lairig, stays on Lairig' and all that....

So, here's the story of my weekend...

Friday Night
This year I'd decided to stay home on friday for as long as possible, so after a fairly quiet day (boxes had all been packed on Thursday aside from fresh stuff) Clark drove me through for arrival at registration at about 11:30pm.

The car park was packed, the atmosphere full of excitement and apprehension.  We got one of the last spaces at the back of the car park and I scurried round the outskirts and into the church hall to collect my tag, wrist band and goodies...and the dreaded weigh in....  I wasn't at the weight I'd ideally wanted, but don't think I was much heavier than last year. And I'd eaten a mountain of steak pie for dinner.....

It was great to see so many folk I knew buzzing around, and a chat with John Kynaston who assured me most people set really good PBs the second year they do the race (uh oh...spoiler alert...).


Photo by Trossachs SAR
A few more 'hello's' and back to the car for some quiet time....panic...hadn't put my drop bag in the truck...(no real need to panic as still had plenty time, but just that fleeting moment you think about it not being there when you get to Inversnaid! And it contained my dram for Dario which I was determined not to forget this year!!)

The drop bag wagon was being handled by Trossachs SAR who I was raising money for this year...after I tried to stealthily deposit my bag without fuss, they chased me across the car park for a picture!  Thanks guys! 


Davie, Clark, me & Julie (Photo by Sarah Self)
After the race briefing ('there will be weather') it was time to catch a quick pic with (most of) Team Hobbit (minus Lorna who met me to run from Tyndrum).

And then to the start!  First tears of the night after some final hugs with crew, Clark, David Meldrum and Helen, and then some more tears as the countdown and cheer signified it was time to go.

95 miles, lets do this!!
Just before the start (Photo by Clark Hamilton)


Saturday 1am :Milngavie to Balmaha (19 miles, 4 hrs 6 mins, 151st place)

I found it hard not to blub as we trotted through the tunnel and up the steps and along Milngavie main street. It's an amazing feeling with the crowds whooping and cheering and calling out our names.  A blur of faces and head torches.  Through the arch and down towards the park, and it begins.

Helen had a dream a week or so before the race about missing the left turn a little way into the park....a whole heap of folk did just that!!  They doubled back just as I got to the turning and there was a bit of congestion as these faster folk tried to get back into positions, but no accidents I don't think!

Thru Drymen (Photo Christopher Cowley)
I settled into a steady plod, running at various points with Lois, Audrey, Lorna, Minty, Nicola and brief chats with others along this first section. Not a favourite part either in the day or night.  For me, the WHW doesn't really start until Drymen. 

There was a bit of congestion for a mile or so on the narrow trail near Glengoyne and we ran in convoy for a while with 3 guys kind of blocking anyone passing (so said someone in front of me...).  Wasn't too concerned as at this point slow is the best pace!  It was also really quite unexpectedly humid.  Shorts had been a wise choice, and I started to get fluids into me from early on (starting with Tailwind in one bottle and water in the other).  Was also eating little and often...some tattie scones/cheese and Nairns fruity oatcakes I think, along with my promised tub of rice pudding before Drymen!

It stayed dark much longer this year and the head torch was needed almost onto Conic. And it was only then that the cloud started to lift a little....just to show you the summit looming ahead!  The tweeting chorus of the wee birds and insects in the open area just before the climb was beautiful - one of those things that makes you happy to be up so early!  I went pretty slow up and down Conic...Minty flew past me as a teetered on the wet slab steps on the descent, scared of an early tumble, and I made it to Balmaha unscathed and a couple of minutes behind the 'plan' (broadly based on a finish time of 26 hours, similar to last year). Breakfast of croissant with jam and some decaff coffee, a wee sit down and a fresh buff...the crew were on fine form making sure bottles were topped up and I was good to go...walking along trying to eat more of the croissant as I went (the wildlife may have got some of it I have to confess...).

Balmaha to Rowardennan (26 miles total, 6hrs 6mins (2 hrs), 145th place (126 for stage))
I found this section quite tough.  Not sure if I was remembering about last year (Rowardennan was where the tears started), or if it was just all the climbs as you closer to the checkpoint, which seemed to be steeper than I thought they should be.  In hindsight I should have plugged a headphone in to distract me but I had planned I wasn't going to use the distraction until later on.  There were no tears at the checkpoint though..and it was great to be able to reply to the marshal asking if I had a drop bag to be able to say 'No! I have a crew!'.  I got a high 5 with John K (who seemed to appear everywhere!) here too.  Once again I was topped up, fed and changed and out again without any fuss.

High 5! (Photo by Pauline Walker
Rowardennan to Beinglas (42 miles, 10 hrs 21 mins (4hrs 15m), 141st place (134th on stage))

I felt much better after Rowardennan, put one headphone in and kept eating and drinking.  I was conscious I was drinking a lot more than usual but needed it with the humidity and didn't feel it was sloshing around.  I remember saying to Clark at somepoint about feeling I was eating more than running, again I don't think this is a bad thing.  I might have started on my sarnies at this point (sourdough bread, avocado, houmous, parma ham and cheddar) and was also interspersing with haribo, nairns salt & vinegar snackers.  Oh, and baby food. On one of the descents I decided to have my Ella's Banana Baby Brekkie. Now, anyone who knows me will know I don't do banana's (unless in banana loaf) but maaaan, this tasted like heaven!  I remember making an appropriately satisfied noise when I finished it and then some guy passing me and asking if I was ok! Maybe my interpretation of satisfied was more like pain...?

Inversnaid was manned by the Trossachs SAR team and my task here was to remember the whisky!  I had minimal drop bag - coke, choc milkshake, haribo and snackers I think.  I also snaffled some Lucozade from the 'leftovers' pile and ensured both bottles were full - I was still troughing through the fluids!

I passed Rhona (Red Wine Runner) on this stage (can't remember if it was before or after Inversnaid) and was surprised....I also gave her a row for not eating her mini cheddars (sorry Rhona) which were in her hand, as she looked like her head was down a little (and maybe I thought it might help....or maybe I'm an idiot...).  Mike Adams went storming past me on the really tricky section here too.  I'm losing some of my love for this stretch since the weather seems to be causing increased erosion...and this used to be my favourite part! Jeez, I'm going to start sounding like I don't love the route at this rate!

Selfie at Dario's post
Onwards to Dario's post, and it actually dawned on me to take my jacket off to help my heat regulation a bit (duuuuh!)

Stopped to have a wee sip of The Macallan, take some poor photos (believe me, the view back down the loch from here was beautiful), and toast Dario by pouring the rest at the foot of his post.  I'm sure he'd be chuckling away at the sheer nonsense.

And then downwards to Beinglas farm where I was expecting to only see Clark but was delighted to see Davie and Julie on hand too.  My time for this section is about 13 mins down on last year (17 mins total) but the dibbing point was at the other side of the farm this year, so I did my refuel stop first and checked in on the way out... Ditched my jacket here and had a t-shirt change, and think I started on my chicken mugshots, along with the usual rank combination of assorted sweet/savoury/milky/fruity treats. And then off again...

Beinglas to Auchtertyre (51 miles, 12 hrs 47min (2 hrs 26), 126th place (83rd for stage)   
Again I felt pretty good leaving the checkpoint and I marched on, and ran more chunks than I think I did in the Fling.  Passed a few people who were clearly suffering (I hope they found their way out of it).  It was starting to get hotter, and I was definitely feeling it.  I did my best to keep marching on when I 'couldn't' run and just picked my way along to each mental marker point (this in my head was sorted much better than last year when all I could think about was the end stages!).  Finished this section about 5mins faster than last year (and that's with the change of checkpoint place at Beinglas, so running time probably actually nearer 10 mins better?)

Cowpoo alley started to trash my feet though with the jaggy rocky terrain irritating what transpired was early trenchfoot from the earlier rain and humidity. Thankfully there were now cows and very little poo though!
Post Weigh in (photo Pauline Walker)

Kept eating (rice pudding, mint cake, haribo, baby food, oatcakes), kept drinking (one bottle NUUN and one Tailwind)...didn't want to be in trouble with the crew when they checked for empties and wrappers!

Into the checkpoint and time for new socks, and a smothering of sudocrem for the feet (ouch that stung for a good 20 minutes after...but was soooo good!).  I was fine at the weigh in so all the fueling was clearly ok. 

Trying to get the shortest route to the crew car
(Photo and fence assistance from Pauline Walker)
Another wee sit down, some more mugshot, maybe some coffee, and assorted other stuff.  Was gutted here to learn that Helen was no longer running (had a wee cry about that after I left the checkpoint!)...the boys had promised not to tell me, but couldn't hide it in their faces when I directly asked them.  

I hope one day she goes back to complete as she's one of the toughest people I know!

Auchtertyre to Bridge of Orchy (60 miles, 15 hrs 13mins (2hrs 26m), 108th place, 72nd for stage)

The race allows support runners from here (if you're far enough behind the leader....never a challenge for me, especially when Paul Giblin blew his course record out the water AGAIN this year for the 3rd year running!! 14 hours and 14 minutes!! WTF?!?), and I was really looking forward to meeting Lorna at Tyndrum.  She's an epic runner (and very humble about her achievements) and was willing to run the whole final 42 miles with me.  A very welcome hug, and an apology from me for being stinky...I was...it was rank...  And then we were off up the hill chattering away.

Lorna & I (Photo Colin Knox)
It's a great friendly race for passing time with people on the way, but you have to run your own race.  The great thing about support runners (and all of mine were fabulous at this) is that they are there for you...they go at your pace, they want you to be ok, they check if you're eating/drinking, are too hot/cold, they chatter away even if you are giving very little back, they help move awkward tourists out of your way and they steadily encourage you to keep moving.  

And you also want to do justice to them giving up such a big chunk of time and effort to support you that I think (for me definitely) it makes you want to try and push on as best you can in the hope that they get something back for their efforts.


Still about 8 mins behind LY time but section about 4 mins faster.

BOO to Glencoe (71 miles, 18hrs 16m (3hrs 3 mins), 105th place (94th for stage))

JBH with Peter Duggan and MtM
(Photo by John Kynaston)
BOO is a lovely checkpoint and we seemed to get there fairly quickly and even Clark commented we had been quicker than expected.  Another repack and refuel (no idea what) and we collected Julie to join our gang and run this section with us.  Part of the benefit of this was that the girls could chatter and I just needed to listen and grunt in occasionally!  And this worked just perfectly with many varied topics covered from Hoka's to houses, and peanuts to poo bags...as well as Julie finding out more about Lorna's running credentials (6 days??? YOU RAN FOR 6 DAYS??!!!)

We also were with Andy O'Grady and his runner for a while as we climbed up Jelly Baby Hill to be greeted by Murdo the Magnificent (brandishing the promised green jelly baby, which I traded for a wee bottle of Macallan!) and Peter Duggan (a new addition this year, playing 'Scotland the Brave' on a wee whistle, to which I attempted a wee jig).

Final Flags at JBH (Photo MtM)

I love the scenery on this stretch across Rannoch Moor. I was struggling a wee bit with the heat as the sun had come out, and there's a lot of marching to be done on this section.  Maybe I should've tried to MTFU and run some more, but it is what it is and at the time I felt I was trying hard.

It was great to finally reach the summit point and start dropping down into Glencoe, the views are spectacular and very truly Scottish! The path here is pretty rocky and you really have to concentrate.....and there's a nice boggy puddle just at the very end of the path with no bridge...and thankfully Lorna skipped across it and put a hand back to catch me from falling in.

About 19 mins behind LY now and 10 mins lost on section time.

And then the dreaded words from the checkpoint marshall....'full wet weather gear to be carried by all runners from here'.....cue the tears....first real big sobby ones....

This wasn't what I wanted to hear...I looked across to the Devils Staircase and the skies were blue right across it.....but who am I to question the rules....you certainly don't need disqualified at this stage (or getting cold and wet and needing emergency rescue putting yourself at greater risk...)

I was wearing a light waterproof and didn't want to put a heavier one on as it was still really warm....so into my pack, along with as much food as I could get in, went my waterproof trousers and thicker jacket (the former never saw it out of the bag again and the latter only got put on 3 miles from FW)...It wasn't much extra weight, but emotionally this was a big impact.

Saw Alan Doig and Sean McMinn at the checkpoint - both of whom theoretically should've been way ahead of me.

A few more tears, hugs and swapped Julie for Davie and off we set.

Glencoe to Kinlochleven (81 miles, 21 hrs 38mins (3hrs 22m), 93rd place (78th for stage))

Leaving Glencoe checkpoint I managed to ruin
what could've been a brilliant pic
(Photo by Clark Hamilton)
More good a varied chat on this section, putting the world to rights... I felt better on this section than I remember from last year, albeit a smidge slower (maybe I was longer in the checkpoint), and the views from the top of the Devil were lovely.  I was far less wobbly and managed to eat and drink much more effectively.

On the descent, we caught up with Carol Martin and her crew (she was running brilliantly having been injured earlier in the year) and then with Alan Doig and his support runner (Ian I think).  Alan was struggling with an injury and was a bit bushed from the cocodamol...thankfully he was quite amenable when I decided I had to pee (and if you gotta go, you gotta go) and I sent Davie and Lorna back up the hill a bit to ask him to pause a minute as I couldn't t find a tree!  Thanks Alan!!

I think on the descent I started my arm swinging shuffle - make the arms go fast and the legs will follow.  I'm sure it looked bloody ridiculous but it felt like it was working...and the humour of having crew with wee legs is they had to often break into a wee trot to keep up! The arm swinging would continue to the end!

Midge fest as we got closer to KLL - this was definitely the worst section for them of the whole race.  They were in our eyes, noses, everywhere and no escape!  Thankfully I don't think I got any bites! 

Into KLL without torches, and a big hug from David Hetherington before weigh in and repack, refuel, regroup and readiness!

About 6 mins slower than this stage last year and about 25 mins behind total time.

Kinlochleven to Fort William (95 miles, 26hrs 19min, 4 sec (4hr 41m), 81st place (63rd for stage))

At the Lairig aid station - Wilderness Rescue
(Photo by Jeff Smith)
I have to say, I think I actually loved this section!

I learnt a lot last year and tried to put it into practice. And also I wasn't needing 'forced' to eat as much I don't think. I struggled to swallow a bit for the first couple of miles but then it all came good.  Peanuts, Mrs Tilly's wonder-fuel, mars bars, mint cake and started on the Red Bull (silver edition) after Jeff's aid post.

I remember passing quite a few people on Lairig (and that there seemed to be a lot of death marching going on), and feeling pretty good.  Arm swinging, leg shuffling, and even 'running' some of the inclines (I think....!).

When you start to see the torches of the Wilderness Rescue post it becomes a strong focus to get there - torches, flags, and random fizzy pop, cheerfully dished out by Jeff and his crew.

Then the next focus is 'the corner' (which took ages coming...and plenty of headwind and rain before we got there) and then it's all about Lundavra.

We 'stormed' into Lundavra, to be welcomed by the marshal, and to find Clark asleep in the car.  I told Lorna to just leave him, but she rightly pointed out he'd not know we'd passed and might miss us finish!  So with a rousing knock on the window, he sprung into life, fed me some water, and then we were off!  (Clark then apparently drove out of the checkpoint, forgetting Davie and Julie were also there...sleeping in their car....)

More people to try and pick off on the next section into the woods...Lorna had a wee motivational tale to tell me and RVB's it was....and that was it right to FW!  

The rain was getting heavier and the wooden steps were pretty darned slippy.  My headtorch then ran out (I'd been running it on airport landing light setting) but thankfully I had a spare hand torch which saw me up to the fire road and down to FW.  The climb to the fire road was endless and I was chuntering to myself a lot...come on, come on, come on, come on...and Lorna again had a great wee mantra to help me 'If you can take it, you can make it'....and I bloody well knew I could....the top of that fire road is when you truly know you've nailed it and it was sooooo close!

We were there!!! And breathe......sh%t, this was really happening again....

I still had no idea how I was doing time-wise.  I'd not looked at my Garmin since Balmaha, and other than seeing Clark's watch briefly at Lundavra, when it showed I wasn't a million miles off last year, I wasn't actually giving it another thought.  Over this distance, terrain and conditions, to be still moving and near finishing is perfect enough for me.

A brief walk to catch our breath over the top of the wee slope and then it's down, down, down, down..... Had to stop and put the big waterproof on as it was getting colder and wetter (well, it was 2-3am in the morning!) but I think I managed a pretty good pace for longish stretches (I can't get my Garmin stats to download but I'm sure Lorna said we were doing sub-9 min/miles, which after 90+ miles I'm happy to take!).

Pushed on to Braveheart after overtaking another couple of people, and then had the incentive to not want to be caught!
Through the finish line
(Photo by Clark Hamilton)

Along the road and to the 30mph sign...nearly there, so close....and then surprised at the climb (I don't remember that at all!).  Lorna checked the timings, and I think I checked mine..I'd missed last year's time, but Lorna wasn't going to let that be the end of it...'sub-26hrs 20m?'....and with a roll of the eyes, we were off.....400m to go seemed forever...and then into the carpark and through the finish! 

Relief, exhaustion, tears, hugs...(and a finish photo this year!) . It's all a bit of a blur from there....a final weigh in, some hello's, more hugs, more tears, a seat, some tea and toast, dry clothes, bobble hat.......helped back down the steps and into the car....a wee drive back along the road to see if David M was coming (he'd been close at Lundavra apparently)....didn't see him but then remembered I'd not stopped my Garmin...ooops.... Back to the hotel....warm shower....clean bed.....achy legs....bed hogging dog...

13 mins FASTER on this section than last year but down 11.5 mins overall.  I'll take it thanks!

The Aftermath

Everything feels pretty surreal when you've completed.  I always say to people 'things will never be the same again', and they aren't.  Many people have posted this week about not knowing how to explain or talk about it to those who haven't been involved either as runners or crew and it's so true....to most people it is just unfathomable and often it's easier not to try!

Receiving my precious second goblet
from John Kynaston (and confessing I didn't PB)
(Photo by Clark Hamilton)
The prize giving was as emotional as ever.  Paul Giblin got another massive tear-filled ovation for smashing his record, and it was brilliant to see many many friends receive their goblets for their heroic efforts (everyone is a hero, whether in one piece or having battled to complete!).

I did have a bit of a melt-down and had to step outside before the end (either that or risk puking mid-ceremony!) but thankfully it didn't come to anything.  Just sheer exhaustion I think!

And so,I have goblet number 2!  

There are so many thank you's to be said and hopefully I have managed to communicate them well to the people who I should've done.  It goes without saying (but I will) that the race relies on the committee and a huge team of volunteers to make the magic happen, which they do, so thank you to each and every one of you.

And to the crews and supporters and other runners - to anyone who shared a 'well done', clapped, sent messages etc - thank you for caring.  To the friends who got me through the year, listened to my worries and shared in my highs!  Here's to the years ahead!

And most of all to my crew- you were just fabulous in every way.  I hope I did you proud and you got some wee memories to last your lifetime, as I sure have a bucketful from my day with you all.  I just cannot thank you enough for all you did.

And finally Clark...for motivating me in the dark times, putting up with me and my annoying habits when training (and probably in general)....and all the other stuff besides that....

'Acceptance' speech over....just thank you...and thank you some more..

Is that the end......I suspect not...... I love this race, the family....it's part of my DNA.