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.