Friday 23 May 2014

Double Cateran 110 ultra marathon

Double Cateran 110 2014

Overall time: 25hr 06min 58s
Finish position: 
2nd/6 Finishers (6 DNF)
Category: 
1st/7 Veteran male

 

Pre-race

 

After the Fling I recovered fairly well, but did nothing strenuous for 10 days, then just put in a couple of hard sessions, one on the track, doing 10 x 200/300 reps at 5.40m/mile pace then a hard threshold run along the seafront in the wind (6.20-7.20m/mile pace).

 

I was going to do a couple more hard sessions, but felt that I still wasn’t feeling the same strength that I had prior to the Fling.  Over the final week a did a couple of trail runs at race intensity which were really enjoyable and showed I had good race pace, although I still didn’t feel particularly strong.  I had plenty of time in hand to drive up and get prepared. On Thursday my support crew all came together for dinner.  Agi and Sylwia stepped in at short notice when my original crew had to withdraw, and although they were novices, they were very keen and very efficient!  Lucy brought the experience to the team (a mountain of it) and asked a few very pertinent questions.  Luckily I had covered most things and had briefing packs prepared and it was decided that Agi and Sylwia would cover the first lap (overnight) when I was in decent shape, with Lucy taking over at half way (approx 5am) when the wheels started to fall off.  How true that came to be.

 

After a decent nights sleep we got set up at the Spittal of Glenshee on Friday and I managed a light nap in the afternoon while Lucy went for a run.  When I woke others had started arriving.  It was good to see George, Johnny Fling and Noanie as well as meeting the Race Doc, Nick (an ex-bootneck and all round good bloke), Stan Bland and Howard Seal (eventual 55 race winner).  Sitting in the warm sun it felt surreal but I was finally beginning to feel nerves, mainly as the realisation sank in of the punishment I was about to inflict on my body.  This was going to be twice the length of my previous longest run, plus 4 miles.

 

Now, I am slightly unorthodox in many ways.  I like to draw on experience from different sports and experiences in like to get a competitive advantage, no matter how small.  So in my preparation I had included some slightly odd practices.  Let me explain.  Firstly, warm weather was forecast so I had a grade 2 haircut all over to aid cooling.  I also shaved/waxed most my body hair to reduce chafing.  People ask if it’s for aerodynamics (as they did when I was cycling).  It isn’t but if there is a tiny aerodynamic advantage I’ll take it.  It also allows a more effective massage.  I also cut labels out of clothing.  I’m sure most runners do this, but although it’s only a few grams, it’s a weight saving for free.  And new for the DC, I bought some sports oxygen.  In diving, the first aid action for any casualty is to administer oxygen.  It is a magical gas which promotes healing in the cells and gives you a boost.  My plan was to take a little at CP’s to promote muscle recovery if only in a very small way. I’ll take help wherever I can get it (within the rules). I think that’s it for now.  If I think of any others as I write I’ll let you know.

 

I managed to eat some avocado and a ration pack style pasta meal and before long it was the race briefing.  It was a little intimidating looking around.  There was Mike Raffan, an experience competitor with an 18 hour WHWR and a recent 8.10 Fling to his name.  When I did the overnight recce with Mike and George (32 miles), Mike had already done a 20 miler at 7min/mile pace that day and seemed very fresh.  A clear favourite.  Most of the field (except me) had at least WHWR experience (95 miles), some up to 10 finishes!  Morgan Windram-Geddes had come from the States with an impressive ultra CV, Gary Morrison was the hard man with 3 consecutive Spine finishes, one of them a win (The Spine is a 268 mile non-stop race along the entire Pennine Way in Winter, billed as Britain’s toughest footrace – in fact it isn’t a moot point, it is Britain’s toughest footrace and humbler of strong men).  Sean Maley had shown recent form and has completed much longer races, then the likes of Stephen Bell and John Moffat all had a lot of experience and decent form in Scottish ultras.  It was a special atmosphere, and as I sit here now, I feel there is a bond between all those of us who took part.  Getting to the start line was daunting enough, and whatever was going to happen over the next day or so, we were going to share suffering and be part of a unique experience.  The other starters were, George Chalmers, John MacLean, Alyson MacPherson,  Neil Ambrose, and Peter MacDonald. Three entrants never made the start.  The brief largely went over my head, but I’d done my homework and was already in the zone and focussed.  I said goodbye to Lucy with her words of warning swimming round my head ‘you do know what you’ve got yourself into?’, ‘this is going to be the worst day of your life’, and we lined up in the sun.  There were a few photos and a view straight up to the Laraig Gate, more than 300 metres vertically above us, our first mile and a half!

 

Spittal of Glenshee to Enochdu (6 miles – 1 hour 1 minute)

(104 miles to go)

 

‘And they’re off’ shouted Karen, and amongst cheers I ran fast to the gate to follow Mike through, who had made his intentions very clear.  He ran the first 10k of a 110 mile race in 51 minutes, including over 300m of climb and descent on rough paths!  Morgan quickly passed me and although I could have followed I intended keeping my pulse to below 143bpm.  It was already at 150 and the Stephen Bell and John Moffat came past.  Now I was confused.  I figured I was slightly faster on paper than both of them yet, they were the experienced guys and were running away from me.  Gary Morrison was also breathing down my neck and I expected to be a little quicker than him, at least in the short term! Did I abandon my game plan?  Well I chose not to follow, but did allow my heart rate to climb as I felt fine, but then I hadn’t run over 53 miles before this day so how did I know what 'fine' was supposed to feel like?

 

I kept the effort up all the way to the first CP to keep the others in sight.  I recall seeing Minty videoing our arrival at the CP.  At least I hope I wasn’t hallucinating at that early stage.  It was elating coming into the CP and there was a real buzz about the whole race.  The Sun was still shining, it was beautiful evening and the legs felt good.  Sylwia and Agi had never done anything like this before (that’s 3 of us), but dutifully followed my spreadsheet instructions.  They told me I was 20 minutes up on schedule.  The schedule was a bit pessimistic but 20 minutes? I figured I was in a race with some very tough, experienced and well prepared runners and that I was going to have to live with them. It was warm so I stayed in a long sleeve HH base later, and didn’t take food or water as I had enough with me (just enough water as it turned out) And wanted to keep my momentum. I just took my emergency lightweight Petzl 20 headtorch (required by the rules from this stage) as it wouldn’t be dark before Bridge of Cally.  The adrenaline was doing its level best to ruin my race plan and we still had 104 miles to go!

 

Enochdu to Bridge of Cally (10 miles – 1 hour 51 minutes)

Total 16 miles – 2 hours 52 minutes

(94 miles to go)

 

Shortly after Enochdu the stomach started playing up so when I reached the woods I made like a bear, not for the last time either.  Anyway, the running through Kirkmichael was pleasant and I was looking forward to the marshy bit.  Once it arrived I started to enjoy myself and opened up a bit of a gap to the guys behind.  Eventually I ended up running with Stephen Bell when he caught me at Blackcraig Castle.  He was moving slightly too fast I thought, but I enjoyed the wee chat and we came into the CP together, throwing in a sub 8 minute miles on the downhill section (for this lap it was down at the Bridge of Cally Hotel car park, and a few hundred yards extra!).  There was a great reception there and it was familiar from the recce.  I saw Peter MacDonald there briefly.  I should mention that his other half, Heather, did all his support alone for the entire race and looked entirely fresh.  She deserves a finishers Quaich as much as any of us!  Agi and Sylwia were cheering and it was great to see them.  I hadn’t planned to sit down at CP’s as that is the general advice, but I really wanted to and subsequently did so at each one.  The art is in having the drive to not let it delay you.  I tried the oxygen for the first time and if nothing else it combined well with caffeine to give me the boost to get going again.  I decided I wanted tea at each night time CP, mainly for the comfort factor.  In my mind I was getting cosy for the night shift.  I’d planned to dress in another layer but it was warm and I never put another layer on.  One thing I did change were my shoes.  I had planned this so I had my minimal Inov8’s for the hill and the marsh, but now on hard packed trails I was wanting more cushioning so I put my Hoka’s on.  They felt like pillows, part of my comfort plan for the night.  The Inov8’s could wait until the final leg, if at all.  I continued with my lightweight headtorch as it was still fairly light and I reckoned I had an hour of reasonable daylight to get to Blairgowrie.

 

Bridge of Cally to Blairgowrie (7 miles – 1 hour 24 minutes)

Total 23 miles – 4 hours 16 minutes

(87 miles to go)

 

As I ran back up the track to the T-junction I saw Gary Morrison and we exchanged greetings and he told me to ‘enjoy it’.  I wasn’t sure if that meant don’t push too hard yet, or whether to savour the experience and I pondered that as I climbed onto the moor, all the while watching Stephen Bell slowly disappear in front.  I decided his pace was too much too soon and that if he could maintain that then he deserves to finish ahead of me.  I really enjoyed this bit.  It felt like an evening run on new trails and I blitzed the downhill bits.  The final descent made me smile when I saw the ambiguous sign that George had posted online and which he owed me a pint for!  The descent was great and by the bottom in the trees it was quite dark and for the first time I put my torch on.  Stan showed me to the turning for the footbridge and I was feeling excited to be seeing my support crew.  The CP was buzzing and I got a big cheer (as we did everywhere), and the race was still quite bunched so most of the crews were there.  I was now about 40 minutes up on my planned pace and I asked the girls to text Lucy to warn her in case she didn’t make the half way turnaround.  I had forgotten that I'd planned the schedule on previous Cateran winning splits. Of course people never pace well and will tire in a race so in reverse they simply didn't work.  The slimfast shakes were going down well and I was eating as planned, putting in my order for  the next CP.  The girls had a good system by now and were removing my litter and giving me a guff of O2 and generally doing the job as if they had done it for years.  And so without much of a stop I got moving.  It was only 5 miles to Alyth and I knew the trail.

 

Blairgowrie to Den of Alyth (5 miles – 1 hour 18 minutes)

Total 28 miles – 5 hours 34 minutes

(82 miles to go)

 

The climb out of Blairgowrie was cool and peaceful.  I remembered fondly the overnight recce with Mike Raffan and George Chalmers and walked up the hill, now finally having taken charge of my heart rate at the right level.  The question was ‘Had I blown it?  Was it too late?’  I was thinking I had gone and ruined my 'A' race of the year because of my stupid male ego and adrenalin coursing through my veins. Anyway, I got to Drimmie Woods and just enjoyed the trail.  It’s a beautiful section (which I had still never seen in daylight) and once at the top it’s a fast downhill to the equally lovely Den of Alyth.  I do a lot of Winter training alone in the dark in wild places so I feel quite happy in those circumstances.  I didn’t see a soul on this section and it was probably the most enjoyable part of the whole race.  I slowed down in the Den so I didn’t miss the trail, then with a short climb it was into the CP.  Alec had come to take Agi home as she was working early the next day.  It was nearly midnight and I was feeling tired for the first time.  You may have noticed and wondered why I have put distance to run on each section?  It is because it is hard overnight not to tell yourself how far you still have to go.  With 82 miles left, going into a 10 mile section, I felt a little overwhelmed.  Feeling overwhelmed doesn’t get the baby bathed however, so I bid goodbye to Agi and Alec.  I’d next see them at the prize presentation.  I was worried that they wouldn’t enjoy it, but they seemed to have had a really good time.  I can’t thank them enough.  I was also worried that Sylwia was getting tired but she insisted she was ok.  I said just sleep at the next CP and leave my stuff outside and I’ll run through but she was having none of it!

 

Den of Alyth to Glenisla (10 miles – 2 hours 31 minutes)

Total 38 miles – 8 hours 5 minutes

(72 miles to go)

 

Alyth was asleep and I was dying to get out for another call of nature.  The signposted warning for Wild Boar on the hill came to nought.  I’d have to wait for my hog roast.  I ran consistently on this leg and the main memory was the string of headtorches spread along the route.  I could see Peter McDonaldabout a kilometre ahead and about 4 people strung out behind.  It was a still but warm night and I had removed my cap earlier when I put on the daddy head torch.  This is worth a mention.  It’s a Mytinysun 1000 lumen monster.  Not too heavy, very comfortable, and even on low beam it floods the night with light.  When the path was less clear I popped main beam on and it was like car headlights.  Not cheap but one of my best bits of kit.  At one point we were running with the near full moon casting a shadow.  It was lovely.  I caught Peter near the diversion and he was having a bad time, trying ‘to get his head into it’.  He upped the pace when I joined him and we chatted a bit until we met Stan again at the diversion.  He took us through the field and then Peter moved ahead as we approached the CP.

 

Glenisla to Dalnagar (11 miles – 1 hour 59 minutes)

Total 49 miles – 10 hours 4 minutes

(61 miles to go)

 

This proved to be a strong section for me going both ways.  Peter was out of the CP just ahead of me, but I caught him as he stopped for a pee and just kept going.  Another point to note.  I no longer stop to pee in an ultra, a keep walking and peeing! It only gains a few meters each time, but that’s the point, psychologically you’re a few meters nearer the finish.  For free! We continued past Loch Shandra in silence, Peter a couple of hundred yards back, then on the uphills I started to pull away.  I didn’t see much of Peter again until the finish, where sadly I heard he’d had to retire at 80 miles due to horrendous blisters.  I descended fast into Forter and tapped out a good rhythm on the road section and quickly caught John Moffat as he stopped for a pee.  He looked tired and much later I heard his legs had locked up and had stopped working but he finished bravely.  I mentioned the speed that he set off at and felt sure that was coming back to haunt him, although he is a very experience runner and a very evenly paced one at that, so I expected him to come back at me.  I got to the CP in 4th place and Mike Raffan was already at the halfway turnaround, having been pushed hard by Morgan.  As a result, he had pushed on harder than planned, which shows in his second lap splits which were similar to mine.  It also affected Morgan who hasn’t raced the distance for some time and she ended up slowing, then stopping with (I think) a ruptured Achilles tendon.  It was the last CP I would see Sylwia and I gave my breakfast order to pass to Lucy (I was now back on schedule).  I would next see her at the prize giving, so I gave her a big sweaty stinking but appreciative hug and struck out once more.

 

Dalnagar to Spittal of Glenshee (6 miles – 1 hour 27 minutes)

Total 55 miles – 11 hours 31 minutes

(55 miles to go)

 

This section is quite gnarly , especially on tired legs.  In the recce we had a hard time and took a wrong turn, but this time it was light.  I wondered when I’d see Mike, Morgan and Stephen coming back on lap 2.  I was surprised at how long it took as I’d heard he (Mike) was powering on.  I think at this stage he had throttled back having done the damage.  I wished him well and he stopped briefly to tell me Stevie was trying to get through the cow herd ahead, but that he had just walked through.  I didn’t realise I was so close to 3rd place so I pushed on through the ‘coos’ , taking care not to pass between mother and calf, and finally saw the Spittal in the distance.  I felt pretty rubbish and shuffled in to see Lucy.  It wasn’t quite a cheery good morning but it lifted my spirits.  I was tempted to just stop.  I felt really bad and was shivering.  She knows all about how bad you feel at this stage and beyond.  In fact she warned me about all of this and when it hit it was every bit as bad as she described.  I couldn’t face hot food, or in fact any food.  I had some tea and a couple of crisps, tried a biscuit then just as she tried to introduced me to Keith Hughes, I started projectile vomiting.  The smell made me vomit more and the race doc (Nick) said afterwards that he didn’t think I’d be able to continue.  I said that the smell was going to make me lose everything in my stomach and I had to get running and set off.  I no longer cared that the 55 milers would be chasing us down.  

 

Spittal of Glenshee to Dalnagar (6 miles – 1 hour 51 minutes including stop at halfway)

Total 61 miles – 13 hours 22 minutes

(49 miles to go)

 

I felt grim as I just plodded on, thinking at least I was now counting the miles down (if that makes sense?).  At least it was light, at least I was moving.  I saw the other 110 runners coming in.  I was really hoping George would be in time (he was, just, although he didn’t get too much further as he detailed well in his own blog).  Sean commented that he needed to sort his feet out and I was surprised that he was so far back (actually just pacing himself really well) and Gary looked good although as events turned out he was suffering with a kidney infection and retired in a bad way at abut 80 miles and went straight to hospital.  Finally I saw Alyson.  She had been lost overnight and was a way behind and wouldn’t make the cut-off at Spittal.  She soldiered on unbowed and will be back again.  With her experience she knows she can crack it.  As I neared the CP I passed Stephen who was walking with his support crew.  He didn’t look good and I shouted encouragement and passed.  He walked straight through the CP while I stopped.

 

Dalnagar to Glenisla (11 miles – 1 hour 59 minutes)

Total 72 miles – 15 hours 21 minutes

(38 miles to go)

 

I started strongly out of Dalnagar, and Lucy drove by headed to Glenisla the short way.  I decided to take the long scenic route instead, noting that Peter had had a resurgence and wasn’t far behind.  The scrap for 3rd place was on!  Rounding a corner, half the sheep in Scotland were being herded down the road.  I asked if I could pass on the verge and the farmer said ‘Aye’, so I lauched myself up a 45 degree bank at an uncomfortable pace.  It took half a mile to pass the sheep amid chaos, but came out with no injuries.  I pushed hard here, wanting to make a gap and get that podium place and soon reeled Stephen in. On the climb from Forter the lead 55ers came by at what looked like an incredible pace.  On a good day I wouldn’t be far off that pace but with 65 miles done I felt like I was standing still.  The 55ers all gave such amazing encouragement, especially the Carnethy guys who asked, ‘Is this another superhero?’.  What was nice to hear was 55ers saying how smooth I looked.  I didn’t feel it, but all that core and strengthening work must have paid off.  It was a full body effort by now and a near fall before half way pulled a muscle in my back which was seriously hampering my arm movement.  For those who don’t run much you may think you don’t need arms for running, but arms are your pacing device and your accelerator.  I held it as if in a sling and kept on, wincing with pain.  Interestingly, my reverse splits were almost even until 98 miles.  I trotted into Glenisla just behind Antonia, who was first female in a record time.  She looked fresh as a daisy!  Into the CP, Lee was there as were Caroline and Neal.  I felt shattered and Lucy asked what I wanted.  I didn’t want anything except for all this suffering to end, but she knew what I needed and forced food into me.  I was lifted seeing Noanie dancing in being her usual cheerful self.  She came over for a hug and I told her to get bloody moving because first burd was just ahead!  The doc gave me some paracetamol for my back and an ice pack for the next CP. Getting up was a struggle but Neal led me to the diversion as I must’ve looked a bit out of it here.

 

Glenisla to Den of Alyth (10 miles – 2 hours 24 minutes)

Total 82 miles – 17 hours 45 minutes

(28 miles to go)

 

The main body of 55ers caught me here.  After this I yo-yo’d with a few and one or 2 caught up, but not many.  I wasn’t flying, but I was steady.  So was the pain.  The encouragement of the 55ers helped and it was heartening that most of them didn’t realise I was in the 110.  I kept asking how far back the next guy was because I had no idea and didn’t know how hard I had to push to keep a podium place.  As I climbed a stile I got a glimpse of a Fling buff and a foreign accent behind me.  I recognised him as crazy Johan.  I ran with him briefly at last years Fling, and if ever you need a lift in an ultra, run with Johan.  We ran together for a happy couple of miles to and over Alyth hill (still no boars) and down into the village where I distanced him a little.  Into the play area in the Den was very different to the overnight silence.  There was John and Lorna hosting a ceilidh.  I considered a dance, didn’t see the whisky, thought I was hallucinating and got sent the long way to the car park up a steep hill which got me cursing out loud.  In the car park I couldn’t see Lucy and started shouting and she popped out of nowhere.  She kept saying I was doing great but I didn’t really believe it.  I had asked for time checks and she said I was 20 minutes ahead of 4th.  I thought at that time it was John Moffat but it was Sean on a great run.  I felt I could maintain the intensity although you can easily lose 20 minutes if you crack.  With only a short leg to come I told Lucy to get going and I wanted to keep moving.  

 

Den of Alyth to Blairgowrie (5 miles – 1 hour 23 minutes)

Total 87 miles - 19 hours 8 minutes

(23 miles to go)

 

I walked most of the hill to Drimmie Woods maintaining pace with a few 55ers, then shared a pleasant descent with Robert Kinnaird into Blairgowrie.  He was suffering with an injury and was forced to walk for large parts of his race.  We ran in to see a cheering Sandra along with Ian and Kynon and several others in the car park.  Lucy again force fed me and told me I had 25 minutes lead. I used the ice pack not on my back but on my right shin.  The start of a problem? I felt good anyway and wanted to crack on.

 

Blairgowrie to Bridge of Cally (7 miles – 1 hour 35 minutes)

Total 94 miles – 20 hours 43 minutes

(16 miles to go)

 

I pushed hard up the climb out of town to re-catch Robert and to maintain my gap to 4th.  I started feeling pretty awful and nauseous at the farms and caught Lynsay MacKay.  We yo-yo’d for a few miles.  I had to apologise for my extreme flatulence (thankfully without product) and my poor company on this stretch.  I was in a dark place now and just thinking of Bridge of Cally.  Bizarrely, despite feeling so bad, I set the fastest time for this leg. When I got there it was just beginning to rain.  Lucy was saying how well I was doing and that Morgan had pulled out, meaning I was now in 2nd.  I didn’t need any more motivation.  I couldn’t eat much but gels and shot blocs seemed to be doing the trick, plus a bit of fresh fruit and the odd stem ginger cookie.  I also forced down Babybels fairly consistently.  I quickly introduced myself to Helen Munro at the CP whose husband John was doing a great run in the 55 then pushed on alone.

 

Bridge of Cally to Enochdu (10 miles – 2 hours 34 minutes)

Total 104 miles – 23 hours 17 minutes

(6 miles to go)

 

I really was in unknown territory.  I passed the 95 mark in just over 21 hours and was ok, moving alone in light rain.  The legs hurt badly now and the signs of cramp were developing in my right calf.  A toe on my left foot had a blister under the nail and although it felt odd it didn’t hurt too much.  At least no more than the rest of my body.  Finally I had to stretch the calf as Karen Robertson caught me.  She was flying and obviously paced her race well.  I caught Johan again but I was in rag order by now.  Every step was deliberate and agonising.  I desperately wanted it to end but I knew it wasn’t too far now.  I got my head in order for the last mile to Enochdu, determined to look respectable and not pitiful.  Neal and Caroline were there again and I remember seeing Donald.  I said I don’t know how I’m going to get over that mountain I’ll have to walk and Lucy said ‘Well walk then, you’ve got loads of time’  Good advice, but right then I wanted Lucy’s legs, thinking there’s no way she’d walk this.  I forced down a little food, took some biscuits and set off.  

 

Enochdu to Spittal of Glenshee (6 miles – 1 hour 50 minutes)

Total 110 miles – 25 hours 6 minutes

 

I physically could not run here, so I walked most of the leg.  I was alone once Johan and Lynsay left me and kept looking over my shoulder expecting Sean to appear at breakneck speed.  I was shouting at myself for being a pussy and telling myself that I was giving up on sub 25 hours and maybe a podium finish.  It was nice seeing Lorna and John (the celiedh must have finished) running the other way.  I forgot to congratulate Lorna on a great race at Transvulcania the week before and vowed I must do that later (I did).  I managed a shuffle on the downhills and flats (it was mainly uphill) but I really was broken at this point.  I could keep going but couldn’t raise my game.  I had found my current physical limits, if not yet my mental ones.  I willed on the arrival of the steep bitof the climb as no one would run that now and I could yomp up it ok.  Once I was there I looked back and didn’t see anyone closing.  I yomped hard, catching and passing a 55er and managed a half decent descent in thickening rain, still looking back in case Sean was coming, although if he was what could I do?  Rugby tackle him maybe! As I approached the hotel I could hear cheers and Lucy was going mad.  Coming through the gate seemed like a week after we last went through it and it felt really special.  I mustered a half sprint and was greeted by Karen and George then Lucy, then Noanie.  Handshakes and hugs all round.  I had done it.  4 ultra marathons, no DNF’s!  Not only that, I had finished 2nd.  All I wanted to do was get off my feet so I went into the bar.  I wasn’t ready for the wall of noise, the applause, the cheering and the blur of colour.  I felt a bit embarrassed but hugely proud and dare I say a little emotional.

 

Aftermath

 

George and Karen host a race but are also are mum and dad to the big Cateran family.  That’s exactly how it feels.  My only regret is that I was too out of it to really hold a conversation together or even drink a beer.  I couldn't face anything and kept vomiting. Lucy (again correctly) suggested some soup which was a godsend.  The cold shower nearly sent me down with hypothermia but I got wrapped up warm.

 

I have to say firstly how my little support team were incredible.  I am humbled that they gave up their time to help me.  They did an amazing job and even enjoyed it.  The camaraderie between support teams was a joy to see and made CP visits even more enjoyable.

 

I have to congratulate Mike on an expected but very hard won win.  The time gaps don’t tell the full story and he felt it was the hardest race he'd done so far.  Commiserations to those who didn’t finish, but you all raced bravely and contributed to a unique race which none of us will ever forget.  And congratulations to all the finishers.  Only 6 people can say they’ve done it which is quite something.  John MacLean showed real guts in being timed out but still finishing.  He is not a natural runners build by any stretch but he overcomes that by possessing the heart of a Shire horse!

 

I was admitted to hospital the next day with possible compartment syndrome.  Luckily I escaped that after 2 days of bed rest but they are still trying to disgnose what caused bleeding into the muscle sheath. Maybe a stress fracture?  It’ll take time to find out.  Thankfully Gary was also released from hospital with no long term effects.

 

Epic shit?  Damn right it was.

 

Any further analysis can wait.  I need some rest.....

 

 

 

 

 


Thursday 22 May 2014

Hoka Highland Fling 2014


Hoka Highland Fling 2014

Overall time (chip)9hr 53min 11s
Finish position: 
92nd/556 Finishers (58DNF)
Category: 
39th/215 Veteran males

 

 

I thought it was about time I captured a few of my thoughts about this ultra running lark and a few people cajoled me into writing these down.

 

Why run ultras?

 

People have all sorts of reasons for getting into running. Some are escaping (or replacing) an addiction, some have had a health scare, some come from other sports, to lose weight or any one of a thousand reasons why someone pulls on their trainers and goes for a run, and many of us rediscover why we used to love running everywhere as kids.  I’m often asked how long I’ve been running.  It's a difficult question.  Do they mean literally, or running competitively? Since I was about 2 is probably the answer to the first interpretation, and although I ran the London Marathon in 2002 and the odd half or mountain marathon, it has only been as part of a general love of sport and exercise rather than ‘being a runner’.  I just regarded myself as a ‘bloke who runs a bit’.  Far from ideally built, I used to be a half decent racing cyclist in my teens and early 20’s before joining the Forces.  I then bulked up to 13 and a half stone through weight training, martial arts, rugby and any other sport you can name before I had my personal running epiphany.

 

In Autumn 2012 I was walking on the West Highland Way between Drymen and Balmaha with a 25kg pack and boots when I happened upon a German lad who was also a handy triathlete.  He told me that people race the whole WHW in a day.  Nonsense thought I, and we retreated to the Oak Tree Inn for a couple of isotonic ales instead of continuing for the remaining 76 miles.  But the seed was sown and I Googled the race.  Bravely figuring that I could walk it within the cutoff time (35 hours) with a pack and in boots, I duly entered (I’ve always responded to a challenge).  Luckily the race director politely informed me that I was in no way experienced enough and I was rejected.  So I entered the Hoka Highland Fling in 2013.

 

Hoka Highland Fling 2013 (the problem)

 

That experience was painful but not too bad (I still believe I could’ve gone on to Fort William), but my longest ever training run prior was only 27 miles (21 miles that calendar year) and my total mileage was only about 400 for the year.  I paced it badly and generally had no idea what I was doing and was happy to finish but disappointed with a 12 hour plus finish and a very slow final section.  But it made me determined to become a better runner.  Why shouldn’t I be at least as good as I had been at bike racing? More specifically, was I to do about it?

 

The solution

 

This bit is important.  Especially for someone who wants to improve.  I refuse to accept I am at any given level in a sport.  I don’t regard hope as a strategy.  Whilst I know I will never be a world champion, there is always room for improvement.  Big improvement, not just a marginal PB. I firmly believe that anyone who can finish the Fling is capable of running it in under 10 hours, for example.  It is merely a factor of wanting it badly enough to put in the hard work and sacrifice.  Don't mistake me, running an ultra to finish requires a lot of training and commitment in itself, but with the correct preparation and level of sacrifice (that word is key, there is always a trade off), any able bodied person should be able to get within 15-20% of the fastest in their age group regardless of genetics and 'luck'.  On the subject of luck, I don't believe in it. You make your own luck.  Bad luck is an excuse for poor preparation or poor execution.  I always question everything.  Why do runners ‘get the miles in?’ like cyclists for example.  Both groups will mutter about the importance of it, but the fact is that if the winner runs at 6 minute mile pace, you need to be able to run that fast too if you want to win, and no amount of plodding will change that fact. Endless junk miles are an easy way to maximise training time and minimise results.  Why am I heavy footed when the guy in front moves like a Gazelle?’. Because i, like most adults had forgotten how to run! It's true.  And the funny thing is, you'd think that's the first thing a running club would teach a newcomer. But here's the thing, most people in running clubs don't know how to run properly either.  They all talk about upping the mileage, shaving a few seconds of a 10k PB, hill reps and doing a long weekend run, but no one mentions how to run.  Once I learnt the basics (and I'm still learning), it felt amazing.  I did a lot of reading into all the things that I felt had held me back, and each thing I read took me down another path.  I think this is what Stuart Mills calls his non-physical training.  I know that to reach your best as a runner takes some years as you condition the body to run big training mileages and to adapt technique, so this was just the beginning of what I hope will be a longer project.

 

So I worked on every aspect of performance.  Much like David Brailsford’s ‘marginal gains’ theory, I like the saying, “if you improve 100 things by 1% you will be 100% better”.  I looked at kit that would improve what I had (I like food to be accessible, not on my back for instance, or I won't bother eating).  I tried compression gear on muscles that suffered the most damage last time.  I started the transition to minimalist running, but also used Hoka’s for the hard packed descents and running on tired legs.  I engaged a technique coach for a couple of sessions, I analysed my gait and how to improve it.  I visited a sports therapist when I had a niggle to minimise time off training.  I trained harder with most sessions being hill reps, tempo, track work and intervals as well as doing more miles (one longer monthly run rather than fairly long weekly ones), but always listened to my body and took time off if needed and ignored mileage targets (which isn't easy to do). I stretched more and stretched more specifically, I did running related strengthening work to minimise injury and improve technique.  I ate better and lowered my carbohydrate intake and got down to 12 stone and less than 10% body fat.  I studied the race routes, split times and gauged myself against other people of different abilities so I knew what I could realistically aim for.  Many people were sceptical of my methods so the Fling was going to be the big test of my progress en-route to the Double Cateran in a couple of weeks time.

 

Pre-race

 

The tapering went well, and I drove up to Milngavie late on Friday, arriving at registration about 2130.  I felt an enormous rush of adrenaline as I walked into the Burnbrae Inn.  Last year I felt intimidated but this year I felt confident and strong.  I saw a few familiar faces and commented that if I didn’t perform well tomorrow it wasn’t through a lack of preparation.  I felt indestructible. My aspirations were no secret.  I’m not ashamed to state my goals, however lofty they are.  By doing that I feel I need to live up to them and that motivates me.  The DC is my ‘A’ race of the year so the bottom line was a comfortable finish at the Fling.  Secondly was a PB.  Realistically I expected about 10 hours 30 minutes without pushing too hard, but knew that if I did things right I could even go under 10 hours.  Not exceptional by any stretch, but a big leap in 12 months.

 

I stayed with a friend and fellow Flinger who lives close to the start, and after gossiping and eating cake we turned in at 2300, planning a 0400 start. Rain was forecast for Saturday and so it hammered on the conservatory (my bedroom) roof all night.  I wasn’t concerned, I had banked plenty of sleep that week and last year I only got 2 hours the night before.  I don’t mind the thought of rain as I think of it as an advantage for the more ‘robust’ build of runner (I refer you to Jon Steele’s amazing win at The Hill last December).  So after about 3 hours sleep punctuated with 3 pee stops (well hydrated all week with Nuun tabs), Al, Andrew and I sat down for an early breakfast and lots of chat about minimalist running (Andrew is the famous sandal-runner from RSA), Scotland and the race.  We were driven to the start, wrapped in a bin liner for disposable warmth, with a small amount of time to spare to get organised but minimise time on the feet in the cold and wet using unnecessary energy.  I said hello to a few people but I was getting quite focussed.  I have read a lot about elite endurance athletes mental games and one was focus.  I know ultra’s are quite sociable but despite a bit of good chat and bonhomie, I blocked a lot of distractions out.  This was true through a lot of the race.  Last year I chatted and ran and didn’t think too much about pace or form and when the (inevitable) pain came, I wasn’t really prepared for it.  This time I focussed well and when the pain came, I met it head on and had a strategy for running through it.  They talk of not trying to shut pain out but of working with it and it worked for me, I even relished it. The plan was to focus on pacing, cadence, technique and strong training sessions. I also had real belief in my training and pacing strategy, so in my head I was going to be stronger than those around me over the final third of the course. 

 

Milngavie to Drymen (12 miles - 1 hour 41 minutes 55 seconds)

 

I positioned myself in the tunnel and we were off.  I felt I should hold back behind slower runners but decided my pulse was low enough and started moving up the field, running lightly and easily, just thinking about my technique and rhythm and felt enormously content.  The air was damp and cool, the scenery pleasant and it felt easy.  As I had planned I let the brakes off on the descents, keeping the legs fresh by using a really high turnover.  I didn’t consider my pace until Jamie told me we were running at 9 hour pace at the Beech Tree.  I decided this was a little quick and let her move slowly ahead.  I was pleased to get a cheery ‘hello’ from Sandra and Ian at the Gartness crossing, then enjoyed a chat with an A&E doctor from Glasgow on the road section while feeding all the time.  I fed every 20 minutes or so and drank almost constantly, consuming over 4.5 litres of fluids.  At Drymen I opted to go through the bog to save a few metres (and it is the true course of the WHW), as I don’t mind wet feet although I did get mild blisters and trenchfoot.  It was nice to see a crowd at the top of the field but was mindful not to get carried away putting on a show of pace! Running through the CP I took a cup of water and kept going.  

 

Drymen to Rowardennan (15 miles - 2 hours 35 minutes 25 seconds)

 

It still felt easy and I passed a few runners on the climb up to Garabhan Forest.  Although it felt ok, I thought I had gone out too fast and would suffer later, but as I was on a 10 hour pace I thought I’d roll with it.  The rain had made the decent to Conic a bit slippery so I didn’t go mad, and took the climb steady, walking most of it.  At the top the sun began to warm my back through the damp mist and it fired life into me and I overtook a lot of people on the descent without putting any real strain on the quads.  I didn’t have a drop bag at Balmaha, but topped up the water.  I’d rather carry too much than run out.  I realise it weighs more, but this far outweighs the consequences of not having enough in my opinion.  The marshals as ever worked with military precision and a smile to boot. I recall praising a smiling Caroline MacKay on her WS100 run last year. She wrote a great blog on it too!

 

I’ll take this opportunity to say how wonderful the marshals all were and what a huge part they played in everyone’s day.  From George Reid offering me a beer (that he owes me) at the Beech Tree, to the kind chap who picked up my drink bottle to save me doing so at Beinglas, to the lady who took my rubbish for me (also Beinglas), and everyone else in between, a HUGE thank you.

 

It was quickly out of Balmaha along the trail which is a huge improvement to the car park and a brief intro to Sarah who had kindly arranged to have us climb up to Craggie’s Fort.  It was on the ups and downs of this stretch that I started to fatigue badly last year.  This time I was wary but stayed strong and paced it sensibly, dropping into Rowardennan still on sub 10 hour pace and ready for my first drop bag.  I need to be more organised with these.  I sat down sorting out the contents for 5 minutes both here and Beinglas and still managed to throw away my Nuun tablets by mistake.  I was also getting hot so I stripped off to remove my base layer.  Apologies to the ladies stood in front of me.  There was mention of it being a diet coke break, but they were only being kind!  

 



Rowardennan to Beinglas (14 miles – 3 hours 11 minutes, 36 seconds)

 

Out of Rowardennan I felt awful, my first and only real low of the race, but it went on and on until Inversnaid. This was a shame as it is my favourite bit of the course and I had planned to push on hard on this section. I felt nauseous, weak and wooden legged.  I walked the whole climb from Ptarmigan cottage and felt that my sub 10 hour ambitions were slipping away but tried to focus and come good on the descent.  The food was simply a bit heavy in my stomach. I was faster going downhill to Rowchoish than last year but the split times show that this leg was my relative slowest by some way.  Inversnaid was a nice boost and Sandra shouted at me to keep running so without a drop bag, I topped up the water and scurried off.  The gnarly bit was ok, just concentrating on foot placement which stopped me thinking negatively and stopped me pushing too hard as I did here last year.  Sadly I came across a pool of blood and shortly after, a lady who I had seen a few times was holding her chin and bleeding quite a bit.  A few of us stopped and someone called the rescue boat.  Noanie caught us and offered her buff as a bandage.  I suggested she should compress the wound and start moving towards Beinglas, not realising that it would have been painful as she had fractured her jaw.  Once clear of the technical section she said she was fine and waved us on and others accompanied her for a while.  We alerted the marshalls at Beinglas just in case they weren’t aware.  Anyway, Noanie has stormed off up to Dario’s post and I initially thought that was the last I’d see of her.  Then I switched into race mode, realised this is what the hill reps have been for and yomped up the climb munching shot blocs.  It turns out that these are my crack cocaine.  They supercharged me and I not only caught up but broke into a fair canter all the way to Beinglas, getting there 3 minutes ahead.  

 

Beinglas to Tyndrum (12 miles – 2 hours 24 minutes 28 seconds)

 

After another faff with my dropbag Noanie had left ahead of me so I set off chasing again.  We ran more or less together until Derrycarroch but not talking much other than cursing our legs with every swear word under the Sun.  I offered that we were both on for a safe PB.  She replied “of course we are you daft pr**k, we could’ve done that running backwards, we were sh**e last year”.  Call a spade a f**cking shovel!  Here she started cramping. It was a role reversal of last year where she passed me cramping at the same place. I offered some Hula Hoops and then plodded on.  I started feeling ok again and at the junction before the roller coaster was told I had and hour and 8 minutes to beat 10 hours and that I could do it.  Part of me wanted to hear that it wasn’t possible and I could ease back and save myself for the DC, but no, now I had to push.  Hard.  I barrelled down the descents in the forest and George had to stop me sprinting straight into the A82 at the bottom.  There were small knots of spectators saying 10 hours was on and I was also putting on a show.  I felt amazing now, powering along as if it was a swift 10 miler.  I overtook a couple of relay runners which felt nice, then caught a guy whose support car was driving alongside him after the wigwams.  I was breathing the diesel fumes which angered me.  He said I have 27 minutes to do 3 miles so with my new found anger I opened the afterburners.  It felt good passing several people on the run in.  I saluted the pipers, but instead of the lump in the throat and emotion of the finish, I still didn’t know if sub 10 was on or not so I went down the finishing straight like it was a track session.  A bit embarrassing when I found I had over 6 minutes to spare!  It was a pretty fast finish but I managed to give a few high 5’s as I ran down the red carpeted funnel to the finish.  I just wish my vision hadn’t been so blurred by the effort!




So what?  

 

Was it a good race?  As a whole it was an amazing event.  Johnny Fling is a legend.  He keeps improving a great product whilst retaining it’s family feel and having a smile and chat for everyone.  For me personally it was a great success and in the circumstances I think I went as fast as I could reasonably expect to on the day.  It vindicated all the work, research, methods and preparation of the last 12 months and gave me confidence for my strategy at the Double Cateran, which still frankly terrifies me.

 

I also got a PB by 2 hours 15 minutes.  I think most 12 hour athletes can if they want to.  And I think most can go considerably quicker still.  It can be done on a diet of less than 50 miles a week too.  I’m beginning to see a lot of sense in what Stuart Mills says.  

 

Can I do better?  Yes.  I can dramatically reduce time spent wasted at CP’s, and another year of training and improvement should help.  Already am I thinking sub 9 hours for 2015, but we will see. I may run the Cateran 55 instead as preparation for the WHWR. One thing at a time…

 

The big lessons?   You can always push the body harder.  The mind is the major limiting factor in the performance on the day.  Never believe when someone tells you that you can’t achieve something, and never accept that you belong at a certain level until you are happy with the level you have reached.  A leopard really can change its spots; from now on I will call myself a runner rather than just a bloke who runs a bit.