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?

Western States 100 video

I stole this from Dan Doherty's blog. Great viewing.

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.

The from-the-horses-mouth version.

Last week, I felt rough. Really rough. I was almost tempted to throw a sickie for the first time in my 11 career in newspapers. Apparently this is a good thing when you're tapering, but I'm not sure why. Thankfully on Friday I had a day to rest and chill out in front of the TV to watch the Royal Wedding. This banner - spotted in the crowd - was quite apt. I think it's safe to say that when two names: Kate Jenkins or Lucy Colquhoun appear on a starting list, it's a given who is going to win. Even fresh from a ridiculously swift time at the London Marathon a couple of weeks ago, Kate was still on top form.

I was pretty nervous before the race. I'm not sure why as, like many others think, the race is more of a means to an end. A tuner for the West Highland Way race in June.

The day was forecast to be unseasonably hot and unfortunately it didn't disappoint. Thankfully the gals and the ol' boys are allocated the 6am kick-off spot. The early rise was a small sacrifice for starting in cooler conditions.

As per my previous post, I was following splits devised by Sonic. My aim was to focus on the pace for the first section (12 miles to Drymen) and then just wing it from there - in the hope that I wouldn't burst too early.

So when the gun went off (or maybe someone shouted ready-steady-go, I don't remember) I tried to zone out and keep a steady/slow average pace. Last year, in all ultras, I got too worked up about who was around me. I continuously reminded myself that I can only control my outcome, not the outcome of others (I'll save my bedtime reading for another post). It wasn't quite a mantra, just something I kept at the forefront of my mind.



En route to Drymen - on a fresh, dewy morning - I chatted to quite a few runners: JK, Jane (who had also run the 100K last month), Elaine, Helen, Ian, Malcolm and John Kennedy - who in the photo below has just commented on my big butt :-)



I think I might have been 11th gal (or thereabouts) at Drymen, but still bursting with energy. OK, I was a minute ahead of schedule, but that wasn't a big drama. Ssshh don't tell Sonic, but I had to faff about in the last mile to slow down my average pace :-)

I headed out of Drymen with Jane, Helen and John Kennedy and eventually caught up with the Gibbering Midget, who looked like she'd lost heart. It's a long way too go if you don't have the drive and have been dealing with illness for the previous month. The group split up and I stomped up Conic Hill and took it easy on the descent. Later in the day, I head the GM had taken a tumble and that was the final straw. Sonic and Cairn (who I hadn't even seen that morning) were waiting at the bottom. I picked up a few supplies and moved on swiftly.



The section from Balmaha to Rowardennan was really tough for me last year, courtesy of the overzealous. This year, I really enjoyed it and picked off a few runners in the process, who I guess were cursing their overzealous start.

I meet Sonic and Cairn about a mile from Rowardennan. Sonic had informed me that JK was about 20 seconds in front of me. But later JK informed me that Sonic had told him I was 5/10 minutes behind. I think somewhere in the middle lies the truth :-)Anyway when I arrived in Rowardennan, JK was perched up on a rock enjoying a snack. In his blog, JK mentioned that I barked at him for sitting about having a picnic, but I kid you not, he was lounging about like Huckleberry Finn.



I picked-up, topped-up and moved on up. You get the drift here. I'd rather walk, than stop at checkpoints. Within minutes JK and Claire has caught up and it was nice to run and chat with them for about five miles. Claire - who is a hardcore Ironman - was running her first ultra, just weeks from finishing London in 3:03. With a 10K PB of 35, she's certainly no fairy. Like JK, she was also from Liverpool. Also an Everton fan. And also teetotal. I know, the world's only teetotal Scousers. Who would have thought :-)

Although it's notoriously tough and fairly technical, the lochside is my favourite section. I like all the skipping and hopping. It wasn't a conscious effort to push on but I left Claire and JK about a mile before Inversnaid. To be honest, I thought they weren't far behind and would catch up. I passed another girl before arriving in Inversnaid.

You got it, I was in an out in a flash and overtook another two guys within the first mile. More hopping and climbing and I reached the top of the loch unscathed. There were a lot of walkers and I got lots of cheers and claps, which really perked me up. On the hill up towards Dario's post, the air was so still and the heat was quite overpowering. I said a wee hello to our absent friend and then - as if by magic - a lovely cool breeze enveloped me.

Heading towards the fence before Beinglas is when the first vet male runner (on the 7am start time) passed me. Given the rate he was going at and where he passed me, he might have been better in the elite male start at 8am.

At this point, my quads were starting to spasm. I've never really suffered from cramp before, until my calves did the same thing in the 100K. I wasn't really sweating, but I knew my face was in danger of exploding. I go a rare shade of purple when I overheat.

I took the steep descent into Beinglas Farm fairly easy as cramping quads is not something I ever want to experience.

Sonic wasn't on support duty for the day (the drop bag system is too slick not to use) but I'd asked him to be in Beinglas, as I'd packed for all eventualities. As I was running towards the checkpoint, I could hear rapidly approaching footsteps behind and knew instinctively that they belonged to Sonic. He picked up my bag and tried to undo the knot - slowly! After I spat the dummy, a Marshall came over and grabbed it off him to control public domestic. Later I did apologise to Sonic for my outburst, although I've since remembered he nearly took my out throwing his bumbag at me at the D33. Mmmm. I suppose the key to support is to take things with a pinch of salt.



I wasn't really sure of position until it was confirmed as I left Beinglas that I was second place.

I still felt good, but I was (surprise, surprise!) struggling to eat. I was, however, drinking a shed load of Lucozade and Coke. But as the section started to get hotter, all wanted was water. And the mix of gas and sugar was having an unladylike effect on my stomach. I'll spare you the graphics, as you know I don't do toilet chat, but there was quite a few emergency stops.

The lead runner, Andrew James, passed me on the steep hill just before Carmyle Cottage. I was doubled-over and watching in awe as he literally bounded up the hill. He was certainly a man on a mission. And his mission, in the form of record-holder Jez Bragg, followed in close suit. The men's race was always going to be exciting, but I would have expected to see "Our Jez" in pole position by then.

On the way up to Crianlarich I had a great view of the chase. But I also had a great view to see if someone was chasing me. I wasn't really concerned about my finishing time, just maintaining my position. And with the WHWR only seven weeks away, I couldn't afford to be buckled.

Although I played a better race card, it certainly wasn't perfect. When you factor in a 100K race, a toasty day and a dollop of complacency, I took too many breaks (and emergency stops!) in the last section. I suppose in hindsight you can always work harder, can't you? But I'm glad I didn't rip the ass out of it, as I've been back training no problem this week. Actually on Sunday I spent the day gardening and dismantling a kitchen.



Given the dry conditions, I was amazed at the number of runners who finished with bloody knees and elbows. Is there anyone who didn't fall? The worst I saw was Rosie Bell, who practically took her kneecap off very early on in the race. Given that I can barely walk along with street without falling over these days, I was amazed I stayed upright until Crianlarich. I'm now black and blue, but I must have been so wasted that I didn't feel at thing. Maybe it was the shock of falling hands-first, elbow-deep in a large puddle of cow piss!!

One day: Four medals. A finisher medal, silver for both the UKA and Scottish Ultra Champs and bronze for the club. All in a day's work.

Allen Smalls (3rd), Andrew James (1st) Jez Bragg (2nd)

Thanks to Murdo and crew, Sonic and Cairn, the amazing stewards, everyone who put up with me on the day and the pictures (pinched from Davie, Muriel and Jude)

The Scottish Athletics version

MONTANE HIGHLAND FLING 53 MILE TRAIL RACE - INCORPORATING UKA AND SCOTTISH ULTRA TRAIL CHAMPIONSHIPS

The 6th running of the Montane Highland Fling attracted a record filed of over 400 starters for the annual 53 mile race on the southern half of the West Highland Way trail. The large field necessitates staggered starts and the super vets and ladies were first off at 6am. Kate Jenkins (HBT) led from the start and by the time they reached Balmaha below Conic Hill on Loch Lomond side, had a clear lead.

Men’s course record holder Jez Bragg (North Face), victor here in 2009, was back to attempt to reclaim his title and when the main men’s start set off at 8am he was prominent in a small group that included Andy James and Stuart Mills(Brighton). At Balmaha (the 18 mile point ) Bragg seemed to be pushing things on in an attempt to break the group up.

The long and demanding stretch up the picturesque side of Loch Lomond to the checkpoint at Beinglass Farm(41 miles) left Jenkins with a clear almost 30 minute lead ahead of Scottish 100km international Debbie Consani (Garscube) in the women’s race.

The mid day temperatures were proving challenging and when James and Bragg appeared together after five and a half hours of running, it was James who looked the stronger as he momentarily stopped to grab his Drop bag of supplies and fill a water bottle, before pushing on and opening a 100 metre lead on Bragg, who took a more measured Check point approach, knowing a good hour and a half of running still lay ahead. He took a few moments to ensure he was well refuelled, also asking the checkpoint marshals to pour water over his head to combat the heat.

Jenkins, although slowing considerably on the last stretch up to the picturesque highland village of Tyndrum, still maintained a clear lead over Consani. The former record holder for the full 95 mile West Highland Way just missed the nine hour barrier with 9.04.24, the third fastest ladies time on the Highland Fling trail and with it claimed the UK and Scottish titles. Consani, just over a month after completing the UK 100km champs, showed her consistency by comfortably taking second place (9.39.32) and improving on her 2010 time by ten minutes, ahead of Clydesdale’s Heather Caulderwood (9.42.59).

In the men’s race it was Andy James who proved the stronger arriving at the finish in a new course record of 7.12.08, just over 3 minutes ahead of Bragg (7.15.12) who was also inside his former mark of 7.19.09. Colchester’s Allen Smalls came through strongly for 3rd and first vet. James, winner of the Lakeland 50 last summer, had come to the race hoping to run inside seven and a half hours but not really expecting to win.

Matt Williamson (Bellahouston Road Runners) after a steady start came through strongly in the second half of the race to take the inaugural Scottish ultra trail title in 5th place overall (7.46.11) ahead of the experienced Richie Cunningham (Carnegie)7.58.23.

With the Scottish team title decided on cumulative times of 3 team runners, Hunters Bog Trotters took the men’s medals and Helensburgh, including Ellen McVey one of the key race organisers, were a popular winner of the ladies team prize.

Full results at http://www.highlandflingrace.org/

Results:
1st Andrew James 7.12.08 (course record)
2nd Jez Bragg North Face 7.15.12
3rd Allen Smalls Colchester (V40) 7.43.31
4th Julian Rendall Thames H & H 7.45.33
5th Matt Williamson Bellahouston RR 7.46.11
6th Stuart Mills Brighton (MV40) 7.51.36
7th Ritchie Cunningham Carnegie H (MV40) 7.58.23

WOMEN
1st Kate Jenkins Hunters Bog Trotters 9.04.24
2nd Debbie Martin-Consani Garscube H 9.39.32
3rd Heather Caulderwood Clydesdale 9.42.59
4th Helen Lees Giffnock North (FV40) 9.51.51
5th Michelle Hetherington Helensburgh (FV40) 9.55.19

Chip off the old block

You're right, Richie, Cairn's working on the spreadsheets.

Good luck to everyone running the Highland Fling tomorrow.

118: Got my number

Seen as I've been assigned such a comedy race number, it would be rude not to partake in Saturday's Highland Fling. I've had a few good runs over the last week and a few stinkers too. I've got no idea how my legs will be, but I'm really looking forward to it. Sonic has had to pull-out - see his blog for details - so some one's got to take one for the team. Cairn's not quite ready for his first ultra yet. Although he did manage a couple of miles on the Kilpatrick Hills on Easter Sunday. We're not pushy parents, he's just not up for being strapped in his back pack for too long.

Cairn's quads must have been sore, as he was using JK's descending the Devil's Staircase approach.



On another note: At Garscube Harriers' AGM I was awarded with the club's "Most Meritorious Performance" Award...for the second time. I also won it in 2008. It came as a massive shock, as the engraved names would suggest that no one has won it twice.



So I'm now officially resting for the Fling. Last run tomorrow. This year, I'll be following a race plan and splits devised by Sonic, instead of my usual lets-just-wing-it strategy. So, this year my plan is to get to Drymen 10 minutes SLOWER than last year. Nervous about that? You bet he is :-)

To fling or not to fling, that is the question

I'm torn on this one. Do I do the 53 mile Highland Fling next weekend? Obviously my head wants to do it, but my body is dragging on the idea some what. I know it's a bit of an ask considering the 100K was only five minutes ago - a race, which incidentally, pretty much broke me - but it ranks pretty high on the wish list.

I'm sure I've recovered or at least on the mend. With less than five weeks between races, there's about a 20 minute window for training in between recovering from one race and tapering for the next next. With this in mind, I probably tried to get back into running quicker than my legs would have liked. I attempted my first run four days after the race. Officially the most ungraceful run ever. I liken it to drinking a bottle of wine and trying to run for a bus. My arms and legs felt like they weren't connected to my body and my eyes were rattling about in my head. And I don't know where to begin with the aches and pains. My calves were a mess. I lasted four miles and walked the last one. Broken. And back to square one.

After that I took another few days off and started back on the Monday. A easy week and then a cracking run on the West Highland Way. I wasn't sure if my legs were up for it, but it was so good to be back on the trails that I loved every minute of it. Twice up and down Conic Hill gave my quads a good kickin' too. It had only been two months since my last real off-road run, but it's amazing how quickly you become un-hill-fit.

Last week, I did my first speed session and it wasn't as nasty as i anticipated. If anything, it was just what I needed. That coupled with a great 18-mile run on Kilpatrick Hills on Friday and my mojo is resumed.

So, as it stands, I'm about 80% sure I'm doing the Fling.

This year - the UK's biggest ultra - will be the UKA Trail Championships and the Scottish Ultra Trail Championships. Looking at the starters list, the men's field is quite spectacular. It will be really interesting to see this one unfold. The Highland Fling is the perfect race to separate the men from the boys, so to speak. It's long enough that you can't wing on marathon training. It's short enough that you can't rely on luck and good fuelling. Hilly enough to knee-cap and road runner and flat enough to disadvantage the mountain-goats.

Anglo-Celtic Plate 2011 (100K)

I've spent most of this week trying to compose this post, so I'm just going to summarise some thoughts and lessons learned - otherwise it could take me longer to write than actually run. You would have thought I would have had loads more time on my hands this week, but in reality it's just taking that bit longer to do basic tasks. Starting with 20 minutes to get down the stairs on Monday morning.

Well, I survived. Just. My hips have just about forgiven me and my calves have almost stopped screaming. In a nutshell, it was tough. Really tough. Although I'm still traumatised, I'm elated. I'm glad I pushed myself to try something new and it was an honour to wear the Scotland vest.

I finished in 9:03:09 which is an average pace of 8:44m/m

Click here for 50K and 100K results

You could skip the drivel and just click on JK's video below, it's much more entertaining. Don't forget the tea and biscuits though, as it's 35 minutes long.



Pre-race: I didn't taper as much as I should have, mainly because this race wasn't the be-all and end-all of 2011. I'm still not sure of my race plans, but I don't like to put all my eggs in one basket. Like most long-distance races, the training takes over your life, but when it comes to crunch time you always think it's never enough.





Expectations: Non really. As it was my first 100K on the road, the jury was out. 100K veterans are fairly keen to tell you their horror stories, which not only involve pain and fatigue, but tears and lots of vomit. I thought physically I could hold it together, but it was the mental aspect that I was most concerned about. My dream time was sub:9, but realistically I was hoping for 9-10 hours. I'm less analytical than may better half - who is still scrutinising D33 splits - but the Crazy (Scottish) German sent me a link to runningforfitness.org for a race time predictor based on my 2008 marathon time. I'd like to think I could better that now, but I based it on fact rather than fantasy.



Competitors: Although I was told I "looked nervous" quite a few times on race morning, I think I was more overwhelmed than anything. Looking at the starters list from other teams (I resisted the temptation to google them, as to not freak out), I knew I would probably come in last of the country runners, so I just concentrated on running my own race.

Course: 42 laps of a very flat 1.5mile loop in North Inch Park. In hindsight, I learned that laps aren't actually that bad. I'm not saying it didn't do my head in. Far from it. But it didn't really take it's toll until I was 30 laps down. Although Adrian informed us at the pre-race briefing that counting laps was just mental torture, I just couldn't help it.

Conditions: Perfect. We couldn't have asked for a better day. Glorious, fresh and sunny. The flip-side to the rare sight of spring, was that families, dog walkers, skaters and cyclists were out in the hoards. There was even a football and rugby game going on in the middle of the course. It was like running in a goldfish bowl, with nowhere to hide. I even saw one of the English girls getting hit square-on by a rugby ball. Thankfully most people were really courteous and accommodating - or maybe it was fear of the snottering zombies coming anywhere near their kids.

Pacing: Started out very conservative, running with the uber-experienced, Pauline Walker at the back of the pack for about the first couple of hours. I pushed on and started picking off a runners in the open race. I haven't seen the splits yet, but from the laps times that Sonic supplied, I was steady at the start, picked it up in the middle and then the wheels started to come off in the last 10 laps. I wasn't alone, as I was passing runners who had lapped me a few times at the start. During the last five laps, I was pretty sure I wasn't going to get sub:9, so lost my drive and just concentrated on finishing. If only I knew how close I would be to it. To be honest, at the time, I gave what I had.



Pauline is the Scottish 24-hour record holder (130+ miles!) and nothing sort of phenomenal. Where most runners fell across the finish line like something from Dawn of the Dead, she crossed and sauntered along like she had just strolled out of Marks and Spencer.



Food: I still can't get my food right. Even more so on a race that requires a bit more constant effort. I managed two bars of tablet and then would only consider coke and sports drink after a few hours. Sonic tried to get me to eat a sandwich, which I spat out in front of a horrified family. Actually the vast majority of the things he gave me, ended up in the bin. I ran out of energy after about five hours and just got through on determination.



Cramps: This isn't something I've ever suffered from. My legs didn't cramp, but my calves were pulsing for the last couple of hours and I keep expecting them to spasm. It wasn't sore, just concerning. Actually my legs felt OK most of the time. I was trying to pull myself together by reminding myself of this. Pete - there was a lot of foul language and warrior talk.

The finish: This probably ranks has one of the happiest moments in my life. Not for the achievement, but for the total relief.





Team Scotland: The guys did really well. Craig Stewart won the race and helped secured the first team prize. As I was lapped quite frequently by all five guys, I can safety say they are all awesome. In the girls team is was no surprise that Gail Murdoch was first, with a massive PB to boot. Followed by Izzy Knox and then me. The Gibbering Midget had to pull-out after falling ill, which was awful. After training with her for the last few months, it was so sad to see her so upset. She's a real trooper though, so watch out for some unfinished business on the Highland Fling later this month.



And now to the thank you bit. There are so many people, I don't know where to start. Thanks for to the organisers and timekeepers, especially Val and Adrian. Thanks to everyone who came out to support and pick me up, especially JK, Katrina, the Pacepushers, Lady Sadie, Davie, Tim and Izzy. Huge thanks to JK for the video, which is the perfect keep-sake.

My biggest thank you is to Sonic for his top-notch back-up and for the support during training. Apparently back-up is "way harder than running". With short laps, I'm sure it's pretty relentless. I hope holding in that pee for nine hours doesn't cause any lasting damage, Sonic. Although I'm sure that's dramatic license. I've seen the video, remember :-)

Thanks, Anita

Another amazing creation.... I love it. Thanks, Anita.

All in a week's work

How do you taper? There is lots of conflicting advice, isn't there? This year started with cram-training because I was scared of undertraining. Then with the rapid increase in miles - mainly road miles - I was concerned about overtraining. Then I hit taper and someone mentioned the concept of de-training and then there was more panic.

Personally I like to knock back on the miles, but stick with some speed work. Not de-training, but possibly overtraining? Who knows?

Mon, March 14: 8 x 3 mins (60 sec)
6.58,6.52, 6.59, 6.29, 6.32, 6.55, 6.44, 6.41
Tues, March 15: 6 miles easy
Wed, March 16: 3 x 10 min (2 mins)
7.10, 6.58, 6.51
Thurs, March 17: Club session with 2 x 2 mile tempo
Fri, March 18: Rest
Sat, March 19: Rest
Sunday, March 20: Get this. I did 42 laps round the pond in Victoria Park. Even the ducks wanted to throw things at me. I thought it might help get my head round the repitition. It didn't. 12.5 miles all in. Although I felt so good doing a normal long run and being home for 10am.


Mon, March 21: 15 x 1 (30 sec)Average 6:30 - although the last one was 5:57!
Tues, March 22: 5.5 miles easy
Wed, March 23: 8, 6, 5 (90 sec) 4, 3, 2, 1 (60 sec)
7.11, 6.50, 6.58, 6.44, 6.43, 6.52, 6.07
Thurs, March 24: 5.5 easy

That's all from me, folks. I've hung up my trusty Garmin and my ipod for the foreseeable future. I just need to stop eating my supplies for Sunday now.

D33 in pictures

Congratulations to all who completed today's D33 Ultra on The Deeside Way in Aberdeen.

Click here for some race pictures

The race was won by Grant Jeans, who broke his own course record, in 3:29. Scott Bradley put in stirling performance breathing down the neck of the course record holder in 3:30. My Sonic came third, taking 20 minutes off his PB, in an amazing time of 3:38. In the girls race, Lucy Colquhoun took pole position in 4:05. Our all-American girl, Jamie Aarons was second in 4:24 and Claire Imrie third in 4:35.

Mothers' of multiples: I salute you.

I almost choked with laughter reading Andrew Lemoncello's weekly training diary. It all sounds very lovely. A wee run in the morning. Nap. Wee run in the afternoon. The bagel run on a Thursday sounds particularly exhausting.



Granted, Mr Lemoncello, you can run faster than I drive. But just by way of contrast, here's a day in my life. Wednesday being the example.

I got up before 6am to hit the pool before work. 100 lengths - front crawl no less. And it's a 25m pool, in case you think I'm splashing about in the spa. Ironically, I view this as my morning "off". I say this in the loosest term, as it means I do and sort everything the night before. Sonic has to dress and feed himself and Cairn, but still manages to be spectacularly late for work. 11.30am is the record so far. For a 9am start.

I'm out before 7.45am and at my desk for 8.30. First meeting is at 9.30 and the morning goes a bit t*ts up. I was supposed to meet the boys with the jet-propelled legs for a lunchtime speed session, but a few dramas later and I'm ten minutes late. Oh well, a lonesome 3 x 10 minutes with two minutes recovery. 8 miles all in.

Back to office, quick shower and I slide back into my office trying not to draw attention to the fact that I've been out for 20 minutes longer than the allocated lunch hour. I hope my employers are as lax about the concept of "lunch hour" as they are about the concept of "9-to-5".

Afternoon of juggling my department of one, which not only covers my own position but anything that no one else knows how to handle - namely readers of our beloved newspaper. I have many bizarre conversations which I tip-toe around in fear that a recording will reappear on some radio wind-up show. Note to self: Call switchboard to remind them that Newscastle is in fact not in Scotland.

Although I try to leave the office at 5:30, I'm bombing to the car at 5:50pm to pick up Cairn at nursery - which closes at 6pm. Sometimes I get the sweet satisfaction of not being the last parent there. Rarely though. I'm sure there's a Dad there that tries to race me.
On the five mile journey we sing songs from Cars (I’ve lost control of music choice) and get super-excited at the site of trains, buses, planes, ducks, trees and clocks. Quick detour via the petrol station and Tesco and I arrive at the front door laden door with shopping/gym/nursery bags, with my head doing 360º to make sure Cairn doesn’t make a run for it. And we’re home. Phew!

First of the evening duties is Cairn's dinner - home-made of course - which has to be eaten with the Buzz Lightyear Spoon and splashed on the carpets and smeared his hair.

Then it's bathtime, but not before I scrub the bath that Sonic used to clean the mud from his trainers that morning. The pre-bath ritual usually involves me chasing him (Cairn that is, not Sonic) and removing items of clothing which are deposited around the house. There's often a screaming match as I try to coax him into the bath. Once he's in and realises that soaking the floor is really good fun, there's often a screaming match as I try to coax him OUT of the bath.

I dry him whilst he clings to my neck and try to pin him down so I can apply lotions and put his pyjamas on. I liken it to trying to put shoes on an octopus. Then he has a bottle of milk, which he drinks very, very slowly, as he has wised-up to the fact cartoon viewing is over when it’s finished. Despite watching Cars/Toys Story/Thomas for the 715th time, it’s still compelling viewing for a two-year-old. NB: I also lost control of TV viewing.

When I tell Cairn it’s bedtime, he jumps round the sofa and hides behind the curtains. I draw him out by telling him there are "spiders in there!” to which he shrieks and crawls out. I rue the day that the spider trick doesn't work.

Story. Bed. Bliss? Not quite, now I have to answer all the missed calls from office and proof pages for the next day’s paper, which can keep coming until 10pm.

I make dinner, which is pre-packed vegetables with baked potato - nuked in the microwave - accompanied by a tin of tuna. Healthy, nutritious and requires limited involvement. Whilst said dinner is nuking, I clean the kitchen floor and sort out clothing for the next day.

After dinner, I’ve got a basket full of washing to do. Two runners and a toddler keep the laundry cycle pretty fluent. Then I tackle an ironing mountain, which is more challenging that some of the hills I run up. The only saving grace is that I can catch up with missed episodes of Glee.

Bed at 10.15… Me and Mr Tim Noakes… before it all starts again the next day. Thankfully I’m in taper for next week’s 62 mile race, as high mileage weeks are way more dramatic. Night, Mr Lemoncello. Good luck with your 26 miles. Look how we’ve reversed the digits

There's an old saying that goes...

If you want to run faster, you have to, erm, run faster. Simples? Well, these days I've been running slower and getting faster. Go figure.

I generally run 5/6 days a week and include a swim session mid-week. Friday is my beloved rest day. I do an easy/steady run on Tuesday and Thursday and weekend runs are as they say on the tin: long and slow. Now I reserve my effort for the spped sessions I do on a Monday and Wednesday. Focusing on two days really seems to be working for me. There's a little bit of zip in my happy-plodding pins.

Here are a few examples. Some of you speedsters may snigger, but this is good for me.

MJ's Wednesday session:8 mins (90 sec rec), 4 x mins (60 sec rec) and 8 mins: 7.08, 6.51, 6.51. 6.32, 6.27 and 6.52

Club Monday fartlek: 3mins, 4mins, 5 mins, 3mins, 4 mins, 5 mins: 6.58, 6.39, 6.53, 6.40, 6.57, 7.00

MJ's Wednesday session: 5 x 5mins (75 sec rec) 6.58, 6.47, 6.44, 6.47, 7.01

So basically by running slower, I'm running the fastest I have have ever run. But guess what? In two weeks time, I'll be back to square one. Simples?

Waterboarding, anyone?

As some/most of you will know, my next race is the Anglo Celtic Plate in Perth at the end of the month. Some of my trail-loving friends may find it hard to comprehend the idea of 100K on the road. Flat road at that.

To be honest, it's not something I would have willingly signed-up for, but to wear the Scotland vest is not an opportunity I can pass up on. But for those who remain aghast at the concept of 62 miles on tarmac, please allow me to delve into the true layers of horror.

Firstly it's a 1.49 mile lap. Now, I'm not good with maths (terrible, in fact) but I knew that was a lot of laps. 42 in fact. Ultra-running supremo, Jez Bragg informed me that it was "42 opportunities to eat, drink, change kit, lap up the atmosphere from the roaring crowds". Personally, I think that’s 42 opportunities to throw myself in the river!

Then I was informed all GPS and pacing devices are prohibited. I haven't run without a Garmin - even when I was preggers - for about five years. I'm not sure my feet will work without it. Thankfully we're allowed to wear a watch and I had the sense to go pace the course last month.

There are also strict rules about feeding/supports stations. Runners must pick up and drop off at the tables only. Support can't move along with the runner, which is incidentally what I was going to get Sonic to do.

The race starts at 7am on a Sunday morning. Now I quite like an early start, especially for travelling home afterwards. But the day chosen for the race is the day the clocks go forward, so really it's 6am in my head. I probably won't sleep for worrying about what the real time is.

And finally, runners are also prohibited from using ipods, MP3 or similar devices. Of course I discover this three days after buying a new ipod nana with inbuilt radio - specifically for this race. All not lost, as I'm sure I will make good use of it. But really? 62 miles of just me. Alone. With only my crazy thoughts.

Next time I'm going to opt for waterboarding as a more humane and civilised form of torture.

...and then the postie delivered my lovely new kit, and all is forgiven and forgotten. I've put in the miles (I think!) and I can't wait.

Taper time, folks. Don't you just love it?

Ginger Ninja's tour of Scotland

This was to be the pièce de résistance. A 45 mile run on the number seven cycle route from Prestwick to Glasgow. Not exactly inspired, but it ticked all the boxes. Flat (well, for Scotland), tarmac and long.

The downside to road running is the lack of wow-wee scenic moments, but the advantage is you don't have the same logistical/travelling issues. For a point-to-point run, you can just jump on one of the frequent trains, go as far as you want and run back. Simples. For WHW runs, half the battle is the organisation.

I got the train from Glasgow and the Gibbering Midget got on at Kilwinning. The route we were running, winds pretty much parallel to the train tracks. It was quite unnerving to know it took Scotrail's finest 50 minutes to cover the same distance we would be running.

Off at the breezy coastal town of Prestwick, first stop was the al fresco powder room, as the GM duly announced "sitting on vibrating things make me need to pee". You gotta love her innocence.

We started running on the promenade along the beachfront...until it run out. We knew we were heading in the right direction, so made a detour along the beach and then across the golf course (all part of the adventure) until we got to Troon. Then it was clearly signposted and we were on our way.




Despite previously posting the weather forecast, we were really lucky. A bit breezy by the coast, but when is it not? Lots of glorious sunshine and only a few showers. And as a double bonus, apart from a undulation between Irvine and Glengarnock, it was pretty flat. We thought we'd won a watch.

The GM had stashed a drop-bag of supplies at Glengarnock (25 miles), so we had a pit-stop and a refuel on sandwiches and coke. Followed by unladylike belching and yelps as we got going again.

On through Lochwinnoch, Howwood, Johnstone and off at Paisley. We took the most direct along Glasgow Road passed Bellahouston Park.

Still feeling good, but we didn't taking into account that is was high-school throwing out time. Gobby wee boys and muffin-topped giggling girls were quite testing when our tolerance levels were at an all time low.



Just before 4pm we hit 45 miles at the Squiggley Bridge in Glasgow's city centre. 6 hrs 41mins. Average pace 8.55m/m. I doubt there will be many times we can say we ran through three Scottish counties. Starting in South Ayrshire and taking in North Ayrshire, Renfrewshire and finish in Lanarkshire. Magic.

The Clock Keeps Ticking

Just finished reading Sharon Gayter's biography. It's a great read for anyone interested in distance running. It's also a really good story, even if you're not that way inclined.



After reading this, I'm quite glad I'm doing a 100K road race. It's a classic distance for an ultra-runner. Something quite measurable. I'm also half-heatedly started searching for a 24-hour event. Although next month's race may knock that idea on the head.

A lot of you will know some of the Scottish nutters mentioned in this book: Adrian Stott, Alan Young, Don Ritchie, Murdo McEwan, Pauline Walker, William Sichel to name a few. Murdo - what is that flapjack recipe laced with? Gotta get me some of that :-)

So far, I've had another good week. On Monday night I made my debut appearance at the club's fartlek session. It starts quite prompt at 6.30pm, which is usually a bit tight for me. I work at home on Mondays (which, in reality, is a lot less pleasant that it sounds), so I rely on Sonic getting home from work in time. Anyone who knows Sonic, knows punctuality is not is forte. Except on Monday he made a special effort. Although it did involve a faster warm-up to get there by the skin of my teeth.

I really enjoyed the session 3mins, 4mins x 4 - with 2 minute recovery. A more generous recovery than I'm used to these days. Coach Johnston doesn't believe in such lenghty slacking-off. I forgot to set my watch for the first rep, so just didn't bother for the rest. I pretty much gave it my all, so Tuesday's 8-miler was a bit rusty.

On Wednesday it was back to Coach Johnston whip-cracking speed session. 6 x 5 mins with 75 second recovery. 6.59, 6.58, 6.47, 6.44, 6.47 and 7.01.

Today I'm enjoying a wee rest day and a pasta lunch at Jamie's before embarking on a 45-miler with the Gibbering Midget tomorrow (Friday). Check out the weather forecast. Should I blame Sod's Law or Sharon Law?

It was worth it to Perth it

After last weekend's exertions, I assumed I'd feel a little worse for wear at the beginning of the week. Not just fatigued, but I expected to hurt. Apart from looking and feeling like I could be cast in Dawn of the Dead on Monday morning, I was generally OK.

On Tuesday I did an 8-miler. No idea what pace it was, just nice and easy and comfortable. I suppose I was assessing the damage. Everything felt fine, so on Wednesday I decided to do the session with the boys with the jet-propelled legs. I started a wee bit early with the view to them bombing passed me somewhere near the end. I must have felt ok as I never even caught a glimpse of the boys with the jet-propelled legs.

8mins (7:08), 6mins (6:55), 4min (6.38), 3mins (6:50), 2mins (6:41), and 1min (6:10). I was pretty encouraged about how comfortable this felt.

On Thursday night I went along to the club, which was billed as an easy run ahead of the National X-Country. A show of hands at the pre-run briefing highlighted that only three of the 60 or so there were actually doing the Nationals though. Thanks, guys. I ran up to the Garscube estate and back home afterwards to clock another 6 miles. I sauntered round the 6 mile route with the lovely Emma. You know you're not exerting yourself when you spend the time house spotting/nosing and talking wedding chat. Emma, one half of Garscube's answer to Barbie and Ken, is getting married in May. It's the week after the women's 10K, so we talked about having Emma and club girls dressed-up as bride and maids.

Friday, rest day. On Saturday morning,the GM and I headed to Perth to recce the 100K course. It was an early rise, as we had to get the laps in before scooting over to the National X-country in Falkirk. Yep, a 170 mile round trip to run 10. It was kinda like Thelma and Louise, but with the life sucked out of it. And that was before we step out of the car into horizontal sleet. Deeply unpleasant. After seven laps I'd lost the will to live. Speaks volumes, doesn't it? Only 35 to go.... It was worth the trip though. I like to know the course, to go over it in my (crazy) head. And as Garmins are prohibited on race day, I can work out pacing according to lap times. Allegedly.

It's safe to say, it's a pretty flat course...



Then it was off to Falkirk to meet up with Sonic and Cairn. I took some pix of the Men's' race. Click here if you fancy a peek.

The races are seriously competitive, with the creme de la creme out show. It was the first time I'd been to the event and it was awesome viewing. Comical to see that the further up the front the runners are the skinner they are, the less clothes they were wearing (in close to freezing temperatures) and the more snot and gob they had on their faces. But my god, they can fairly shift it. It's not for the faint hearted. Seeing some of the facial expressions made me understand why Gary-Next-Door (and captain of Clydesdale Harriers) says ultra-runners "show no emotion". Granted, it's less fierce, but when I'm blubbering, hallucinating and hurting from the eye-lashes down, I tend to display a lot of emotion. And a snotty nose is the least of my worries.

Sonic ran a belter and came in 90th overall.



On Sunday morning, it was Sonic's turn to be up and out sharp, as he had planned a Kilpatrick hill run with JK and Bob. Normal people might kick-back with a fry-up and the Sunday papers, but I used the morning to get on with a long-list of domestic chores.

When Sonic got back, I went for a steady 10-miler round the west end. Poor Cairn really is a relay baton these days. He probably thinks his parents have separated and nobody has told him.

Thankfully the sun made a rare appearance on Sunday afternoon, so we got to go to the park. You know your son hangs out at too many races, when he shouts "Ready. Steady. Go!" at all the runners passing by.

Road to Nowhere

When the folks in the office asked about my plans for the weekend and I replied: "mainly running" I was met with the usual eye-rolling response. To be honest, I don't think they understood that I would quite literally be, eh, mainly running.

One of the big plans for training for the 100k, was to do two fairly lengthy back-to-back road runs. Granted I've done a lot of training on the roads, but nothing over 20 miles. I was quite apprehensive about the weekend. Not because of the distance, but what the terrain would do to my pampered pins.

On Saturday's 37 mile circuit, we kinda cheated and took in about 9 miles on the WHW, but ran up all the cheeky hills - and the "b*stard" ones too. It turned out to be a cracking day and we knocked out the miles quicker and more comfortable than expected.



36.5 miles. Time 5:28. Average 9.03m/m



Sunday's run from Kilbirnie (after leaving Cairn at Gran's for the morning) to Glasgow was a bit rusty to start. Even the Gibbering Midget wasn't gibbering. The weather wasn't the best and the thought of 20+ miles on the number seven cycle track didn't have a huge appeal, but needs must. After about 6/7 miles we got into our groove and, again, the time zipped by. We finished quite strong and in high spirits, so that was a real confidence booster. Road running isn't quite so scary after all.

20.5 miles. Time 3:08. Average 9.17m/m


The GM and I run really well together and I doubt the weekend would have been remotely enjoyable without the support. I know I hold her back most times, but she never lets on. She is the epitome of mind-over-matter. She does have quite spectacular fuel dips though, but a quick sugar stop and she's off like Cocaine Kate. It's quite awesome. Definitely made in Scotland, from girders.



I'm working well with my nutrition plan. Previously when I'm down, I'm out. But I'm focusing on keeping topped up from early on. Making a conscious effort to take in some sports drink and sweets every six miles and not waiting 'til I'm seeing stars. At which point, I can't eat anyway. So far, so good, but I suppose race day will be the tester. Any advances on four jelly babies over 53 miles would be a bonus.

You don't have to be unhinged, but it helps.

Well, it's been all go in the Consani household. Sonic is now being sponsored by The National Stadium Sports Health and Injury Clinic and I've been selected to run in the Anglo Celtic Plate International in Perth in March. Essentially that means Sonic has full use of their facilities and gets to run to exhaustion, half-naked, whilst wearing a mask and I get to run round in circles for 100K. Magic.

So, the last few weeks I've been cranking up the miles. Of the pavement plodding variety. Apparently it's frowned upon to stop for a photo opp and a pick 'n' mix. Thankfully the Gibbering Midget is also on the team, so we've been training together. For club and country, we've had to tone down our specialist subjects of: boys, clothes and make-up for more somber discussions on training plans, routes, logistics and splits. Dear god, we're starting to sound like Sonic and the Crazy German.

To be honest, I'm kinda winging it. I've known about the race for a few months, but never thought much of it. With nine weeks from selection to race day, there's only so much I can do. And that's got to include a 2/3 week taper.

I've had a few great runs and a few bombers. 35 miles being the longest so far. Thankfully that fell into the great run category. I even attempted some circular repeats - this is now my technical term for running in circles. I found a one-miler close to home and ran round it 10 times. Man, that was tough. For once I found it hard to control my pace. The overwhelming urge to get it over with definitely outweighed the enjoyment.

I figured some of the training I would be doing could be quite monotonous, so I decided to put some audiobooks on my ipod. The first book being Michael McIntyre's biography. It's well worth a read, or in my case a listen. I was chocking with laughter whilst running round in circles last Saturday...nee naw, nee naw.

So back to winging it: This weekend the GM and I are running 35 on Saturday and 20+ on Sunday. You don't have to be unhinged, but it helps.