"There will be weather"

It's been a long time coming this write up, and I'm hugely proud and thankful to be in the position for it to be a success story.  The hard graft has been worth it - it's not just all about the gilet, although essentially that's the physical outcome, along with the aches, pains and glory!

Physically and mentally, this race has been eating away at me for the last 3 years - with a DNF in 2015, and a fail in the ballot in 2016, this was the year I had wanted to make it count, and it has eaten into my soul almost every waking hour, especially these last 8 months.  Every day had to count - would decisions take me closer to, or further away, from my goal?

Getting through the ballot was just the start - and with CCC having a 50:50 chance, and my prior year ballot rejection meaning a 'double shot', the odds were pretty good. The wait is always nerve-wracking though.  And then the work begins - breaking the enormity and timeline into manageable chunks, and getting a realistic, stretching and achievable training plan in place. Being married to a PT helps here, but only when you're actually prepared to listen and do the sessions (and yes, that means the speedwork too!). 

So to fast forward a bit (those who have read my Fling blog will know that the training worked that far), the summer consisted of a lot of yomping in the Scottish munros, in mostly questionable Scottish weather - some of this was fun (double Ben Lomond's), some less so (Ben More!!), yet each had a role to play in taking me closer to my goal.  And little did I know at the time that the inclement conditions would prove more beneficial than ever expected!

The speedwork dialled back a little, and mid-week hills were added,supplemented most weeks by 2 hours of hot yoga (helps with the potential heat acclimatisation, in addition to strength and flexibility), and some strength work in the gym (again following a programme Clark wrote for me, covering upper body/core/lower body as appropriate).  One of the hard things to get your head round is the lack of training miles covered - we were out for 6-8 hours some days and covered less than half-marathon in most cases!  It's all about the vert!

And I pretty much nailed all the training I needed to do.  There's always a wee part of you that wants to fit more in, but when you're trying to hold down a full-time job, do some sports massage, sleep, be a little bit sociable, and try not to be an entirely sh!t wife, you can't have utopia all the time!  And it certainly required sacrifice, and a lot of early mornings.

Oh,and on top of that, I also managed to fit 6 sessions in the climate chamber at Napier Uni into the plan - increased altitude, heat and humidity across the course of a month, again, trying to mitigate any of the things that might cause me grief on race day!

About a month before the race, I got a tick bite after a weekend run on Ben Ledi.  Having got the little bugger out quickly, it was only a concern 2 days later when I'd felt sicky and dizzy, and the puncture wound showed the tell-tale bullseye signs that things weren't right. Seeking a quick bit of advice from WHW medic Sean, I scuttled off to the GP's and got put straight on 2 weeks of antibiotics.  Hopefully that did the trick, although still in the final week or so before heading out to Chamonix I was feeling tired and headachy, and I'm hoping that was just taperitis, and the fighting off of all the lurgies everyone around me seemed to have, and not anything lingering.  Post-race I'm still feeling like that,and again, hoping it's recovery related and not Lyme's disease brewing!  So anyway, that meant tapering was a bit more abrupt than planned, as I also had to fit a work trip to London for 3 days into my final week!

And so to Chamonix, on the Monday morning Easyjet flight, along with the company of several other runners and supporters - that's one of the great things about this event - a really strong and decent group of folk going over, so you know you'll get good company at every turn.  It always seems to take longer than I expect to finally get there - with flight delays, bus transfers etc, it was 'tea time' before Julie and I were meeting Helen and John at our apartment.                                                                                                                                 

Over the next couple of days, the plan was to get high (making use of the chair lift passes),and do some touristy stuff (namely for me, to get to Lac Blanc, which we did on Wed)....and to not fall over!  I had a wee run on the Tuesday with John from Plan d'Aguille to Montroc just to test the legs (which seemed unnecessarily achy), and that was it.  Weather was good, and it was nice to be in skort/vest for a change!  It was also lovely to catch up with many other friends (Karen, Dod, David, Mel etc), and also get some time with the legendary Bob Allison, who gave me several pieces of great advice (especially regarding the weather), and confidence, which I carried with me on race day.  Bob has now completed the full UTMB 5 times, along with many other great achievements, and also summitted Mont Blanc only a week before the race - a true inspiration of not letting  'health issues' stand in your way! What was really hard with the race not being until Friday was to not get sucked into the 'I'll just have another wee beer'....                                                                     

Wednesday was also registration day - well, day 1 of...and I wanted to get through it then to allow for any errors to be corrected on Thursday if necessary!  It's a daunting task of making sure you have every item on the compulsory kit list, which you get a random print out demanding you show it (and in the case of jackets, this year they were checked several times!), and only when you succeed are you rewarded with your race number and wrist band!  Caroline and I went together - safety in numbers!  And Julie came along to see this side of the race organisation!

Tiring couple of days,and with the weather closing in on Thursday, it was time to entrench on the sofa and try to relax, rest, and stop worrying about sore bits.  I have to say, I was proper stressed by this point, and had a couple of wee emotional moments to myself.  Partly caused by the increased weather stress and the text from the organisation saying they were potentially going to change the route, then not, and then in the end they did!  It was all due to safety, as even with the full compulsory kit, being high up the mountains in a storm is not a clever place to be!  I went out to try and watch some of the OCC runners, and it was all a wee bit too much for my nerves, so hid away again and tried to just nap.

And so,with an early night while my house mates were all still out, it was race day before I knew it!  I'd laid all my kit out and tried to creep around without waking anyone. It felt really weird not having a wee 'good luck' or hug to see me off, but it was the wee small hours of the morning, and I was meeting Caroline to share the bus journey to Courmayeur and the pre-race stress! While I was anxious, Caroline was totally calm, aside from worrying about getting cold (something which unfortunately ended her race earlier than hoped).  The bus ride was quicker than I remembered, and we soon disembarked in Italy, where we were met with almost clear skies, and the unexpected promise of far nicer weather than we had anticipated.  We chilled out in the sports center for about an hour and then headed up to the start.

The atmosphere was electric as 9am drew closer (drones and race helicopters flying overhead and the comperes whipping the crowds into a frenzy).  By chance Caroline and I were both in the first start pen with the first wave (along with a friend of Caroline's, Ben, who moved way up closer to the front, while we hung nearer the back (this was after all the same start pen as the elite!!)).  This proved to be hugely beneficial to me, as I had no 'need to catch up' stress I had felt in 2015, and there were fewer bottle-necks than I'd had in this section in 2015.  'All' I had to do was make up up this first (b*starding) climb without dying and then I'd truly feel like I was on my way, and beating the demons that have haunted me for the last two years. In 2015 I DNF'd at the summit.

This was the 1300m climb up Tete de la Tranche over the first 10k of the race.....and I nailed it!  Taking time to breathe (a wise man (John Munro) had text me before the race with the advice to be 'patient' with the climbs) and step aside when I needed to (not through death, just to get composure and let some of the narky European's through (I really must learn some French/Spanish/Italian!)).  It was just over 3 hours of climb, with increasing temperatures, and I felt ecstatic at the top....now it was time for me to really begin the journey!  The views here were amazing (I didn't take any photos!), a real privilege to run in.

As the story would go for most of the day, on climbs I felt pretty strong and in control; on descents, the majority of runners have some sort of kamikaze death wish (especially in the dark, on the technical and exceptionally muddy descents later in the race!).  The other sound advice/interpretation of my 'fear' of descending that I'd had pre-race was to 'respect' the mountains. So between patience and respect, those were my mantras for the 25.5 hours!  

Poles (Leki Micro-carbon) were a god-send, as were my shoes (Altra King MT).  Overall my whole kit choice was pretty great.  I opted for my Salomon S-Lab skort and vest, X-Bionic arm sleeves, Compressport calf sleeves, DryMax socks, and Runderwear undies.  My UltimateDirection jacket was brilliant, and my OMM waterproof trousers certainly stood the test (this was the first time I've run any great distance in them).  I took an Icebreaker 260 merino long sleeve which I put on at Champex (more on this shortly), and also carried a Rab down gilet and Salomon long tights (neither of which I wore (long tights were compulsory, gilet was a safety add based on my fear of the impending cold!)).  I chose my new UTMB skip visor and Buff headband to give me motivation (always feels weird wearing race kit you haven't 'earned'!).

So, back to the race....down into Bertone (where last time signified the tears/official withdrawal), passing one guy who had a nasty fall....stay upright, stay upright..... and a smile for the camera (just in case anyone was watching the live feed).  I lost about 74 places on the descent LOL.  A plethora of coke, coffee, noodle soup, snack bars, biscuits.... very hard to get in and out quickly but I did my best, stocked up my Tailwind and yomped out, swigging the last of my coffee and having a chat with another British guy who was waiting on his mates faffing around.  The race numbers all have your name and national flag which makes it easier to strike up a chat, and many of us were also wearing the labels they gave us for our backs with similar flag/name (these should be compulsory!).  

The next section, again very beautiful, with HUGE mountains, was pretty runable, and by now the crowds had thinned so it was easy just to trot along and mostly pass/be passed with ease.  7km to Refuge Bonatti taking about 1hr 25m and gaining back almost 40 of the lost places.  As I made my way up the climb to the checkpoint I hear my name being called out - "Wow, someone has good eye-sight" I was thinking that they were reading my race number, only to realise it was Carrie Craig out supporting!  Great to see a friendly face and get some chat (whilst quaffing more coke), before pushing onto the next stage (and blessed with the realisation that the next big climb wasn't actually coming next!).  One of the really useful things the race also do is put a huge board up at each checkpoint saying where you are, where next checkpoint is, the cut-offs, profile, distance and ascent/descent. This was great to get your head in place for the next section.

About another hour of decent trail through the valley (only 5km) and a drop down into Arnouvaz checkpoint,which was a bit manic, with people shoving a little, like the noodle soup was going to run out! I tried again to get out of here swiftly (and got started on the soup), and the stats show I made up another 46 places (probably people lost in the food fight!).  Weather still good, although wind was picking up a little.

And so the climb starts, and the clouds start to close in....  We had 14km to the next checkpoint and a massive climb up Grand Col Ferret (about 800m ish).  I actually LOVED this climb!  The temperature dropped and we got some 'proper Scottish' weather (including hail).  All around me,runners were donning waterproofs, thermals and woolly hats.....I went up in skort, vest, arm sleeves...only putting on my thin gloves at the top ("Welcome to Switzerland" announced the cheery marshal, thick in the cloud!!).  Later as we approached La Fouley, I was chatting to a girl who said I was 'proper nails' for going across in my vest!  I seriously felt fine!!  I gained 84 places on the climb, and a further 41 on the drop to La Fouley which was interesting!  What I found in a few sections though was guys running the downhills and then walking the flatter runable bits (which I ran!).

La Fouley was another baptism in checkpoints.  There had been no views, and rain on/off all the way down so things were getting a bit dreary.  It was only 18:15 when I got there, and I'd not been expecting to have to consider a head-torch until at least the next checkpoint. However, it was a melee of people strapping theirs on, so I figured I should follow suit!  I also put my waterproof on as the rain was picking up.  In all I did a decent job getting through in 14 minutes, and off onto the long tarmac runable section....hadn't expected this at all!  Got chatting to another British guy (I'm going to pretend he was called Tom), and chatted about future plans (both considering Cape Wrath in 2020), and the state of skiing at Cairngorm...this really helped pass the time, although I lost him when the climb started again.  'Interesting' section this one, because after long descent down the tarmac (not sure but could've been 10km of the 14km), suddenly a glimpse of Champex-Lac high, high,high above us, giving clear indication of the impending (b!tch (Helen's word!)) of a climb we had to do to reach it!  Up, up, up in a wee convoy of bodies...everyone of us with a headtorch adorning our heads, and everyone of us seemingly not wanting to switch theirs on until we REALLY had to near the top, when suddenly BOOM it was dark, too dark to see!!  And then a scuttle into the war-zone that is the Champex checkpoint!  Holy moly!!

So, we're 55km in...kind of half-way...and it's like I've stepped into another universe! I've also made up quite a few places (although I think LOTS of folk dropped out here)! A marquee which was who knows how massive, full to bursting with a hugely efficient food service of everything from fruit segments to pasta (big queue though), TV screens announcing your arrival to any crew you might have (who are sectioned into the back until you're there), a Garmin charging team, and probably seating for 400 runners in varying states of competency, and from every nation across the world!  You could easily get lost here - I likened it to a refugee camp - and I lost about 40 minutes here (it was hard to find a seat, queue, fight off people skipping the queue etc, and also needed to get long sleeved, warm, dry kit on, charge Garmin, text Clark for some support).  What I also didn't appreciate was during my time here that the downpour had dialled up to nuclear, so when I finally started to make my way out, I had to back track to don my waterproof trousers and Marigolds (lifesavers! Properly waterproof!!).  We forget how lucky we are with the Scottish races where everyone knows you, you have drop bags with your favourite food, a 'left-overs' table to browse, and the 'support' to kick your ass back out onto the trail quickly!

I was now onto territory I'd been on before - last August on a recce with Dave Hetherington. I knew the scale of the climb/descent to come although I'd only done it in the daylight/heat! Things started to take much longer now, and in hindsight I probably wasn't fuelling as well as I could for the remainder of the race, or maybe not getting the caffeine balance right. Learning points for the future!

Climb,climb,climb up Bovine where you can see the headtorches way way above your head, probably an hours climb above you.  It was properly wet, and getting cold.  I could see my breath and feel my throat and lungs burn with the cold.  The raspy cough started, and a couple of times I stopped to let a convoy of people pass (I suspect they were pacing behind me, but I didn't need the company). And the mud.  Again the poles and shoes were priceless.  But I would come to despise the mud over the next 13 hours.  Thick, gloopy, and pre-mushed by probably 3,000+ OCC/CCC runners before me!

I'd half thought the checkpoint would be at Bovine,although it wasn't...there was a further stretch and start of descent before the glimmer of music wafted to my ears and the sound of a generator?!  I convinced myself I was delusional, however the barn at La Giete appeared, with a chance for a short rest, some 'soup' (no noodles!) before slippy, sloppy, slidey down to Trient.  I also made up over 100 places on this section,despite more kami-crazies trying to wipe me out (not sure it was a bonus or curse that I knew how steep some of the drops were on this section!!)

Trient.  I'm sure Dave Hertherington told me the race stops here.  I should text him?  I should just stop?  I seriously cannot face any more of that god-awful mud! The portaloo's here were immaculate (time for a luxury pee and wee rest before hitting the 'mess tent').  I dropped my Garmin here to be recharged too, removing that layer of stress (well, changing it slightly as they still weren't any faster!).  Less carnage here, more soup/coffee/cheese..and a breakout of the emergency Mrs Tilly's fudge.  In reality I didn't know what I needed, and was losing the motivation to find a seat/move/what to do. It has taken FOREVER to get here.  People seemed to just be sitting around with no expectation of moving.  That's when you get cold though...I don't want to be cold...grab some coffee...move on....  Damn, Garmin hasn't really charged much...wait a couple more minutes and then bite the bullet...outta here....

Two minutes out of the checkpoint and the headtorch flutters.....BATTERIES!  A wee seat on the tarmac and change the rechargable for 'normals', then march on....try to get away from the girl with her phone app announcing pace/distance/time etc every kilometer....

More up, up, up and headtorches (and actual stars) high, high,high above me.  Again a climb I've been on.  Just get it done.  Cough, cough, yomp, yomp....breathe.....relax....be patient.... and finally a wee glowing pod of a checkpoint comes into sight. I treated myself to a wee nano rest as it had been about 1.5 hours of climb on this stretch with no respite...and little did I expect but another 2 hours to the next checkpoint through the section from hell!! Not sure if the headtorch or my brain was failing here but the nausea was growing.  I changed torch but still couldn't get good focus.  The mud.....(refer to previous statement about how grueling it was), the gradient, the switchbacks, the dark (when would it end), the technicality of the terrain, the kami-crazies (lost some places again), did I need to eat or drink or have caffeine?.....WHERE THE F^CK IS THE CHECKPOINT??  Vallorcine came into sight and then vanished (this shouldn't have been a surprise), and still I was thinking Dave H was probably right to have ended his race at Trient on a couple of occasions. 

My head was definitely down here (I don't even need to review the checkpoint video to know I didn't even try and crack a happy face).  But with 'only' a half-marathon to go there was no question of pulling the plug here!  I tried to force some food in, and a British guy supporting someone else gave me a couple of pep talks, which despite my vacant grunting replies (oh, I may have said something bad about the f&cking mud) I really appreciated.  Tried to charge the Garmin a bit (proved to not be enough in the end), and definitely didn't take on enough fuel here before pushing on. Still in full waterproofs and headtorch, and intrigued to know what the next section with the course deviation would bring.  I made some more places between here and Col De Montet and suspect this is maybe due to a poor job in the Vallorcine checkpoint.

At the Col carpark, and checkpoint, and start of the climb,it was time to start peeling some kit off in various stages.  Partly I was too hot...and it wasn't actually raining anymore...and it was daylight so didn't need the torch.....and also, when I'd visualised my race finish, it didn't comprise of pictures of me in full waterproofs, thermals and covered in mud from the waist down!  Simple motivations!!

I appear to have lost a load of places on the climb to Flegere on this deviation route.  The initial climb was 'ok', however I slowly realised we hadn't gained enough height to be above Flegere when they started to drop us down what proved one of the most technical sections of the whole race (one of my fellow competitors referred to it as being punished for something we hadn't done, and I'm minded to agree!).  My fueling fail was catching up on me, and my sense of humor had gone AWOL.  

We reached the low point of the descent (and of my race) at a sign-post which said 1hr 40m to Flegere.  I tried to calculate the cut-offs.  I knew this was a hiking sign, and that 'usually' I can half the time and be at the destination.  In my exhausted state it was going to be a challenge.  I knew where I was - I'd been on this path with Helen earlier in the year - I knew it was going to be a big ask.  I should also have text Clark/Helen at this point as I knew I was taking longer than I should have.  I just couldn't face taking my phone out.

Others were sitting around having snacks at the side of the path....didn't they realise the enormity of this?!?  There were almost tears. I almost quit.   REALITY CHECK!!! There was no way I was going to give up without a fight - I'd push on and then fight my cause at the checkpoint if I needed to. I couldn't just give up less than 15km to the finish!!

We climbed, relentless, painful and slow.  When we emerged from the trees, there was a string of zombies shuffling into the cloud towards the checkpoint.  Keep. On. Moving.

More bodies sprawled in the tent.  I grabbed some coke and asked the lead marshal how long we had to get to the finish....'Ah....not good.....maybe hour and half.....'.  BOOM, no problem I said, I can do it in less than that.  And with a toss of my coke into the dirt I was off. Girl on a mission.  In hindsight, I suspect he was a little mean with his answer, as it took me about 1hr 20m to get to the finish from here, and I was well (ish) within the cut-offs! Nevertheless, it pushed me on, and I got the job done.  It's a quad breaking descent, and La Floria seems to be way further than it should be. My stomach was crying out for food, and I only had a few nibbles left, which weren't appealing, but had to do.

The last wee bit of trail and I hear Helen yelling at me - woohooo!! I've made it (almost!).  I think I asked if she was there as they thought I'd got lost......  We set off along the tarmac to the town.  I needed to walk a few bits. My lungs were burning and my heart racing (too much caffeine?  or the knowledge I was on the brink?).  The course finish is special in that you get a decent lap around the town...coming in along the river, and then along the main street, passing the crowds of supporters, and those out just enjoying their breakfasts.  I like to think that being a bit slower than I'd maybe hoped meant more chance for supporters....hahahaha....

Helen took a wee short-cut to notify the troops I was alive, and to get my flag ready. It was awesome to see everyone's smiley faces to lift me...

And the crowds. WOW, just WOW!  I've been one of the crowd, but never the other side, and I can safely say, I never had a race finish like it.

I took the time to enjoy (one of Bob's pieces of advice was to lap it up, make sure you get some clear space, and to enjoy it).  

So I did!  

I waved my Saltire with pride, with the emotion of the 25.5 hours I'd been running for, with the emotion of the last 3 years, of the support I knew I was getting from home, and because I'D DONE IT!!!

Link to video of The finish!  

By the way - it's bloody hard to hold your flag up when your arms are so sore!!

I finished 1,484 of 2,155 starters.  With 413 DNFs there were 1,742 finishers.

It doesn't really matter what position.  My aim was a finish, and that's what I did!

The race was won by Hayden Hawks in 10hrs 24m.  I'm astounded by how people can cover it so fast!

UTMB Runner Page incl video links

I said a lot of bad words at the end to pretty much everyone who asked (and probably some who didn't).  It was horrendous and I really had to dig deep.  I really struggled with the technical descents in the dark in the mud (even though the weather being 'Scottish' was probably a bonus!).  

NEVER.  AGAIN.

By the light of the next day, the world changes (and not just because the sun came out!).  It's not all just about what happens on race day.  It's a cliche but it's a journey.  You get back what you put in.  For me a HUGE part of this is about the training, the discipline and the focus on getting the result.  So it's not just about those 25.5 hours or the gilet.  It's the hundreds of hours, the thousands of feet climbing, the cross-training, the marginal gains so many elements of your life can contribute. And wrapped up in that, all the races on the way over the years that contribute to the 'points' needed to even enter the ballot.  I feel blessed to have been able to earn my points with Scottish races that very firmly hold tight onto my heart-strings!

It's about offsetting the stress of life, something that can be owned and to a certain extent controlled. My decisions, choices and trade offs. 

And around that the support network.  A husband who understands what it means and what it needs, who is prepared to accept those trade-offs and what some of the decisions mean. The friends who 'get it' (including those who will help you take your manky shoes and socks of death off post-race (thanks John!),listen to you gibber nonsense, and check you don't keel over in the shower (thanks Helen!)), and those who don't 100% understand, yet are interested enough to ask why/how/what and praise the progress they can see you are making.

I'm fitter and stronger than I think I've ever been, and hope/plan to sustain that!

So....never again.....until the next time......#Chamonix20XX......let's make some plans!

(note...I think I'm still in a state of shock, and definitely still in recovery....I reserve the right to be emotional, sleepy, confused.....just like normal ;-))