Hills, hail, headwind, hunger

And the common denominator: The Husband :-)

Sonic and I had the rare opportunity to run together on Saturday, thanks to Mama C volunteering to take HurriCairn for the day. We decided on a West Highland Way Run (backwards) from Fort William to Bridge of Orchy (36+ miles). Ideally, we would have liked to have gone in the right (northerly) direction, but the logistics were easier to do the reverse.

I suppose with the recent canal training runs, we've been quite spoiled. When you run from your house, even an epic run can be over before lunchtime. On Saturday we left Bearsden at 7am, caught the Citylink bus from Bridge of Orchy and didn't start running from the bus station in Fort William until 10am.

The weather forecast didn't look good. Heavy rain and a strong northerly wind. I don't think it registered how tough that was going to make the run. Running into a headwind for the best part of seven hours, across the most exposed areas and over the three highest peaks, probably wasn't sensible. Although it certainly was character building. Adding a hail storm and some torrential rain into the mix was a nice touch too.

My legs felt good from the off and I even enjoyed the ascent out of Fort William to Lundarva. It's the first time I had run up, and not down. Although my legs were considerably fresher than they usually do on that track, so that's probably why I enjoyed it.

Lairig Mor is much more runable when you're going south, but the headwind was testing my strength. The sun threatened to come out for a bit. But that was it. Just a thought. This was the only time that warranted a picture stop: Sonic above Kinlochleven. Don't worry, he hasn't been gorging on my home cooked (I'm laughing as a type this). The wind was just puffing out his clothes.

Again, the ascent out of Kinlochleven was a first for me. Although, it's relentless (5 miles with 1800 ft), it's really good training. Sonic kept telling me that it was "all about time-on-feet" which was just as well, as I'm pretty sure I was jogging on the spot for quite some time.

Although Sonic was good at keeping at my pace - I'm way to stubborn/lazy/slow to adopt anyone else's - my Mastermind Specialist Subject could now be: Sonic's Back. I know, I know, what did I expect running with someone who I actually nicknamed, Sonic? Shame his skeletal frame doesn't make a very good wind breaker.

Prior to the run, I was worried about my quads. Considering it's the first real WHW hill run (anything south of the lochside doesn't count, as that's just a trail run) I've done since the Devils race in August, I expected my quads to be trashed. I needn't have bothered though, as the wind coming off the peaks, including the Devil's Staircase, keep us honest. Safe to say, there was no danger of us toppling over.

I had a real energy dip on the road up to the Glencoe ski centre. I was craving real food and was all out of tablet and sweets. I sucked up my "emergency gel", which had been festering in a my rucksack for many months and hoped that would keep me going over Rannoch Mor.

Rannoch Mor is not the place to be in bad weather. It was basically hoods up and heads down all the way. I was frozen and emotionally destroyed. At one point I asked Sonic if my eyelids were closing when I was blinking, as I couldn't feel them moving. I kid you not, I thought I'd had a stroke. Apologies to anyone who's had a stroke/know someone who has/may have one in the future. I was just frozen rigid.

Even when we turned 90 degrees down the Drovers Road is was still full-face on. How is that possible? I did try my hardest not to moan. There's nothing worse than a whining runner, so mute was the order of the day. Although when we did speak we had to shout and repeat it about three times.

Over the Orchy hills (yes, the last mile) was the only time we experienced a tail wind, so at least it finished on a more positive note. When we finally made it back to the car and we peeled off soaking wet - exposing ourselves to the passing traffic - it was the first time I've been relieved at not doing the WHWR this year. Although my alternative won't be any more pleasant.

"Where there is no struggle, there is no strength" (Good ol' Oprah)

Three Reasons to Feel Good About Bad Runs - according to Runner's World. Although I'm going to change bad for tough. Someone wise taught me that: "there's no such thing as a bad run. Just bad attitude"

Opportunity for Growth. We can learn much more from the runs that humble us than the ones that go so well we hardly take notice. Tough runs inspire us to evaluate what went wrong. How many long runs have you had this season after which you sat back and thought about what went right? A brutally hard long run is an opportunity to refine your training process to avoid making any mistakes that might have led you to the tough run last weekend. Many times, when you reflect on all the variables, you can isolate a few things that may have caused a less-than-pleasant long training run. Some possibilities include: lack of sleep, stress, poor nutrition quality or quantity, weather, pacing, training too hard earlier in the week, travel, different terrain, not enough recovery in your training season, slacking on training, illness, and vacation. Evaluate, track, and modify as you go. A training plan is never set in stone and is always a work in progress.


Keeps you from dancing on the tables. If longs runs were easy, everyone would do it, and the value of the bragging rights you're earning would decline dramatically at the office. Seriously, though, I always say it ain't a training season until you've had a long run that knocks you off your socks and demands your attention. The tough runs keep you focused on your goal and they're a great reminder of the challenge ahead.

Mind over matter. That which does not kill us, makes us stronger (Nietzsche.) When you run a long distance race, you ebb and flow through a lifetime of emotions. The strong training runs prepare you for the highs, but it is the not-so-strong runs that inevitably simulate and prepare you to run through the lows. Running through it builds a solid foundation of mental strength that prepares you to tackle the greatest of challenges come race day. It may not feel like it now, but the run(s) that bring you to your knees are an important piece of the journey to the finish line.

Happy Old Year

As I might not get another year like it, I thought I'd best write it all down. And possibly frame it!


Anglo Celtic Plate 100K: I was lucky enough to be selected to run on the Scotland team. I'll never forget my first Scotland vest, and I'll never forget this race. It was probably the hardest race I've ever done, but it was great to try a classic distance and push myself out of my comfort zone. I just missed my sub:9 hour goal, but was happy to finish in 9:03. Maybe that's just the incentive I need to give the distance another bash.


Highland Fling 53 miles: I wasn't holding out much hope for this race, as it was only a matter of weeks after the 100K. Plus, I hadn't really done that much hill and trail training, as I was predominately focusing on road. I was fairly relaxed about the race and went out with the suck-it-and-see attitude. I followed splits (devised by Sonic) that had me running 10 minutes slower in the first section than the previous year. It started rusty, came together in middle and fell apart at the end. I was delighted to finish second female in 9.39. As the event doubled as the UK Ultra trail championship, I also went home with that silver medal. And the bronze team medal. One event, four medals and a new PB. Not bad for a day's work. Sonic is now my official split co-ordinator :-)


West Highland Way Race: This was my key race for the year and I was ecstatic to achieve my dream sub:20 hour goal. 19:39 to be exact. I finished third female and 13th overall. After three WHW races, I vowed not to sign up for next year's. Not because I didn't enjoy it, because I did. OK, maybe enjoy isn't the right word, but you get the gist. I just want to try something new. I'll always be happy with my time, but I know I'll go back and try it again some day.

Clyde Stride 40: Probably not my wisest move just four weeks after the WHW, but I signed up with a view to completing four of the races in the Scottish Ultra Marathon Series (SUMS). It was a bit up and down. Some parts I felt great and in others I was burst. All in all a good race and I finished second behind Lucy Colquhoun in 5:56. My main goal was sub:6 so no grumbles from me.
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Devil o' the Highlands (43 miles): This was my first ultra back in 2007, so it's always been quite special. Although, to be honest, this year I was only in it for the SUMS point. As it turned out, it was by far my best race of the year. You know when people talk about how some races just "click" or "come together on the day"? Well, this one did. I finished second behind Lucy (who incidentally smashed the course record by over an hour!) in 6:56. Again, my ultimate goal was sub:7.

SUMS award: Guess what? I finished second behind Lucy :-) Julie once hit the nail on the head when she said "if she wasn't so nice, you'd hate her". Wise Julie also said, "finishing second to Lucy is a win", so I'll take it.


Commonwealth Mountain and Ultra Running Championships: I guess you'll know I ran on the Scotland team at the 24 hour race, because I haven't shut up about it. I finished 4th female. 1st for Scotland (overall). Broke the Scottish 200k record and was part of the team that took bronze. It was worth the destruction.

Sponsorship: After the Highland Fling I was contacted by Montane, as they wanted to give me some shiny new gear as a way of saying congratulations for being 2nd in their sponsored race. Result! Then a few months later they asked me to come on board as their first ultra-running female sponsored athlete.

Garscube Harriers' Meritorious Award: I won the award a few years ago and I was honoured enough to receive it again. As far as I can see by the listing on the trophy, I'm the only member to have won the award twice.

International Association of Ultra Runners Athlete of the Year nomination: It's a pretty safe bet that the uber-awesome Miss Hawker will walk away with this one, but I'm still in shock about making the shortlist.

Marcothon: Well tomorrow's the last day. And there will be nearly 1000 nutters (including those who haven't fessed up to bowing out) celebrating their last run. It will be a fabulous end to an amazing year. Although I have to do a 5k first. Yikes.

Happy New Year everyone.

The four seasons fun run

The Gibbering Midget and I decided to get in a long run (35-40 miles) before the winter set in. I'm not sure why, to be honest. Even when we were firming up plans last week, neither of us could think of a logical reason as to why we were doing it, or who's daft idea it was in the first place. Although the smart man's money is on it being mine. I think it stems from last year's month-long ice rink leading to no speed or long runs and then having to crank up the miles from January to run the 100K in March. This year, I'd like to keep ticking over. I'm not even convincing myself here...

Anyway we're not sensible enough to back down, so plans were made. We were to start at mine in Glasgow, head over to Balloch, then on to the West Highland Way to Milngavie and back to the start. A nice 37 miles circuit, with a bit of everything - roads, hills and trail. On paper, perfect. Although it's all runable so it's pretty unrelentless at points.

Of course, it was pitch black when we started at 7am on Saturday morning. We toyed with the idea of taking the canal path to Dumbarton - which would involve headtorches - but I wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea, so we decided to grin and bare the pavement alongside the street-lit dual carriageway of the A82. At least I thought we had made the decision. It later transpires that the GM had two buffs over her ears and had no idea what I was asking her and just nodded in agreement!

The first 10 miles were character building to say the least. It was dark and sub zero with a ice cold wind. And then the sleety rain started. Add in dirty spray from the passing lorries and buses and it was a a brutal experience. My legs were so wet and frozen, they could barely move. It was really just heads down and move forward for about 90 minutes. Thankfully, in our heads, we knew this was always going to be the nastiest part. It's a grim prospect even on the nicest of days.

After huddling in a bus shelter to refuel, we headed over the Balloch horseshoe to Croftamie. In true Scottish weather style, the sun came out revealing breathtaking views over to the snow-capped Ben Lomond. And then, of course, the grey clouds appeared and it p*ssed of rain again.

When we hit the West Highland Way, I was starting to wilt. I can't quite put my finger on it as to how I felt. It wasn't fatigue, fuelling issues or muscle pain, I just felt flat. I've felt the same for a few weeks. Just flat.

Wading through ankle deep ice cold water for a few miles didn't really help either. It was completely flooded around Beech Trees. And there was no point pussyfooting around the edges, as wet feet were inevitable. For fellow WHW runers who haven't been on the Way for a while - like me! - then there's been some resurfacing around the bottom of Dumgoyach. That's the nasty muddy bit between Carbeth and Beech Trees. And there a new lane which bypasses the farm. The WHW is turning into a cycle path and I'm not sure I like it. The mental gates were bad enough. Anyway, I bet Rosie Bell wishes this was done last year, as she wouldn't have lost her kneecap during the Fling. Still officially the worst running injury/accident I've ever seen.

After the magical powers of a Red Bull shot at Carbeth Huts, I started to perk up for the last four miles on trail. Believe it or not, we were actually blinded by the sun heading through Mugdock Park.

Then we stopped at Milngavie for some Coke before heading on the five miles home. We were still in really good spirits and just as things were looking up for the final stint, the hailstones started. Remember how I said the route had a bit of everything...? Road, trail, hills, wind, rain, sleet, hail, floods, sunshine and rainbows.

My Sunday run for the Marcothon was rusty to say the least. I managed a spaced-out 3.5 miles and that's only because I misjudge the distance of the route. Now that we have the snow and ice here, I'm glad I got that long run in after all.

Congratulations to everyone who got a place in the West Highland Way Race. I feel a bit like Cinderella not going to the ball, but I'm really looking forward to trying something new. Plus, even if I never did it again, I'll always be pleased with my time from this year. I'll be there for the race though - Sonic's on back-up payback time!

The Dream Nineteen

I really wanted a sub:20 hour West Highland Way Race. Strange to think that when I first attempted this crazy race in 2008, all I wanted to do was break 24. This year's training and build-up races (if you can call a 100K road race and the Highland Fling build-up races) had gone well and I was fired-up and mentally ready for it.

When it comes to ultra-running, I think you’ve got to rely on a large dollop of luck and factors that are out with your control. And thankfully lady luck was on my side. I started feeling fit and injury free, the conditions suited me perfectly (apart from a few brief interludes) and my long-suffering crew were the best. The ingredients for the perfect race recipe. My race was less than perfect, but it ranks highly on my all-time favourites. I’ll TRY to keep it brief, as I realise I’m a bit late in the day to come at this. Jeez, the ladies winner has already completed three races since last weekend, but we know Kate the Great is part machine.

This was the fourth time than I’d experience the bustle of Milngavie at 1am. First time as a 30+hour completer, once on support duty and last year finishing in 20 hours. I’d like to think I’ve seen the race from a few perspectives. Regardless of how many times you see the start, it’s still quite overwhelming. I liken it to watching someone give birth on TV. It all comes flooding back.

The lovely Alison B and George were my back-up for the nightshift. After registration, weigh-in and race instructions the countdown began.

I started off slower than slow. Quite uncomfortably slow. I ran with Bob Steel (who had to finish the race to get back home to milk his cows at 4am) and Donnie Campbell (who was running an additional 90 miles to Skye to raise money for a local hospice). I felt like a total lightweight.

The field starts to split up pretty quickly, into pockets of runners. Focussing on footwork which is navigated by torchlight means the miles tick by and I was at Beech Trees in no time. The whispering cheers (now that’s an oxymoron) of support crews is always quite comical. Although I doubt the local residents get any sleep with the pitter-patter of hundreds of feet, torches and car doors and gates slamming shut anyway.

On to the narrow track to Drymen, I lead a group of headtorches. No faces, just torches. The front runner always get the raw deal, as the gates are hard work. No one took the hint when I was running on the grass verge to allow people to pass. No problem, but an acknowledgment or a thank-you for holding the gates wouldn’t have gone a miss. My two-year-old has better manners!

Getting to Drymen is like a vampire movie. When the sun comes up everything is calmer and more rational. Leaving Drymen I caught up with Richard Gilbraith. Fresh (or not-so-fresh as it turned out) from his amazing performance at the Marathon de Sables. It was nice to chat for a while, as I’m starting to soften to the idea of taking on this classic race...someday a long time away!

I’ll spare you the graphics, but my stomach had been playing up from the word go and a few miles from Drymen the emergency stops started. And pretty much continued until about 70 miles into the race.

The carpark at Balmaha (19 miles) was as crazy-busy as Milngavie. My plan was to drop off and pick up as quickly as possible at all checkpoints. George is super-slick on support. He’s quite literally all over. Amazingly committed and enthusiastic. He ran out to meet me, guided me to the car, spun my around refilled my supplies and sent me on my way. I’d asked for some Resolve to help settle my stomach. He cleaned out sports drink bottle, mixed it out, drove along the lochside and ran back to give it to me.

I played leap frog with Bob and chatted with Marc Casey for most of the way to Rowardennan. Looking back now, apart from a few more emergency stops, this section was pretty uneventful.

Into Rowardennan (27 miles), I saw Jamie sitting down next to her support team. Her ankle had let her down and she was calling it a day. She still flashed her All-American smile and shouted encouragementI changed into new trail shoes. I knew the course would be really wet and mucky up until that point and the next few (long!) sections would be drier. I was basically trying to keep my feet dry for as long as possible. Probably not the best idea to change into shoes I’d quite literally bought a few hours before the race. Thankfully I’ve never had any problems with new shoes. And they were a carbon copy of the ones I was taking off.

From Rowardennan, I stayed in third position, with the Gibbering Midget in second and Kate Jenkins in first.

I took a sandwich and sweets and hugged my crew. It would be a long time before I saw them again. I hooked up with Ross - who had to apologise for hurling abuse at me after initially mistaking me for the GM – and ran with him for the next 5/6 miles. After an hour of clasping a dough ball sandwich, I gave up and threw it for the birds. We later caught up with Andy, who like Ross was settling unfinished business from 2010. After a bit of chatting they discovered the reason they DNFd last year, was because they were racing each other into Bridge or Orchy and completely blew up. They mentioned they both just wanted sub-24. When I told them I was looking for sub:20 hours and they’d smash their expectations, they dropped back a bit.

Into Inversnaid, the lovely lady from the Trossachs’ Search and Rescue Team replenished my baby wipes supply. Thank heavens. It was like déjà vu catching JK. On his backside. Eating. James Quigley – and now fellow Garscubian - was there too. I picked up some supplies as quickly as possible to escape the midges, and headed out with JK. Passing JK on the lochside is becoming a bit of a habit. It would have been nice to run with him for longer, but he was starting his own battle. He went on to finish his fifth race, but not without a fight.

I really like the Lochside section and it was good to run with Graham for a while. WHW supremo George Cairns was his support for the day and his wife (Graham’s wife that is) was giving him leg massages at checkpoints. I felt a bit cheated :-)

Beinglas Farm (41 miles) – or Stargate as I call it – was quieter this year, as there was a drop bag operation in place to discourage support vehicles. It was lovely to see Ian B there and even nicer that he helped with my supplies, as my hands were no longer working. I took another sandwich – which again was fed to the birds - and headed up the hill with Dale and Drew, passing a less than cheery looking Mike R on the way.

This section is always a lot harder than it looks, but it was a comfort to know that I would see my crew again soon. And with the new additions Kas, Jill and Emma who were taking over from Alison and George.

Heading towards Coo-poo junction Kevin caught up with me. I was to see a lot of Kevin for the next 50 miles! It was Kevin’s 5th (and final, according to Mrs Kevin) attempt at the race, so I was glad to see 50 miles worth of him.

I then caught up with John (with the Geordie accent) and ran with him for a couple of miles. He had to call it a day last year, because of a stress fracture. I lost him on the descents. I was later to discover his knees were given him jip and caused him to slower considerable from there on in. He finished nonetheless.

Heading towards Auchtertyre Farm (50 miles), the long-awaited support point, I saw Big John (nobody knows why his name is affixed with “big”) from Sonic’s support sitting on a gate. Similar to the position I saw him in at the finish of the Fling, except this time he wasn’t shouting only a few hundred metres to go. I asked how Sonic was doing to which he wrinkled his nose and shook his head. I wasn’t long before I saw Sonic off the course all layered-up.

Readers of Sonic’s blog will know that it was a bit touch and go for him. Injury and a series of knock-on-effect injuries had him side-lined for a few weeks. He had barely run a step this month. The race was hugely important to him, but I’m sure not whether I thought it was brave or silly to start. Starting a 95 miles injured or not being 100% fit and focussed is a bit like drink driving. You might get away with for a bit and maybe even have fun, but you will soon be caught out. It was his first DNF, so I knew it would be hard decision for him. I was glad to hear, that at 48 miles, he’d called time (…before his wife caught him!)

I saw Emma as I approached Auchtertyre and it took me while to focus on what was on her T-shirt. This was the best surprise EVER. I could have cried when I saw them all. I gave me a right giggle and a much-needed boost.

I said my farewells to George and Alison – and probably didn’t thank them enough – and headed on the 2/3 mile “nasty section” to Tyndrum where I was planning on stopping for a proper supply top-up. It was no surprise that I was struggling to take on food. Kas had gone for a run, leaving Emma and Jill trying to force feed me and threatening the wrath of Kas. Even that didn’t work. Although Kas has a heart of gold, she’s got a tongue that makes me look like Hannah Montana.

I can’t even remember what I took, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t eat it. There were a couple of runners behind me, including Kevin. I was hoping he would soon pass me as I was in need of a comfort break. He must have thought my rubber necking was my competitive streak. The gap wasn’t closing, so I had to try to be as discreet as possible and hoped he too was starting to suffer from blurry vision. I doubt it was discreet at all.

Passing over the railway bridge I meet Gail and Steven coming in the opposite direction. It was so lovely to see them I stopped to chat for a minute and let Kevin soldier on.

On to Bridge of Orchy (60 miles) I checked in with Sean Lord-of-the Bridge and picked up a bottle of something and maybe some sweets. Who knows? The conditions were fairly mild, although wet and Sean has warned me that the hills and Moor would be cold and to take a jacket. I told him the gals were meeting me at Victoria Bridge and disappeared before he could make me change that decision.

The lovely Murdo was waiting at the top of the Orchy Hills with his old faithfully saltire, supply of jelly babies and never-ending smile.

The descent into Inveroran was fairly tricky. Not just because the rocks were wet, but I couldn’t get my eyes to focus properly. I ran with Dale on the road round to Victoria Bridge car-park. This bit is probably my least favourite bit on the whole course. And from the look on Dale’s face I guess he was thinking the same. Either that or his inability to shake me off was his least favourite part! My money’s on the latter.

Emma had come along to the corner to ask what I wanted in my bottle belt. It was pouring with rain and she ran back along with her hood up, zig-zagging across the road as a van was trying to pass. I nearly fainted trying to shout at her, but she couldn’t hear a thing. I’m not sure if she knows how close she was to being squashed.

On arrival, Kas was being her usually sympathetic self and cursing, shrieking and threatening blue murder if I didn’t eat. Her no bullshit approach to support is just what I need. I took some of her homemade banana cake and walked along whilst Emma tried to detangle the headphones for my ipod. I chuckled when Emma whispered: “Jill and I ate your sandwiches, so Kas wouldn’t shout at you”. You gotta love it. The banana cake was going down quite well to which I said: “Don’t tell Kas, but this is actually quite nice”. As we giggled, you could hear the shrieks in the background “Has she thrown that away? Has seen thrown that away?” That was my cue to get my butt moving and get out of there.

I really enjoyed the Rannoch Mor section. Nine hilly miles of vast exposure is not really the best on a driech day, but I’d added a new playlist to my ipod which put a spring in my step. Again, playing leapfrog with Kevin and Dale. Graham was not too far in front either.

Looking back, this was probably one of my favourite sections. Prior to race day, I hoped and prayed for no sun and I really got my wish. I’m not one for running with a jacket on, but I wore mine for the last 35 miles. I actually love running in the rain, so the conditions suited me. This was to be the calm before the storm. The descent into the ski centre (71 miles) was pretty jerky as my toes were bashed to bits. Flat were ok, but the downhills squashed them to bits. New shoes were no problem. Putting lock laces into the new shoes was a big mistake. They allowed too much movement. I think it would have worked OK if my feet were drier. Oh well, we live and learn. I just wish I hadn’t learnt this on race day.

Summer in Glencoe...



After Sonic’s retirement, my crew had now become equipped with some Walkie Talkies. Emma met me at the corner of the detour of the ski centre checkpoint and signalled to Jill and Kas that I was looking for 1) banana smoothie 2) babywipes 3) banana cake. Brilliant, eh? Until Emma came bounding across with only a slimfast shake :-)

My plan was to carry nothing and pick up some supplies at the bottom of the Devil’s Staircase. The four miles there were pretty uneventful, but I felt like I had 70 odd miles in my legs.

Jill with Babywipes: I think I might have made a bit of a drama about this :-)

I thought Jill had come along to meet me, but really it was to warn me that Kas was on the warpath. On arrival I was instructed to “stand there and not move until you’ve eaten this sandwich”. I wish there was a video of me running along Altnafeadh with Kas chasing me. I can still hear Emma and Jill laughing. Thankfully I wasn’t caught chucking the food to the birds, although I’m sure I could hear Kas shouting for some time.


(Kas on the chase!)

If I thought the ascent was tough work, the descent was even worse. I can safety say, this was my only real “struggle point”. But I wasn’t alone on this one, so I won’t moan. The path had turned into a river and I had no confidence as to where my feet were landing so was resigned to doing some ridiculous hopping and jerking action. I wanted to run, but I would have been better off walking. My feet were slipping about in the shoes so much and regardless of the amount of times I tighten the locks, the elastic laces allowed too much movement.

As I gingerly pussyfooted my way down into Kinlochleven, Kevin came passed and asked how far away it was. When I informed him it was about two miles, he had a mild tantrum about being able to see to the town. I felt the need to apologise, but it was still two miles away

I was bit grumpy on arrival at Kinlochleven and I managed to nearly strangle myself with tangled earphones. I think I must go into some kind of trance/tunnel/state of shock, as I don’t really remember being there. Although I remember I nearly left without anything and then repeatedly asked for my rucksack - which sent my crew in a frenzy – when really I wanted the bottle belt I’d left on the table. Oops!

On my way into Kinlochleven, Adam was on his way out getting stuck into a bag of chips - only in ultra-running. I caught up with him on the hill out of the town.

I’d spent most of the day catching up with guys that the Gibbering Midget has left in her wake. Some of their comments were quite comical. Adam summed it up quite nicely when he described her as “awesome and just keeps going” and “in the midst of all this awesomeness, just talks non-stop”. Although Adam got dealt another short-straw, as I asked him about million questions across Lairig Mor. I did say I wasn’t being nosey, just taking the focus off the situation.

I’d like to think I kept Adam going, but I think he was more hell-bent on not letting another girl beat him. He echoed me step for step. I ran. He ran. I walked. He walked. I didn’t even attempt to shake him off. It was actually quite nice to have some company for the final leg. And the fact that he was more gubbed than me perked me up a bit. Sorry, Adam!

Lairig Mor was long, but I was in better shape than I was last year when my ankles felt like I’d done a round with Kathy Bates. This year, my body was ok, but my fuelling was letting me down. I probably took on 2000 calories max and that was mostly sports drink and coke.

I stopped at Lundarva to change my socks and put on my road shoes. I’ve done this on a few races, so thought this was a good plan. Bad move as it wasted time and made my feet feel worse, as the socks were tight round my toes. Plus, Adam thought he was making a sly get away. Wrong! I caught up with him within half a mile.

I really enjoyed the woodland area all the way to the track. I could see two runners in front (Kevin and Mark Caldwell), but I didn’t have the inclination to care. I was just happy doing my own thing and working through it.

Starting on the track on the descent to Fort William, was like trying to wind up and old clock. There were various involuntary sounds and then I eased off and I was on the home straight. I focussed on staying positive and took the advice from Andy Cole and used the time to reflect on what I have achieved.
(Photo by Colin Knox)
Adam and I barely muttered a word of the next couple of miles. It should have been uncomfortably silent, but neither of us cared. Just before the beautiful sight that is the Braveheart Carpark, Emma was on the track full of excitement. She disappeared with the walkie-talkie shouting: “Right, girls, we’re bringing our runner back to the Mothership for a massive PB”.

Hitting the pavement for the final stretch was amazing. Especially when it was only 8.30pm! My gals passed in the car like a mobile hen do - complete with matching tshirts - screaming, cheering, honking horns and flying flags.

I was willing the 30mph sign to appear, mainly because Adam kept asking me how far to go :-) Some walkers were coming towards us in the opposite direction forcing me to jump on and off the pavement, which seemed a little cruel. As we rounded the bend I could hear and see the mini gathering outside the pub. I practically ran across the roundabout and along the road. Sonic’s crew were on the left and my crew on the right. I think I was smiling from ear to ear, but I’m not sure my facial muscles still worked.


Finished in 19.39:57. 3rd gal and 13th overall.

I may look totally shocked, but I was ecstatic. I’m now on the list of girls who’ve run sub: 20 hours.



I said I would try to keep it brief. I lied. If you’re still with me, thanks for reading. I’m glad I wrote this down now, but does anyone else get emotional writing race reports? Jeezo, I’m getting soft in my old age.

I don’t even know where to start with my thank you bit. First things first: My crew. Again, you were truly amazing...and so entertaining :-) Sonic and Team Sonic for chipping in at the end. The organisers, stewards, race officials, medics, search and rescue teams without them the race wouldn’t exist. It’s not like a 10K when you volunteer for a couple of hours. This is a full weekend’s commitment.





Congratulations to everyone who finished and who put up with me. Well done to the champions who put up a brave fight and those that were sensible anough to postpone their success for another year.

Some great performance from Richie (his second, well-deserved, win), Thomas (the diva moments were worth the huge PB), Kate (7th win. Yes, 7th) and the GM (who put the shitters up Kate to finish in an AMAZING time of 9hr 11) Click here for full results

The GM (2nd), Kate (1st) and Me (3rd)

I may have suggested I’m not doing the race again. Not because I didn’t enjoy it, because I loved it. I’m just not sure I can better it. Anyway, I’ve forgotten about that announcement already. Same time next year, folks?

Taper time (again!)

Last weekend saw the start of the three week taper. And the end of the bargain Citylink bus tickets. Being from a rival newspaper, it pains me to say the Daily Record struck gold with their £2 ticket deal.

Saturday, the GM and I finished the last piece of the WHW puzzle, by running from Kingshouse to Fort William. We drove up to Kingshouse, ran the 23.5 miles to Fort William and got the bus back. Simples? Not quite.

I don't want to wibber on about the weather (again!) but anyone who's been on the Scottish hills, knows it can make or break your day. On Saturday, it did both. Intermittent is a good word to describe it. Flipping from icy cold rain to glorious sunshine. But always with a strong head wind. Character building I'd say.

When we left Kingshouse, the driving rain would strip the fake tan off you ;-) There were lots of walkers huddled waiting to embark on their day's trek. All goretex up. You should have seen their faces when the GM rolled up in her signature pants and socks. One mile down the road - whilst being stoned to death by hail - We stopped to layer up. Then continued to run while shielding our faces, which were being battered from the left. By the time we'd reached the Devil Staircase (only a few miles away) the sun had come out and we were sheltered from the wind... and guess what?...we were nearly fainting in the heat. Only in Scotland, eh? Layers off and we settled into the run from there.


(Overlooking Kinlochleven. I really need to work on my photo posing)

After I got over the initial shock, I really enoughed the day. Sometimes, you've just got to put your head down and get on with it. The day zipped passed and we were at Lundarva in no time (well, actually, lots of time!) and in need for a full-fat Coke break.

Every run needs a bit of drama and this is when the GM lost the clip for her one-strap rucksack. After some searching we were resigned to fixing it with my hair band. I did remind her that she wouldn't have that kind of back-up if she'd chosen to run with that big guy again :-)

I really enjoy the woodland sections above Fort William (only on fresh legs, of course) so it was a bit of a shock stepping into a vast open space where all the trees had been cleared. I had seen Richie's pictures, but I couldn't work out where it was. No wonder. It looks completely different and very surreal. Quite sad too.



There were lots of walkers out on the Way that day. Mostly walking in the "wrong direction". You could tell it was panic training for the Caledonian Challenge. I felt like an air steward for most of the day. Good morning. Hello. Good morning. Hello. I'm glad the Caledonian Challenge is on a different day from the WHWR now. I loose social skills around 50 miles. Just ask my support team.

This was the first time this year that I'd actually run into Fort William. And it's hard to believe the next time I'll be doing it,is at the end of the race in two weeks time.

We ran straight on to Morrisons. Eager to get changed and pick up some supplies for the bus. I've decided I'm going to rename the ladies toilets in Morrisons to the Hall of Horrors. I don't think I've look at a mirror in there and not got the shock of my life.

We'd timed it quite nicely for the bus. And no Glasgow-bound Citylink bus trip would be complete without a couple of vocal chaps with Tennants tinnies. Whilst passing the mighty Munros one commented that it would be "great to get up there with a massive cargo" (that's a large supply of alcohol to non-natives). During a mobile phone conversation the other summed up the day's condition quite nicely by saying "...it was nice. Then it was shite. Then it was nice. Then it was shite". I wish the BBC would offer up this kind of straight-up weather forecast in future.

We got off the bus at Kingshouse into another hail storm. The GM started to run towards the car and I followed suit - mainly because I had the car keys. The vocal chaps on the bus must have got the last laugh watching me trying to run down the hill in full waterproofs, stiff legs and swinging a Morrisons poly bag with eight cans of Pepsi Max and that day's paper. You can't buy class.

It was a huge relief to get into the car and leave the storm behind. Even more so to get the heating on full and start heading home. The GM was certainly enjoying the comfort and sunk back and said: "couldn't you just go for a wee nap?" To which I had to reply: "Not really, sweetie. I'm driving"

Good thinking, citylinking

As the month of May is nearly behind us, this is a quick summary...

I was fairly pleased at how quickly I recovered from the Fling. I even managed a PB at the Women's 10K the weekend after and finished 119th out of over 10,000 finishers. Which probably says more about the runners (eh, walkers) than my athletic ability. I agree that is wasn't the best recovery strategy, but the race is really special to me. It's the reason I started running in the first place. My ninth in a row, so I would have crawled round on my hands and knees if required. Thankfully there was still a little bit of zip in the ol' pins. And that's my annual 10K over with for another year. Way too much like hard work for me.



The piece de resistence of West Highland Way training was centred around a two-day run, covering the 72 miles (of the 95 route) to Kingshouse. Milngavie to Beinglas on the Wednesday (41 miles) and Beinglas to Kingshouse (31) on Thursday. Sometimes the logistics of a point-to-point routes are more taxing than the actually running itself. This year I booked good ol' Citylink bus back each day, which worked out brilliantly. The downside is being restricted to specific timing as the Citylink service is a pretty irregular service - from Kingshouse there was a bus at 2.30pm and 7.30pm - and standing about chittering waiting on a non-punctual bus service.

Originally I planned the week off work, but a major project launch put a swift kick to that. I try to be as disciplined as possible when it comes to training (when the body's willing) so I just had to work round it. Which meant five days off became two, I had to carry two phones, stop for regular email/phone breaks and work in the evening. But hey ho, it meant I could get out on a trails for two days, so it was worth it.

The Gibbering Midget had also taken two days off. I train so much on my own these days, that it really makes you appreciate some buddy support. The miles always tick by. Plus, we pretty much done all our long together, so we're in sync. There's the unspoken way we know when to pick up the pace, knock it back, walk the hills and start again. And regardless of how many times we tell each other we're going to take it easy, it's always eyeballs and elbows out for the last mile.

Both days just flew in and were really enjoyable. The weather could have been kinder, but it could have been a whole lot worse. In true Scottish style, we were hit with all conditions. Head down driving rain and wow-wee-check-out-the-view blue skies. Unfortunately our feet were sodding wet for most of it. I think my feet practically came off with my socks. Oh well, my summer sandals have been redundant for a few years now.



The plus-side was my legs felt fairly good at the end of it all. Much better than they were after the two days last year. I was kinda wishing we could have done the final sections on the Friday. But when I was watching the hail stones pelt off the streets from the comfort of my office, I got over that quite quickly.

The glorious weather continued into the club's annual training weekend at the Trossach's Tryst in Callander. This year Coach Lesley joined us, so there was more training and less partying involved. As I'd done my longs on Wednesday and Thursday and Sonic was running on Friday and Saturday (see what I mean about having to be disciplined), I intended on doing a few leisurely jogs, but mostly spending some QT with my boy. Last year the weather was glorious - actually too hot - and we went on nice walks, ate ice-cream, went to the park and splashed about in the Loch. This year we had bouncing rain, so we were pretty much housebound and stuck watching reruns of Toy Story. My three mile run on Saturday evening turned into seven miles, in a vain attempt to ward off the cabin fever.

On Sunday morning I ran the 12 miles from Callander to Aberfoyle on the number seven cycle track. About five miles of it is all up hill, but it's worth the puff as it's a glorious route. Lots of wow-wee moments. The terrain is just perfect to consistent running and working hard. And as I'd started early I had the place to myself. The other guys started later and went in the opposite direction. I think I took the easier option :-) At least I had a warm-up



Anyway, now I'm off to meet the GM to run from Kingshouse to Fort William. Last piece of the puzzle.

Pièce de résistance

That's it. I've completed my highest mileage week in preparation for the fast appropriately 95 miles of joy. Big tick. But after running 73 miles over two days, you would have thought I'd have slept like a log. No such luck, I was up at 3am reading blogs and faffing about on Facebook and Ebay. I even woke Sonic up to tell him about Mrs Mac's FB status about a runner on the Cateran Trail ultra who stopped at mile 46 for a coffee and a cigarette! Brilliant. Frustratingly post-long-distance-run restlessness is becoming part and parcel for me. After the Devil's last year, I had about an hour's sleep. It didn't help that my ankles felt like I done a round with Kathy Bates. I had a house full of insomniacs after the Fling and I was up and down most of last Saturday and Sunday night.

Does anyone else have problems sleeping after long hours of running? After a wee google search, here's the theory:

The physical and psychological stresses of training beyond your individual threshold may stimulate the sympathetic nervous system, leading to irritability and reducing the quality and quantity of sleep.

Yep, I'm none the wiser too.

Anyway, here's how my week went:

Tuesday: 8 miles with 5 mile tempo (7.31, 7.09, 7.12, 7.08, 7.02 ave 7.13)

Wednesday: 8 miles steady ave 8.28

Friday - Milngavie to Beinglas 41.5 miles.



Booked myself on the 3:30pm Citylink bus back. I Started about 6.30am - allowing myself nine hours to complete the route. I did it in 7:19 in the Fling, but was aiming for 8:30 as part of the two-day run.

I was slightly nervous about doing this run alone. Me. Alone. With only my thoughts. The Gibbering Midget and I had planned this weekend a few months ago, but she had to start early and do an out and back, as she had a hospital appointment for her Mum in the afternoon.

The GM was the only runner I met on the whole journey - just outside Drymen. It was quite comical, as we were pretty much wearing the same outfit. Black 2XU compression tights, black tee, Nike sleeves and Nathan backpacks. She was wearing her signatory black buff and I, of course, had a black cap. The ginger ninjas indeed. En route to Balmaha a wee man shouted "Hello again!" I had a wee chuckle when I thought he must have been thinking I'd tanned a shed load of jelly babies since our last encounter.

It was a fabulous morning for running. Bright and fresh. Here's the cracking view over Loch Lomond.



I was having a slight panic about the potential to getting burned when, right on cue, the torrential rain started. By the time I got to Rowardennan, you couldn't see the loch for grey clouds. You gotta love the Scottish weather.

Generally I had quite a good run. I'd be lying if I said I was over the Fling though. I'm glad I gave myself loads of time, so I could take a 15 minute break at Rowardennan and stopped to talk to a few elderly trekkers at Doune Bothy. After seven hours on my own, I was almost talking to the birds.

I finished in 8:29 (who says you can set your heart by my pacing?!). Plenty of time to wander round to Drover's, get sorted and catch the bus. Glad I booked the bus though, as it was packed. Felt sorry for the poor woman sitting next to me all the way back to Glasgow though, as after 41miles over the lochside, I smelt like a goat!

The GM called when I was on the bus - at the dodgy mobile signal bit(again to the annoyance of the woman next to me). We were both complaining about having to carry so much gear, so I mentioned that I was going to talk nicely to Sonic to see if he will support us on day two...then we got cut off. Back in range I got a text from Sonic saying "Sharon has texted to see if I will support you both tomorrow". You gotta love her :-)


Saturday - Beinglas to Kingshouse



And then there was day two. After the previous days's lonesome adventures, the GM and I were both glad of the company. And, of course, having Sonic and Cairn on support.

Driving up to Beinglas farm we saw a chap with two young boys who were dressed head-to-toe in hiking gear. I commented to Sonic that I hope Cairn turns out like that. Although after naming him Cairn he will probably rebel and take up Badmington or cricket or something. Heading up on to the track we had a brief conversation with the boys' Dad. I told him that I hope my son becomes an adventure-type and he said to check out their website. So here it is, Ryan Gosling - the youngest attempt at a Munro round.

And then we had to run. I knew I would be a bit rusty, but the whole run to Tyndrum was pretty nasty. Some drugs, coke and tablet at Brodie's and I was off. Knackered, but a bit more chipper. Ironically my best section was from Bridge of Orchy - courtesy of a Red Bull shot. You know you're an ultra runner when it takes you 20 miles to feel right.

Generally my legs felt ok. My quads were slightly trashed, but my glutes were the worst. I expected to finish with a Kylie bum, but given that most of pain was caused by the vibration of the jiggly bits, I knew that wasn't going to happen.

It true Scottish style we started the run peeling off layers in the heat and finished getting pelted with hailstones. Oh well a nice 7m/m finish into Kingshouse put some zip back into her legs.

And now for the sad bit...

Some readers may know the GM's Mum has been unwell for a few months. During our run on Saturday she had an operation. The GM made numerous calls throughout the day to check progress and got the all clear on the way home. Later that night, after the GM's visit, she took a turn for the worse and passed on Tuesday evening. I'm sure her Mum is catching up with her lost son and watching over her girl.

First WHW run of the season

Saturday, October 17: Out and back - Tyndrum to Beinglas. Approx 25 miles.



I had a crackin' run up until about 18 miles. Felt brilliant and really enjoyed the steady pace, lots of chat and the beautiful autumn day.




I stupidly let my guard down, tripped on a rock and went flying. My knees took the brunt of it. But I managed to bruise my right hip and shoulder in the process. Where were you with the camera then, eh Davie?

You know you're a real runner when despite rolling about in the dirt, screaming like a banshee and swearing like a drunken sailor...I managed to lift my shaking hands to stop my watch :-)

After assessing the situation, I realised that I couldn't go on. Although there was no spraining, I was having serious bother bending my knees. Sharon continued on the six mile track to get to the car, and I headed down into Crianlarich - where she was going to pick me up.

Although it was nice sunny day, it was certainly fresh. I was sitting on the side of road contemplating hypothermia, when the voice of angel shouted: "Debs, do you want a lift?" Not quite an angel, but Brian Garry. After a series of ungraceful moves to get off the pavement, I hobbled across the road and into the back of the car. I know I'm a bit slow on the uptake sometimes, but it took me about five minutes to realise that Brian had hitched. I thought the driver was one of the group. Poor guy. Not only had he made the mistake of stopping to pick up a sweaty runner. He had to stop and pick up his sweaty runner pals en route :-) Thankfully he had god on his side as there was about four different versions of the bible on the backseat next to me. Bizarre, I know.

It wasn't long before Sharon appeared, armed with bottles of Coke. I was still pretty cold, so jumped into the back of the car to get changed. My second screaming session of the day was when Davie appeared at the window to see how I was. I think he got more of a fright than I did though! He was certainly having a wrong-place-at-the-wrong-time-day, as five minutes later he drove passed Sharon standing in her bra!

When I got home, Sonic had indeed been out shopping and was in charge of dinner making duties. I should blog that more often. His signature dish - tuna steaks and spinach. He doesn't get to exercise his culinary skills very often - mainly because I'm a control freak - but it was damn good!

Sunday was pretty much a right off, as bending my knees was pretty tough. I spent the day going up and down the stairs on my bum...and trying to master the art of peeing standing up! :-)

When the big black bruises appeared Sonic said: "Ah, I actually believe you now".

Bits 'n' Bobs

After Saturday's "disappointing" performance (I'm over it now) I managed to cheer myself up over a few glasses of vino (give or take a bottle) at the Crazy Germans' soiree. Neal - did Dean Karnazes ever come back to you regarding his invite to run the WHWR? Facebook + Alcohol = something that's a good idea at the time.

Despite feeling a little rough on Sunday morning (must have been Thomas' cooking!?) I still felt quite up for a long run. Sonic and Euan had been out from 7am, so it was after 9am before I started my run. I'm sure Cairn is starting to feel like a relay baton. My aim was 14 miles, but I would have been happy with 10. After a few miles (all up hill) I got into my stride and was really enjoying the country run on a lovely Autumn morning. I went for the 14 mile (Balloch horseshoe, Croftamie rd, Gartocharn, horseshoe, Balloch) and finished in 1:59 with average pace of 8:33

(If that start doesn't raise your heart rate nothing will)

I took Monday off, as I had a lot of work to do. And on Monday night we went to see Billy Connelly at the SECC. What an outstanding evening that was. I even managed to sneak a bit of footage - but I'm struggling to upload it just now. It is not for the easily offended. Or obese for that matter.

On Tuesday I did 800m reps* round the Squiggley Bridge - only in Glasgow would you get bridges officially called the Squiggley and Squinty Bridge. Wednesday was a 8-mile tempo** run. And last night I was out with the club.

Tomorrow I'm joining the Glee club for a WHW run. Tyndrum to Beinglas and back, which is about 25-26 miles. Can't wait, as the weather looks perfect. Hopefully I'll be home in time for X-Factor and Sonic will have made my dinner ready and chilled a bottle of wine. Hey a girl can dream.

One of the funniest (baring in mind I have a sick sense of humour) things I read this week was one the hacks in my office's facebook status "...police can comfirm that Louis Walsh received a letter stating that for every week John and Edward stay in X-Factor, a Boyzone member will die."

Surely the little annoyances that they are will leave tomorrow night? The only saving grace is that at least some talented didn't get booted last week instead. Stacey to win!! Or possibly Danyl. Or maybe Lucie or Joe.

Anyway, whilst I'll be kicking back and watching X-factor Ian and Aileen will be running round and round a track again and again and again. They're participating in the Self Transcendence 24 hour race in Tooting. Yep that's 24 hours of running round a TRACK in London. I know, WTF?

* 800m 2:56, 2:59, 2:56, 2:57
** 8 mile temp 8:22, 8:26, 8:13, 7:27, 7:24, 7:18, 7:07, 7:16. Total 1:01:36. Ave 7:38

All over for another year

The day after the WHWR is like the new Boxing Day. I wasn't even running and I feel like there's a void in my life. There's a huge build up, loads of planning, LOTS of chat, kit lists, race strategies, support team requirements and meetings and numerous shopping trips. Now I feel like I've left home and forgotten something.

(nervously awaiting the start)

It was a real eye-opener being on the supporting side this year. I loved every bit of it (well, apart from the midges!) and learned a great deal.

(Team Sonic and Mama Consani)

Sonic's race plan didn't quite come good, but he finished. And that, above everything, is the most important. He knew I would mock him forever if he threw in the towel, so I'm glad I "inspired" him to keep going. And to finish - after having to walk from Kingshouse - in under 24 hours is an amazing achievement.



My HUGHEST congratulations has to go to Sharon, who finished first lady (or is it woman, Dario?) is an awe inspiring time of 19:55. She is only the fourth gal to finish in under 20 hours. She is definitely taking the ultra-running scene by storm. Not bad for a girl who was supporting me last year and was bubbling "never let me do this" at the end. Her second fabulous performance of the day was still having the ability to gyrate on the dance - even with 95 miles in her legs. I think the beer in her belly helped mask the pain though :-)



Well done to everyone who ran. I don't want you slip into a coma, but there are a few special mentions: Scott (Just WoW. Although I'm sure you looked younger at the Fling)Richie (the best bridesmaid in the ultra running scene), Pacepusher (I'm still eating my words), JK (been there, done that, now everyone's got the t-shirt), Billy (we need to have a chat about the wonderful experience that is shoe shopping) Mike (about bloody time), George (fuelled on the black stuff), Wee John (you never did tell us what you were saying) Ian (the BBQ will be more of a party than a cremation this year), Drama Queen (did you get a lift?), Karen (No more kids juice now you've come of age), Davie H (even a pregnant burd beat you), Dave Waterman (shirt, slacks and grown-up shoes for the post-race party? Impressive)


Sharon and Sonic. And they didn't even whine when I dragged them back to the finish this morning.

Hope you all enjoy the recovery. I'm off to Rome for four days. Yippee. Just need to get myself a double-buggy :-) I have tried to ban WHW chat for the holiday, but I doubt we'll get as far as the airport.