Coast to coast romp.

Foreword and preparation 

This year, as we all know, has been a funny one. During the early months, I’d been super focused on The West Highland Way Race (WHWR) in June. Getting into shape to give it my best shot. Then Bam! COVID 19 changed all that. Races were cancelled left right and centre and with lockdown restrictions my motivation waned. Mileages dropped and workouts cancelled in favour of running to curb worry. Or maybe more the stress of dealing with worried customers at work. So when, on the 27th of April I received an email saying the WHWR was cancelled I was of course saddened but also slightly relieved; getting out on the trails was difficult and it seemed unreasonable to go out for many hours when instructed to stay indoors. So with this news digested, my mind began ticking.

Initially I’d planned to do a continuous push along the 215 mile Southern Upland Way (SUW) in 2021. With minimal kit, and only cat napping and probably with support runners. But of course I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to take part in the 2021 WHWR. Which meant waiting until 2022 for the SUW challenge, or, with no races on this year, just do it. Given I’d only have around 8 weeks to prepare it would need to be much more leisurely. A fast pack journey. 

Aims: To cover over marathon distance per day the route should take around 6 days. Which sounded doable but tough enough to be a challenge. 

Only use facilities on route eg use shops, but don’t accept people bringing me items, or stashing any items on route. Enjoy and take it easy.
I scrabbled to get ultra light gear together, spending a small fortune, “investments” I told myself as my bank balance took hit after hit. I tested my gear tentatively on Hadrian’s Wall path as my longest training run, it did not fill me with hope, my bag chaffed, I was sick from drinking dirty water, I got blisters because of the extra weight on my feet. So it was more spending, water filters, purification tablets and extra wide fitting shoes. I was ready, or not...
Sunday:- 27.84 miles, 6 hours 39 minutes, 2,746ft
I left home at 08:00 on the 27th of July with my lovely Mum, who drove me to the bus stop, to begin my journey to Portpatrick. I was dropped off at the start after being picked up at the train station by my friend Sarah, who kindly offered to drive me the 5 miles from Stranraer. 

 

The day was warm and dry as I left the busy coastal town at 13:09 and I felt fresh and energised. Although my mind kept insisting, it’s a long way, walk any hills. And I did. I didn’t have a target pace, rather just run and walk for around 9-10 hours per day (or until 7pm as on day one, due to the late start) and see where I ended up. Having a tent is great, means you can just stop anywhere and sleep. 
The first few miles covered beautiful coastal paths overlooking the Irish channel and onto Ireland. I received a good few “Well Done”’s from walkers, who I thanked but giggled to myself. If only they knew I’d just started! 
I turned away from the sea heading inland and back towards Stranraer. It seeemed silly to be running back to the place I’d disembarked the train. However, that’s the route and I couldn’t start 6 miles in. The way was easy going on quiet roads and I soon reached Castle Kennedy where a small shop was available. I bought some supplies and marched into the park to be met by a beautiful lake and gardens. 


Happily I munched some food, enjoying the view before popping out of the park and onto the road where I stayed for around a mile before heading onto the trail again and the first significant climb of the way and onto a more rural landscape. Around this time I had the option to visit New Luce to restock, but I naively declined because it was a whole mile off route! After a little toing and froing over directions I stumbled upon the bright yellow beacon indicating I was on the right track. 
By this point I made to decision to spend my first night in the beehive bothy. I was sure it was 28 miles and it meant I’d be indoors for the bad weatherforecast for that night. I soon reached the bothy in a delightful little wood. Cautiously I opened the door, praying it would be empty. It was. I set down my bag and went to collect water. I crouched down by the burn, dipped my flask in and Whoosh! The water stole it out of my hand I snatched for it, but it was too fast. It was no use, it was gone. I only had one soft flask that fitted my water filter and the other containers did not have lids. “Oh well, I’ll just need to use my collapsible cup and filter until I can source something else. But please hang onto any other receptacle when gathering water.” Lesson learned, I collected water and had my first adventure meal, beef hotpot. It was pleasant, although anything is pleasant after a long day of activities. I hung up my wet socks, dried and inspected my feet, the advice I’d received was a resounding “look after your feet!” And got my head down.I slept well, only being woken occasionally by the rummaging of the resident mice. 


Monday:- 35.97 miles, 10 hours 21 minutes, 4,114 ft
I woke up at 5am, to a very rainy sight. I had my coffee and breakfast and headed out for the day. From the off things didn’t go well. I’d had a little rubbing from my pack, on my left shoulder and hips and it was annoying me. Day two and I’m gonna get friction burns. Trying to hold my pack away from my back so I could jog down the hills. I had a decent pace regardless and the single track was pretty, although I had no views. I was averaging 12 min miles. I thought that was slow, how wrong I was. 
There was a fairly long road section to get through and I ran/walked it before climbing up through waterside forest, then onto another road section. As I entered the open moorland the clag was thick and route finding was difficult. The emerald bog was thigh deep in places and a fair bit of cursing had occurred. Looking back at my map this section was only about 2 miles. It felt like 200. As my progress had slowed I began to get cold. “Just get through today” I told myself “it’ll be better for the rest of the week.” 
I reached the Galloway forest and hoped for a little shelter from the rain. I was wrong, as well as the rain pouring from the sky, water ran from the tree leaves in torrents. The trail was beautiful though and it encouraged me to run. Which in turn warmed me up a little. If I run, I thought, I heat up. So there is no excuse to be cold. 
As I got to Glen Trool I had the option to head to the visitor centre half a mile away and go to their cafe. However the prospect of sitting in soaking clothing wasn’t pleasant so I pressed on. The pathway was flooded and I did worry that the way may become impassable, especially given there were signs warning the Water of Trool bursts it’s banks on occasion. Luckily, it was all fine. And I was managing a little run along the banks of Loch Trool. Despite, or because of the weather the scenery was dramatic, waterfalls spilled down the vibrant green slopes frothing with white foam. This lifted my mood significantly. 
The rain had decreased from torrential to spattering as I climbed towards Loch Dee. I’d hoped to seek refuge in the White Laggon bothy, but as I approached the building I saw a window open and close and signs of other occupants. I could not face small talk at this point so I about turned and rejoined a minor road, where I stayed for 4 miles. The path was then meant to head over a hill pass towards St John’s town of Dalry but a diversion was in place. This took me off map and I was convinced it was heading in the wrong direction, so I doubled back to recheck the sign post. I was correct but still unconvinced so I resorted to Google Maps to reassure me.
Time was getting on and at over 30 miles it was time to scope out a spot for the night. A few miles down the road I found a flat piece of ground, rather close to the road, and dumped my bag. Exhausted and freezing. I vowed I’d not continue if I didn’t enjoy the following day and researched options for returning home. I spoke with my mum, got into my sleeping bag, turned on my stove just to heat up and had dinner before getting my head down for the night.
Tuesday:- 36 miles, 11 hours 2 minutes,6,230ft
I awoke bright and early in a much more positive mood and also to miraculously dry kit! I packed up and was on my way by 06:50. That morning, as I shouldered my bag, I realised, if I didn’t buckle the waist strap, I had no chaffing: such a simple solution and an example of knowing your gear, which I’d not had enough time to do. 
Along the lanes my nostrils were filled with the intoxicating scent of Honeysuckle. Absolutely delicious! I passed a hydroelectric station and climbed a hill, at the bottom, was another hydroelectric station. My heart sank, was this the same one? Had I just gone 4 miles in a circle after the diversion? Surely not? Checking my map I found this was actually a different station and I was on track. Just a short stroll along the Water of Ken and into Dalry.

6 miles in and I made Dalry and picked up supplies from the little shop there. I also bought a couple of bottles so I now had water containers. Result. This became my routine, start on empty, and get fueling a couple of hours into the day. I crossed remote moors, which in the sun seemed much easier than the recce I’d done, in the snow. 

Climbing Ben Brack early on in the day was handy, knowing I’d hit the hightest point for the day. I decided to do a wee Facebook live from the 1,740 ft summit. Rough tracks over Mid Hill in a bit of drizzle and down a single track trail to the Chalk Memorial Bothy where I sneaked in for a snack. 


 I saw the first humans of the last two days here. We had a chat and parted ways. There was a high pass over into Sanquhar, via Glenmaddie Craig. It was not overly steep and was decorated with fancy posts designed by primary school children. The descent into the town was fun. 
Now I was to decide, come away from the town and camp up, or push on for another 8 miles to Wanlockhead. I love that village and of course I’d go on. I headed up the hill into the glorious evening. 
I positively skipped into Wanlockhead, pleased to be still moving well after just shy of 100 miles. I pitched up, dried my feet, had dinner, stretched and went to bed.

Wednesday:- 33.42 miles, 10 hours 7 mins,6,490ft
I awoke early after a dry but windy night. Feeling a little chilly I began my day with all my clothes on, down jacket, waterproof trousers and jacket.
I was cozy and enjoying watching all the rabbits, who use the old mines as their home. I knew shortly I’d be reaching the highest point of the route (Lowther Hill at 2,175ft) and also the half way point. Hiking up I amused myself taking photos of the golf ball weather station at the top.
At the top the fog had come down and I needed to be careful with navigating the tops. There was a fair few humps to overcome before heading downhill to the road. At this point it was time to strip down to shorts and tee shirt, as the sun warmed my skin. I washed and freshened up in the river revived to do a fair shuffle over the forestry tracks to half way. 
As I celebrated, just after this photo I tripped and bashed my knee. I sat for a moment consoling myself that I was indeed ok. Picked myself up and walked it off, blood trickling down my legs, hiking up Sweetshaw Brae and rubbing down. At the time my mind decided to begin a Big Brother style commentary on my movements “Day 4 on the Big Brother Trails. Lynne is still running.” Or “lynne is walking cos she’s a lazy bum.” Etc. This kept going right up until Beattock.

After Beattock I diverted to Moffat for some proper grub, a big sandwich scoffed and a red bull. I decided to stay at Over Phawhope bothy for the night given it was to be wet again that evening. But first I had the 1,800 ft climb to Croft head. It was no chore, the evening was warm and the views extensive.
I think it’s one of the prettiest parts of the trail and delight in crossing the arched bridge and the welcome downhill to the bothy. I got into my lodging and got a good wee fire going. Great! I can dry socks! I draped them over the flue and went to collect water. Upon my return, minutes later, I found my socks burned to a crisp. I tried to think what best to do, I didn’t particularly want to wear no socks, so I tried, with success to fashion some socks out of my arm sleeves. I would make do bit it did give me a sleepless night trying to consider other options. Which was a pity as my bed was super comfy. 

Thursday:- 33.0 miles, 9 hours 12 mins, 4,695 ft
The day was misty and gloomy, but warm as I pulled on my makeshift ‘socks’ and dry shoes. It was a relief to have dry feet after so many days. I started on a 6 mile road section, not a very interesting start. It does reconfirm what excites me to run though. I couldn’t make myself run because I found it boring. And yet the gnarly trails ignited my desire to run. It’s so important to understand our motivations and this is definitely one of mine. I was highly excited to head off road and up the muddy farm track, getting to pet a working sheep dog as I headed towards St Mary’s Loch. I looked out for all the different breeds of sheep today and mused over why humans have lost the ability to shake the way most animals do. Obviously we don’t have fur, but it would still be a useful response to dry ourselves. 
I reached St Mary’s Loch, which, under the grey skies looked moody. The path was nice along the shore, and I soon reached another mountain pass which would take me to Traquair. A few false summits and then it was over the top and down the hill, listening to some good tunes now. I went into Innerleithen to get some socks, and low and behold, there was a shop selling such items. 
I also chatted to a fellow Highland Flinger who recognised my buff, then travelled back to the official trial. I climbed through Glentress forest onto Minch Moor, at 1,500 ft, and into my resting place for the night (the Three Brethren). After 120 miles I was quite happy to do plenty walking and so the time passed slowly. I couldn’t find water so had to hoof it down to the closest stream where I got my water for the night and bedded down. 
I was awakened in the early hours by some people driving a quad bike around the tops and feared that they’d run over the tent either because they thought it was abandoned or because they didn’t see me. It was the only time on the trip I feared for my safety. It was all fine though. 
Friday:- 32.6 miles, 9 hours 19 mins, 3,940ft
I’d ran out of gas. Another lesson, don’t be wasteful. So no morning coffee but a quick stock check told me Galashiels had one canister in stock. I got it. But I’m getting ahead. I’d woken up to a lovely cloud inversion and was treated to a mist bow as the sun began to break through.  
It was not long before the sun came out and again shorts and tee shirts were the order of the day. I met a hiker doing the Scottish National Trail, she commented on my tiny pack, but I was doing a lot shorter distance than she. I warned her of the cows, that I’d startled and they’d chased me, shortly beforehand and bid her good day. 
I would eat tonight, as I picked up gas and more supplies in Galashiels then left the town to follow the river Tweed for a few miles, watching families relaxing on the banks. I briefly wondered why I couldn’t just relax? But then, I was so glad I was out doing what I love, I didn’t ponder it long. I was eager to leave civilisation again. Although I was certainly in less remote territory now, I only saw a few horse riders and a walker during the 7 miles to Lauder. 
I treated myself to an ice cream in Lauder and checked my map for a spot to stop for the night. The Watch Water  reservoir looked ideal. Which mean heading over the Twin Law in the evening, enabling me to take in the stunning views from the summit, and do a quick photo shoot, just to prove I did do some running.

I was tempted to set up camp here but decided it would be worth heading down to a more sheltered site for the night. I found a nice, sandy spot although there was a lot of Goose ‘dirt’. It was flat and sheltered and I spent the evening in the company of a lone fisherman before he left me in peace for the night. 

Saturday:- 21 miles, 6 hours 8 mins, 2,352 ft

I felt a little sad packing up for the last time on Saturday morning. As I packed, I realised if I made the finish before 1 pm I’d have made the journey in under 6 x 24 hour periods. This had significance because, although my last day wouldn’t be ultra distance, it would mean during every 24 hours I had travelled over marathon distance. And I was happy with that. 

I was still moving well, despite my bashed knee aching a bit, so I felt happy as I jogged along the shoreline and down the road to Longformacus. I met a dog walker who was a little surprised to see someone so early, I politely excused myself as I was keen to get on my way. This day was predominantly on forestry roads and tarmac, with minimal climbing. Although this did not speed up my progress. I guess the previous 190 miles were in the legs. Not a problem though, I wasn’t in a huge rush. I was making progress steadily. 

I passed a wind farm, and a pretty church yard. Where I saw the first post for the finishing town: Cocksburnpath. 

I passed a fancy wind vane then it was onto country roads, crossing the busy A1 into Pease Dean and a seemingly endless climb, which in reality is probably neither steep nor endless. And then down into Red Rock. I could see the sea! I’d made it! Almost...

Holiday makers were enjoying the sun, and they seemed alien to me. I was on my journey, so, so different to theirs. It’s a strange disconnect. We exchanged niceties and I knew now with just miles to go I would make it before my deadline. It was just along the cliff tops, under the A1 again and into the town to the village square. I was done. I did a Facebook live, sat down and waited for my mum to come get me. I was home in time for tea. 

After thoughts 

Total distance: 220 miles 

Total time: 5 days, 23 hours and 50 mins (approx)

Moving time: 71 hours 49 mins (approx)

The goals I’d set myself I had certainly achieved. My kit choice was superb, I used every piece of equipment and needed for nothing. 

I do wonder if I’d pushed harder would I have completed faster. Probably yes. But that was not my goal. My goal was to enjoy. And I did. I learned a whole lot along the way: 

Gas canisters make great foam rollers.

Hang on to your flasks in streams.

Don’t dry your socks on chimney flues.

Sleeping on it makes things better.

I’d enjoy multi stage racing.

I can do more than I think, so when setting my own challenges I can afford to be a little tougher.

Recovery has gone well, aside from my damaged knee, which I’m giving time to heal and my love of runnning is renewed. Who knows when racing will be back, but adventuring is sometimes as good. I did this, not to prove a point, or as a look at me. I did it for myself and to share that anyone can do their own adventures. Step out there and find yourself. So until next time, look forward to hearing your adventures. 

Here’s to never growing up! Doing the highland fling!

Ultra runners, specifically trail ultra runners I do believe do not want to grow up. We like to play in the mud, on the rocks, in the water. And like children, we want to stay out playing for as long as possible. Well, we want to finish quick, but we want the journey to last all day. So the 700 that took on The Highland Fling this weekend all have one thing in common. We don’t want to grow up. And we celebrate it.

The day started early, 4am breakfast must mean race day. Having the usual pre race nerves I forced my cereal down and sorted my kit,  checking and rechecking. Waiting for my good friends David and Maureen to pick me up. David was doing his first ever ultra marathon and so, as we travelled through to Milingavie I tried (and probably failed) to impart some useful advice. Especially when he claimed to be getting to Balmaha in 3 hours. “Don’t you dare get to Balmaha in 3 hours” I warned.

Arriving at Milgavie the place was buzzing. I managed to catch a few friends, and hugs were had from Lois Simpson, who was running her 5th fling, and Angela Barron, who was selflessly volunteering throughout the day. It was then hugs and good lucks to David (who was running his own race and at his own pace as we’d agreed) then into the pens for the off. I positioned myself mid pack in the sun 10 hour group and prepared for a fun day out. 

There was a good gathering along the Main Street to see us off, cheers from our Scotland team manager Debbie Martin Costani (who’s husband Marco was running, I only realised this post race and after seeing the results.) As we weaved through Mugdock Park the chatter was flowing.I didn’t start having a chat for a while. I was enjoying listening, and holding my pace at a very easy perceived effort. Hovering around 8.5 min miles for the relatively flat first 10 miles. Which was about where I wanted to be. Around 3 miles in I got into a chat with Clark Finlay. Mainly about running, who we knew and as usual me getting stupidly confused over which people were getting spoken about. The milesflew by and I believe Clark and I separated around 7 miles in although we saw one another a few times throughout the day, with him finishing shortly after myself. 

As I found my place in the crowds I saw John Wells, whom I’d seen had become a grandfather the day before race day. SoI gave him a congratulatory comment as Ipassed, lovely news to get before a big race. Coming up to kit check and crossing the A82 outside of Drymen I caught up with Norman Neilson and had a brief chatbefore powering up the incline heading towards the start of the climbing and into the race proper. 

The day was dry, mild and pleasant, for now. And I felt fine, knowing I’d ran in Perth a mere 4 weeks earlier I was still aware I needed to be careful and I was. Hiking up the incline with Iona MacKay and havinga nice chat as we went. She slowed to put on a jacket and I continued on. Mostly on my own till Clark caught up with me again as we left the forest to climb the amazing Conic hill. At this point the weather came in, and would remain in for the rest of the day. The rain battered down and it was time for the waterproofs, I know it can be quite wild up the hill and I didn’t want to get cold too early on. The climb up was easy enough when your walk/running it, enjoying the scenery and trying not to slide on the river which was previously the path. Up and over and down, into Balmaha. 

And into the Check point, seamless organised as always I was handed my drop bag. Chugging a Blue Spark(cheap red bull) and grabbing some crisps and tablet I jogged out. I eat my drop bag goodies as I walk up the wee hill and onto the lochside path. I decided now it was time for some music so I plugged in and tuned out. This is when a cheesy pop/punk song byAvril Lavine came on “Here’s to never growing up” which seemed apt and seems like a fitting title for this blog. Because as Iran along the undulating trails of the easypart of the loch side, I realised I never do want to grow up. I wasn’t really clock watching at all so I can’t even remember, neither do I much care, when I got into Rowadennan. All I really cared about was that iwas having a fantastic day, I was half way there in terms of miles and I was feelingawfully good. On the high road there wasplenty room for passing and so I passed a fair few runners on the way up, and then also down, as I headed towards the tougher trail again. Acknowledgements wereexchanged with some of the runners starting to feel the bite of 27 plus miles in thelegs. 

As I started easing into the techinal sections I skipped a few folk and a few folk skipped me. But I pretty much maintained my place, coming popping out into Inversnaid with not much of an issue, still feeling well, warm and fuelled. I quickly filled my bottles with tailwind, thanked the marshals, enquiring if they were warm enough themselves. And off I went onto the “real” technical section. 

By this point, although the rain had had brief interludes, it was very wet underfoot, slippery rocks, slippery mud, slippery tree roots. And I thanked myself for not being silly and going with my rather rugged trail shoes over my lighter road shoes. They held up well in the conditions and I wasable to skip quite nicely along. Well for the most part. By this point I was mostly alone on the trail. A great feeling to be partof a big race and yet still get solitude. Which is what I sometimes crave. I don’t think I was actually alone but the runners around were moving at a similar pace so we were in our own bubble of aloneness. Although there were a few walkers, all of them rather perplexed and amused but cortious and encouraging. Before long I was at Dario’s post, to which I gave my usual ritualistic but brief touch. Then down thelast few miles to Bein ghlas. 

At Bein Ghlas I had some sour sweets, a tip I’d learned, I’m not sure who from. They wake up the senses and sharpen you up a little after a long time on the feet. I took a can of coke to go and after a quick (and rather painful) pee...chaffing anyone?! I was into the last half marathon of the day. 

I still hadn’t really bother too much aboutmy time, instead concentrating on my mind set. I had struggled with this in Perth and was rather fed up of having to rely on the molly coddling of others to perk meup. It was my job to perk myself up. The miles were flying by. It was only what seemed like a short time before I was up and onto the open fields of the former cow poo alley. And then up to the rollercoaster of Ewich forest. Not without a glass of coke and a chat to the lovely Katie Hall however. So in this stage previously I’ve struggled with thewalk/run of the little ups and downs. Thinking what the point of running a tiny bit before the next wee uphill. However my thoughts this year  rather than “oh no, I have to run” were “Yes, how exciting, I GET to run” which is far more positive, not surprisingly. 

As I crossed the A82 for the final 3 miles Isavoured my can of coke that I’d been saving. Previously I’ve found the final three miles to be a struggle. But today’s happygo lucky run was to be different. And the boost carried me to the very end. I ran for a bit with another runner, exchanging very little in the way of words other than brief words of encouragement. Then I lost him as I headed through the gate past the pine tree campsite which really signals the end, round the bend and crossing the finish line in 9:27:06. No complaints from this happy runner. A 45 min pb on my first fling in 2015 and a respectable 7th female. 

Only thing left to be said is huge congratulations to all the runners, to old and newfriends. To Nicola Dunn on her amazing 2nd place, Morgan Windram on achieving an impressive 3rd also weeks after placing 2nd in Perth, to Rachel Hunt on her 3rdScottish champion place. And to David Taylor: who not only ran his first ultra, but sacrificed minutes of his time to ask for his girlfriend, Maureen’s hand in marriage, which must surely signify true love! 

Thank you to Graham Milne, Kim Webster and Kay Roxby for the photographs. To John Duncan and the 200 + volunteers that made the day memorable. To all the crazy people out their playing in the mud, let’s never grow up. At least not at the weekends.  And to my mum, Davie and the dogs for their continued support. Love you all. 

ACP 100k

It’s 6:30am on a bright but cold March morning in Perth. A excited and nervous buzz ripples through the air. We’re a band of 8, 4 men and 4 women selected to run for our country in the highly anticipated self transcendence 100k. Which incorporates the annual Anglo Celtic Plate

I’m nervous, very nervous. This is the unknown for me in several ways. One: I’ve never ran a looped course. Two: I’ve never raced over marathon distance on tarmac. Three: because I’m very unorganised I’m with a support crew I’ve only just met. And Four: I’m running for my country. As it turns out, number three was the least of my concerns. Meeting Gillian McCracken was very reassuring. And she was of course an amazing support throughout. So I was chatting and she was asking what I’d need (I’d portioned everything up in an attempt to make her job as easy as possible) and if I’d want to change (probably not but there’s shoes etc in my bag just rummage) 

A quick team picture occurred, which shows us nervously smiling, then we lined up with the others for the start. I tried to shuffle back, to just take my own place away from the team. I didn’t want to get pulled along too fast. Well, that was the plan...

So we were off, 40 odd runners mad enough to run round in 42 circles for upwards of 6 hours 40 mins. I tried to settle into rhythm. “Just a run in the park” and it was nice, despite the wind. Very soon I found myself in a pack, with team mates Sophie Mullins, Morgan Windram, England’s Sophie Carter and myself. I knew I didn’t want to be setting the pace. The others are greatly experienced runners, so I held back, but in time with them for the most part. 

The quadrant showed fluidity, sometimes Morgan and Sophie in front, sometimes the two Sophie’s together and I did feel a bit guilt for not taking a turn to set the pace. But I wasn’t prepared to jeopardise my race this early in. I told myself if this pack lasted and I felt good, certainly I’d take the lead. But not yet. We all started fuelling early, I was planning on chews, gels, tailwind and baby food pouches. Which worked well. We were plugging out 7:30-8 min miles. It was a tad too fast for me, but I thought I’d try and see how long this felt ok. Everything was fun. Morgan and Sophie played dog bingo and I listened. Later apologising for my silence. We trotted round quite happily, maintaining our foursome till about 35k. 

At this point I realised with a long way still to go, this was too fast for me. So, on lap 14 I exited for the port a loo. In order to break away. As I returned to the course I was of the mindset of running my own race. The experience of our team mates in the first 1/3 of the race had enabled me to reassure me that my fuelling strategy for this type of race was about right. That I was travelling ok pace wise and that it was time to do my own thing. But this time the 50 k race had set off and it was nice to see some familiar faces, the amazing Fiona Rennie, Helen Munro, Club mate Norry McNeil and Stuart MacFarlane I was tootling along quite the thing, passing the lovely Jo Murphy (who would later pass means regain her lead). I was keeping my brain busy, there is a cyclist counter in the park and I was excited to see how many it was up to on each lap. It was 8 at the start “ooooh what is it this time, 103?”, I believe by the end it was in the 300’s. Partly due to my friend Brian, more on that later. 

Then something happened, I was 56k in . And my mind cracked. I crashed. I was slowing, naturally, 56 k will do that too you. But my mind started to go ape. “I’m failing the team” “I’ve not got another 44 k in my legs” I wanted someone to notice. I passed our crew, trying to make my face show how I felt. No one said a word. Demoralised I went off on my next round. Still slow, “I must put on a sadder face this time” 58 k sad faced, pleading eyes, looking at Iain Beattie, like he’d save me. Nothing. Another lap, I was at 60 k. I was quitting. No one asked me I thought, my stupid brain working overtime. So I’m gonna have to tell them. I walked in. “I’m done” I said. Tears streaming down my cheeks. “I’ve failed you.” But this is where the team support is vital in races if this nature. Debbie hugged me and forced me to look at her. She asked what was wrong I muttered something. She asked if I was injured “no” was I sick? “No” but “I’m done” “Can i walk a lap?”

“That’s fine” said Debbie. 

Gillian gave me my baby food and I said I’d walk a lap and see how I felt.

Off I went. And in 1/4 of a lap i tried a jog, then a run, then I picked up. The thing with running is my mind cracks easily. Having taken some time to analyse this I realise it may not be my mind just saying no, but my body. I’ve trained myself through years of eating disorders to ignore my body. And although I’m good at feeding it now, I do forget to listen to it’s signals sometimes. And that’s when my brain says enough. It essentially overrides my conscious thoughts and does its own thing. The fuel I took in, as well as the hugs and encouragement of course, reset me. And I was moving well again.

I began chatting, and encouraging the 50k people as I passed. (Sorry if I was annoying) and then I got a surprise visit from my friend Brian, on his bike to up the bike counter. That lifted me. Then my mum, her partner and our dogs turned up. That gave me a boost. And all was great. I was running strong, my pace having picked up again into the 8-8:30 min mile range, except when I took a walk break to ensure I was eating. 

And so, the count down to my last laps were on. And I felt reflective, my last lap came and I mentioned I’d try and make 8 hours 30 but didn’t think I would. that was ok. Back in my initial talks I had said 8:30 was an A goal for me. So if I was going to be just over that, so be it. I felt oddly emotional, emotional for the park. I climbed the wee hill for the last time and felt a pang if sadness. I was attached to this park already, likening it later to a sort of Stockholm syndrome. I was still feeling strong as I rounded the last bend, threw my bottle to the side and picked up the flag for the finish. I felt overwhelmed. So happy my mum had made it up to see me, it meant a lot, so pleased for the other team members, all of whom were done. And proud of myself. 8:33:26 not too shabby for this amateur. 

Everyone had done amazing. Our women taking 1st place. And our men taking 2nd place. I hope we’d done our manager proud. 
Acknowledgments go to Adrian Scott for his amazing organisation, and the whole team who gave up their weekend to make the race possible. To our team; Debbie Martin Costani, Val Macauley and Sharon Law. To my support, Gillian McCracken. All the other team members, particularly Ken and Sue Walker and Andy Stewart whom gave the best hugs ever.And a huge well done to allthe runners. Photos by Russ Valentine and Debbie Costani

ACP 100k

It’s 6:30am on a bright but cold March morning in Perth. A excited and nervous buzz ripples through the air. We’re a band of 8, 4 men and 4 women selected to run for our country in the highly anticipated self transcendence 100k. Which incorporates the annual Anglo Celtic Plate

I’m nervous, very nervous. This is the unknown for me in several ways. One: I’ve never ran a looped course. Two: I’ve never raced over marathon distance on tarmac. Three: because I’m very unorganised I’m with a support crew I’ve only just met. And Four: I’m running for my country. As it turns out, number three was the least of my concerns. Meeting Gillian McCracken was very reassuring. And she was of course an amazing support throughout. So I was chatting and she was asking what I’d need (I’d portioned everything up in an attempt to make her job as easy as possible) and if I’d want to change (probably not but there’s shoes etc in my bag just rummage) 

A quick team picture occurred, which shows us nervously smiling, then we lined up with the others for the start. I tried to shuffle back, to just take my own place away from the team. I didn’t want to get pulled along too fast. Well, that was the plan...

So we were off, 40 odd runners mad enough to run round in 42 circles for upwards of 6 hours 40 mins. I tried to settle into rhythm. “Just a run in the park” and it was nice, despite the wind. Very soon I found myself in a pack, with team mates Sophie Mullins, Morgan Windram, England’s Sophie Carter and myself. I knew I didn’t want to be setting the pace. The others are greatly experienced runners, so I held back, but in time with them for the most part. 

The quadrant showed fluidity, sometimes Morgan and Sophie in front, sometimes the two Sophie’s together and I did feel a bit guilt for not taking a turn to set the pace. But I wasn’t prepared to jeopardise my race this early in. I told myself if this pack lasted and I felt good, certainly I’d take the lead. But not yet. We all started fuelling early, I was planning on chews, gels, tailwind and baby food pouches. Which worked well. We were plugging out 7:30-8 min miles. It was a tad too fast for me, but I thought I’d try and see how long this felt ok. Everything was fun. Morgan and Sophie played dog bingo and I listened. Later apologising for my silence. We trotted round quite happily, maintaining our foursome till about 35k. 

At this point I realised with a long way still to go, this was too fast for me. So, on lap 14 I exited for the port a loo. In order to break away. As I returned to the course I was of the mindset of running my own race. The experience of our team mates in the first 1/3 of the race had enabled me to reassure me that my fuelling strategy for this type of race was about right. That I was travelling ok pace wise and that it was time to do my own thing. But this time the 50 k race had set off and it was nice to see some familiar faces, the amazing Fiona Rennie, Helen Munro, Club mate Norry McNeil and Stuart MacFarlane I was tootling along quite the thing, passing the lovely Jo Murphy (who would later pass means regain her lead). I was keeping my brain busy, there is a cyclist counter in the park and I was excited to see how many it was up to on each lap. It was 8 at the start “ooooh what is it this time, 103?”, I believe by the end it was in the 300’s. Partly due to my friend Brian, more on that later. 

Then something happened, I was 56k in . And my mind cracked. I crashed. I was slowing, naturally, 56 k will do that too you. But my mind started to go ape. “I’m failing the team” “I’ve not got another 44 k in my legs” I wanted someone to notice. I passed our crew, trying to make my face show how I felt. No one said a word. Demoralised I went off on my next round. Still slow, “I must put on a sadder face this time” 58 k sad faced, pleading eyes, looking at Iain Beattie, like he’d save me. Nothing. Another lap, I was at 60 k. I was quitting. No one asked me I thought, my stupid brain working overtime. So I’m gonna have to tell them. I walked in. “I’m done” I said. Tears streaming down my cheeks. “I’ve failed you.” But this is where the team support is vital in races if this nature. Debbie hugged me and forced me to look at her. She asked what was wrong I muttered something. She asked if I was injured “no” was I sick? “No” but “I’m done” “Can i walk a lap?”

“That’s fine” said Debbie. 

Gillian gave me my baby food and I said I’d walk a lap and see how I felt.

Off I went. And in 1/4 of a lap i tried a jog, then a run, then I picked up. The thing with running is my mind cracks easily. Having taken some time to analyse this I realise it may not be my mind just saying no, but my body. I’ve trained myself through years of eating disorders to ignore my body. And although I’m good at feeding it now, I do forget to listen to it’s signals sometimes. And that’s when my brain says enough. It essentially overrides my conscious thoughts and does its own thing. The fuel I took in, as well as the hugs and encouragement of course, reset me. And I was moving well again.

I began chatting, and encouraging the 50k people as I passed. (Sorry if I was annoying) and then I got a surprise visit from my friend Brian, on his bike to up the bike counter. That lifted me. Then my mum, her partner and our dogs turned up. That gave me a boost. And all was great. I was running strong, my pace having picked up again into the 8-8:30 min mile range, except when I took a walk break to ensure I was eating. 

And so, the count down to my last laps were on. And I felt reflective, my last lap came and I mentioned I’d try and make 8 hours 30 but didn’t think I would. that was ok. Back in my initial talks I had said 8:30 was an A goal for me. So if I was going to be just over that, so be it. I felt oddly emotional, emotional for the park. I climbed the wee hill for the last time and felt a pang if sadness. I was attached to this park already, likening it later to a sort of Stockholm syndrome. I was still feeling strong as I rounded the last bend, threw my bottle to the side and picked up the flag for the finish. I felt overwhelmed. So happy my mum had made it up to see me, it meant a lot, so pleased for the other team members, all of whom were done. And proud of myself. 8:33:26 not too shabby for this amateur. 

Everyone had done amazing. Our women taking 1st place. And our men taking 2nd place. I hope we’d done our manager proud. 
Acknowledgments go to Adrian Scott for his amazing organisation, and the whole team who gave up their weekend to make the race possible. To our team; Debbie Martin Costani, Val Macauley and Sharon Law. To my support, Gillian McCracken. All the other team members, particularly Ken and Sue Walker and Andy Stewart whom gave the best hugs ever.And a huge well done to allthe runners. Photos by Russ Valentine and Debbie Costani

Mental wellness and ultra running

Ultra running and mental wellness, my experience.

It’s Tuesday night. It’s club night. I’ve been attending the club for a few months. I’ve ran a few short races, enjoyed them and did well physically. However, tonight, I’m stuck in my car. Paralysed by our primitive flight, fight or freeze response. Which had happened because I’m in mental wellness debt. My logical mind can not over come the primal part that insists going to the club is a potentially lethal task. But stop there, let me explain. Why does this involve ultras?

The best method I can think of to let people easily grasp is to equate mental currency to real life currency. Let’s call them Mental Wellness Tokens (MWT for short). To function in my every day life, I spend these tokens. Things as silly as phone calls, or appointments need to be paid for. So I need a reserve of tokens for these tasks. Let’s call it my savings. 

But how do I earn MWT’s, you may ask. Well, by running. While running, something in that same primordial part of me, where the freeze response comes from, the act of motion, pure and simple, allows my to earn and indeed replenish or even add to my savings. 

However, one of the tasks that costs MWT’s is racing. When I race, the cost is set. So not matter the race, the travel, the social interaction at the beginning and end, the start line, they cost me. And the return for the race is consistent with the length of time spent running, like a wage I earn x MWT’s per hour. And here lies the conflict. In short races, I’m loving the running. But, if for example I’m racing 5 k and it takes me 20 mins, I’m ending up with a MWT deficit. I’ve used more tokens to enter than I have earned by running. And this is what’s happened on that fateful Tuesday I decided to share my paralysis, I’ve raced a few small races, I’ve used my MWT’s to get to the club, and I’ve gone into debt. I can’t cope.

Now consider an ultra. The training is long. Often six months for one event. And done as a solo task, training does not cost me any MWT’s. So with every run I’m banking savings. Oft Yass! I’m in the money! I’m saving hard, I’m spending hard on life, lots of stresses, but I can cope, I can earn lots of MWT’s with no cost. Now come race day, I’m rolling in it! I pay my fee, for the stress of travelling, social interaction at the start and finish, but I’m still high on savings. And I run, and run, and run. The fee for the race is replaced, and then some. I finish, high on MWT’s and happy. And there is my analogy. Take from it what you will.

And I DID in fact get unstuck from the car that night. I headed home, I slept, the next day I ran, alone, I replaced some MWT’s. I decided why ultras are for me. I accepted my place in team Scotland for the Anglo Celtic Plate 100k. Which, is a huge honour. The team is amazing and I can not wait. To run is not to be stressed. Count your MWT’s, wherever you earn them. And spend them wisely, I know I will. 

Antonine trail race 2017 (and the merits of not being 1st)

I've been thinking on how to improve myself, and I have come to the conclusion that not coming in first is a good thing. I haven't been as focused on my training as I was in the first half of this year, but I have managed some speed sessions, hill reps and long runs. However, I'm not going to lie, I've been more inconsistent than I'd like, and it's purely due to laziness. So going into this race I knew my fitness wasn't were it should be. Additionally I had been unwell the week leading up to race day, but enough of the moaning and onto the good stuff.

On Sunday I took part in the amazing, local to me, Antonine Trail half marathon. I wasn't even sure I was going because of mental health stuff in my head in the days beforehand. However, the morning came and I'd decided I owed it to the race organisers to make it. No one wants DNS's in their races, so on the Saturday night I was decided, I'm happy to say the right decision.

The weather could not have been better, glorious sun, no wind, ideal running weather as I parked up at Croy station to register. I saw so met so many locals and friends and it was good to see a lot of dressed up folk milling about, I myself don't do dress up...although I did contemplate going as a retail worker (I was working after at my retail job)

Anyway, enough rambling, the race: After a briefing by race director, James, we were off down the old railway track, I settled into my pace. The first mile is a steady uphill section along the railway line, it allows the field to spread nicely before the rougher parts of the track start. And I tried to find my ideal position at this point, mostly overtaking as I started relatively far back, not knowing how I'd feel, apparently not too bad then. Crossing the railway the fun in the mud starts and I was in a comfortably paced single file by this point. The new, and in my opinion improved, route skirts the quarry and heads straight uphill, my legs felt heavy on this part and I knew the strength wasn't quite there. Although I ran the whole climb, just a short 0.5 miles with up to 12% gradient. after that it was down hill and round the Croy hill area, single tracks and forest, beautiful. I relaxed into my run, knowing I could do a bit of overtaking in the up and coming wider tracks, which I did.

Coming along the canal and into the area of Kilsyth and the Drumbreck marsh I felt amazing, and managed sub 8 min miles for the following 3 miles, overtaking a few folk, one of which was the leading female Rachel, although I didn't know this at the time. Got a high five from all round lovely lady Ruth marshalling at the canal road crossing. She refrained from telling me I was leading (she knows me well :) )

The last three miles I knew where going to be tough, two big climbs and my legs had confirmed they weren't liking climbing today, so I pushed, I didn't pass anyone, and wasn't passed by anyone at all on Barr hill, the forestry climb was fine, but as I got to the more open and steeper part I did struggle. I made up a bit of time on the down hill but I still had the Croy hill to go (ooohh noooo!) It's my hill rep area of choice so I've spend time in the pain cave here. As I crossed the road, I glanced back to see Rachel gaining on my, she was running well, looking super strong. Could I hang on? I tried, but she passed me on the ascent. I'm sorry if I didn't say well done, I don't think I could've mustered it...

At this point I'd heard I was second, so I tried to hang on till the end, I pushed, I really did, telling myself, as I was chasing Rachel, the third lady was chasing me. I kept her in my sights, all that was to do was the downhill, then a reverse of the starting mile and a bit to the finish. I dug deep, sprinting down at sub 7 min miles, trying to stay upright on the now even boggier mud fest, crossing the railway. I passed a runner in the mens race with about 0.5 a mile to go, he told me to chase her. I did, although I knew I would not take the first place at this point, I decided if I did catch her we'd finish joint first, if she agreed. But I couldn't, the lady ran well, taking first by 18 seconds. And I happily took second.

What a great race, Louise Taylor came in third 2 mins 2 secs later, congratulations all round. And water and medals from my good friend Paul.

Croy hill by Gleb Vulf

Conclusion: At work we are told not to get 100% in our audits because the only place to go then is down. So, although I always strive for the best I can be, being first only allows you to battle yourself, you can never be better than first, so it leaves your only option being setting new pr's, or course records. Which are goals certainly not to be sniffed at, but they come from a place inside us. A battle with ourselves if you wish, which is a harder one to fight. With good competition, we allow ourselves to be pushed by others, not in order to be better than them, but to be better than we were, but using their drive as a tool to drive us forward in our training. It's a useful tool, so on that note, onwards to the next challenge, better traing The Wooler Marathon. And thoughts of next years races.

A huge thank you to every one involved in the organisation of this fabulous event, every volunteer and supporter. And every runner, well done, we all, as a unit, drive one another to succeed. Thank you :)

West Highland Way Race Ramblings

The Seed:

Once upon a time (circa 2010), while speaking with friends, I was told of a race. A 95 mile race that covered a route most people walk over at least five days. All at once? I asked. 'Yes'. Impossible thought I. But I'm a person of extremes and the idea intrigued me. The seed was planted, I would do this race. So I started small. Yes, Dod Reid and Karen Donoghue are to thank for this. The D33 was my first ultra and I was bitten by the bug. Several ultra's later and in 2016 I felt experienced enough that I could tackle the distance. A few factors interfered that year leading to a DNS, but the dream remained. I thought about the race everyday. So getting a second chance in 2017 was the best news ever. I was ready and from December 2016 my one and only goal was to complete the West Highland Way Race 2017.

The Training:

The previous year my training was overwhelming, I was trying to run super long every week without break, and had too many races to train for. So this year I decided to enter no races over marathon distance, instead all my long miles would be training runs. In addition I blocked my training into four week periods. Three weeks of increasing mileage followed by one week of reduced mileage. I kept it simple, doing two long runs per week, Wednesday and Sunday, as my work schedule allowed. Then intervals, hill works, easy runs on my other training days. I did back to back long runs when I was on holiday. I simply increased the length of these runs over three weeks, cut back on the fourth then increased again for the next three and so on, culminating in the whole route over two days mid May. I was ready.

The Race:

I rocked up at my support crews house at about 10:30pm on Friday, having slept well during the afternoon. I'm lucky, I can sleep anywhere at anytime. One of my longest friends Michelle had kindly volunteered to drive the whole race for me. And she had recruited her twins, Dana and Lewis, to help out. They'd later be joined by support crew legend Paul. We loaded the car up with masses of food, clothing and first aid kit and headed over to Milngavie. I was excited and nervous in equal measure. Signing in went smoothly, I was given my goody bag, dibber and weight card then caught up with some familiar faces. Lovely Lois was smiley as ever and Sandra instructed me to 'Go and rest!'.So I did.
We had a cuppa and a banana before heading down to the start, managing to catch Angela, a great friend of mine, and her runner Frank for a quick chat. Then I went with the herd of runners to gather at the tunnel for our briefing. 'There will be weather' we were warned, although at present it was warm and dry. The atmosphere was subdued I like it, excitement makes me nervous. And so, we were off.

Milngavie to Balmaha:

As the first 12 miles are relatively easy going it would be easy to get carried away and storm off too quickly, so I was very aware of slowing myself down. i enjoyed listening to the chat and fell into my groove. The night was warm and it was a novelty being out in the dark with so many people and headtorches. We soon reached the Stockimuir road then onto the rocky descent. I took this easy, and I think a few people passed me, but stories of trashed Quads rang in my head, I kind of wanted to save them for later. Quite a few people had gathered at the Beech tree to see us quietly onto the trail which runs parallel to the A81. we'd split into a small group of about 5 by this point, doing some leaping frogging. At one point I was leading and lead the group off into the sewage plant, silly me, we were soon corrected and back on track. I took a small hike up Gartness road, taking on food, nuts and a cereal bar, then jogged into Drymen. I didn't stop here as I'd advised my crew to go up the Balmaha and get some sleep, so it was straight through, into the woods. Seeing Loch Lomond invoked a burst of wabbling/singing of The Bony Banks Of Loch Lomond, laughing to myself. I passed a runner in the field going towards conic hill, and heard a stumble behind. Shouting back I checked he was OK, he was, telling me the kerb came out of nowhere.
The hike up Conic hill seemed short, I ran the flats and walked when I needed. Reaching the top I glanced back at the headtorches still coming up, and smiled. Again I was very gentle with my descent, I feel I was overtaken a few times here too. But I was not worried, I was on target and was looking forward to seeing my team. It was great to see Michelle, Dana and Lewis, they ushered me to the car as I asked if they'd slept, were they OK. They quickly changed my bottles, gave my a jam sandwich and marched me out. I had a feeling I'd chosen my team wisely.

Head torches from Conic Hill

Balmaha to Inversnaid:

From here my we's turn into I's, as I was mostly alone, how I like it. Coming out of Balmaha I held onto my pieces knowing a hike was coming up where I could eat. I wanted to ditch my headtorch at this point, but it was still quite dark although the weather was dry and cool. Ideal running. I stopped to pee, but apparently not far enough from the trail. My first mooning event of the day, I am sorry. The section was straightforward and as usual I said Hi to the Glasgow University research building, where I had stayed many moons ago. I didn't leave a drop bag at Rowardennan so I went straight through, happily jogging along, then hiking the fire road before dropping down onto the low path. I love this new track but today it felt quite long. I figured this is when my body is probably most sleepy. I was running well but just sleepy tired. I was still enjoying it and looking forward to seeing Ruth at Inversnaid. Eventually I arrived to Ruth's warm welcome.
'You're second lady!' she exclaimed.
'Don't say that' I replied. Meaning I didn't want to know, not that I didn't believe her. I got my bag and all I wanted was my Blue Spark (other brands are available). I stashed my custard for later and quickly moved onto my favourite section of the first half.

Inversnaid to Beinglas:

I stomped out of Inversnaid slurping my juice and burping, a good burp is my guilty pleasure! Then I woke up. I felt amazing. This gnarly, rooty, tricky section is my favourite because I get to play. Hopping and skipping along, bopping away to my tunes I was loving it. Being so alone isn't for everyone, but for me it's great, I have social anxiety so while I love people, lots of them makes me a little stressed.
I did pass one runner whom I spoke with. He told me he hated this section. I did not disagree out loud but in my head I wondered how?!? I told him it would soon get better and continued on. Run/hiking to the very top end of the loch and Dario's post. I never met Dario but as a mark of respect I stepped off the trail, touched his post, took in the view then off I went. Just the last two miles down to Beinglas and my crew.

Beinglas to Tyndrum:

Michelle and Dana were waiting for me with words of encouragement.
'You've doing great by the way' said Michelle, her praise means a lot.
The word on The Way was that the first lady was struggling, the word on The Way wasn't wrong. I tried not to think about that, I had my coke, and some tablet then jogged alongside the A82, admiring the river Fallon, with it's gorgeous falls and deep valley. Before long I did see a lady ahead. She was hiking and I soon caught up. We walked together for a bit, I asked if she'd eaten, she said yes. I asked if she was ok, she said yes. So I told her to let the food work its magic and go from there. unfortunately I found out afterwards she had pulled out at Auchentyre. I trucked on and it hit me...I was now first lady. I put the thought to the back of my mind telling myself it's a long way to Fort William.
I was running strong as I climbed up to cow poo alley. I'm not averse to s**t and muck so mess doesn't really bother me, although I did manage to get through with dry feet! The rollercoaster in Ewich forest was easier than ever and it passed in no time. I caught up with a fellow runner, who I now know as John Connelly, we spoke for a bit and then I moved on.
The last stretch is flat, even and good running ground, so it was good to get a bit of a more even stride for a bit. I saw race director Ian, previous years winner James, Johnny fling, Lorna and a few others, but the best sight was Paul, who gave me big hugs. I think my face lit up at the sight of him, he is a very special person. Michelle, Dana and Lewis were cheering me, I got weighed, a coffee, more bottle changes and a rice pudding magically appeared. Off I went, chatting with Paul, I told him I was feeling pressure because I was first. Ever wise he told me to run my own race. I took on his advice and continued, seeing everyone again at tyndrum, minus my crew who I'd told to just go on to BOO.

Auchentyre to Bridge of  Orchy:

I find this stretch easy as it's relatively flat and I like the view of Ben Dorain. I ran with Alan Conry for a mile or so but he dropped back, later telling me he thought I'd blow out going at that pace and he was pleased I didn't. I had my first and only fall along this section, nothing serious, I jumped up, dusted myself off and got on with it, laughing at myself. Just before Bridge Of Orchy I caught two runners, they must have taken a longer break here as I didn't see them again that day. A quick pit stop, hugs, coke, food and out. Jelly babies on my mind.

Bridge of Orchy to Glencoe:

I shortly reached the top of jelly baby hill and the weather had turned. But the wind was behind me, and so it was fine. I saw Murdo and was treated to a jelly baby, red. He told me to take another, Thanks Murdo! So I took a black one, very yummy.

Jelly baby hill by Murdo McEwan

He sent me on my way, as I went down slowly I saw my team. Dana ran up the hill a few hundred yards and joined me for the last wee bit of the hill, which was amazing. A future ultra runner in the making. They ushered me on to Rannoch moor.
It's desolate. I was enjoying myself, I just find the moor a bit too wide, too big, and I don't really like the underfoot stoney path early on, although the going gets much better further on. I was still running strong and the wind was behind. I sang to my music, probably something cheesy like The Proclaimers, I forget, but they are prominent on my play list. I was soon climbing out of the wilderness to my lovely buddies.
They gave me custard at my request, plain water and Paul saw me down the road. I rabbited on about the wind and the custard, most of which ended up on my mush, to my amusement. Crossing the road I was off to my favourite section of the second half.

Jelly baby Hill by Murdo McEwan

Glencoe to Kinlochleven:

I was still feeling strong, to my amazement, I was now into unknown territory as I've never run over 69 miles in one go. So I think by now my estimated times were out the window. But I was feeling good. And happy, there was no place I'd rather be. A short jog passed the Kingshouse brought me back onto the trail, the wind was now fully head on for this section, but it was bearable. There were lots of walkers out now, but all were very courteous and a little confused I think. I occupy myself here by trying to trace the curved ridge route up Buachaille Etive Mor, soon coming to the bottom of the devil's staircase. For the first time of my many climbs up the devil, I felt it was tough, I felt slightly lightheaded so I hiked up, the wind was howling, the rain was driving, but I had chosen this, I wanted this so bad, for so long, I had no right being down. Bad times fade and the good times stay in our memories. The devil may have been tough, but I'm tougher. I made the top, swigged my coke, bought a pepsi from the shop?!? swigged that and took on the fun, rocky, steep, downward track to Kinlochleven, now THIS is my favourite bit of the second half. The technical sections really suit me, my hip flexor was a bit stiff but nothing to worry too much about. The relay runners were coming passed now and it was nice to get a passing Hi.
I reached the fire road and the final two miles down to the checkpoint and aside from a second peeing incident, I made it down in good shape, and decent time. Was nice to see Dod and Karen here, smiles and hello's all round.I soon went into the community centre where I'd gained weigh, but was told it was fine, to the car, food, drink, out.

Kinlochleven to Lundava:

I had a big wobble here, telling Paul I may have to walk the last sixteen miles. Paul, as usual, did not disappoint, telling me I was running better than I was walking 'gliding' he described my running. And making me laugh with tales of his previous support duties. He hurried me on, giving me a hug and sending me on my way.
Of course I could run, and I shouted back to Paul

'Look! I'm running!' 

He probably thought, what a twit, I didn't mind if he did. I got to the top of the climb out of Kinlochleven and jogged along in the wind, rain and cold. This part is a bit of a blur, I was cold, wet, and realised I'd made a mistake. I should have changed into drier, and warmer clothes before going up there, I knew how exposed it was, and I paid the price, because I walked much more than I should have, and didn't eat much, although I was still drinking well. It was basically rivers underfoot, I think I just gritted my teeth and saw this section through. What a relief Lundavra was, I think all I could think of was dry clothes. That's all I remember saying, that, and telling Paul I didn't need my modesty protecting, just help me change. Warm and dry I felt the resolve to run return strongly

Larig Mor by Jeff  Smith

Lundavra to Fort William:

The final six miles were good, I caught up with Mr forth place for a bit, just before the wide track down, but unfortunately my hip flexor was rather painful on what is normally a dream descent, so I took some paracetamol, and walked till they kicked in and I could run again. And let Mr forth place get his forth place. Their was a point where I was directed towards the Brave heart carpark where I thought I'd gone wrong, was that arrow for us? It's not the West Highland Way route. I had visions of being disqualified for going off route! But a relay runner confirmed I was on the right track, phew! Cow bells saw me through the car park, up the road, I didn't allow myself to slow as I knew I wouldn't get going again, determination and sheer pigheadedness after 94 miles or so, it seems insane that one can still find the will to push the pace. I did though, At the roundabout, my friend David, and Paul were waiting, they joined me to the leisure centre then let me go over the finish to take the win in the women's race. I could not believe not only had I completed the race, I'd won! Dibber off, I got hugs from Michelle, Dana, Lewis, Paul and David. Then hugs from Ian. I think I was delirious so whatever was said, I apologise if it made no sense. But I was so pleased.

Finishing hugs

Awards, I'm sorry I don't have credit for this picture

Michelle hugs :)

After thoughts:

There isn't much I would have done differently, other than changing into dry clothing, rookie error on my part, as I believe I could have saved time on the last section if I had. I would love to be back, but maybe after the dust has settled, I am not expecting anyone to expect another win from myself, but I put a lot of pressure on myself. If I have another go in a few years I'll be privileged, who knows, but to be honest, if I was on my death bed, I'd probably go happy knowing I've been part of this special race. I salute every finisher.

Thanks you's:

As our races are more than just race day, I think my Mum deserves a thank you. Six months plus more, of me stinking out the house, panicking over mislaid kit, dirtying her bath, and nothing but support from her. She is amazing. On race day, my crew were vital, Michelle, Paul, Dana, Lewis, and even David, although he only made the end. Without them I could never have completed it, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. To all the team involved in the preparation of this amazing event, for keeping it special, race director Ian, all the first aid, marshals, volunteers huge respect, especially in the wind and rain. Until next time...