D N F

The rain was bucketing from the heavens, it was after midnight, I'd been running for over 12 hours, I felt like sh!t.....I knew it was over.  Lap 14 had been a misery fuelled shuffle, and mostly power march round the course, dropping my average pace below where I needed it to be at that stage, and dropping my core temperature to sub-zero, whilst fighting the voices in my head.

This was totally not the plan, and I'm not generally a quitter.  Even the best prepared runners cannot guarantee that everything will come good on race day, and I had a few reasons for failure this time around.

Photo of base camp swamp by Cat Adams

Some idea of the massive hailstones

Our tent after the hail (photo by Clark)

To put things into some perspective before I continue my tale of woe, I did manage to cover 56 miles in 12 hours 35mins, in some of the most horrendous conditions.

Clark and I travelled up on Friday afternoon, having packed what seemed like the entire contents of our house into the car again this year (having a few days holiday after the race is a great idea but means there's a need for wetsuits, bike gear.....).  Thankfully, Helen and John were lending us one of their spare tents again, so 'home' was already in place when we arrived (interestingly close to the portaloos...which hadn't been in situ when they had pitched up!). 

We'd also had to make an emergency stop on the way up to get my pirate fancy dress outfit after the place I'd first ordered from had let me down!

The weather was ok on the drive up, and we were hopefully for favourable conditions like last year, despite the forecast... However, that was not to be....

We went into Aviemore for some good scoff, and then back up to the pirate party for a short while.  I was still feeling pretty wiped out from the bug I'd had the prior weekend/week and after a hard week at work, I'm always ready for a friday sleep.  In hindsight, ideally I'd have taken some sick leave from work when I had been feeling ropey.  The battle in my head was that it was a bit rich to take time off sick and then go on holiday with the aim of running 100 miles, so I opted to try and ride the illness out.  At the end of the day, work is unfortunately the priority, and running 'only' a hobby....

I didn't get much sleep Friday night.  It was really cold, so I whacked on my massive down coat and that helped.  I woke with a really sore throat though, which I did put down to the cold, clear air...popped a couple of paracetamol, and hoped it wasn't anything more serious.

Me & Helen before the start (photo by David Mooney)

After some breakfast, race prep and general fannying around I tried to get some more rest before the race briefing. And with 5 minutes to the start, I almost forgot to pin on my number (risking the wrath of Ada from the outset! Pheeew!).  I was feeling ok at this point. My throat was still a bit rough.  Nothing I thought I couldn't run off...

I ran the first lap mostly with Kerry Sweeney and had a good blether.  Timing wise was ok and it felt good to be started. I made sure I lapped my Garmin at the start/finish, and pulled into my support tent for some juice and snacks.  The plan being to eat and drink at every passing (including taking water at the 2 mile aid tent each lap).  The fuelling plan went well, and throughout most of the time I remained in the race, I ate well and had no issues - taking on haribo, tea, coffee, Clark's magic pork and chorizo casserole, coke, cheese, ginger beer, squash, fruit, a couple of chocolate coffee beans...only one gel, and no Nuun.  The one thing that didn't agree with me was a Food Doctor Cous Cous pot, which I'd enjoyed last year!

End of Lap 4 (photo by Clark)

The rain eased off at the end of my third lap I think...by this point I was soaked through.  Clark made me leave my jacket to try and dry it out, while I went off for another lap in my long sleeved.  This was wet through and I changed it (and the t-shirt I had on underneath!) for a short sleeved for lap 5 as the conditions looked to be improving.

Lap 5 was a head burster, and that was before the hail storm just as I finished it.  I'm actually starting to think that I actually only really get into an event after about 25-30 miles, and I sure wasn't feeling the love at this point.  I think I'd taken a couple more paracetamol at the start of the lap as my throat was still sore, and my left ankle was starting to make grumbling noises at me. I was trying to play mind games with myself like 'top 5 favourite Kylie songs (don't judge me!!)....

 After a couple of coffee beans and some coke at the end of this lap I did have a wee resurrection though and felt quite chipper for a good few laps.  I'd also decided I was going to start counting the laps downwards rather than up...so lap 6 was actually lap 20, lap 7 was lap 19 etc..and this was quite motivating (when I could actually remember which lap I was on).  The thunder on lap 6 was a bit scary pants time (thankfully I didn't see the lightening), as it rattled right down the glen and seemed to linger for ages....

And so it went on.  I wasn't at all enjoying the first section of the course this year.  The first section through the trees was water logged, and I just couldn't find the fun.  I enjoyed the hill after the aid station (which as usually was manned all through by singing, dancing, motivational folk), and I was enjoying the long downhill for most of my time out there.  In my head, each lap was 'done' when I got to the corner at the top of the downhill (which is weird, as that's still over a mile to the actual end..).

Yes, he did wear that outfit for the whole race!
And apparently wasn't feeling the cold the rest of us were!

I stuck my music on for lap 7, despite the fear my iphone might drown, even in a plastic bag. This was earlier than expected but did help, as I wasn't really seeming to be in pace with anyone for long, and other than a few quite pleasantries, there is a lot of 'quality' time with the voices in your head.  I only had one wee happy crying wobble (just before Johnny Fling, eventual winner of the guys race, passed me) whilst listening along to Dolly Parton..

I've chased after rainbows
I've captured one or two
I've reached for the stars
I've even held a few
I've walked that lonesome valley
Topped the mountain, sowed the sky
I've laughed and I have cried
But I have always tried

I've always been a dreamer
And dreams are special things
But dreams are of no value
If they're not equipped with wings
So secure yourself for climbing
Make ready for the flight
Don't let your chance go by
You'll make it if you try

So try to be the first one up the mountain
And try to be the first to touch the sky
And try to be the one who makes a difference
Try to put your fear and doubt aside
And try to make the most of every moment
'Cause if you never try you never win
So try each day to try a little harder
And if you fall, get up and try again

Nothing is impossible
If you can just believe
Don't live your life in shackles
When faith can be the key
The winner's one who keeps determination in his eyes
Who's not afraid to fly and not afraid to try

So try to be the first one up the mountain
And try to be the first to touch the sky
And try to count your blessings and keep counting
And try to soar where only eagles fly
And if you fail at first just keep on trying
For you are not a failure in God's eyes
The first step is the one that's always hardest
But you won't amount too much if you don't try
So spread your wings and let the magic happen
Cause you'll never really know if you don't try

(Read more: Dolly Parton - Try Lyrics | MetroLyrics )

The end of the 12 hour race (photo by Clark)

So, where did it all go wrong those of you who have read this far might be asking??

A combination of things - some I felt I could have controlled and those I couldn't.

I went over on my left ankle several times on the last 3-4 laps.  Some of this was to do with trying to avoid the puddles...I stopped doing that, yet still had some wobbles.  This ankle has been a wee bit jippy since WHW.  Can't find anything majorly muscularly wrong, despite rest, rehab, massage etc, and I managed to run through it with no trouble at other events and in the training runs I have done.  It just felt more unstable and more painful on Saturday night.

My right knee seemed to be imploding on the downhill 3 laps from the end.  This is the knee that I damaged my medial ligament about 5 years ago doing BodyPump and didn't do the right (i.e. rest and rehab) thing at the time and was one of the contributing factors to my stopping running completely 4/5 years ago, getting fat, and deciding (and then being told by the physio) I was never going to run distances again....

These 2 things were the biggest factors I wasn't prepared to risk. Ending up out of action with considerable muscle/ligament/joint/whatever damage is not part of any long term objective on my list!

I was cold and wet...this was in my control (partially) to get over or deal with.
It seemed darker than I thought it should be (even with my fabulous headtorch and a handheld). 
I was moving too slowly, and slowing too early in the race to make the 100 achievable.
At the end of lap 12, I felt over-whelmingly sick.  Not just tired, nausea sick, but proper vomitty sick.  For no apparent reason.  I'd been eating and drinking well, and it literally just hit me in the space of a few seconds and didn't go away.  Had there not been the compounding factors of the knee and ankle I would have run on with the sickness.  There's no shortage of tales of runners puking and getting on with it.  I could have done that..  
History....I have DNF'd once before...in the Edinburgh Marathon the year it ran from Dunfermline into Edinburgh...I'd been unwell the week before....I started to lose speed about 4 miles in....and DNF at about mile 8.....I then ended up off work for about 8-10 weeks with post-viral fatigue.  A repeat of this is also not a viable option I wanted to explore again!  Not for my sake, nor Clark's..nor my employer!

Lap 14 I mostly walked to try and MTFU and get out of the dark place.  I just couldn't.  

The compounding factor for me was missing the 100.  I knew that the rate I was slowing it was no longer a goal I could deliver. It was unlikely that when the light returned I would suddenly get pain free and a burst of speed.  And with that, and all the other voices in my head, it was sensible to call it a day and not risk damaging myself to go any further than the 56.  And I don't say that with any disrespect to the distances everyone ran, it was purely that was what I was hoping to achieve.

It was no easy decision.  Supporters were all cheering as I went through the lap again 'You're going well, looking strong' and yet I knew I was done.  Clark was there, in the rain, as he had been every single lap, ready to feed and water me.  Clearly, I did the usual, and burst into tears, sobbing about putting him through 2 nights camping in a swamp for me to let him down.  As you might imagine, he offered comfort and no criticism (yes, there have been cheeky comments since), and bundled me into the tent to get warm, dry clothes.  Noanie was passing, and I was able to ask her to tell the race crew I was DNF-ing so I didn't have to face that trauma.  She briefly tried to convince me to have a wee sleep and do some more, but I knew I was done.

I climbed into my sleeping bag with every single item of dry clothing I had left on, and tried to convince the dog to cuddle in against me.  I was stinking.  I didn't sleep (god, there wasn't even that 'reward'!).  Everytime I lay down I wanted to puke, and the irritating post-race cough had commence...cough, cough, vomit?

I shed a wee tear each time I heard the horn go for someone breaking the 100 mile barrier. Such respect for everyone who did that, as well as everyone who stayed out, or went back out and carried on.  This year, it just wasn't for me.

Photo by John Kynaston
(Pete Hunter PH, me and Aurel)

I eventually got up, tried to eat, wandered around aimlessly, mostly feeling like complete sh!t, and getting worse.  I felt a bit pathetic for dropping out, especially seeing the effort on the faces of those still going.  I felt ill more than I felt pathetic though.  I must have made the 'right' choice.

Watching the 24 hour runners finish was brilliant.  As the end drew near, the determination grew stronger to complete times, distances or just persevere.  Some (Helen!) even had time to change back into some of their fancy dress outfits from Friday night!  It won't come as any surprise to know I shed a few more tears!

Helen managed a wee can-can on one of her final laps

We didn't last to the prize giving.  My health was going downhill pretty fast, and I'd gone blue, despite the 5 layers of kit I had on.  I just had to get into a shower, and bed!

What went well?
- Feeding strategy (ate/drank every lap with a good variety of sweet/savoury)
- Support (Clark remains awesome, and thank you to John who was mostly there too, and to everyone else who cheered me on either as support crew for others, or as part of the race team)
-Shoes (wore my new Hoka Stinson ATR).  No blisters, no problems.
- Garmin (didn't need charged...ha ha ha..)
- Kit (wore my xbionic 3/4 tights and boxers, compressport calf sleeves, Dirty Girl gaiters, Haglofs jacket, drymax socks to start and new Wigwam socks (soft as a kiss from a new puppy) after about 6/7 laps)

What did I learn?
- Maybe this was a case of FOMO (fear of missing out).  It has been a big year, and I've achieved things I never believed were possible (right from running almost 95 miles at last year's Glenmore to be fair).  This was maybe an effort too much in a space of time since WHW which has seen me complete the DOTH and a 32 mile 10 hour walk.  Too many periods of recovery between events and lack of consistent training not my favourite training plan.
- DNF - Did Not Finish...but maybe also Did Not Fail?  56 miles, 12 hrs 35ish...not a shabby day out?  Or as Clark has just put it "You did finish, you just finished early".
- Dolly Parton wrote/sings some surprisingly motivational songs....

Ha ha

So, now we're at Tuesday.  I'm sitting in a lovely rented house in Aviemore, relaxing.  Last night I sounded like I had pneumonia, today it feels more like man-flu.  Clearly something was fighting inside me stronger than my immunity.  Hopefully a rest this week will shift it. And I know my legs need time to recover too.  They're not protesting at all now (maybe the CurraNZ do ease DOMS?!) but I didn't study all that anatomy and physiology stuff for nothing...hidden wounds take time to heal too.

Still feeling pretty sorry for myself for the DNF.  Deep down I know it was the right decision. Part of the resting and healing will be dealing with that choice.  I still received a medal and race beer for participating.  DNF and 56 miles...total contradiction in my head!

Live, learn, move on.  Glenmore 24, and other races will be there for many years to come. 2014 was not my time to achieve the 100.  Some day it might be.

The box of frogs, the cow bell and the horn

Kinda like 'The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe' but far less comprehensible...

The box of frogs represents how I've been feeling....maybe it's taperitis, maybe it's lurgy...I'm siding with the latter for now...

Since Friday I've been feeling wobbly, a bit shaky and nauseous.  It's a bit better today. Not ideal when it's 5 sleeps (4 if you discount Friday night in a tent in the middle of a pirate party....).  These things are sent to test us though, and get on with it I will.

I think there's still an element of rehab in how I'm feeling too.  I'm not sure race/rest/race/rest is the best plan for me (see previous blogs for bleating on about eating for Britain in the down-time and still not getting the head back into shifting my post-WHW blubber).  I'd just got that spark back last Monday and was dancing about in the land of motivation and training. Pah!

I tried a wee run on Saturday, slow, shuffly, and was ok until anytime I stopped moving, and the shakes resumed.  Hey ho, afternoon on the sofa and a cancelled night out.  Sad times.  

A wee cold water dip on Sunday morning as it was like summer was back.  You can't really call it swimming yet...more just testing the water. Loch Chon was beautiful though...until the midge fest started!  My logic was that the cold water would attack the germs!

I've also been testing some new immunity supplements - Curranz - 100% New Zealand Blackcurrants.  Normal folk should take one a day...athletes 2 before exercise....There's not been much exercise but I'm opting for taking two a day, just to be sure.... Let's see if they can prop me back up!

The cow bell represents the inspiration I've had this last week, following tales of friends and legends as they take on the races making up the UTMB series.  Theirs are not my story to tell, so I won't...but WOW...epic views, epic running and epic guts from all, whether they made it to the finish line or not.

I've thrown it out there...I'd love to be there next year, if I can get fit enough (surely that's within the realms of possibility..or was this year a fluke?), and I've already asked for the time off work!

Ada...the angel with the horn

And The Horn.  This weekend coming sees the final of this year's big aims.  My second stab at Glenmore 24 - the delight that is an event of multiple 4 mile laps around one of my favouritist places for the small matter of 24 hours.

This year, I'm aiming for 'the horn'.  That special moment that signifies you've hit the 100 mile mark.  100 miles!  Holy moly!!

Last year, I did just short of 95 miles...with an aim of 80, and a wee lie down in the wee small hours of the darkness.  It's 'easy' to look back now and say 'what if' and 'why'.  At the time, I know I needed that lie down.  This year, I'm hoping I don't.  Hoping that the mind overcomes the body and keeps me motoring (in a slow dignified shuffly kind of way) right through until the goal is reached.  We'll see...I'm broadly siding with the positive....

It's been a big old year, not to be sneezed at.  Massive achievements and there needs to be time to reflect.  Lots has been learned, and next year's plan adapted accordingly.  There are some niggles and areas to address over the winter.  But for now, Glenmore, I'm coming to get ya!

And now for something slightly different

(and some guy by the name of Bragg...)


A while back, my brother decided he was going to enter the Dorset Doddle...he lives near the route, he does a lot of walking (and cycling) and he wanted a big challenge.

It took me a while to stop fannying around, and eventually I signed up, got flights booked, relying on his generosity to house me, feed me and entertain me for the weekend (which he did without question)!

Timing wise, it was an interesting one...2 weeks after the Devil, a week after the Johnny Fling party and 3 weeks before Glenmore 24....so somewhere in between rest, rehab, training and tapering.  

Pre Selfie on Weymouth promenade

And I was kinda worried that Scott was going to whip my ass....whilst I do some walking during ultra's, I'm not used to walking 32 miles.....I don't have walking shoes, so I wore my Hoka's...and I opted for the southern softy option of walking poles as these were allowed.  I've never done much walking/any events with poles, and I do think they made a significant difference...not least because my left ankle is still a wee bit twingy and I think they helped take the weight (which is still above my tolerance levels) off...

The day before, I was pretty tired...we had a lovely relaxed potter around Sherborne and some coffee/cake, and then home for a disco nap, before a wee 'warm up' walk around the Maiden Castle ruins and then a big scoff to fuel us up for the next day.

Looking back from where we came

The 9am start was fairly civilised as events go, and we had plenty of time for a pre-event selfie, some chit chat with guys Scott knew, and to eye up the competition. These mostly consisted of efficient looking "mature" walkers and a fair collection of runners. I didn't feel any twinges of desire to be running.  
I wasn't expecting to see anyone I recognised. Turns out the event was won, and a new course record set, by some guy called Jez Bragg...ooops!  Ultra running royalty in our midst, and he wasn't even on my radar to look out for!  If only I'd known, I could've got all star struck!

Durdle Door (Dumble Door)

With very little pomp and ceremony, the event started (the organiser pretty much said "if you did it last year, the course is different this year" and then stood down....jeez, helpful!).  The runners shot off along the sea front, and the walkers power marched off and what seemed an unsustainable pace (I was worried!).  Thankfully we eventually settled into a steady, brisk march and the field thinned out pretty quickly (there had been 280 on the entry list).

The course was beautiful, and mostly right along the coast (in places, a little too close to the cliff edge and with no fence for my liking!), with unbroken views out to sea.  

The weather was mostly fine - a fairly stiff breeze (mostly behind us, but at points sidey-ways with a risk of being blown down a cliff!), warm, with a few welcome drizzle showers.

The middle stretch of the course was tough, as billed.  Several steep climbs and descents in rapid succession.

This did lead to some interesting high heart rate readings (who says HRMs are a good idea), with Scott's best idea for lowering his being to crash out flat on the grass.... This did lead to one of the other walkers giving me a row for abandoning him on one of the climbs, while I stood at the top waiting for an opportune near death photo!

Killer stairs - steeper than the
photo suggests!

 With a target time of 10hrs 40m (based on 20 minute mile average) we marched on, with only a few briefs rests for fluids at the checkpoints.  These were disappointing short of cakes/foods supplies, something many people had suggested (along with the low entry fee) as being a key benefit of the LDWA events! (there was some food at the finish but not on the course)

Luckily, we had packed a brilliant picnic - the most awesome sourdough, cheese and ham sarnies, chia charge bars, Mrs Tilly's and an assortment of gels, haribo and pretzels.  We certainly weren't going to be hungry!  And in hindsight, Scott was probably carrying an extra half stone in supplies!  It was an interesting experience actually feeling hungry and able to eat during an event - mostly in ultra's it's more forcing stuff in without actually having the desire for it!

We did get slightly lost a couple of times (the course isn't way marked, you just get an A4 sheet with some instructions and grid references (which would be useful if we'd had a map)).  Our tactic was to follow those who 'knew' where they were going...apparently, even the uncommunicative chap who'd allegedly done the event 20 times, didn't actually know the route....Hmmmm....

That said, we stormed to the finish at Swanage in a target busting 10hrs 5 minutes.  Sweaty, stinky, tanned and dirty.....and well pleased with our efforts!  

Post Event Selfie

I'm especially proud of Scott for his achievements - the furthest he'd ever walked was 17.5 miles (and that was without the company of an ultra runner with walking poles...ha ha ha....take no prisoners!), and he persevered through historic knee issues up and down some ridiculously vertical ascents and descents!  Me?  I already know I'm a stubborn bugger....

Garmin Link

Stubborn

The post-race honeymoon lasted a bit longer than perhaps it should have.

There was the 'recovery' week...lots of chilling on the sofa, a cheeky wee spa day at Gleneagles, a great girls day out in Edinburgh with my sis-in-law telling everyone who'd listen that I'd run the WHW the weekend before, while I knocked back several cocktails and a fair amount of bubbles...

West Beach - Berneray

Following this, there was the 'hospital' week, which saw me back to work, Clark go under the knife, and my head be all over the place. A few wee 2-3 mile shuffles to exercise the dog, but nothing much.  

Thankfully the operation went well, and then week 3 saw us off on holiday to Berneray for some R&R in the sunshine.  No, my tan didn't come out of a bottle!

And then back to work again before another few days off for a wedding.

Pretty much naff all training and a considerable amount of eating and drinking (well, I'd been almost on the wagon for several months....), this was not doing my waist-line or my mental state any good!

And (having spent some time analyzing and trying to deconstruct myself), there's a thought that actually there's a part of this process a little like grieving.  For 2 years, almost every waking thought and decision was about completing the WHW race.  

Now it's done.  It's feels AMAZING, and sureal, and a little like WOW, if I can do THAT, then....  

But it's gone....nothing can take away the achievement, but there's a void where all that training happened, and all that thinking and control was..... (and before anyone says it, training for next year doesn't need to start in earnest...yet)

Even the thought of the impending Devil of the Highlands and the Triple Crown (completing all 3 races on WHW in the same year) couldn't seem to spark the motivation.  Resting after something so epic and traumatic for your body as the WHW is vital. Sometimes it's not about physical pain and scars, there is damage you cannot see or feel, and you need to be mindful of this and not try to carry on like everything is "normal". Maybe I've been a little too mindful?  Or maybe, actually sensible?

Me, Alan & David at the start

So, 6 weeks after WHW saw me arrive at the start line for the Devil.  The longest training run I'd done since was 10 miles.  I'd given the race-day prep very little consideration, and on the whole was pretty relaxed about it.

That's by no means suggesting I thought it was a done deal.  43 miles and some of the toughest WHW climbs is a BIG deal, no matter what.  Be this the first, third or tenth time you've done it, there's no guarantee that even if your training was 100% successful, that you'll complete.  And doing it so close to WHW is not ideal timing.  

I'm just a stubborn, ambitious kinda donkey. I'd decided early on, that if I was to do WHW, I'd try and do the Triple Crown...I may never get the chance again....

There felt to me like there was a 'different' atmosphere about the Devil this year.  There wasn't the same buzz at By The Way the night before and many of the 'regulars' didn't seem to be around that evening, or on race day.  I know there has been a lot of 'healthy debate' about the event, and I'm not going to get into that here.  I think that's a contributor to how this felt though.  And, in honesty, I think this will have been my final run of the 'official' DOTH event, so maybe I felt strange because of that.

Caroline and I approaching Bridge of Orchy

A good number of faces were there to share hello's, last minute panics, and good wishes at registration. I caught up with Caroline...a good friend, who I was lucky enough to share one of the other most amazing running adventures of my life with, 9 years ago when we ran the Chasqui Challenge in Peru (that's a flashback blog for me to write some lonely winters night!).  

A wee sit down at Glencoe

And as fate transpired, we ended up running the whole Devil together - an unplanned turn of events which I believe worked beautifully in both our favours.  We started at the back (my usual outcome) and gradually picked our way along the route.  

At Lundavra (post Red Bull)

The weather gods were kind to us, and when I felt low (pretty much from Glencoe to Jeff's rescue point high on Lairig), Caroline was strong and motivating, and hopefully vice versa (maybe not after Lundavra when I'd had a can of Red Bull and a ton of Kendal Mint cake and got the smell of the finish.....).

My head and body struggled in the middle stretch. Caroline is great at climbing, with many years of munro's in her legs.  I think the WHW was still in mine, and mentally, I wasn't doing the race for the 'right' reasons....and the last time I'd been there, was a whole different ball-game, but most of those memories are still sharply etched across my body.

The finish!

That aside, the end result was success, and elation!  We'd done it, and notched up a very tidy 10hrs 11 minutes to boot!  And we only got wet in the last 4-5 miles!

I'm not going to review the race in anymore detail than that. 

On reflection, for some lessons.....

• Fuelling, I didn't get quite right again this time.  I think the humidity played a part there.
• Kendal Mint Cake was a great addition though.
• Nuun maybe isn't the right fluid in all situations (or I've gone off the flavours I have...)
• Kit, worked well.  Especially saw benefit of the arm sleeves - pulling up and down, rather than on/off. Others are starting to compete for my purple domination though!

A few of the usual suspects having an
impromptu dinner in Real Food Cafe on the way home

I'm delighted with what I've achieved so far this year, and sometimes when I think about it, it just seems crazy....I AM one of those CRAZIES I used to joke about how bonkers they were...

And it's been done with amazing support, and an amazing bunch of friends, who are there for you, every step of the way!

So, what's next?  Well, I've done quite a lot more recovery....wine, cheese, sweeties are all very close friends again....I'm carrying about half a stone more than I'd like (that I need to kick into touch)....and there's a few more events to see me through the next few months.  This weekend I'm off to the South Coast to complete the LDWA Dorset Doddle 32 mile walking event with my brother...course profile looks suitably scary..... And then it's time for Glenmore 24 (and the pre-race pirate party?!?!), and rounding off the year (hopefully) with the Glen Ogle 33(ish).

Not forgetting, last weekend saw Johnny Fling's infamous party....hmmm....maybe there's a whole blog to be written about that.....

Standing In The Hall of Fame

I've had this quote to the left pinned up at my desk for the last 6 months or so (different image, but same words), along with a picture reminding me of the 21st June 2014, the menace of the Devil's Staircase, and that there are some things that money can't buy (a WHW goblet!)

And so, with race weekend past, the mission firmly accomplished, and boy, when my life flashes before my eyes, there's some mighty fine new memories for it to play back to me!

I've been in 2 minds about writing my post-race blog.  Part of me just wanted to say it's indescribable, and unless you've been there you couldn't understand.  But then the reality is that I want to remember this stuff when I'm old and senile, and I know that when I was teetering on the edges of thinking the impossible, it really helped me to read the blogs of people that had been there and done it....so here goes!

One of the kit boxes

Friday 20th
Registration day!  I'd taken Thursday and Friday off work to try and prepare, pack and rest. These happened in varying levels of success, suffice to say on Friday morning I did some panic re-packing, just to make sure my crew could identify my kit easily.
As expected, I over-packed, catering for almost every possible kit and food situation...it's a good job the weather forecast was favourable as that at least allowed me to downgrade some of the 'storm force' options!

At the church hall to register

I'd decided to get a train through to Milngavie mid-afternoon to allow me to check in to the Premier Inn and get some rest.  The train was ok...wee bit emotional as that was me really on the way.  I got some rest, but no real sleep, and the clock seemed to be moving sooooo slowly.  Eventually it got to 8pm, and I got ready to meet Sarah, one of my crew, for dinner, before heading to register.  Weighing in, after a burger and chips, and 2 weeks or so of tapering without cutting back on my food intake, was a fright...but I just had to remind myself that I'd need that 'energy' over the next 2 days to see me through the most frightening thing I've ever attempted!

Wrist band on, race tag round neck, goody bag collected and some hugs and words with various race crew and it was back to the hotel for another lie down before getting my race kit on (I actually managed not to over-dress for a change, starting in shorts and t-shirt as it was a warm night, despite the 1am start) and heading up to meet Clark at the station.

There was an electric atmosphere in the station car park as nervous runners and excited crews thronged around.  It was great to see so many friends, but I tried to keep a bit out of the way, sitting, trying to stay calm on the pavement near the back.  It was hard to hear the race briefing, but we'd all read the detailed notes sent out by the race committee earlier in the week and felt prepared.  Sean reminded us to remove any rings, as he didn't want to have to cut them off us later when we got sausage fingers....so I gave Clark my wedding ring to look after!

Saturday 21st June
And we're off!  Headtorches blazing and cheers from the crowds as we set off into the unknown.  I think I managed to not cry.  I was concentrating so hard on not falling over, after stories from previous years of folk not making it past Mugdock.  One girl fell fairly early on...I hope she was ok...there were already a crowd helping her up when I passed, but she looked pretty shaken.  
It's a horrible time to start running...and maybe that's something I should have tried in training.  I'm not sure how else you can set yourself up for the sheer brutality of it, and what still has to unfold.
I ran steady/slow...the pack quickly moved away....I tried to just focus on me, the path and breathing.  My new headtorch was awesome ("like car headlights" someone in front of me said).  I pretty much ran on my own all the way to Drymen, other than a wee chat with Fiona Rennie.  It was quite a strange and emotional section.  Just before the Carbeth Huts we could see the first shards of a promising early sunrise in the distance.  And at Beech Tree, where Clark, Sarah and Cori were still waiting to see me through, after most of the runners had passed, I realised the enormity of just what I had asked them to go through over the next 2 days too, and I felt really really horrible about it.

Drymen came and went with some encouraging cheers and some wine gums and water!.  I should've ditched the headtorch as I switched it off on the first trail after the road section and then had to carry it over Conic...

I almost tripped on the way down to the bridge before Conic and that gave me a wee jolt into reality, and made me more cautious on the descent than I am usually.
The climb was worth the reward - the view was spectacular....and I couldn't resist a quick picture!

Chatted briefly to a few folk on this section....was quite disconcerted that their patter was mainly "what are the cut-offs...are we going to miss them" (and actually this was quite common chat all the way to Bein Glas), when I was running according to plan.  One chap also proclaimed that this was "the longest 19 miles" he'd ever run as we approached the Balmaha checkpoint....oh dear....didn't he know what was still to come?!?

Approaching Balmaha
(photo by Stuart McFarlane)

Balmaha : Checkpoint 1 : 19 miles : 4hrs 4mins
Bang on schedule into the midge-fest of Balmaha, and Sarah met me at the dib-point to show me over to the car.  I'd ordered coffee and porridge and it was ready for me.  I had some lucozade and some protein/whey drink stuff, gulped the coffee and set off carrying the porridge pot knowing I had the climb coming where I could eat.  I was feeling a bit sicky at this point, and didn't really eat much of the porridge, ditching it at Millarochy (in the bin!).  I was in the checkpoint for about 8mins.

The next stretch again was fairly quiet for other runners, and I think I stuck my headphone in.  I started to feel the enormity of the day ahead and couldn't get thoughts of the huge climbs still come later in the day, and the miles still left to run out of my head.  This was odd for me...usually my mentality breaks ultra's into manageable chunks, and I should've just been thinking about the next 7 miles to Rowardennan, rather than what was to come another 60 miles up the trail!

Rowardennan : 26 miles: 1hr 57m : Total Time 6hr 1min
Again, pretty much on schedule.  I wasn't actually looking at my garmin at all during the race.  I'd said from a while back I just wanted to run how I felt as I don't think you can predict how you're going to feel with something this monstrous!
This is where the tears started though - I saw Katie Hall (& someone?) at the dib point - they checked me in, said nice things, and who knows why that set me off.  Just round to the car and I tried to keep it together, but think I sobbed to Clark "there's just SUCH a long way to go, it's just SO hard" (a phrase, or similar (insert swear words as appropriate), I was to use a lot later in the day).  
This was to be the last time I would see my crew for a while, and maybe that had a part to play.
I changed my top and buffs (shame on you, doubters, who said I wouldn't use my entire buff collection....), and was force fed a couple of mini mars bars and some chocolate coffee beans while my water bottles were re-filled again.  Out of the checkpoint in about 8 mins again!

Another tough section ahead...I'd passed Victoria Shanks and Nicola just leaving the checkpoint, and they caught me on the hill.  It was nice to get some chat for a stretch, but then they pulled away when I needed a wee extra breather, and then I passed them a short while later when they had a blister stop.  It was really warm, and my feet were noticeably hot.  I was running in my road shoes with thick Drymax socks for cushioning, but perhaps in the heat these were too thick.....I started to worry about my feet...a lot.....this was the whole tricky lochside section where the feet needed to work, and I had no get out or change option for another 4 hours.  I thought I could feel my toes blistering...and the whole right forefoot starting to burn....

I did a lot of water re-fills from the streams on this section, and was wetting a buff to wipe the midges and sweat off.

Inversnaid drop-bag point finally arrived.  I drank most of a can of Ginger Beer, had a mini rice pudding and some cheese, and I think I ditched everything else.  I should've eaten more.  Mike Adams was just leaving, and I think I gave him my "this is just so ****ing hard" patter".  It really was, and is.  So much harder than the Fling..and we hadn't even got to Fling distance yet.  I guess it's partly the mental aspect, and partly the start time.  I was well trained, so getting to 35 miles shouldn't have felt so tortuous.  There were still 60 miles left to run.

Usually I love the next lochside section with it's knarly roots and danger.  Today wasn't that day though.  I think I'd had some more coffee beans, and probably a couple of caffeinated gels...and some Nuun drink, with caffeine over the last couple of hours and these had started to take effect.  I was like a space cadet.  All over the shop and feeling out of control.  It wasn't good. And my feet were still hot.  Very hot.  I thought a lot about falling and knocking myself unconscious...it seemed a way to get out of the torture.  I stumbled a few times, but no heli-evac was required!
I passed Brian Garry...that shouldn't have happened...but he wasn't having a good day, and was to later unfortunately withdraw.
Heading towards the Angels Playground I had some more tears.  I'd forgotten my "toast" for Dario.  I cried all the way up the climb, and muttered away that it was his doing that I was here...he got me involved in all this nonsense....and it really was, really very ****ing hard.  


Time for a selfie...

 I passed a couple just after this, they were fretting about cut-off times.  I didn't even know or care what the cut-off time was for Bein Glas....just ****ing run!!

I saw Stan just before the Bothy, and he pointed the dry path and said some nice stuff when I said I was having a wobble.  Somewhere before BeinGlas, Karen and George were out too, and they also said similar nice stuff (and that I should've saved the caffeine overdose for later).  I suspect I cried at both these points.....

View of the Bothy

BeinGlas : 42 miles : 4hrs 1m : Total time 10hrs 3min

Did I mention this was really ****ing hard?
(photo by Monument Photos)

Much excitement at this checkpoint as it was manned by Helen and John Munro, so I was subject to a proper amount of hugs (Helen), and abuse (John).  (Ultra)Bob had also arrived, beefing up the support crew.
I'd text ahead to request a chair, a change of shoes and a heap of other things.  I was told I could have a chair if Clark could have a new car (apparently it was in the race crew briefing that someone did once...), so I counter demanded an ice lolly (which I didn't get....(in fairness it was offered to send Bob running to get one)).
Thankfully they'd managed to get parked close to the checkpoint.  Clark's got another slipped disc and gets another operation next week....crewing a race of this proportion while you can't walk, even with a stick, is something of a challenge.
I think the photo says it all.  I was still apparently on schedule.  I still didn't care.  The task ahead was enormous.  There were tears.  I changed into my spare road shoes and thinner socks (well, Ultra Bob changed me), wanting to save the Hoka's for later.  I fed most of the chicken wrap I'd been given to the dog and had some paracetamol.
Just after BeinGlas I saw the first instance of the 'WHW Challenge Race' checkpoints.  I felt sorry for them and their poor little show compared to what I'd just experienced at mine.

Focused! (photo by Amanda MacFarlane)

I passed a few friends on the next stretch - Viki Whoop Whoop and Minty, who unfortunately both withdrew from the race later in the day, and Mike Adams (who later blasted past me on the Devils Staircase and stormed home with a time I don't think he thought he'd see!).  I should've hidden behind Mike and let him tackled the scary monster cows (at the river, not cow poo alley) first....but they didn't kill me, and I breathed a huge sigh of relief.  Serious lack of water on this section and very few streams to re-fill.  I text crew for a change of pack at the next checkpoint to one with a bladder to give me more fluid carrying capacity.

Auchtertyre: 51 miles : 2hr 31 : Total time 12hr 35 min
Time to collect my first support runner, Angela.  And get weighed in.  I'd lost a couple of kg but this was ok.
I'd pre-ordered a chicken mugshot.....I got sweet & sour.....I ate some of it and had another sit down.  Had a wee sob about how bloody hard the race is to anyone who might be listening. The logistics at this checkpoint have changed since my days massaging there and it seemed to be working a million times better.  We set off at a wee jog, and then stopped for a delux pit stop at the wigwam toilets.....

Angela's job was to get me to Bridge of Orchy about 10 miles away.  Her patter was much better than mine and she seemed ok that I was walking a lot....  We saw the others briefly at Tyndrum and the notes say I had some strawberry protein shake and a moan...I don't remember... I do recall I wasn't in a particularly great place in my head though.
I tried to run where I could, and we tucked in behind Mike and Mark on the downhill for a while. Also had to nudge a rude walker out of the way just before BOO, having asked politely several times that the group excuse us through.  I text a request for my mugshot, a milkshake and my Hoka's.....waking Clark and Sarah from their nap.....apparently I was a bit earlier than expected....

Bridge of Orchy : 60 miles : 2hrs 30 : Total Time 15hrs 4mins
Tears.  Big proper tears.  This is "really ****ing hard".  Sean laughed....and I probably said something unpleasant...
Another sit down, some casserole (I ate the veg and sauce not the meat as I couldn't face chewing), some milkshake/peanuts/flat coke.  Interesting combination, but it wouldn't make any difference as I was still feeling quite sicky and knew I just had to force stuff in regardless.  It would be a climb out of the checkpoint up Jelly Baby Hill to see Murdo and hopefully I'd digest (or vomit)...  I brushed my teeth too and that made me feel considerably better.
Swapped Angela for David.  I'm sure Angela would've been grateful to have some conversation with folk who would talk back.  I felt sorry for David as I knew this wasn't going to be pretty.  He coped admirably and his patter was good...I think.....I don't really remember too much of this leg, other than being fed peanuts and walking a lot.  I love Rannoch Moor, it's so beautiful and peaceful, but when you can see that long climb up towards Glencoe...oooft!

Me, David and Mike Adams.  The look on Mike & my face
is the "WTF is the checkpoint away up there for" look

The descent into Glencoe is where I first came across the girl running with support guy (I think it was that way round) and dog. There's a no dogs allowed rule.  I was pretty annoyed, but thought maybe it wasn't their dog.  Saw them later passing us down into and then leaving KLL, clearly still running with the dog.  My dog would've loved a stint support running with me, as would my support crew's dogs, but the rules are the rules.  I moaned about this when I got to KLL later.

Glencoe: 71 miles: 2hr 53min : Total Time 17hrs 57 mins
I was really pissed at the checkpoint being so far up the car park.  And really emotional. I cried a lot here about how ****ing hard the race is and that it was still a long way to go.  It was cold, and there were some big hills coming and it was starting to get dark.  I also felt really bad for putting my crew through this.
Support runner Bob was ready, dressed for the hills, so I figured I should put something warm on and changed into a long sleeved thermal top and jacket. Wise move.  I sobbed a lot and asked several times whether Bob had a torch for us getting caught in the dark. 
I got my chicken mugshot here too and tried to eat most of it, but my hands were shaking with the cold and I think I poured some of it on myself and Bob.  I should have eaten more here, and had a big blanket.
On the plus side, the Hoka's were still doing fine and Clark said my big brother and sis-in-law were on their way, but as I was earlier than expected they hoped to catch me at the Devils Staircase.  As it happened they drove up just as we trotted off down the road and gave a big woohoo!  I felt really bad afterwards for not stopping to chat, but had to run on.
Bob had the short straw.  Getting me over the Devils Staircase and into Kinlochleven.  The climb up sucks (the views are friggin awesome though) and the descent is pretty horrible too.  And my patter, and balance, were pretty non-existent by now.  And it was a bit cold. I remember being fed peanuts, and running out of water, and needing a hand down some of the really steep descent.  And my Garmin died.  Sad times, given I had 2 remote chargers. We just hadn't plugged in at any of the checkpoints for long enough.
I spent a lot of the descent thinking about quitting.  Or having a sleep.  I kept this mostly to myself, other than I think saying I was going to have a proper 'big stop' at KLL.

Kinlochleven : 81 miles : 3hr 16min : total time 21 hrs 13min
Dusk was upon us as we entered the community centre. I saw John Munro, my next support runner just as we turned the corner.  He was dressed like a ninja and ready to run.  My heart sank and I realised I wasn't going to get away with my "I think I'll just have a lie down" chat.  In reality, that was why John was my runner at this point.  He knew exactly what was wrong with me as soon as I got into the checkpoint and got weighed (I'd gone up slightly from Auchtertyre so that was ok), and sprung into action getting carbs into me.  A cup of sweet tea arrived and Sandra, Donald, Ian, Julie and the Moonerty's all said nice things.  I tried to cry but only half-baked dehydrated tears came out.  I moaned about my Garmin, and was asked why did it even matter. And I moaned about the girl running with the dog...well, it gave me something else to think about....  I went to the bathroom and remember thinking about Elvis dying on the toilet and wondering if it might happen to me.  I kept this thought to myself.  Apparently I was ahead of schedule.  I didn't care, I just wanted to finish, or die, whichever came soonest.

What happens on Lairig stays on Lairig
That's what we agreed, John and I.  In fairness, he probably remembers much more of it than I did.  What I'll say is that I followed instructions and John took complete control, and that was exactly what was needed.  We left KLL and he said I had 4.5 hours.  I asked if it was achievable and assumed this was to meet my 28 hour gold target.  I think he said 'hmmm'....and then said lets try and finish in the dark. I had no idea anymore what time it was, but a vague recollection of dawn on Saturday being about 2:30am which didn't seem achievable.

Photo by Wilderness Rescue - life savers on the Lairig Mor

He told me when to speed up, when to slow down, what to think, what to look out for, when to eat and drink.  I snottered a lot, sucked and spat salty nuts and Jaffa cakes, complained about the lack of coating left on the pretzels and tried not to cry. He didn't bat an eyelid.  
It didn't seem to take long to get to the wonderful Wilderness Rescue Team marshal point high on the moor.  The flaming torches shone from afar and it was like I imagine an oasis in the desert. Jeff fed me Tizer and took a photo.

We overtook a few folk.  Not by speeding up, just a steady routine of trot, walk and keeping at it.  It was brutal but each step was now really really getting closer to the finish.  

Lundavra.  7 miles to go
 (photo by John Kynaston)

Lundavra was next, where we knew there would be a great welcome from my crew (now boosted by Helen Munro, and my sister-in-law and brother) and John and Katrina Kynaston who were manning the bonfire.  John told me the plan for hitting the checkpoint, and I think that's what we did.

I had a big hug from JK who asked me if I knew what time I was on for, and did I want to? I said no, but hoped that meant good things.

There were no hallucinations.  Some of the rocks looked a bit odd, but then everything does when you've been awake since Friday morning and it's now Sunday.  I struggled with the grass - it was all a bit 3D looking and I couldn't run on it.  There were frogs, but I don't think I trod on any.  
I let our a few tears on the final climb before the fire road.  This was the point I finally realised I was going to make it!

Fort William: 95 miles: 15,000ft of climb : 4hr 54m: total time 26hr 7min 30sec
John gave me a plan for the finish stretch, and I think I did it.  He left me just around the final corner to run the finish 100 meters myself.  I cried.  A lot.  
My crew were all there.  I gave Clark a massive hug and sobbed.  I think he was crying too.  No wonder, I'd put him through a whole heap of pain.  Not just over the last couple of days, but over the last year of training.  This takes over your life.  It has to.
Sandra dibbed my chip for the final time.  I'd made it!
Angela was there - having gone home after her support run, collected her dog and driven all the way back up.  My brother and sis-in-law were still there.  It was like 3am in the morning and I couldn't believe people had made such an effort for me.
I think I hugged people.  I hope I said thanks.  If not, then I do truly mean thank you!

Sarah's crew notes, all stickered up!

I think I had some tea, and poured it on the floor.  Angela achieved the impossible and got my compression calf sleeves and socks off in one go!
I went for a shower in the leisure centre and cried a wee bit more, especially when I caught my toe on the towel and thought my toenail was going to come off.  I wanted a massage but by this point I was freezing and had to borrow an extra layer from Helen.

So Sarah, Bob, Clark and I went back to the Travel Lodge.  David, Angela, my brother/sis-in-law went home (I feared for them driving home so early in the morning, and felt really bad that it was because of me they were doing it).  And then I found out Helen and John kipped in the car (more guilt!)
Spent ages debating with the guy on reception which room was dog friendly while I tried not to keel over.  And then pretty much had zero sleep.  I guess when you've been running on sugar, caffeine, adrenaline and who knows what else for the last 2 days your body might not remember how to sleep well.  I also developed my stupid post run cough.  Which made me sick.

Sunday 22nd June
Got up and had another shower and crawled downstairs for breakfast.  I really didn't want to eat. I wanted to puke.  So I didn't really eat, but I didn't puke either.  Everyone else that had run looked really sprightly and was tucking into full Scottish breakfasts..... I felt like I had the hangover from hell and went outside for some air.  Met Lee Mac...I think she said nice things...I think I cried a wee bit...
Sarah and I walked along to the Nevis Centre for the prize giving and got some polos (that's my staple hangover cure).  I could still walk, that was a good sign!

Sean, me and John K.  My precious goblet!

The prize giving was as emotional as expected.  

The standing ovation for Paul Giblin, breaking his own course record by something like 45 mins (14 hrs 20m) was incredible.  To see Frits Van Der Lubben collect his final finisher goblet from Paul Giblin with such joy and enthusiasm (and then to find out later he'd almost quit at KLL!).

And to see Fiona Rennie collect her decanter and goblet for her 10th finish, overcoming significant illnesses to do so, was just amazing.  Fiona's well documented motivations kept me going in many of my dark points during the race - "pain is a privilege for the living".  As did something Paul Giblin's mum said on FB once about remember that you chose to do this, no one is forcing you, you wanted to do it! 

I struggled to hold it together until it was my turn, 100 people in.....(of 157 finishers, 193 starters).  There were some amazing performances from people I have run with or read about, and so incredible to see them all collect their precious goblet.  There were also tears of sadness for those who weren't successful this time.  Sometimes, no matter how good the training, it's just not your day.

Card from Sarah in post today

We'd booked to stay in Fort William on Sunday but, despite really wanting to see everyone at the party, I didn't feel I could survive, so we headed home.  Clark, bless him, drove all the way, while I fell into a coma in the car.

And it's taken until today to stop crying every half hour.  I've only cried a couple of times today.  Yesterday I just kept remembering the enormity of it all, and how much people had done to help me achieve something this extraordinary.  And thankfully my body isn't broken.  I'm incredibly tired and a bit achy, but nothing near what I expected in terms of damage.  Some of it I suspect is well hidden though and I'll be giving myself plenty of recovery time!

Front of my crew shirts Clark organised as surprise

Saying thank you, and giving a few small tokens of appreciation just doesn't seem enough, but what more can you say or do? 

Hopefully everyone enjoyed the experience and will relish the anticipation of next year as much as I already am, whether it's with me, others or on their own. 

I suspect this weekend will also have fueled further some of those individual dreams of completing the WHW race in years to come.  

I should also say a big thank you to everyone involved in making the race happen - be they committee, crew, marshals, supporters....in fact, just everyone who was there in person or in spirit!

For now though, the goblet is mine!  

And by the way, did I mention just how ****ing hard the race is?





Learnings so far
- Try to work out what best to do for the 1am start and how it affects your body clock and mood.
- Try not to think about the end, when you're only at the beginning
- Fewer food options might have made it easier at checkpoints.  Especially when I lost to power of thought.
- Spending a little longer at the earlier checkpoints, ensuring I ate sufficient food would have benefited me on the middle sections that I found particularly tough
- Starting slow and steady worked for me again: I moved from 168th at Balmaha to 153rd at Rowardennan, 145th at Beinglas, 131st at Auchtertyre, 122nd at BOO, 108th at Glencoe, 102 at KLL, 100th at FW
- Don't over-do the caffeine too early on - it's harder to manage the highs and lows if you overdose!
- Listen to Clark.....
- Choose a good crew.  I liked having multiple support runners who knew me well enough to get me through.
- And try not to worry about your crew.  If they hadn't wanted to be there, then they wouldn't be there
- Have something in the bag for KLL - my secret weapon was John Munro who knew exactly what I was going to be facing and what to do about it, and he had some of his own secret weapons to help me that I wasn't expecting
- Have some things in your head for motivation - like Fiona Rennie's or Josephine Giblin's words, or those on my crew shirts.  That helped me through some bad times.  And expect there to be bad times!
- Take extra warm clothes for the end.  The showers in the leisure centre are ok but not amazing.  You might feel a bit cleaner but not warm enough afterwards
- Enjoy, as much as you can.  You wanted to do this, you've trained for it.

Hopefully see you in 2015.  20th June.  The date's in my diary!