tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33112198925914668762024-03-04T21:35:52.882-08:00Running frogmanAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05345689920905474925noreply@blogger.comBlogger6125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311219892591466876.post-88858354852523864482016-01-16T08:22:00.001-08:002016-04-04T13:30:46.369-07:00A Trip to NarniaLife conspired against me when planning a 2016 running season and it worked out that I can't do any races. At all. Now, when I don't race I tend to get lazy, and eat cake. Lots of cake. So having not trained or raced properly since late Summer and with Christmas approaching, I was looking more like an amateur prop forward than an ultra runner. A post on the FB by Murdo McEwen asking about anyone contemplating a winter WHW run got me thinking. <div><br></div><div>I have often thought idly about doing this. It's easy to do sat on a warm sofa with a cuppa, and even easier with 3 pints of bravery juice inside you. But let me give it a bit of context. The West Highland Way is 95 miles. That's a long run on a nice long summer day when you've trained all year and have a following wind. In Winter it is cold and wet at best. Often it is very f@£king cold and icy. It's dark most of the time. I had also decided that as I wasn't going to set any records that I could try and set 'a first'. I was going to try a solo, unsupported run. Two little words. Solo (def. a thing done by one person unaccompanied) and unsupported (def. done without help). I thought I knew what they meant; I do now!</div><div><br></div><div>I didn't really have a choice of dates, so although I looked at weather, it didn't really matter. I couldn't do it sooner and if I didn't do it then I wouldn't get another chance for a year at least. You may have worked out that this left about 3 weeks to train. The first 2 were Christmas, so that went well, then it was taper time. I had some confidence in my residual endurance and I hadn't been totally inactive. I had eaten a lot though.</div><div><br></div><div>So on Tuesday 11 Jan 16 after a day at work and several nights of not enough sleep, I was on the last train to Fort William. The rain hit the windows, then snow fell as we climbed higher. I had planned to sleep on the train but was too excited/daunted. I was also being eyed suspiciously by the German couple sat opposite and the bearded alcoholic at the end of the carriage. I however, looked perfectly normal in Lycra tights and stuffing a full fruit cake into my mouth. Climbing off in Fort William felt very lonely. It was after 10pm and raining lightly. Just above freezing, I wrapped up and walked to the Lochaber Leisure Centre. At the start of a race there is a huge buzz, crowds of people, nervous chatter, people tending to your needs. Here there was an old lady waiting for the last bus home, an empty car park, and the prospect of 95 very cold miles ahead. But the rain had stopped and the sky had cleared. The temperature was falling fast and was forecast to be about minus 10 at the top of the Devil's Staircase where I expected to be in about 4-5 hours time. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgThyphenhyphen55xUL4Tekx3R2MxsIWEbXWfrk2Xwm96UO8IH4LOuwgz5NceWueRv4qMoEwwCz74eH4-1Om_tteQxYcFjj7oUcmEOlEP9b_Ia4V7REItSb1PBRPQUSfj6TEFVX9t2xpZ_7IWrEMjes/s640/blogger-image--1036790134.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgThyphenhyphen55xUL4Tekx3R2MxsIWEbXWfrk2Xwm96UO8IH4LOuwgz5NceWueRv4qMoEwwCz74eH4-1Om_tteQxYcFjj7oUcmEOlEP9b_Ia4V7REItSb1PBRPQUSfj6TEFVX9t2xpZ_7IWrEMjes/s640/blogger-image--1036790134.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>I was wearing tights (normal for a Tuesday night), Injinji toe socks, an Under Armour cold gear base layer, tech t-shirt, sealskinz gloves, Montane Prism jacket, a beanie, and I had a buff and ski goggles round my neck. "Ski goggles?!", I hear you cry. Well, when the illustrious Paul Giblin did a (record) Winter WHW in similar conditions, his eyeballs froze. </div><div><br></div><div>Within a mile at the Braveheart car park I stopped to take the jacket off. Ben Nevis loomed white in front and I stood a little too long sorting my stuff out and thinking poetic thoughts. The cold bit almost instantly and I set off up the fire road. It was beautiful and still with a million stars as my ceiling for the night. I soon hit snow patches and as I trotted down the single track I was thinking that 24 hours (a very loose target time) was quite conservative. On that warm Summers Day it probably would be. The only sign of human life from here to Kinlochleven was a light at each of the farms near Lundavra. The first ice was over the Lairig Mor. It was slightly slowing but I could avoid the worst by picking a decent line. No need for Kahtoohlas just yet. The ice was on my mind dropping to Kinlochleven and I knew that a fall could be potentially dangerous with self-help being my primary option, so I stayed slow. Kinlochleven was tucked up in bed. Not even a drunk stumbling out of the pub. No bustling checkpoint, but no fannying about either! </div><div><br></div><div>I planned a water refill at the bridge half way up the climb. It's a long climb, much longer than anything going south to north, and it went on. It started to snow and it got very icy. Luckily, the burns were still flowing as I was relying on Tailwind powdered food and that needs water. So if I couldn't get water I'd die of thirst and hunger! On the unsupported bit, I had planned to use water from streams and outdoor taps and use 3 food (powder) caches (Pre-placed at Bridge of Orchy, Derrydarroch and Balmaha). No indoor shelter or purchased food were allowed, nor were running companions. The frequent (hourly) water stops had to be well drilled. Pack off, jacket on, gloves off, bottles open, powder in, water in, top on, jacket off, pack on, gloves on, thaw fingers. </div><div><br></div><div>The twinkling lights of Kinlochleven disappeared and were replaced by blackness. There was no moon and now it clouded and snowed. So much so that I thought navigation may become an issue (not normally a problem on the WHW). By the top it was really Arctic but I sat for a minute to drink it all in. I may well never be in a situation like that again, 600m up, utterly alone in the dark, minus<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> 10 in deep snow sculpted by roaring winds. It was too cold to stop long and besides, it wasn't getting me nearer to Milngavie and I didn't intend having 2 sleepless nights! The spikes were on but the descent was still slow. It was here that I first realised a fundamental difference of a winter WHW; the bits where you normally make up time are much slower, and the bits that are normally slow are still slow. Except cow poo alley, but that is a few hundred metres out of 95 miles.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp6kmq7PuJhY4TkVVzCWLkzzuZ3zIY0T6bR_UQ1Dmnwku3GrmoEypNrW_ar4MWzvVVRpz3vE-x3zdHAkIB6149BnNjI0lDCRMpC4LTKbQYG7R6ALv3vpwqBuq_OH74yejWkxTrYTV9BFg/s640/blogger-image-866240292.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp6kmq7PuJhY4TkVVzCWLkzzuZ3zIY0T6bR_UQ1Dmnwku3GrmoEypNrW_ar4MWzvVVRpz3vE-x3zdHAkIB6149BnNjI0lDCRMpC4LTKbQYG7R6ALv3vpwqBuq_OH74yejWkxTrYTV9BFg/s640/blogger-image-866240292.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">The run parallel to the A82 felt 'civilised' as the odd lorry crawled over the snowbound road, then a couple of snowploughs. I wondered what they'd think of a head torch bobbing about in the hills at 0300 on a Wednesday morning.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Kingshouse was the next metropolis I reached. No sign of life whatsoever, so I went round the back to use the tap. It felt like a 5 star stopover because as well as a tap they had an outdoor light. Worried that I might go soft amongst such luxury, I struck out for Rannoch Moor.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVPXm5accO2VYpSz6iN90ZqYGi6lwCmX6jYCTaT6Tq40N9EByMiJBjuTf_pHaRckfWNPrKgy7Xh3GExEuNf4i9wSxGJDjLReqAv0Mf55ahPGL3HZj-CarC0qn0xXF9jSS1KR5z-71qWcU/s640/blogger-image--459075443.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVPXm5accO2VYpSz6iN90ZqYGi6lwCmX6jYCTaT6Tq40N9EByMiJBjuTf_pHaRckfWNPrKgy7Xh3GExEuNf4i9wSxGJDjLReqAv0Mf55ahPGL3HZj-CarC0qn0xXF9jSS1KR5z-71qWcU/s640/blogger-image--459075443.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">One of the golden rules of ultra running is not to try nutrition out 'on the day'. I've never tried tailwind before. In my defence, this wasn't a race, but I can't honestly say it was a training run either.. I was getting a bit worried; I had measured out just enough for 60g of carbs per hour but felt hungry. I did have a bit of emergency solid food but couldn't very well touch that just yet. I decided to trust it and kidded myself that if I had to find my own food I could stalk then wrestle a deer for sustenance.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Rannoch Moor was a mixed experience. The looming white mountains and endless sky were beautiful. Underfoot though I had a choice between ice which broke now and then, plunging my feet into icy water below, or uneven, hard snow requiring big steps and lots of trips and falls. If hell froze over, purgatory would look something like this. So a few times I lay painfully on the ground swearing at the night sky but getting going again before hypothermia set in.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">My sub-standard preparation had not included any banking of sleep. Quite the opposite in fact. So only 30 miles in I was craving sleep and stumbling. Not good on a Summer evening when you have a support crew 5 miles away. Less so when it's minus 10 and you haven't seen a human soul in 30 miles. I did get a text from Murdo in response to a routine update and I realised that I was depriving him of sleep also. I felt a bit bad, but also like I had a little company (thanks Murdo). Anyway, I was dying to try out my 2 man emergency bothy so decided to have 40 winks. I was genuinely comfortable in there, validating my kit choice. I closed my eyes for 10 minutes then got up and re-packed quickly and got moving feeling much better. This part is normally very runnable but in these conditions I seemed to be making the progress of a toddler learning to walk. In the dark none of the landmarks gave any clues as to how much further it was to Forest Lodge. Finally, the first signs of dawn came as I started down to Victoria Bridge. The moor had put me back by an hour or so. The spikes came off on the road section. Inveroran was deserted but I saw the lights of a couple of vehicles leaving the Black Mount estate across Loch Tulla. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUd2KGUp3yOgBuYCeKAUtgRaukjhgIeZoNCpRAnP3Ho_Rwl2BiVENszx-pDMsJPuTIwVP_zTXttpR1zOhqaXjMqF2OGPQ2abzDb4IruI_vXBZTiwOkJQTdvl1JhRDUkPKuG5O0e1tSpGE/s640/blogger-image-1013227654.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUd2KGUp3yOgBuYCeKAUtgRaukjhgIeZoNCpRAnP3Ho_Rwl2BiVENszx-pDMsJPuTIwVP_zTXttpR1zOhqaXjMqF2OGPQ2abzDb4IruI_vXBZTiwOkJQTdvl1JhRDUkPKuG5O0e1tSpGE/s640/blogger-image-1013227654.jpg"></a></div><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Jelly Baby Hill was quite a low and short hop, maybe 25 minutes to Bridge of Orchy? But covered in sheet ice it was more like the travellator. And that was just going up! After 2 painful falls the spikes were stretched back over Hokas. The reward was meeting deer skylined on the summit in the growing dawn. The back payment was teetering slowly down the treacherous descent to my first 'food' cache. It was still there! Hooray. I saw a couple of folk defrosting cars for the school run or work as I carried my bag of white powder suspiciously up to the hotel where I indulged in their outdoor tap.</font></div><div><br></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTUUf5g4B6qS4i0nUyBSGppovuQutPoeKTqpUmIJa4l-hI1jrvbouYEHvCOohrf18QMjiMQM1zQw6S1Ffu8dMdkpcb3vSRWHtjZPNl3nDtzHr6jLViBM-11V92vw0lXyDwIEo0CFsz3KM/s640/blogger-image--511317005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTUUf5g4B6qS4i0nUyBSGppovuQutPoeKTqpUmIJa4l-hI1jrvbouYEHvCOohrf18QMjiMQM1zQw6S1Ffu8dMdkpcb3vSRWHtjZPNl3nDtzHr6jLViBM-11V92vw0lXyDwIEo0CFsz3KM/s640/blogger-image--511317005.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUCde8Wzpnx6Xyp37u2_amMe42mRgxLthH2r5nFElZiof8bJtBMo4GtALBNX0y06yIiMjXnB10SMonvf5Ik4oBfoN7b8h7u_0DvvGePr8uiReg5TDA0TrARl0aIAMq7GpvFaoO2ekYsL0/s640/blogger-image-1013967805.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUCde8Wzpnx6Xyp37u2_amMe42mRgxLthH2r5nFElZiof8bJtBMo4GtALBNX0y06yIiMjXnB10SMonvf5Ik4oBfoN7b8h7u_0DvvGePr8uiReg5TDA0TrARl0aIAMq7GpvFaoO2ekYsL0/s640/blogger-image-1013967805.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH7L8rYDPE8WAeJ6qTpoHVllwVd5hzqD4n-JBZ7KFlA8qPuoGAWce-ljrvqU9sqV0bHC_6qRwYAbiOyxgFGO-N1CpQQttGFazKlZrXvdpvX-B4zNemw86Goxa64gqjY6kKXxEJjTiia4I/s640/blogger-image-356704562.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH7L8rYDPE8WAeJ6qTpoHVllwVd5hzqD4n-JBZ7KFlA8qPuoGAWce-ljrvqU9sqV0bHC_6qRwYAbiOyxgFGO-N1CpQQttGFazKlZrXvdpvX-B4zNemw86Goxa64gqjY6kKXxEJjTiia4I/s640/blogger-image-356704562.jpg"></a></div><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Ben Dorain had a top of cloud and the Black Mount were pristine white in the morning sun. I bid "good morning" to a hiker and some workmen then set off from the station at a jog, loving the scenery. This happy state was maintained until I was above the railway North of Tyndrum. Again, a nice easy part of the trail was now as difficult as it could be. One icy plunge jarred my back leaving it in spasm as I got to Tyndrum. I thought my attempt was over but a call to Murdo put it in perspective. Keep going and see how you go, you can always get a train from Crianlarich. Ok then. It was lovely and sunny and seemed a shame to stop now. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi052cbMdR01WCA9ZhuHObklopI81OvS1ISiLcTJdqpnILrZ_DzCBDvlI6OC76U3VupufLB2-5PdnjO0T_7Q3uL8mbG4CjMiSyPApHjVpEUZ9CuuvJ1w3uCdDq8kUslD00okjlHNKMLdQ0/s640/blogger-image-2078567170.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi052cbMdR01WCA9ZhuHObklopI81OvS1ISiLcTJdqpnILrZ_DzCBDvlI6OC76U3VupufLB2-5PdnjO0T_7Q3uL8mbG4CjMiSyPApHjVpEUZ9CuuvJ1w3uCdDq8kUslD00okjlHNKMLdQ0/s640/blogger-image-2078567170.jpg"></a></div></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">I trotted the 4 miles to the 'roller coaster' and</font><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> felt much better. On the roller coaster I met 2 young lads who were off to Inveroran for the night. They were Royal Marine cadets walking for charity and seemed surprised that snow and ice may be a problem further north. I suggested they bought hiking socks to go over their boots when they got to Tyndrum and in return they offered me solid food from military ration packs. Notwithstanding the challenge, I don't think 'biscuits brown' would sit well after many hours on a liquid diet! </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Cow poo alley was marginally more pleasant in frozen state, and the cows looked confused seeing a runner in this weather. At least they hadn't mustered on the path as usual. The mice had found the one bit of solid food I left at Derrydarroch, but at least the powder seemed to be working better now. The emergency food was getting tempting but I resisted. Over the next miles my only human contact were 2 American hikers, proper southern Elmers with raccoon hats and stuff. They were fun and were a little surprised when they asked where I was staying the night. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Beinglas was deserted. I had seen so few people that I wondered if I may have missed Armageddon during my run and in fact I was the only one left? The mind plays tricks doing things like this. This was also a decision point. Whether to leave the relative safety of the railway and A82 and commit to the long and gnarly east shore of Loch Lomond. I felt ok and it was light, so with 'only' 40 miles to go I set off.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCiQ3ye2UvSHx5Zu4LE3MiftXgz-8UTqPYzfcRSi8hyphenhyphenm26-Um3IwYE3eZ26R7baRfj1SwxQ33d3G1h8YoA4-umkqizim4FhdEsfzv2xai7zv4ybd_f9DZNM5S8lhmb-UDq9JLtFV6AT04/s640/blogger-image-1268608010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCiQ3ye2UvSHx5Zu4LE3MiftXgz-8UTqPYzfcRSi8hyphenhyphenm26-Um3IwYE3eZ26R7baRfj1SwxQ33d3G1h8YoA4-umkqizim4FhdEsfzv2xai7zv4ybd_f9DZNM5S8lhmb-UDq9JLtFV6AT04/s640/blogger-image-1268608010.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I soon reached Dario's post and posed for a selfie with the legend. As I did so the loch became enshrouded in mist and </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">the rain came. Cold, wet rain. You know the sort that gets everywhere and exploits any imperfection in your expensive 'waterproof' clothing? I wanted to get the technical section behind me in daylight. It actually seems less technical going south but there is always a but....clambering over it with 60 miles in the legs is about the most unpleasant thing a man can do to himself. I made it and got to the building site formerly known as the Inversnaid Hotel in the final minutes of daylight. It was throwing it down. I weaved through the departing workmen to get to the tap. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I sent Murdo a text, 'Inversnaid, 1633, gubbed'. He asked if I could rest anywhere and get myself sorted but it was too wet, getting colder again and going dark so I kept going. I actually managed a decent pace for 3 or 4 miles as light turned to dark and rain turned to snow. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Descending towards Rowardennan I jarred my back again and also had a niggle in my left leg. This slowed me so I put on more clothing, but eventually I couldn't move fast enough to keep warm. Since I started, hypothermia had only been minutes away. I had to make a fast decision. It was only 25 miles (and the easiest 25) to go after Rowardennan. With warm food and a change of clothes it would seem fine and I was calculating a finish before midnight. However, I was alone and had to think straight. I made the decision to stop and informed Murdo. I called my support then waited at the closed Rowardennan Hotel for my lift. It was cold, and I put on all my clothing and crawled into my emergency shelter in the porch. I sat there feeling quite comfortable but contemplating that it had been a day spent on the edge. There is little room for error in those circumstances, but it had been a great adventure and there was only a slight tinge of disappointment at not actually reaching Milngavie.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05345689920905474925noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311219892591466876.post-61056573722020983322015-07-29T15:35:00.001-07:002015-08-12T02:39:58.173-07:00Montane Lakeland 100 2015<div> </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_X7k_x4WFHW9gzVggbNAMiwG4qgtT9_hUTfaU4clMi2AhudeYNBL5ShquHC0WUv70bmqrpULr6pumxw5rZ_JzHDw3ofmMweFyFveuD-mb60IQziU5sy2xJDTMbZz9nfIJHDL-NFyXQJ4/s640/blogger-image-349779997.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_X7k_x4WFHW9gzVggbNAMiwG4qgtT9_hUTfaU4clMi2AhudeYNBL5ShquHC0WUv70bmqrpULr6pumxw5rZ_JzHDw3ofmMweFyFveuD-mb60IQziU5sy2xJDTMbZz9nfIJHDL-NFyXQJ4/s640/blogger-image-349779997.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div>The Lakeland 100 has fascinated me since I first heard about it. It's the UK's premier 100 miler (actually 105 but more of that later), really hilly but more importantly, over extremely rough terrain. It has a high dropout rate despite generous cutoff times, typically 50%, partly through the tough course although I have a few other ideas why that is. So it represented a difficult challenge. <div><br></div><div>After doing quite well in my first 100+ event last year (the wonderful Double Cateran), I wanted to see if I could replicate or improve on that performance. So last September, still not fully recovered from the Cateran, I entered the Montane Lakeland 100. I was very excited and saw this as the catalyst to get back to some decent training. Buoyed by my success at Glenshee, I reckoned I could build significantly over the Winter and turn in a 25-26 hour performance in the Lakes. As I'll explain, things didn't work out that way for a host of reasons, but I still believe I can get that sort of time and in the next 5 years I will come back with the aim of just that.</div><div><br></div><div>These races aren't just about the day itself, they are as much about the journey to get there. You can blag a half marathon or train from scratch for a marathon in a couple of months. With a 100 that's not possible, it's too tough. There is nowhere to hide if your preparations aren't up to scratch. So to make the start line you need a good several months of training behind you whilst remaining injury free and clear of bugs and sickness. Just getting to the start is half the battle and so it proved.</div><div><br></div><div>I hadn't quite realised how much the Double Cateran had taken out of me and I didn't really train consistently or with any real purpose until January. In November I had the opportunity to do the Glen Ogle 33 as I was up north. I knew where I should've been in the field, but finished far slower, having never really got into the race or really pushed my body or mind hard. It was a bit of a wake up call. I had put on weight and lost fitness. Still, the malaise continued and I decided to do Marcothon in December as motivation. I struggled, working long hours on exercise and squeezing in 3 mile runs just before midnight on freezing winter nights in Cornwall. Christmas finally put paid to that and I resolved to train from January, the L100 being in late July, giving more time to get fit. It meant I didn't have to do long night runs, usually a favourite but my motivation for them had been low. What this meant though, was that I had time to get fit, but the Winter should have been building on last year, to move up to the next level, which didn't really happen, instead I was managing a steady decline.</div><div><br></div><div>I finally got some quality back in my training before getting a virus and stopping for 2 weeks. I got going again and then in April I had a recurrence of a bulging disc in my lumbar spine. For a week I was crippled by it and could barely walk. Soft tissue work eased it but it never really cleared, and 4 weeks later I lined up for the Cateran (55 mile variant this time). My longest training run had been 22 miles and my back was stiff, but I got round in a mediocre time and thoroughly enjoyed the race, delighted to complete the distance and a necessary confidence builder.</div><div><br></div><div>Moving on, I managed some excellent recce runs on the Lakeland course with Howard Seal. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuwqeVBhP_3hYJHPw1Mk4ND3HUMPWn6Uwet7Ok849tzKrULDnA1-nw9YHHhXBlGV4cgSvbUn2AohtMDzUexY7Q47e5A6h3VrFXYh90c2dE8YQAHBIE2CJE8ROGb4zzN_NZMjQTRb0eF1Q/s640/blogger-image--73423247.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuwqeVBhP_3hYJHPw1Mk4ND3HUMPWn6Uwet7Ok849tzKrULDnA1-nw9YHHhXBlGV4cgSvbUn2AohtMDzUexY7Q47e5A6h3VrFXYh90c2dE8YQAHBIE2CJE8ROGb4zzN_NZMjQTRb0eF1Q/s640/blogger-image--73423247.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b>Recce run on Sail Pass.</b></div><div><br></div><div>He knows the terrain well and it was an education running with him. He is fast and will do well when he first tackles the 100. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaTOhin75hOiGP4KHEWmUfzPHA5Yg32pluUxb8AQLM4h6pjbTW0MFLg4F5_5-EbFUxfQC20y-glI3Uf21SI9arKDBhSUmOa2hmld26Swuhdgf8PjquztVLBx4ZDnIsZ4JxPb6U7VDSFNo/s640/blogger-image--767355709.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaTOhin75hOiGP4KHEWmUfzPHA5Yg32pluUxb8AQLM4h6pjbTW0MFLg4F5_5-EbFUxfQC20y-glI3Uf21SI9arKDBhSUmOa2hmld26Swuhdgf8PjquztVLBx4ZDnIsZ4JxPb6U7VDSFNo/s640/blogger-image--767355709.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikVq37WY9cc4tqAT9IWfu_S-qi9i0iLH-G6Zf7OxkED8VsfqRYLvdFyYDJJB3EvDxZWdzvn3h37zByi7yfp_L88szEGQwTi32GyTXdAcHxMUIY8tvG-vxK9cOeecpX_rhcxcJlrNLN40g/s640/blogger-image-1798630453.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikVq37WY9cc4tqAT9IWfu_S-qi9i0iLH-G6Zf7OxkED8VsfqRYLvdFyYDJJB3EvDxZWdzvn3h37zByi7yfp_L88szEGQwTi32GyTXdAcHxMUIY8tvG-vxK9cOeecpX_rhcxcJlrNLN40g/s640/blogger-image-1798630453.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQrYixyQKrrv0m_kqb7aejky2Q2KdfLV3YrRZfN1RWH97cM4Cfa5qi2asCm9oq1TDwZhPTH2Hj_UeJvHeDPjY90uZdZkJCmxVUWBvtgwe2Kor4ayyEOK0MKvf4-9rOOOToLFjVuwijVaw/s640/blogger-image-1894994495.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQrYixyQKrrv0m_kqb7aejky2Q2KdfLV3YrRZfN1RWH97cM4Cfa5qi2asCm9oq1TDwZhPTH2Hj_UeJvHeDPjY90uZdZkJCmxVUWBvtgwe2Kor4ayyEOK0MKvf4-9rOOOToLFjVuwijVaw/s640/blogger-image-1894994495.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><b>Recce runs with Howard.</b></div><div><br></div><div>It highlighted that the terrain was tough and made me consider shoe choice. I had planned on using Inov8 Ultra 290's but a 30 mile recce on the middle part of the course confirmed that the heel drop is too much for me. They make running feel dead and soulless so I vowed not to race in them. Unfortunately the rocky trails also confirmed that over a day in Roclites wasn't really a great option either. In the end I decided to go back to Hoka's for this event and ordered some Challenger ATR's. I had to exchange them for a larger size and ultimately they arrived late and I ended up pulling them on for the first time on race day! The recces also told me I had sufficient fitness for a finish in the 28-29 hour bracket if all went well on the day. </div><div><br></div><div>Supporting Charlie Lees on his West Highland Way Race also helped, not least from a 40 mile outing, but also as a reminder of how deep you need to dig in a race of this length. It's no use ignoring the fact, you have to push yourself to places you may not really wish to go.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiERsNbIV2Gq9vD-Ynp0c06CaifrF-xwHcBZKlr53iuOM-9ruPq7n9jIp2jRvD54bkwVaclls7gevJoC7VFOX_4sXQXVA3STJ3Bwir-V3-DJn58dpBdGAT9PcHK-XVbsg-iAMS3AiPZa9c/s640/blogger-image-191500311.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiERsNbIV2Gq9vD-Ynp0c06CaifrF-xwHcBZKlr53iuOM-9ruPq7n9jIp2jRvD54bkwVaclls7gevJoC7VFOX_4sXQXVA3STJ3Bwir-V3-DJn58dpBdGAT9PcHK-XVbsg-iAMS3AiPZa9c/s640/blogger-image-191500311.jpg"></a></div><b>With Charlie on the Laraig Mor.</b></div><div><br></div><div>I started my taper 19 days out, feeling confident of a solid sub 30 hour finish, but then near the end of an easy 4 mile run around Gleniffer Braes, I pulled up with a sore left calf. I walked a bit and stretched but it got worse, so I iced it and went to feel sorry for myself. I assumed it would be ok in a day or two, but it turned out to be a grade 1 muscle tear. The advice was not encouraging. If it was really minor and healed really quickly I was still up against it to make the start! I did all I could and in a week it felt ok so I decided to do a 2 mile test run. I warmed up with lunges and heel flicks and felt a twinge. The run ended there. Now I was in despair and thought my A race was already over. Zeina Clare (of ZC Sports Therapy) advised only swimming and stretching before the race to maximise the chance of muscle repair. </div><div><br></div><div>I did some light cycling and swimming and stretched, also working on my back with a physio at work. On the advice of many I booked a session with Gordon 'magic hands' a week before the race. He cancelled having fallen ill and I thought the running gods were against me. A plea for any last minute cancellations led to a kind offer of treatment by fellow ultra runner and friend (and paediatric physio) Lorna Sinclair. She did a great job and left me feeling a little hopeful with 4 days to go! Two further offers came in and the day before I got to see Gordon and he did what he could. Importantly he felt no issues in my left calf. So that evening I travelled to Cumbria. I wolfed a huge breakfast at Bilbo's Cafe in Ambleside and set up camp at the school. Registration was efficient with a very strict kit check (I had to jog back to the bottom of the field to get my buff) and there was a huge buzz as people arrived. I cooked some food and rested up, chatting to familiar faces, including John Kynaston, Andy Johns and JJ Street (who I last saw at the Commando Training Centre 18 years ago). I also met a few faces familiar from the L100 Facebook group, including Mike Churchyard and Jonathan Fletcher with his beautiful 4 legged running partner, Otto! Helen and Tom came to say hello and suddenly it was time for the race briefing. Slightly caught out, I got ready and headed to the school hall. Next time I'll remember to bring a cushion to sit on! </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiQoz5Se-ChIg8Ah4bxpqQAzeeoemUKAzpOZtnN6RDM_RNlSgevd98-fEbEfahkxwlSaGbTtlMFASEwenQdIVa-qWp7h9M04keRkDNFRebnwx_Ck3B1R25ZqqVwSVzUjkbiAQdx-RSEtE/s640/blogger-image-331608520.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiQoz5Se-ChIg8Ah4bxpqQAzeeoemUKAzpOZtnN6RDM_RNlSgevd98-fEbEfahkxwlSaGbTtlMFASEwenQdIVa-qWp7h9M04keRkDNFRebnwx_Ck3B1R25ZqqVwSVzUjkbiAQdx-RSEtE/s640/blogger-image-331608520.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><b>Marc's brief.</b></div><div><b><br></b></div><div>Marc Laithwaite gave an entertaining yet sobering brief; told us all to look at the person next to us and decide which one wasn't going to make it. I was too polite to say, but I was definitely going to finish, so in my head I gave my apologies to Alan Hodgson (who I saw quite a bit of for the first 15 miles). Sadly he did have to retire at Ambleside, so next year he should sit next to someone else!</div><div><br></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRRHE1y-VF5NKxn6kcQt39l3wyAzHRdOs1yyNuneneE3_GIFAffvf5nc_uqpoE7d75IoKZx9kC2JCsOoAs8RO-zwG93WTpLlnJG8pSjRlJ5Mcg1DzrOLCgBmYztbVVdLkclEkHWFWAXjQ/s640/blogger-image-2076458400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRRHE1y-VF5NKxn6kcQt39l3wyAzHRdOs1yyNuneneE3_GIFAffvf5nc_uqpoE7d75IoKZx9kC2JCsOoAs8RO-zwG93WTpLlnJG8pSjRlJ5Mcg1DzrOLCgBmYztbVVdLkclEkHWFWAXjQ/s640/blogger-image-2076458400.jpg"></a></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div>With 25 minutes to the start I met Noanie who had said she'd tape my troublesome calf. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo1pDXZs1vvxKEnGVmtDHxcx60p07zXK4DB_w3W122-kmQ9lz8Hsxx2JAED-P2lJYThjy_64to6h1el7SkeMlbmcf1LXfoJmlOOyPBSQL22CFBQpRefGGclp1bCi5XjgUcvXSGJ1FALZs/s640/blogger-image--1019644128.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo1pDXZs1vvxKEnGVmtDHxcx60p07zXK4DB_w3W122-kmQ9lz8Hsxx2JAED-P2lJYThjy_64to6h1el7SkeMlbmcf1LXfoJmlOOyPBSQL22CFBQpRefGGclp1bCi5XjgUcvXSGJ1FALZs/s640/blogger-image--1019644128.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><b>Final preps (brand new shoes!)</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">She did a great job (it never came off) and off I went to dib in and take my place towards the back of the start pen along with the other 302 starters. I wanted an easy start and didn't want to get caught up front with the ego's and fast guys.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijEOob0-mQzr3lDy_5168XeSSTAySbPPQUaO81197bdayxovaB6MgnjCM7t3fsuZDzbWVaEzP_3RNKnnlhWZ52-JpuLNS45K3oIqXmPWIdJ_gSVIwtcFlAc9SvGP6l_SCvDeojYyAmvVw/s640/blogger-image--873992353.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijEOob0-mQzr3lDy_5168XeSSTAySbPPQUaO81197bdayxovaB6MgnjCM7t3fsuZDzbWVaEzP_3RNKnnlhWZ52-JpuLNS45K3oIqXmPWIdJ_gSVIwtcFlAc9SvGP6l_SCvDeojYyAmvVw/s640/blogger-image--873992353.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><b>Awaiting the pain.</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;">I looked around for familiar faces but saw none. We were treated to a rendition of Nessun Dorma (none shall sleep) and then the countdown started. I was apprehensive about my calf and didn't really expect to get as far as Seathwaite. The countdown began and eventually moved off with a shuffle, a bit like a big city marathon. That was perfect as people raced off. I am amazed at the pace people set off at in such a long race. I would say the first half of the field was running up the first climb at a pace which if sustained, would deliver a course record. As none did, I conclude they set off too fast. I try and imagine the pace I'll be at 80 miles later and sit at that. The first half of these races should feel ridiculously slow, then the second half a complete thrashing. Ian Broadley is a master of pacing and his splits show how this race should be run. Time in the bank is not time in the bank at all, it is muscle damage in the bank and early glycogen depletion! People talk about breaking the race into small segments to cope with the mental challenge. I use this technique in the second half of a race, but in the early part I find it helpful to picture the whole task. It tempers your effort and makes you regulate yourself better.</div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi44VSvqRqPobBFAE-liHqFK_GRM0hjSM2DHEdD2vFknKiQILldICK2iT079DSoLx0zGtfJ_SEEw2K7FTlg_JaORLmreJGG8gygCUEDDx-ewhm6PnmcxdaIk-_iGv1Zg6_5MGrALUwhpV8/s640/blogger-image--1373730221.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi44VSvqRqPobBFAE-liHqFK_GRM0hjSM2DHEdD2vFknKiQILldICK2iT079DSoLx0zGtfJ_SEEw2K7FTlg_JaORLmreJGG8gygCUEDDx-ewhm6PnmcxdaIk-_iGv1Zg6_5MGrALUwhpV8/s640/blogger-image--1373730221.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><b>Leg 1. Coniston to Seathwaite. 7 miles, 659m ascent, time 1.37.52, 181st place.</b></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;">Anyway, off through the village at a jog, seeing some friendly faces including Howard Seal, Susan Gallagher, Keith Ainslie and Andy Johns at the Black Bull looking rather smug at having a restful night before embarking on the 50. We turned up towards the miners bridge and I walked as the road reared up, falling in with John Kynaston and Jonny Rowan. </div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtNeg1ag1Agh46WZz5z6AXpHbil9BoEANA-FIOFGsXZRrvYSLAvC8WiHLV8zHD20JIsNPW7S1Ji2fjoFI0rI_7M_EBpM7E0kh-AvdhzUBp-sp2EeVkqM7eWNUhUnBGWRfvARayq1hBji0/s640/blogger-image--1938031428.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtNeg1ag1Agh46WZz5z6AXpHbil9BoEANA-FIOFGsXZRrvYSLAvC8WiHLV8zHD20JIsNPW7S1Ji2fjoFI0rI_7M_EBpM7E0kh-AvdhzUBp-sp2EeVkqM7eWNUhUnBGWRfvARayq1hBji0/s640/blogger-image--1938031428.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><b>With John Kynaston and Johnny Rowan on the Walna Scar road.</b></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><b><br></b></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;">John, like me, was pacing on heart rate, a technique he has used to post a string of PBs. I was aiming for 127-133bpm. A week before the race I had a gastric virus which had cleared but my heart rate was elevated by 10-12bpm. I knew the pace was right from my recce runs but for the rest of the night it ran high. I was undecided what to do but kept the pace. My legs felt like someone else's (sadly not Marco's) as I climbed. Maybe this was a factor of it being my first run in 3 weeks? Debs was sat beaming at the first gate and taking snapshots. I was also in company with Alan Hodgson, who I had sat with at the briefing. He was going well but blowing a bit hard. He said he knew he was too fast and aiming for 35 hours. I said I was aiming for 28 and that he may be better slowing down, but I enjoyed a chat and the company. We passed a few fast starters and I was pleased to see Jonathon Fletcher and Otto. They 'only' made it 59 miles to Dalemain, but it was lovely to see Otto loving it and clearly in his element and also the attention given to him by Jonathon. Those 2 were truly #livinginthemoment!</div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;">The weather was perfect and the views stunning. I had been looking forward to the first 4 hours immensely as you get great views, hopefully a sunset and the beautiful feeling of running at dusk, then of course the stream of torchlight across the mountains. It seemed to take forever to get to the summit. People often dismiss it as a short, easy first leg. The reality is, it climbs almost as high as Fusedale (highest point of the race). The descent felt good in my new shoes and I overtook a lot of people, including Hester Cox who I'd see much later and Ady Benn running in sandals, a tough proposition. I love sandal running but this terrain is so hard on the feet. Ady retired at Braithwaite, but full marks for his determination. Alan and I ran into the CP together where Ironman dibbed us in and other superheroes filled water bottles. I was using Osmo powder in water which is excellent but a complete bugger to get into Salomon soft flasks. A perfect hydration refill solution I have yet to find.i grabbed some biscuits and ran out, high fiving JK who was just arriving. My calf had been ok and I hadn't DNF'd at CP1!</div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><b>Leg 2. Seathwaite to Boot. 7 miles (14 miles total), 385m ascent, 1.49.16 (3.17.08 overall), 155th place.</b></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><b><br></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2KGaH-epyPbMUy9POZb_osrOiU51l5ZMTrmQbTMPha8tOiGyr2t1p1A4fLOnlVbp9HdJsHqe-XesRM-wnkOe-EUMq9RigCbTwrI7bt1_rzOVSZ4myAQlviyJSt91W2Agog2ua7lkqP1E/s640/blogger-image-1516566582.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><font color="#000000"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2KGaH-epyPbMUy9POZb_osrOiU51l5ZMTrmQbTMPha8tOiGyr2t1p1A4fLOnlVbp9HdJsHqe-XesRM-wnkOe-EUMq9RigCbTwrI7bt1_rzOVSZ4myAQlviyJSt91W2Agog2ua7lkqP1E/s640/blogger-image-1516566582.jpg"></font></a></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><b><br></b></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;">I was feeling slightly unwell (mild flu like symptoms heading through the woods after the CP) and my legs felt alien. The heart rate was still elevated and I was concerned. I just though I'd take it a check point at a time and see how I got on. I struggled up the steep climb from High Wallowbarrow Farm but started passing people after Grassguards. The midgies were out in force here and were biting hard. It's impossible not to get wet feet here so I didn't bother trying not to. As I turned to climb off the stile, Alan's head was covered in midgies which amused me. I realised my mistake in the recce and followed a few others down the correct path then passed them on the run to Doctor Bridge. Alan stayed with me and we ran into Boot together, enjoying a little cheer from the pub goers. I asked who was leading and it was my club mate, Ken Sutor, who had done his trademark (too) fast start! I didn't even know he was running. Another quick in and out and off to Wasdale, with the light beginning to fade slightly.</div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAYoHiJYvW-uIgJojF6MmfmrZquEVEkz3ELrAXQN3frwutWyoLLgCVtpqPq9Yi_luLh5gXjwUMSpje9seEKyiPbqdpywUjVidUKC5Ef29pwudLqPNgh2wIakz-cfI400skRhn8UgbR5qs/s640/blogger-image-809229234.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAYoHiJYvW-uIgJojF6MmfmrZquEVEkz3ELrAXQN3frwutWyoLLgCVtpqPq9Yi_luLh5gXjwUMSpje9seEKyiPbqdpywUjVidUKC5Ef29pwudLqPNgh2wIakz-cfI400skRhn8UgbR5qs/s640/blogger-image-809229234.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><b>The checkpoint at Boot.</b></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><b>Leg 3. Boot to Wasdale Head. 5.4 miles (19.4 miles total), 297m ascent, 1.23.27 (4.40.45 total), 143rd place.</b></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><b><br></b></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;">This leg was beautiful in the fading light. I ran the uphill with Alan, Kirsty Williams and a couple of others. I met Kirsty near the end of the West Highland Way Race when I was supporting Charlie Lees and learned that she was doing both and then the UTMB in August. With 2 down already, that's one tough lady! I could hear her until much later into the night not far behind, she never drew breath when most of us were panting like dogs! On the climb there is a subtle right turn which most people missed and went higher. We shouted but they continued and we passed them before Burnmoor Tarn. This is one of the most beautiful parts of the route. It was now dusk and the odd head torch went on. I like to use ambient light for as long as possible and also save my batteries for any emergency so I opted to leave the others and descended quickly without my torch on. It was beautiful passing lots of runners stumbling in the torchbeams whilst I ran fast and freely downhill. I didn't put my torch on until 200m before the checkpoint. Two runners had mistakenly disappeared into the bushes. I'm really not sure how they managed to do that! </div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9qeXD56yqlTgwfAAq4u6moQZVNLqczzrRkN79RIWXZ7-VzlpBe9jrGIkekjXlU-Fm3usVxrBrYWKkm79hsJTSATdzE8IZZYQ26O6VWTQfHVty0o3w63pzT0EK92efPt6hLVZDCLMrmcA/s640/blogger-image--97464759.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9qeXD56yqlTgwfAAq4u6moQZVNLqczzrRkN79RIWXZ7-VzlpBe9jrGIkekjXlU-Fm3usVxrBrYWKkm79hsJTSATdzE8IZZYQ26O6VWTQfHVty0o3w63pzT0EK92efPt6hLVZDCLMrmcA/s640/blogger-image--97464759.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><b>Sunset over Wasdale.</b></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;">The checkpoint was booming as an 80's disco. There was also a party at the pub next door at which another ex-Royal Marine friend was celebrating a family birthday. I refilled water, fiddled with my sachets, had a little soup and tea and took some ham sandwiches for the climb before leaving a crowd in the CP. A lot of people were already seeking the comfort of checkpoints, whereas I wanted to get out. The clock was ticking.</div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><b>Leg 4. Wasdale Head to Buttermere. 6.9 miles (26.3 miles total), 712m ascent, 2.24.46 (7.05.31 total), 130th place.</b></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><b><br></b></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;">I have only seen this section in daylight before and it is epic mountain scenery. Unfortunately all I could see was my torch beam and the ground ahead as I choked down my sandwiches. The climb to Black Sail Pass starts easily with runnable bits, then it steepens, then steepens some more. There was a string of torches above and as I looked back they went all the way back to the col near Burnmoor Tarn. I wondered who they belonged to, maybe Mike Churchyard, maybe Otto was bounding down there? The view was stunning and I could've sat and watched it all night. I ended up with a guy called Simon (I think), other half of eventual female winner Carole (I think). We chatted away and on the descent he said he always hits the horrible scrambly bit in the dark, just as we hit the horrible scrambly bit, having missed the bypasses on either flank. It was torturously slow down there to avoid a hard fall. Simon left me but I soon caught him as we approached the youth hostel where some residents were sat out cheering us on at midnight. A good idea for a future race addition thought I. We continued yapping up Scarth Gap until we saw Charlie Sharpe (2nd last year and a great runner) in his bivvie at the summit with a take away pizza. I nearly climbed in with him and snuggled up!</div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxh-dkKMi9xoPj7qk-1p8U-lAEnVZJ_fgFFfBO87wtaHhNe84ZuWdAxSMAcu_z1i7Uu2obHwAp18SFMbVTcdeGyifdsVYR1mJ-8JgJqpKLwQ3VJE3qjDXjaRQpcVlt3qeOkFofBOU5h0s/s640/blogger-image--1650305609.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxh-dkKMi9xoPj7qk-1p8U-lAEnVZJ_fgFFfBO87wtaHhNe84ZuWdAxSMAcu_z1i7Uu2obHwAp18SFMbVTcdeGyifdsVYR1mJ-8JgJqpKLwQ3VJE3qjDXjaRQpcVlt3qeOkFofBOU5h0s/s640/blogger-image--1650305609.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><b>Torchlight descending Scarth Gap to Buttermere.</b></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;">I went ahead of the others on the descent, remembering the speed I went down it trying to follow Howard. The lake was smooth and reflected the scene, it was beautiful. I ended up catching a group of 3 guys on the last gated section into Buttermere and ran into the checkpoint with them, an American diner theme, including the youngest race Marshall, baby Evie, fast asleep in the corner. I had a quick stop, grabbing a few cookies and left the others to their hot dogs and milkshakes. </div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><b>Leg 5. Buttermere to Braitwaite. 6.5 miles (total 32.8 miles), 1.58.21 (total 9.03.52), 120th place.</b></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><b><br></b></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;">This is a tough leg, not as harsh as the previous one, but unrelenting, hard going and mildly exposed. The initial climb through the wood is enchanting in daylight and held good memories as I climbed alone. I caught 2 runners soon after and they tried to go the wrong way as I called them onto the left fork at a small pile of stones. From here it climbs for over 3 miles, over 3 burns, one of which I slipped and fell in, covering a custard cream in mud which disappointed me enormously at the time. The final drag to Sail Pass is relentless. I felt pretty rubbish and could hear Kirsty still chatting happily behind me. I thought she must be hard as nails not to be wheezing like the rest of us, but in hindsight I think she just likes talking! (Sorry Kirsty!) Over the top there was a chilling breeze and I gained some momentum, distancing those behind, although my legs felt jaded, still I feel because of the lack of recent running. the descent starts steep (daylight photo below), then becomes horribly rocky. On</div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpFZs7IDENJwCT1ZbyBx8nM0CYT77r2gOketBW37dyxxVRJAw1Hc_S-BfzqzG7lDlcGEnb-Fdiez20XsMqN5zpXmI-eE4tfs5zZT7OTxVlGJIdIkWCAXjdfb3Nt48PNprVuEiqlV9_ue0/s640/blogger-image-36352362.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpFZs7IDENJwCT1ZbyBx8nM0CYT77r2gOketBW37dyxxVRJAw1Hc_S-BfzqzG7lDlcGEnb-Fdiez20XsMqN5zpXmI-eE4tfs5zZT7OTxVlGJIdIkWCAXjdfb3Nt48PNprVuEiqlV9_ue0/s640/blogger-image-36352362.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><b>The descent from Sail Pass in daylight.</b></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">this section the Hoka's were brilliant. I saw one runner above me on the wrong path and shouted. He scurried back down then I located the fork (that John Kynaston missed) as 2 others were scratching their heads. I told them I was on the right path and headed up to Barrow Door. I descended quickly opening a gap and enjoyed a few minutes of solitude before hitting the village. The checkpoint was like a kids party with tables in rows and all types of sweet treats. I down a couple of minutes having tea and pasta then grabbed some pick n mix for the dawn leg.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b>Leg 6. Braithwaite to Blencathra Centre. 8.5 miles (41.3 miles total). 478m ascent. 2.08.59 (total 11.12.53), 101st place.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b><br></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The legs take some time to get used to a bit of flat Tarmac after the savage overnight section, but I soon found a rhythm and overtook a few runners here and on the bike track which was now high with ferns. A small group of us started the climb round Latrigg together until 2 of us moved ahead, munching biscuits all the way up. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJmxexDaJwlTn4M8K4HCxCbEEFuwd_OnBrJKCpK8KJPesQh3CUOOXyIbAKW4rdRatXRUQWKYMDECj86Feb1r-4CqermbUWrGjjXHNZ3w4jtY4t8tDI9IvZUvxUOlYxT2GFai-YxXLwYmQ/s640/blogger-image--783855917.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJmxexDaJwlTn4M8K4HCxCbEEFuwd_OnBrJKCpK8KJPesQh3CUOOXyIbAKW4rdRatXRUQWKYMDECj86Feb1r-4CqermbUWrGjjXHNZ3w4jtY4t8tDI9IvZUvxUOlYxT2GFai-YxXLwYmQ/s640/blogger-image--783855917.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b>Glendaterra Valley at dawn (the path looped up then down the other side).</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Dawn was breaking and as we rounded the corner into the Glendaterra Valley we had the most amazing sight of veils of cloud spilling down the broad steep re-entrants on the valley side. They evaporated in minutes as the Sun rose. I really enjoyed our run here. My heart rate had settled, I had the vigour that a new dawn gives you when tired and I had good company. We could see the odd runner still with a headtorch on the path below and far side of the valley a little way ahead. We dibbed at the unmanned check and again on the downhill I left my companion, catching another guy and hauling in a couple more at the checkpoint, one of whom was Rob Bateman who jumped out of his skin as I crept up stealthily! It was good to meet Little Dave (another ex-Royal) at the CP and even better to try his mums legendary chocolate cake. He put on a great spread of food, the perfect ultra running breakfast with cheese, eggs, cake, and, erm seconds! I must mention they were all dressed as fairies, true bootneck style.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b>Leg 7. Blencathra Centre to Dockray. 7.7 miles (49 miles total), 417m ascent, 1.54.09 (total 13.07.02), 92nd place.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Again I was quickly on my way and down the hill when I got the first and only warning sign of the ultra runners dreaded call of nature. Typically I had left the loo a mile behind but I wasn't hiking back up there! I caught 2 more runners on the downhill to the railway track, then dived off the track and down near the river for some 'me time'. Back on track I was alone, but could see a few others as I started climbing to the coach road. I caught them on the climb, then went ahead as the road flattened. The Sun really accentuated the sharp southerly ridges of Blencathra and warmed the muscles. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAJGNlxUIuFxcizWlttEbNI25mtQ40-x3Wq7eK2Nv6XcB63wadzzj9YM2XYnFYfE0HjxvliVYDvfnTiz6FMdupCUvdpldTCUkGebfIlpz8rBk5xsBP3fgaK9ZMBXTOj08ooSz2wH4IJC4/s640/blogger-image-1938172763.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAJGNlxUIuFxcizWlttEbNI25mtQ40-x3Wq7eK2Nv6XcB63wadzzj9YM2XYnFYfE0HjxvliVYDvfnTiz6FMdupCUvdpldTCUkGebfIlpz8rBk5xsBP3fgaK9ZMBXTOj08ooSz2wH4IJC4/s640/blogger-image-1938172763.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><b>The ridges of Blencathra.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I reflected that I was doing ok and enjoying the moment. A steady trot to the CP saw me close in on a few others. We were welcomed by cowbells and cheers and a million midgies! How the CP team coped with that for hours is beyond me, but thank you. They treated me to soup and tea and I left quite a gang of runners sat there looking like they'd started too fast! Wondering who was feeding who, I wasn't hanging around long.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><b>Leg 9. Dockray to Dalemain. 10.1 miles (59.1 miles total), 370m ascent, 2.27.59 (15.35.01 total), 82nd place.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><b><br></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBqeZxG1WQIlIBHNLGq6lxt1PHDz1TnkBqIiuIbUElsyWXHOck4xVKZTuMAFwI5SxTBh2vxJ-l_YCrz9KGSMJoSbUMSINflDRp3mar9Nl64DCO8tWNqNpzPUfSl6zIY4KwX4aE5mwqSn0/s640/blogger-image--543740415.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBqeZxG1WQIlIBHNLGq6lxt1PHDz1TnkBqIiuIbUElsyWXHOck4xVKZTuMAFwI5SxTBh2vxJ-l_YCrz9KGSMJoSbUMSINflDRp3mar9Nl64DCO8tWNqNpzPUfSl6zIY4KwX4aE5mwqSn0/s640/blogger-image--543740415.jpg"></a></div><br></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><b>In determined mood above Ullswater.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I set off down the hill to Dockray village with a guy who couldn't run the steep downhill (so he said). He then flew past me, before slowing again. On the drop to Aira Force a small group formed, including the tough as nails Jackie Stretton and the cool as you like Carmine de Grandis whose accent was a joy to listen to. I wasn't talking much. It was getting warm and I was feeling a bit wooden. I was still moving ok on the climb but I was feeling vulnerable. The views up here from Gowbarrow Fell across Ullswater are stunning and the single trail is perhaps the finest few miles of running trail in the UK (if you have fresh legs). For the first time my legs were feeling it at only half way. As we ran into the ancient forest, I eased off and ate. The legs soon came round and I caught the others and we made our way over the fields. On the road section to Dacre, I had to convince 2 guys of the right way to go. I felt good and left the others once more, keeping a steady but unspectacular jog to Dalemain. I had promised myself a longer stop here but I didn't really need it and should've got moving. John Kynaston was in and out in no time, and although I was faster than most, I knew I was fannying about, delaying the next bout of suffering. I packed my drop bag, grabbed some sweets and left, walking first to ease the legs back in.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b>Leg 10. Dalemain to Howtown. 7.1 Miles (66.2 miles total). 294m ascent, 2.12.52 (17.48.53 total). 87th position.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b><br></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Across the fields to Pooley Bridge I teamed up with Allan Conroy and Tony Brown, who I met and who ran strongly at the Cateran. Carmine also caught up and we trotted into Pooley Bridge. It was here I first felt the sharp pain in the front of my lower left leg. As we climbed out of the village I eased a little and then once at the top, the pain increased. I ended up walking most of the remaining 4 miles to Howtown. This was frustrating as they are good runnable miles and many of those I had distanced in the last hour passed me. I was feeling sorry for myself and though of quitting. Now I never DNF without a real reason and I knew deep down this wasn't a real reason. The important thing is to get back into a positive state of mind as quickly as possible. As I neared the checkpoint I saw a real life cowboy out walking in the Lakes and bid him good morning. Minutes later I was sat in the checkpoint trying to ease my leg when he walked in. His jaw dropped to see the Wild West scene at 'Howdytown', thinking this was specially laid on for him. The volunteers also looked suitable surprised and to me say there, I felt like I was in the middle of a western standoff. Brilliant! I whined to Mike Raffan about my leg and took paracetamol, massaged it, stretched and did what I could. He said they didn't take DNF's there and although I was whinging there was no way I was stopping, but I thought I'll take it CP to CP and see what happened. So I got up and eased out of Howtown. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b>Leg 11. Howtown to Mardale Head. 9.4 miles (75.6 miles total), 765m ascent, 3.01.21 (20.50.32 total). 81st position.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b><br></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Heading towards Fusedale (the biggest climb and highest point of the race) alone, I could see a few competitors strung out ahead and wondered which of them had passed me on the last leg. My leg felt much better and I eased up at a steady pace, slowly catching those in front. Over the top and down to Haweswater was the one but I hadn't reconnoitred before, but it was easy to navigate. I got a decent pace going and passed a few guys on the descent. I had calculated that the 50 leaders would pass me here and I was spot on. I heard a shout, "strong running Keith, you're doing great", and looked round to see which friend of mine was approaching. II had forgotten my number had my name on it and Marcus Scotney was shouting to every 100 runner as he danced past. Nice touch, thanks Marcus. Soon after Ben Abdelnoor and eventual winner Jason Cavill came by looking smooth and classy. Oh, to be able to run like that!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8IFJFiOwqfAaf-xom0dA7UadCp04AcPL_wEMpM4oX3aogeSQGlbF-pjD3M3KEDwgsDNvIwj_jby4BYdXZzVAOGHPsPLf2qDIrR2UaZc3aZ-MZGtP7AGchEfNokJCtOO8FstNJSk1dZCw/s640/blogger-image-2013972181.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8IFJFiOwqfAaf-xom0dA7UadCp04AcPL_wEMpM4oX3aogeSQGlbF-pjD3M3KEDwgsDNvIwj_jby4BYdXZzVAOGHPsPLf2qDIrR2UaZc3aZ-MZGtP7AGchEfNokJCtOO8FstNJSk1dZCw/s640/blogger-image-2013972181.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b>Descending to Haweswater.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> I was running well along Haweswater, certainly much faster ham the other 100 runners that I saw. A short while later familiar faces came by. Howard Seal looked strong in 5th but ended up overheating and stopping for several hours at Ambleside before finishing with his better half which was a nice touch and typical Howard. Matty Brennan came by about the same time as female winner and eventual 4th place Sally Fawcett who looked so effortless. I stepped aside to let Matty by then ran with him for a short way chatting before I realised it was not a sensible pace for me to try and hold. He finished in an excellent 2nd place. I passed Raj Mahapatra on the way up a small rise and was looking behind for the inevitable arrival of Debs M-C (2nd female), who must've passed me at the next CP, and Andy Johns who was exorcising some ghosts from last years 100. Into the CP with a great reception, my leg was hurting again and the paracetamol was making me drowsy. I sat down with the medic and he concluded the same as me, that I wasn't causing permanent damage and I just had to manage the pain. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b>Leg 12. Mardale Head to Kentmere. 6.5 miles (82.1 miles total), 511m ascent, 2.11.39 (23.02.11 total). 78th position.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b><br></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9ZX7JihqxlZqB_1mVTeU1634QLSRumxqm4EvubzOi0Cwq68kwLJkjTkO8YQmD48gdLHfFo4Iuxfhyphenhyphent6MDEqXxBLROv93-qop0vuq0PBso6xkcE12cUCrKsuocdnnuQLR37S_0gUlN4Gs/s640/blogger-image--987746336.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9ZX7JihqxlZqB_1mVTeU1634QLSRumxqm4EvubzOi0Cwq68kwLJkjTkO8YQmD48gdLHfFo4Iuxfhyphenhyphent6MDEqXxBLROv93-qop0vuq0PBso6xkcE12cUCrKsuocdnnuQLR37S_0gUlN4Gs/s640/blogger-image--987746336.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b>Looking down from Gatesgarth Pass to Mardale Head.</b></div><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Out of the checkpoint I nibbled on biscuits whilst contemplating the Gatesgarth Pass (above). This is the steepest climb of the race and one of the rougher descents. Again I plodded, not losing places, although several 50 runners yomped by. Over the top I jogged, knowing from the recce that a fast descent here can gain minutes. I thought of the speed that Howard would've come barrelling down here but I was wincing with pain and eventually stopped to take more paracetamol and get my thumbs deep into the muscle above my left ankle. As I did I saw Andy Johns who looked like he was thoroughly enjoying his day out, Keith Ainslie who was on course for a huge PB after great season, and the irrepressible Jackie Stretton. I got going again and felt good, running well to Sadgill and leaving folk behind again. On the climb the paracetamol took effect and nearly knocked me out. I stopped and shut my eyes for a few minutes until Becky Morgan woke me, only to jump up and fly down into Kentmere, shouting to 50 runners who went off course. I came in ahead of Tony and Allen who had also gone wrong. They still reckoned sub-30 was on and I agreed. I was back in racing mode, so after a quick smoothie I got going. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b>Leg 13. Kentmere to Ambleside. 7.3 miles (89.4 miles total), 491m ascent, 2.06.30 (25.09.41 total), 69th place.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I caught several people on the climb up Garburn Pass including some 50 runners who asked if I was doing a work out after I'd finished. I said they were welcome to join me for tempo work and deep squats tomorrow! I caught Becky near the top. We agreed that psychologically getting to Ambleside was important because you can see Coniston Old Man and feel like you're on the home stretch, so we (both suffering from niggles) decided to ignore the pain and run like we were out for a leisurely 10 miler. We flew down to Troutbeck passing 100 and 50 runners alike. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCqVFYaOq-JpcZ1_9ozorLPxIorUiiPpbyQqqKZkgLY1rRdPDqdCe_Jc6h6VWGfgcQBef1GXcsLxdYzUEN4xz51ADkib03D_-rnOyg4ojTyDppyIQZkydPGIcYDE_sYJnlk7EVx_1ceiE/s640/blogger-image--865304786.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCqVFYaOq-JpcZ1_9ozorLPxIorUiiPpbyQqqKZkgLY1rRdPDqdCe_Jc6h6VWGfgcQBef1GXcsLxdYzUEN4xz51ADkib03D_-rnOyg4ojTyDppyIQZkydPGIcYDE_sYJnlk7EVx_1ceiE/s640/blogger-image--865304786.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b>Flying down Garburn Pass (terrible form).</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Some photographers cheered us through , then as they saw our numbers said, "and they're 100 runners too" and cheered even louder! We continued strongly to Ambleside. The jog through town was quite emotional, with hundreds of people cheering madly all through town and into the CP. Noanie and Jo dibbed us in (the theme was the circus; think bearded ladies, gorillas and clowns). I later saw that we were 36th and 37th fastest on this leg. On entering the Parish Hall I saw Howard wrapped in a sleeping bag and down jacket complete with wooly hat. Heat exhaustion and cramp had given way to hypothermia and he was recovering. I chatted to him for too long, reckoning that had we both had a perfect race we should've met here in different circumstances! I got sorted and left, feeling good and up for a sub-30 effort.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b>Leg 14. Ambleside to Chapel Stile. 5.6 miles (95 miles total), 234m ascent, 1.47.53 (26.57.34 total), 69th place.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I walked through Rothay Park as I left the CP before a good powerful climb up Loughrigg Fell, holding pace with some guys doing the 50. Down the other side I passed 3 100 runners, running together at a slow and painful hobble. I didn't expect to see them again as I flew by. In a mile all that started to change. At the bottom of the descent I took my one wrong turn, adding maybe 100 metres, but didn't let it bother me. Through Skelwith Bridge I was moving steadily and onto the flat path through the valley, which felt alien on legs that had been pummelled by up and downhills for over a day. I knew that walking here would be an unnecessary loss of time so I kept going steady. In a small group we came across a girl lying by the path. This is where my race turned from a race into a mini adventure. It turns out she was Emily Cook. She said she just needed to sleep for a while. It was now early evening and although it was sunny the temperature was falling and the shadows lengthening. I told her she couldn't sleep here and said that the CP was only 3 miles away and that they had sofa's and a fire so she could snooze there. Reluctantly she agreed and I offered to accompany her to the CP. The others ran on but Emily was falling asleep and we walked all the way in. She had also taken paracetamol as I had which can't have helped. Eventually we arrived at Chapel Stile and agreed that I would get food and allow Emily 10 minutes sleep. I felt cold and put on my waterproof jacket, gloves and head torch as dusk was approaching. I got some stew and tea and felt ready to get running. I saw Allen and Tony come in then woke Emily. Rather than being rejuvenated, her body had though it was race over and she was shivering and sick. We got her extra clothing on and sat her by the fire. The CP staff offered to take her back to Coniston as a DNF, but I reckoned with some food and a quick walk to get the blood flowing she would be able to run with me to the finish. She wasn't looking good at this point but the military mindset doesn't let you leave a wounded comrade on the behind so I cajoled her into continuing. The marshals were happy so long as we buddies up for the next leg, which I was happy to do despite Emily telling me to go on. I figured we had already lost a fair bit of time and probably a sub 30 finish but the mission had changed now and it was a team game. And so, we moved gingerly out of the checkpoint. I genuinely thought we'd be running again within a mile. Emily is an experienced ultra runner over these distances and I reckoned we'd push each other to the finish quite well.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b>Leg 14. Chapel Stile to Tilberthwaite. 6.5 miles (101.5 miles total), 387m ascent, 3.31.23 (30.28.57 total), 87th place.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b><br></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We walked slowly from the CP. I felt cold and was eager to quicken the pace, both to get some life into Emily and because my own niggle was getting cold and tight. As it happens we didn't run another step during this leg. Emily was still nauseous and the waves of sleepiness continued. It went dark as we approached Side Pike Pass. I cheerfully commented that it was the last big climb but it fell on deaf ears! To be fair, Emily was trying to talk to stay awake. For my part I was cold and it was turning into a grind with my leg not thanking me for slowing and walking which made it worse. I tried to remain upbeat anyway. It grew dark and started to rain and Emily was asking to stop and sleep or sit down. Genuinely concerned now that she may become a casualty, I forced her onwards saying she could sleep at Tilberthwaite. Stumbling up beyond Blea Tarn in the wet and dark seemed to take forever as endless runners came past. We dibbed into the unmanned check and I took great amusement as we headed down the Tarmac road seeing a 50 runner sprinting back up like he was doing hill reps. He had forgotten to dib; had that been me I think I'd have taken my hidden cyanide pill!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">As we climbed over to Tilberthwaite I had to link arms with Emily as she was sleeping on her feet. We discussed her state and agreed that it was too risky to lead her over past the quarry works in this state. She was going downhill alarmingly quickly and was all prepared to DNF at the CP. Finally it hove into view and he announced her intentions. The Marshall came up with an idea that in our delirium we hadn't considered. Why not stop and sleep there for a few hours then finish. Although we were no longer racing at this point, we had hours and hours to spare! Emily did just that and after 2 hours sleep continued to the finish which classes as a happy ending! Well done Emily on a gutsy performance. I grabbed some tea and fruit and they looked after her and then got going, as I just wanted to go to bed. I had mentally prepared for one night of running and to be in before midnight. It was already past midnight and I no longer had any goals other than finishing and going to sleep!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b>Leg 15. Tilberthwaite to Coniston. 3.5 miles (105 miles total), 283m ascent, 1.39.24 (32.08.33 total), 88th position.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b><br></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I started up the 'stairway to heaven' and nearly fails at the first step! It felt like 2 metres high. I was expecting a strong finish but the hours of getting cold had really just made my body seize and start to try recovering and protect itself. The pain in my left leg was now excruciating. I climbed hard trying to catch a pair in front to no avail but did catch another pair. A steady yomp to the summit was harder than expected. I know this section well but tired and in the dark I stumbled on the scrambly bits. I hoped to get my rhythm for the technical descent but the pain shot up from both calves now. It was going to be slow. Reckoning I had nothing now to aim for (except perhaps sub 31!), I decided not to hurt myself more than necessary and walked all the way to the final 100 metres. Hester Cox who I had seen over 24 hours earlier flew past at the top of the descent having paced herself well. As I hit the Coppermines track a 50 runner came past and said ,"well done Keith, you must be so proud". I honestly replied, "I really don't care, I just want to go to bed". In hindsight of course I am immensely proud to have finished such a challenging course, albeit a few hours slower than planned.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">As I rounded the final corner I saw a small crowd gathered so I mustered a slow run over the line. I was led into the school from the finish line to a huge round of applause which was given to all runners. At that point I felt a twinge of emotion and realised what I had just done. I ate and saw runners come in and chatted to all sorts of people. It was a hazy but happy hour or so.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM3IRdyfDSqSejLp3tn2aJLv2yvdePRe0vrDcqhrNVss6uITX_ATRrrM941hqXxGnHZkzhvrI_KWUP5mXj7N7JsmKB7I3JFthJk65Yb1WcVDc8sOqJ7C7Mcrk0k8HN4tzu-5KYsrPkl00/s640/blogger-image--1583400680.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM3IRdyfDSqSejLp3tn2aJLv2yvdePRe0vrDcqhrNVss6uITX_ATRrrM941hqXxGnHZkzhvrI_KWUP5mXj7N7JsmKB7I3JFthJk65Yb1WcVDc8sOqJ7C7Mcrk0k8HN4tzu-5KYsrPkl00/s640/blogger-image--1583400680.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b>Immediately post race (about 0200 Sunday).</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The urge to sleep came back and off to bed I went. The next morning was lovely and runners were still out in the course, which provides scenes like the one below, the reward for 2 sleepless nights.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7z9wbK-u_alu9FJFA7w72U_79UurtF3O_8YNKUhDRBtGQDGe-Z2IYT1eAXOG_JYItqEAtw09TAOZoaw6zucFR0_dd4omnFTH9FvAZSu0wJlCTCFqdU8-E9nsgtQUCveCpWRvL4erqk8k/s640/blogger-image--86335611.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7z9wbK-u_alu9FJFA7w72U_79UurtF3O_8YNKUhDRBtGQDGe-Z2IYT1eAXOG_JYItqEAtw09TAOZoaw6zucFR0_dd4omnFTH9FvAZSu0wJlCTCFqdU8-E9nsgtQUCveCpWRvL4erqk8k/s640/blogger-image--86335611.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b>Dawn over the final leg.</b></div><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Th highlights were hearing how Howard waited for Susan and finished late on with her, what a star (and huge brownie points), and seeing in the oldest ever finisher, 80 year old Harry Johnson who became a bit of a celebrity, finishing with a hand gashed to the tendons and refusing to get in the ambulance until after the prize presentation. They don't make them like that anymore! Howard and I trod a lot of the route in training and although neither race plan worked out, we both had a real adventure.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwRnVcWQuFVrqq6E85o5rIoTUTaeGib5A9dBeBnij4sxdaioX7RUxYo805okejPl_MGm416d1da2DC_wnolItCC4DG90emJNAoOKQs1PGgi9mA-wZSU3XMHRqh39xdYS0FiQfw3Mnx474/s640/blogger-image--876373568.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwRnVcWQuFVrqq6E85o5rIoTUTaeGib5A9dBeBnij4sxdaioX7RUxYo805okejPl_MGm416d1da2DC_wnolItCC4DG90emJNAoOKQs1PGgi9mA-wZSU3XMHRqh39xdYS0FiQfw3Mnx474/s640/blogger-image--876373568.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><b>Howard and I in finishers T-shirts</b></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><b><br></b></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;">I saw Emily and was delighted to hear she'd finished (my mum had worked out what was going on, along with my Facebook supporters club and had let me know).</div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;">People will ask how it compares to the Double Cateran. Obviously each edition of each race is unique to the individual but objectively the Lakeland course is far harder, albeit 5 miles shorter. I'd say it's 4 hours longer give or take. The DC though is harder for a slower competitor because of the tight cut off times. The L100 has a generous 40 hours vice 30. Will I come back? A couple of times I told myself never again but I know I can go so much faster and want to prove it to myself. I also want a good go at the 50 which looked amazing too. </div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;">A huge, heartfelt thank you to Marc and the whole team, too numerous to mention, who make this such an experience, and who literally make dreams (and nightmares) come true. And well done to the winners and all who took part. We're in a rather small, rather special club!</div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAaNruWpOGOiXdWVyL7gGgY4i_RefbUNoHELdpJXclMMi7rXzOS5SRPSSbh5og8ZGy3E2DW0M7crQUYbNPvVAoM5FcKnsN9gQSNqkd6WHx_I0fvewB8nqB_yJA180nW_X4yabiZWCvLDw/s640/blogger-image-2093384267.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAaNruWpOGOiXdWVyL7gGgY4i_RefbUNoHELdpJXclMMi7rXzOS5SRPSSbh5og8ZGy3E2DW0M7crQUYbNPvVAoM5FcKnsN9gQSNqkd6WHx_I0fvewB8nqB_yJA180nW_X4yabiZWCvLDw/s640/blogger-image-2093384267.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj5cFflvDHo1kGstB-XO_zafCo-74yZnCG3KzcM_lmlVyIpUh9ugBgzWslfE4iz9zyIeDu1xV_hIhe3U9NF-X8GiNdQQ_Tm3ie8UdJQW4M5C1UOFkq-lVFLs9u_yMyc6LdAyPVNfvF60E/s640/blogger-image-1958403152.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj5cFflvDHo1kGstB-XO_zafCo-74yZnCG3KzcM_lmlVyIpUh9ugBgzWslfE4iz9zyIeDu1xV_hIhe3U9NF-X8GiNdQQ_Tm3ie8UdJQW4M5C1UOFkq-lVFLs9u_yMyc6LdAyPVNfvF60E/s640/blogger-image-1958403152.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; clear: both;"><b><br></b></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05345689920905474925noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311219892591466876.post-9440672499748058302015-05-21T10:28:00.001-07:002015-05-26T23:30:56.275-07:00Cateran Trail Ultra 2015So this year was 'just' the 55. In my head it was going to be a piece of cake and that was a problem. No ultra is easy and so this race was going to prove.<div><br></div><div>I will start with a little of the background. The Cateran was my first serious race since the double last year. following the DC I took about 3 months to recover and with only the GO33 on my radar I decided to do Glen Ogle as a training run. I was unfit, overweight and mentally not ready to hurt myself, so my GO33 performance was sub-standard (although the route and the after party were sensational). It was a kick up the arse and I went back to basics, spending November working on tecnique and form. Since then I have never run in anything other than minimal shoes, occasionally sandals, and a few times barefoot. I also saw a coach (the legendary Julian Goater) to work a little more on technique. Bare in mind that by November last year I was training hard for the DC. In December I intended doing Marcothon. I managed up to Christmas Day but it was often a late night 3 miler owing to being away on exercise. My main aim for 2015 is the Lakeland 100 so I wanted to train hard from January, which started well. Soon however I got ill and then once I was training again I got a disc problem in my lumbar spine which crippled me in March. Whilst my overall mileage was similar to last year, there were fewer long runs (max 22 miles vice 32 in 2014) and fewer interval sessions. Plus my back was still a little sore and didn't inspire hard downhill blasts.</div><div><br></div><div>In my head I wanted a sub 10 hour finish (originally I had been thinking sub 9 but all the setbacks shelved that plan months ago), but mainly I wanted to get round and pace fairly evenly. I also used this race to improve my drop bag content and checkpoint discipline. My usual approach to drop bags is to wander round the supermarket thinking what I may like to eat and then stuffing it all into a bag and crudely taping it up. At checkpoints I then sit down tearing it apart and losing what I did want and taking things I don't, like pork pies! In short, lots of fannying around and zero forward progress.</div><div><br></div><div>Marc Laithwaite (L100 Race Director) posted some great race nutrition articles which I read. I decided that I would use Osmo in my fluids to get some carbohydrate then supplement it with humous, avocado and lettuce wraps and home made energy balls (oats, manuka honey, peanut butter and chia seeds), and finally shot bloks. I only packed enough to account for 60g carb per hour, plus a babybel and a sachet of baby food as mental insurance for my strategy. The rest would need to come from body fat (I still have plenty of winter reserve to use up). I had also worked out how much water I would need for each leg. Having marshalled the Fling at Inversnaid, I saw so many different strategies and drop bags and realised there was much room for improvement. So I laminated labels and used small neat bags. They at least looked the part.</div><div><br></div><div>I was intent on arriving early enough to see the start of the 110. That race means so much to me as it was my first long ultra. It is a serious challenge within tough time limits (30 hours this year). Several people I met at last years event were back with a score to settle. I went a little way up the hill to watch them start their great adventure. Morgan and Gregor Heron led at the stile. Those back for seconds knew what was coming and went out more conservatively this time. I then set out to mark the 3 miles from Spittal of Glenshee for the end of their first lap which many of the double runners would do in the dark. The highland coos seemed very passive as I marked, tested and remarked the trail to ensure maximum chance of successful navigation for the tired runners.</div><div><br></div><div>After a great feed (thank you Helen, Sandra et al) at the Gulabin Lodge (superb new venue), I decided it was too early to sleep and there was a race going on, so I talked Derek Fish and Iona MacKay into going to Alyth to see the runners go through. It felt really special, just like it had when running last year. My cheers and encouragement were deep and heartfelt. I could really empathise with their suffering.</div><div><br></div><div>And so the morning came and the tail end doublers were coming through. George Chalmers looked dreadful but I told him he looked great. At half way last year I thought I was finished but I came good again 5 miles later and stayed strong for another 35 so I knew he would come good too. I desperately wanted him to finish. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYwe_sR2xm_jCgCdVxYRecsGi9MiF5vz_DNh32Xg1-GXt9JRn3XaZbvOf71SBPP4Qk6f_3Kw_zzwNOGPFD0YFJpzocqLGUSEtP27KLSSdwrxUkil-y8bLG2IqsB2K5mQwmpMY8JGqSGws/s640/blogger-image-568184455.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYwe_sR2xm_jCgCdVxYRecsGi9MiF5vz_DNh32Xg1-GXt9JRn3XaZbvOf71SBPP4Qk6f_3Kw_zzwNOGPFD0YFJpzocqLGUSEtP27KLSSdwrxUkil-y8bLG2IqsB2K5mQwmpMY8JGqSGws/s640/blogger-image-568184455.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>The dawn was lovely and sunny and just right for a race although the wind strengthened considerably later. I intended to pace on heart rate, using the same percentage of LT as Robert Osfield used in the Fling. For me that meant a target HR of 140, not to exceed 143. I started off slowly and was caught by John Kynaston who was using a similar strategy. I knew from Strava that he has prepared well and I expected him to be slightly faster than me. This was borne out in HR, where I was often at 144 to maintain his pace. I was enjoying his company and our chat so I just continued. We ran together comfortably through Dalnagar, high fiving the marshals (Noanie and Donald) and on over to Glenisla.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDkMSHXsQtwji1l_kPlLS6pkLaij_rRNAhfJoCUxMUCRFdTBZtWakIe1YhTqxRiq_icnlIN9OU0KImpJ92hRnJSpgNbWNO23sFIADb1X2_XgJgCBNdlSSOIhmKjBkxKCu2EosZ2XVcyaw/s640/blogger-image-559033515.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDkMSHXsQtwji1l_kPlLS6pkLaij_rRNAhfJoCUxMUCRFdTBZtWakIe1YhTqxRiq_icnlIN9OU0KImpJ92hRnJSpgNbWNO23sFIADb1X2_XgJgCBNdlSSOIhmKjBkxKCu2EosZ2XVcyaw/s640/blogger-image-559033515.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>We saw Ali Black (DC) who looked pretty grim just before the big hill. He later got timed out at Blairgowrie, but continued from Alyth knowing he wouldn't make the time. Brave man and a courageous performance. We saw George and Alan Cormack just before Glenisla. I was pleased they had teamed up. I was delighted to see George moving well. They finished together and seeing George cross the line really did make my day.</div><div><br></div><div>So to the 80's disco (sorry, checkpoint). John is a master of CP discipline and it showed. He was fuelled, took photos, gave hugs, shared a joke and was away before I had sorted my shit out! I was happy though, it was a huge improvement for me. I may well start using bottles as this will speed things up. I'm just nervous about losing food storage at the front because if it's not accessible I won't eat it.</div><div><br></div><div>On through the diversion, I trailed John by 50 metres, but he went off piste for a short way and I shouted him back as we continued together. We passed 3 Doublers Craig MacKay, Peter MacDonald and I think Gordon Halliday who all seemed to be in good spirits if moving a little slowly. Peter again had blisters and was pulled out at 80 miles the same as last year; heartbreaking. A couple of miles later I had a stumble and needed a pee so John moved ahead to catch Johnny Fling who had been a short distance in front of us for some time. I would see John all the way to the final climb but never caught him again. I predicted a 20 minute gap and at the finish it was 12. Not bad guesswork. Just before Alyth I eased off a little and several runners caught up, including Chen. I sorted my food out, then sorted my head out and struck out to Drimmie Woods. I was catching Mr Fling on the hill, then ended up catching Jo Wilson and ran with her and a guy whose name I never knew (fellow Englishman) and we chatted on the drop to Blairgowrie. I didn't stop here other than to look at the Minions! I left the others and wouldn't see them for a few hours until the finish, but now caught Keith Ainslie, who I had often seen and heard of but never met. I felt ok on the climb and pushed on, also catching John Moffat (déjà vu from the DC last year) who looked strong. I congratulated him on an excellent UTMB and kept going. As I hit the fields I saw a runner approaching fast. It was Elspeth Luke, clearly on top form and pacing her run well. I stayed with her for a mile or so but couldn't keep my heart rate at 140. In fact it was now an effort to keep it at 134 and I felt that lack of endurance and dipping into the tank slightly earlier had caused this. Nonetheless no one else caught me. I meandered along thinking of the last time I crossed the moor with Lynsey Mackay.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijEhpsOTn-qRdg08_1gckJMAkphQLSyflepYa3x__8ADUEnCg9YtMHtzQt7hWC7kB-pL-5VpnHdvflVCIKOzZ_roniMxJSi44Ia-cN3s4k1LqIZ2CzvkPxzxaFe2v0i4m4fT8_mc4kLzw/s640/blogger-image--2062756965.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijEhpsOTn-qRdg08_1gckJMAkphQLSyflepYa3x__8ADUEnCg9YtMHtzQt7hWC7kB-pL-5VpnHdvflVCIKOzZ_roniMxJSi44Ia-cN3s4k1LqIZ2CzvkPxzxaFe2v0i4m4fT8_mc4kLzw/s640/blogger-image--2062756965.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>I felt good at Bridge of Cally and remembered passing the 100 mile mark soon after here last year. I was alone all the way to the swampy bit and even then I could only see a couple of others ahead (including the lime green clad Mr Kynaston). The road to Kirkmichael was tough with a strong wind and newly laid sharp stones which smarted having chosen minimalist shoes (a first for me in a 50 mile plus race). I was now plodding and not feeling great. At Enochdu, Noanie was cheering and told me to pull my finger out. I caught a small group in front and we all pushed as hard as we could until a pecking order was established which remained until the finish. 10 hours was out of the question so I just enjoyed the final couple of miles and trotted in for 10 hours 22 minutes and 56 seconds. Not particularly quick, but I had completed my first long run of the year without any real back issues or injury. This was vital as preparation for the Lakeland 100 which will be a couple of orders of magnitude tougher.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhicPxRQq3lxjT6m7zwWkwUOOqWWH2UED_L_KwaVShq42178DBhllPgX10hjjQFjWmaTQob_5t-A-PB2QpChaYkmJwONZ1YnvUQ3GMAbcdBIII9ujJ9VJli3fk0ynk0CjJ_ZDZ4z71E8YM/s640/blogger-image--2007817134.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhicPxRQq3lxjT6m7zwWkwUOOqWWH2UED_L_KwaVShq42178DBhllPgX10hjjQFjWmaTQob_5t-A-PB2QpChaYkmJwONZ1YnvUQ3GMAbcdBIII9ujJ9VJli3fk0ynk0CjJ_ZDZ4z71E8YM/s640/blogger-image--2007817134.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Noanie again popped up and offered me soup. After that were a happy pair of hours eating and watching friends come in. For some it was their first ultra and a huge achievement. It's a leg sapping (if beautiful) route and at times can be lonely. The biggest cheers were reserved for the double finishers, especially Morgan, Alyson and George who all exorcised their various demons having gone to some dark places over the previous day and a bit. </div><div><br></div><div>The after party was fantastic and this year I actually managed to be lucid and to drink whisky from my quaich! I even won a raffle prize which was a selection of mouth watering running goodies. It was great to spend time with old friends and make many more through the medium of shared passions, shared hardship and shared whisky. As a race the Cateran Trail Ultra is hard to beat in 55 or 110 format. As a weekend experience it is without peer. It needs to be experienced to be believed, but it is the friendliest family of runners and volunteers you could ever hope to meet. A huge thank you to everyone who helped, marshalled, crewed, cooked, encouraged, dressed up, timed, etc. Well done indeed to Karen and George who organised the races in such difficult personal circumstances and with a new HQ, not to mention Mike who gave up his own chances of winning the 55 to stand in as RD for the 110, a true mark of the man. It was also great to see George on his feet and making progress. Sadly I will be overseas for the race next year but I will definitely be back for the best weekend on the calendar!</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglfHrmMs3zwLZY2KIIObs1wVJ3VTVKsuhhSD7aVzXcq5oKddrA_GklDOdhIR-lOnuymc0V_YFMK_gt8qnC3f0E-dSwel7eHNf7HfINBT6S7iuvPuXb8OFsqtK0-XGVVEn78HAuOVbrFZA/s640/blogger-image--149188051.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglfHrmMs3zwLZY2KIIObs1wVJ3VTVKsuhhSD7aVzXcq5oKddrA_GklDOdhIR-lOnuymc0V_YFMK_gt8qnC3f0E-dSwel7eHNf7HfINBT6S7iuvPuXb8OFsqtK0-XGVVEn78HAuOVbrFZA/s640/blogger-image--149188051.jpg"></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05345689920905474925noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311219892591466876.post-89953018778133092562014-06-10T07:31:00.001-07:002014-06-10T07:31:32.980-07:00Recovery from the DC110<p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><br></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Ultra running is a sport with relatively little information available about it to the beginner, or indeed the expert practitioner. This will change as the sport grows, but for now very little is understood about it. There is even less known and spoken about the recovery from long (100 ish mile plus) races. This stretches to the medical profession too.</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The reason I thought this was worth a mention is that I am in the recovery phase of my first long ultra and so this is all new and in some ways eye-opening. For those also about to do their first longer race it may be of interest too.</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">Now, let me start by saying that I am new to this and I have only been running consistently for </span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">20</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15"> months or so. I am sure that over several years, one can recover quicker than thi</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">s. I am also over 40 and large</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15"> (by distance running standards) at about 12 stone. Recovery is a very personal thing and will differ between us all and at different times of life and </span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">levels of </span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">fitness. Nonetheless there are some things which are also common to us all.</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">The Double Cateran 110 was my </span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">‘</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">A</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">’</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15"> race of the year. I prepared pretty well, and I ran pretty well, but I had no goals beyond it. A few small events that fit in with other stuff but nothing major. I had roughly planned a month of low level activity to recover, but essentially I left a big void, with nothing more than the thought of preparing for the West Highland Way Race 2015 as a motivating factor.</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">So, best I go back to the Spittal of Glenshee Hotel at about 7pm on 17 May. I finished and </span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">after pinching myself to wake me from the dream, I tried to sip a Lime and Soda (not the malt I had envisaged pre-race) and immediately felt nauseous and went outside to vomit. I then limped, shivering to the shower and after peeling off my clothing (not changed since race start), I endured a cold shower, the shivering now becoming uncontrollable. I knew that with plenty of warm clothes and some food I would be fine so wrapped up in a down gillet, compression tights, woolly hat, etc and hobbled to the bar for the prize giving. I managed a bowl of lentil soup and a soft drink but little more. I couldn’t face standing for very long and couldn’t really focus enough to hold a conversation, so I got horizontal and listened to everyone else. I was pretty done in. Every bit of my body was in pain. </span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">During the race </span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">I had experience</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">d</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15"> a sharp pain in my right shin (in the muscle) during the last 30 miles of and I had a painful pulled deltoid sustained when I arrested a fall just</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15"> before half way</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">. Everything else just hurt as much as I expect it </span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">should do</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15"> after running for 25 hours. I had pushed hard and didn’t really have anything left.</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">The next day I woke to find </span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">my right calf swollen, run, hot and painful to the touch. Various anecdotal tales of Cellulitis, DVT, stress fractures and more were enough to warrant a visit to A and E, so after breaking camp we headed for Perth Royal Infirmary. Coincidentally, St Johnstone </span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">FC </span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">had won the</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">ir</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15"> first trophy in their history so the whole town was out to celebrate along with pipe bands, so there was a bit of a carnival atmosphere. I parked the car and limped (I could barely put any weight on the leg) to A and E. The triage nurse mistakenly put ‘run for 25 miles’ on my form, which I corrected to 25 hours, and I started a 3 hour wait to be seen.</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">The junior doctor had </span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">clearly </span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">never seen anything like it and quickly called the orthopaedic surgeon, who had also clearly no idea and she called the consultant who it seems was also not too sure and admitted me in case it was Compartment Syndrome. Luckily I had lots of kit in the car and embarked on my first ever stay in hospital</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15"> since I was a few days old</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">. I shared a Ward with some delightful old chaps aged from 80-98, so I was something of a </span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">youthful </span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">novelty. Lucy grabbed my kit and took an obligatory hospital-bed-with-trophy photo and left me with my new companions. I hadn’t planned on this bit.</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7yMnJr9_Rd1Dfwq64mfjZcQ9vI2c5EJz1cHkrxfb1Fvom75ZFSr0vPIf42TUj9t6FOlFHMKqFK8LlrlDmbEoC4edXrWm_M5Xr1o7LzVFvFmMHYInOo_2kpFh_m1owzdo_s9gxE6xrLoE/s640/blogger-image--656425637.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7yMnJr9_Rd1Dfwq64mfjZcQ9vI2c5EJz1cHkrxfb1Fvom75ZFSr0vPIf42TUj9t6FOlFHMKqFK8LlrlDmbEoC4edXrWm_M5Xr1o7LzVFvFmMHYInOo_2kpFh_m1owzdo_s9gxE6xrLoE/s640/blogger-image--656425637.jpg"></a></div><p></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">My leg was iced (well sort of cooled) from time to time and elevated. In the morning I was given crutches and</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">I </span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">showed </span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">the physio </span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">the prowess gained from hobbling around on them at Lympstone years ago. You don’t lose these skills and I set about racing an alarmed physio back to the Ward. The consultant did his rounds and I decided I was ready for discharge, arguing my case strongly. With an 11 hour drive back to work, he told me that if I drove in that condition, </span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">I could reasona</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">bly expect an emergency fascioto</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">my (slicing open the length of the muscle sheath, leaving it open before grafting skin back on from the thigh) on arrival. It’s not often I listen to advice, but he sold that one it to me. </span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">So it was more RICE, and an X-Ray which showed evidence of previous stress fractures that had healed during training but no current fracture. Although I’d need another X-Ray at a later date to fully determine that.</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">Interestingly, given the other possibilities there was no form of scan (too expensive?), and no bloods taken. The next day I was released on the proviso that I didn’t drive for more than 2 hours without elevating it. The swelling had reduced and I was keeping the</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">weight off it.</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15"> Before leaving hospital both the Consultant and the Senior Physio</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15"> gave me some shit advice; ‘Stop running long distances’. Typical medical advice which fits the masses. For most people it gives a handy excuse to not run and become obese. Stop doing it and you won’t have a problem. Well I can stop driving and then I won’t get killed in a car crash, but it kind of misses the point! I gave a wry smile and thought “f**k you’ as I plotted future WHWR, L100, SDW100, UTMB, Hardrock, etc!. Like so many things, the answer isn’t to give up when you reach a hurdle, but to work out a way round or over it.</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">I did no more exercise that week. I</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15"> wasn’t inclined and my leg was painful</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">. I saw the doctor at work who booked another X-Ray and declared me fit to fly (DVT?) but not fit to go to sea. The next week I started swimming and cycling although nice and steady. I also saw my Sports Therapist as the standard medical channels seemed intent on the standard approach. This is something like:</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">‘</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">Rest and take anti</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">-</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">inflammatories until we get you an X-Ray (note; one scan at a time to minimise cost, rather than covering every base)</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">. During the wait the supporting muscles waste away but the pain cessates. We will pin the blame on whatever activity you were doing and the diagnosis will be the first fault we can find.’ Thus the cause is never found and your body becomes weaker and more susceptible to further injury.</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">So the Sports Therapist looked at me and instantly saw my back alignment was out (it often is when I have an injury elsewhere)</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">, and they set to work. After some manipulation the pain in my calf had eased and so they continued and it eased more. They said I could </span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">and should </span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">run if there was no pain</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">, but take it easy as I wouldn’t have fully recovered from the stress of the race</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">.</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">I did a short easy 3 miler and no pain. Possibly too soon I did a hard 10 miler which saw me tail off in the last 2 miles but generally felt ok. And so running re-commenced, at nothing more than </span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">ultra pace or on consecutive days</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">, interspersed with swimming, running, stretching, core and light strength work.</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">The legs felt sluggish and still do 3 and a half weeks later. I think the muscle damage is repaired, but I don’t</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">feel too perky either. From what I’ve read this is because long after the muscle has repaired the Endocrine System is still laid low. I too thought that this was a </span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">Star Wars reference</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15"> to the location of the rebel base</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">. But no, it appears that it </span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">is the control of</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15"> all our hormones which </span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">I now know </span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">play a big part in ultra distance running. By not resetting the system we are setting ourselves up f</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">or a big physical collapse. </span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">I will soon test the body out at the ‘Dirty Thirty’, but not pushing hard, just to see how far along the road to recovery I am.</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">It does strike me that ultra runners use the length (or shortness) of their recovery as a badge of honour. You often hear people throwing in intervals a few days after an ultra. I think this is folly and will do more harm than good. I am in awe of Ian Sharman and his ilk, completing the US ‘Grand Slam’ of 3 x 100 milers in 3 months. It must be at the limit of human restorative powers.</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15"> Maybe the inability to recover completely is what limits many ultra runners performances and prevents them improving year on year?</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">I have found it hard to watch others training and racing while I am taking things easy but I keep focussed by looking back at the success of my 2 big ultras this year as well as planning my goals for next year. I have set an ambitious WHWR target and I know I need to play the long game</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15"> if I want to achieve that</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">. The big lesson</span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">during </span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">this period has been to minimise recovery time. I am paying more attention to diet, eating lots of greens and beans and lean protein. I am also trying hard to build more sleep into my recovery. I think recovery will play a big part in my plans for next year. Maybe as athletes we should refer to recovery periods as growth periods? Surely it is how we recover to train hard again that will </span></span><span class="s4"><span class="bumpedFont15">ensure we keep improving?</span></span></span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05345689920905474925noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311219892591466876.post-62112395359644541592014-05-23T05:44:00.001-07:002016-09-05T13:28:39.846-07:00Double Cateran 110 ultra marathon<p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">Double Cateran <a href="tel:110%202014" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="telephone" x-apple-data-detectors-result="0">110</a></span></span><span class="s3" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20"><a href="tel:110%202014" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="telephone" x-apple-data-detectors-result="0"> 2014</a></span></span></p><p class="s5" style="margin-top: 5px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">Overall</span></span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20"> time: </span></span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">25</span></span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">hr </span></span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">06</span></span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">min </span></span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">58</span></span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">s<br>Finish position: </span></span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">2nd/6 Finishers (6</span></span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20"> DNF)</span></span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20"><br>Category: </span></span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">1st</span></span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">/</span></span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">7</span></span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20"> </span></span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">Veteran male</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Pre-race</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">After the Fling I recovered fai</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">rly well, but did nothing stren</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">uous 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</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">)</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">.</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">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 </span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">race </span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">pace, although I still didn’t feel particularly strong. I had plenty of time in hand to drive up and get prepared.</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20"> 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.</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">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.</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">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. </span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">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. </span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">I’ll take help wherever I can get it (within the rules).</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20"> I think that’s it for now. If I think of any others as I write I’ll let you know.</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfoUYXJHVmMdgeoeXMrxib8sp9LxXte9OMrmppt1uSnO4cFX7e5aJjSByaveFC3ftnH-hbBrqpaDVrrvvFgrDrWTin4Fpj2g-NWmpFFNnDfGhTT7CIYGm9afPcWsuNRYjNyInp6mgEWW0/s640/blogger-image-1671595728.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfoUYXJHVmMdgeoeXMrxib8sp9LxXte9OMrmppt1uSnO4cFX7e5aJjSByaveFC3ftnH-hbBrqpaDVrrvvFgrDrWTin4Fpj2g-NWmpFFNnDfGhTT7CIYGm9afPcWsuNRYjNyInp6mgEWW0/s640/blogger-image-1671595728.jpg"></a></div><p></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">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 </span></span><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">is</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20"> Britain’s toughest footrace and humbler of strong men). Sean Maley had shown recent form </span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">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, </span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">Neil Ambrose, and Peter MacDonald</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">. 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!</span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBQLRY6c2V8biNY6FWvDaPObvVjm3m4omHR0amu1WnGA8yJ0XZipRoUBO8K1ONqWLrB6Tncm6WMWEqAQSwm2ZNEU6DwBN8A5nDRwp_UC-Z4-NW4Z3jhc1qP8W5Z9fvOgkFv6IwyJwx1h4/s640/blogger-image--88588009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBQLRY6c2V8biNY6FWvDaPObvVjm3m4omHR0amu1WnGA8yJ0XZipRoUBO8K1ONqWLrB6Tncm6WMWEqAQSwm2ZNEU6DwBN8A5nDRwp_UC-Z4-NW4Z3jhc1qP8W5Z9fvOgkFv6IwyJwx1h4/s640/blogger-image--88588009.jpg"></a></div><p></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Spittal of Glenshee to Enochdu (6 miles – 1 hour 1 minute)</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">(104 miles to go)</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">‘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. </span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">Gary Morrison was also breathing down my neck and I expected to be a little quicker than him, at least in the short term! </span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">Did I abandon my game plan? Well I chose not to follow, but did allow my heart rate to climb</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20"> 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?</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHdNYvvH6BMorJTNahb1pVgm2NzDSz-BjUJnBL2kFV964Pd4QAxkmZLIKBawW-H6ccgKCsdOxfpQu52WYViZkdIeEHP6G99v2fru8Nbr6Xkm4Cuh0tmy7rZjBGPEnzeM-fv3gB_wExjoU/s640/blogger-image--407195113.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHdNYvvH6BMorJTNahb1pVgm2NzDSz-BjUJnBL2kFV964Pd4QAxkmZLIKBawW-H6ccgKCsdOxfpQu52WYViZkdIeEHP6G99v2fru8Nbr6Xkm4Cuh0tmy7rZjBGPEnzeM-fv3gB_wExjoU/s640/blogger-image--407195113.jpg"></a></div><p></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">I kept the effort up all the way to the first CP to keep the others in sight.</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20"> 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</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">. The adrenaline was doing its level best to ruin my race plan and we still had 104 miles to go!</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOKf4jcad0ZrWwUviF4aKFthIG4Hl_GAMjV6plbPWm_taay5So-tevUGWFbb8q687BprfBjC71KiUDNOVu14xja2r9TJaEuBcpjjbzxdNcBQ-U7eX488YaNdNJyR3zzhJaG4GAnHVsKIs/s640/blogger-image--1647525508.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOKf4jcad0ZrWwUviF4aKFthIG4Hl_GAMjV6plbPWm_taay5So-tevUGWFbb8q687BprfBjC71KiUDNOVu14xja2r9TJaEuBcpjjbzxdNcBQ-U7eX488YaNdNJyR3zzhJaG4GAnHVsKIs/s640/blogger-image--1647525508.jpg"></a></div><p></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">Enochdu to Bridge of Cally</span></span><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20"> (10</span></span><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20"> miles – 1 hour 51 minutes)</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">Total 16</span></span><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20"> miles – 2 hours 52 minutes</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">(94 miles to go)</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">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 </span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">other half</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">,</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20"> Heather, </span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">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. </span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">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.</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLBc156U-eG_vx8Hcl7XePNvO3r3MrNuN_7Trlqoif0P1ytQ1Iq-X7nPVqW8J0gxHFsJ-jQnndDlO-tjrtiMUJY7sy0m8vWpQIAhsAkQES2eyNviVCG7eODQQwlff0hsCj-gXphQwnX48/s640/blogger-image--1123800494.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLBc156U-eG_vx8Hcl7XePNvO3r3MrNuN_7Trlqoif0P1ytQ1Iq-X7nPVqW8J0gxHFsJ-jQnndDlO-tjrtiMUJY7sy0m8vWpQIAhsAkQES2eyNviVCG7eODQQwlff0hsCj-gXphQwnX48/s640/blogger-image--1123800494.jpg"></a></div><p></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Bridge of Cally to Blairgowrie (7 miles – 1 hour 24 minutes)</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">Total 23</span></span><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20"> miles – 4 hours 16 minutes</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">(87 miles to go)</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">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.</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20"> 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! </span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">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. </span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">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. </span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">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.</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Blairgowrie to Den of Alyth (5 miles – 1 hour 18 minutes)</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">Total </span></span><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">28 miles – 5 hours 34 minutes</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">(82 miles to go)</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">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 r</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">ight level. The question was ‘H</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">ad 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.</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20"> 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.</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20"> 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!</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Den of Alyth to Glenisla (10 miles – 2 hours 31 minutes)</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Total 38 miles – 8 hours 5 minutes</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">(72 miles to go)</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">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 McDonald</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">about a kilometre </span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">ahead</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20"> and about 4 people strung out behind.</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20"> It was a still but warm</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20"> 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.</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20"> 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.</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Glenisla to Dalnagar (11 miles – 1 hour 59 minutes)</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Total 49 miles – 10 hours 4 minutes</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">(61 miles to go)</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">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 pe</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">eing! It only gains a few meter</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">s each time, but that’s the point, psychologically you’re a few meters nearer the finish. For free! </span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">We continued past Loch Shandra in silence, Peter a couple of hundred yards back, then </span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">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. </span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">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 4</span></span><span class="s8" style="vertical-align: super; "><span class="bumpedFont20">th</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20"> 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.</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">Dalnagar to Sp</span></span><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">ittal of Glenshee (6 miles – 1 hour 27 minutes)</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Total 55 miles – 11 hours 31 minutes</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">(55 miles to go)</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">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 </span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">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</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20"> 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. </span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">Spittal of Glenshee to Dalnagar (6 miles – 1 hour 51 minutes</span></span><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20"> including stop at halfway</span></span><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">)</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Total 61 miles – 13 hours 22 minutes</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">(49 miles to go)</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">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. </span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">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.</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Dalnagar to Glenisla (11 miles – 1 hour 59 minutes)</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Total 72 miles – 15 hours 21 minutes</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">(38 miles to go)</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">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 3</span></span><span class="s8" style="vertical-align: super; "><span class="bumpedFont20">rd</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20"> 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 </span></span></span><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">and soon reeled Stephen in. </span><span class="s7" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><span class="bumpedFont20">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?’</span></span><span class="s7" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><span class="bumpedFont20">. </span></span><span class="s7" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><span class="bumpedFont20">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 </span></span><span class="s7" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><span class="bumpedFont20">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 </span></span><span class="s7" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><span class="bumpedFont20">as I must’ve looked a bit out of</span></span><span class="s7" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><span class="bumpedFont20"> it here.</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Glenisla to Den of Alyth (10 miles – 2 hours 24 minutes)</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Total 82 miles – 17 hours 45 minutes</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">(28 miles to go)</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">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 </span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">I didn’t really believe it. I had asked for time checks and she said I was 20 minutes ahead of 4</span></span><span class="s8" style="vertical-align: super; "><span class="bumpedFont20">th</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">. 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. </span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">Den of Alyth</span></span><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20"> to Blairgowrie (5 miles – 1 hour 23 minutes)</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Total 87 miles - 19 hours 8 minutes</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">(23 miles to go)</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">I walked most of the hill to Drimmie Woods maintaining</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20"> pace with a few 55ers, </span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">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</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20"> 25 minutes lead. </span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">I used the ice pack not on my back but on my right shin. The start of a problem?</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20"> I felt good anyway</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20"> </span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">and wanted to crack on.</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-6TDPpwEWejwhzcFlqXWS8HbRGHe9Pa8cAhhAEq-hau5UUH30f93kHJYV8m7IebraEa6tQCXfCd8B9sOuTg_bT21oDtXYOBVTE9wNViIGnDA7zdPVXc996BBzjn4_XE8J10uTaBURfVA/s640/blogger-image--1133409381.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-6TDPpwEWejwhzcFlqXWS8HbRGHe9Pa8cAhhAEq-hau5UUH30f93kHJYV8m7IebraEa6tQCXfCd8B9sOuTg_bT21oDtXYOBVTE9wNViIGnDA7zdPVXc996BBzjn4_XE8J10uTaBURfVA/s640/blogger-image--1133409381.jpg"></a></div><p></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Blairgowrie to Bridge of Cally (7 miles – 1 hour 35 minutes)</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Total 94 miles – 20 hours 43 minutes</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">(16 miles to go)</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">I pushed hard up the climb out of town to re-catch Robert and to maintain my gap to 4</span></span><span class="s8" style="vertical-align: super; "><span class="bumpedFont20">th</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">. </span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">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 2</span></span><span class="s8" style="vertical-align: super; "><span class="bumpedFont20">nd</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">. 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.</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Bridge of Cally to Enochdu (10 miles – 2 hours 34 minutes)</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Total 104 miles – 23 hours 17 minutes</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">(6 miles to go)</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">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</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">. 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. </span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Enochdu to Spittal of Glenshee (6 miles – 1 hour 50 minutes)</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Total 110 miles – 25 hours 6 minutes</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">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 </span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">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 2</span></span><span class="s8" style="vertical-align: super; "><span class="bumpedFont20">nd</span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">. 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.</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8QmWOHr_lnN5-VLfqR7HTVo19vyawjoVoPCrqQVWKHsrIZHUcOuv8mDADMn4oT0P5qIjY52qvDo3IZ3gXgOO0Nh6jonNDK5yGxEO_VirVch-samlrs2nZJTFj6-5jzJStcNd-x6YOf64/s640/blogger-image--944023461.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8QmWOHr_lnN5-VLfqR7HTVo19vyawjoVoPCrqQVWKHsrIZHUcOuv8mDADMn4oT0P5qIjY52qvDo3IZ3gXgOO0Nh6jonNDK5yGxEO_VirVch-samlrs2nZJTFj6-5jzJStcNd-x6YOf64/s640/blogger-image--944023461.jpg"></a></div><p></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbPvVeLEWeHPy7yJ9FljZeZebKvO7IuDi7bXFlQlh9NK7zcgn8r0tcA9xhaNzbeVpt4o9MBjoEzTjoN2R17BzMlS5mJ-4o4ZRg7cFia0d7_vGwVniHXZ1Js7dxJ5mv2IujR2TZ7oweVxc/s640/blogger-image--205154341.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbPvVeLEWeHPy7yJ9FljZeZebKvO7IuDi7bXFlQlh9NK7zcgn8r0tcA9xhaNzbeVpt4o9MBjoEzTjoN2R17BzMlS5mJ-4o4ZRg7cFia0d7_vGwVniHXZ1Js7dxJ5mv2IujR2TZ7oweVxc/s640/blogger-image--205154341.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA6p0glNNZstIE1lK4j58GJc7IeN8j3Gw2qMkNWt_N7BNEhxFR3OwSQnk7QMzzztOJKVPusHNGIEtkRZPmkIGs0RsWjV9ggRzSENsMtaxFBcNtwXrnfHS4QD9tt3ov9TxKCv_4NPyiSV8/s640/blogger-image--376175267.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA6p0glNNZstIE1lK4j58GJc7IeN8j3Gw2qMkNWt_N7BNEhxFR3OwSQnk7QMzzztOJKVPusHNGIEtkRZPmkIGs0RsWjV9ggRzSENsMtaxFBcNtwXrnfHS4QD9tt3ov9TxKCv_4NPyiSV8/s640/blogger-image--376175267.jpg"></a></div><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbPvVeLEWeHPy7yJ9FljZeZebKvO7IuDi7bXFlQlh9NK7zcgn8r0tcA9xhaNzbeVpt4o9MBjoEzTjoN2R17BzMlS5mJ-4o4ZRg7cFia0d7_vGwVniHXZ1Js7dxJ5mv2IujR2TZ7oweVxc/s640/blogger-image--205154341.jpg"></div>Aftermath<p></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">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. </span></span><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20">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.</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">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.</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1UAChi6RVe9dXQn1lNReFZ8KEqFk6t0ZZvUkskFdplhFkT0EJEIzvf4TCY7XdWAhlNIVsjPX8ObP2TLmkMW7A2yFSL3FXEXZDKmGZ-yC7OFBXeJ8yGwn5aAZLhkZmoXFZ2HUPgXTdVF0/s640/blogger-image--301613876.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1UAChi6RVe9dXQn1lNReFZ8KEqFk6t0ZZvUkskFdplhFkT0EJEIzvf4TCY7XdWAhlNIVsjPX8ObP2TLmkMW7A2yFSL3FXEXZDKmGZ-yC7OFBXeJ8yGwn5aAZLhkZmoXFZ2HUPgXTdVF0/s640/blogger-image--301613876.jpg"></a></div><p></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">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!</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz5gKic11MzVdeLLQtENCC_ObNZAWuXkilO5VuT5JgQieAVdFu_AIHPsipuVWlC5O9hy4y4NNClT8iqeqAqM1WiB3pJU1cS4wdwlI1mfCAFsziI4MHLb7bFWCr9v7v5ztaFI122QyGe-g/s640/blogger-image--602833743.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz5gKic11MzVdeLLQtENCC_ObNZAWuXkilO5VuT5JgQieAVdFu_AIHPsipuVWlC5O9hy4y4NNClT8iqeqAqM1WiB3pJU1cS4wdwlI1mfCAFsziI4MHLb7bFWCr9v7v5ztaFI122QyGe-g/s640/blogger-image--602833743.jpg"></a></div><p></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">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.</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZW5uRGY_hyphenhyphenDpqEhVrCFNWgFOo3g-l5MV9Jv1HgKKCTJZWx4jhyphenhyphen_ti4m8HxPQt6g8E6N452z4i1LUayA84QNf7BsSaxWvjurcmaTJdohisyhp5PvmbFCt5_H7WnDV63ps-mKvtOXFRG5o/s640/blogger-image-1855292013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZW5uRGY_hyphenhyphenDpqEhVrCFNWgFOo3g-l5MV9Jv1HgKKCTJZWx4jhyphenhyphen_ti4m8HxPQt6g8E6N452z4i1LUayA84QNf7BsSaxWvjurcmaTJdohisyhp5PvmbFCt5_H7WnDV63ps-mKvtOXFRG5o/s640/blogger-image-1855292013.jpg"></a></div><p></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Epic shit? Damn right it was.</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s7"><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Any further analysis can wait. I need some rest.....</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><p></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05345689920905474925noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311219892591466876.post-73453366501817956862014-05-22T11:38:00.001-07:002014-07-05T19:48:00.557-07:00Hoka Highland Fling 2014<p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: bold; ">Hoka Highland Fling 2014</span><p class="s5" style="margin-top: 5px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">Overall</span></span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20"> time</span></span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20"> (chip)</span></span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">: </span></span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">9</span></span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">hr </span></span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">53</span></span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">min </span></span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">11</span></span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">s<br>Finish position: </span></span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">92nd/55</span></span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">6 Finishers (58</span></span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">DNF)</span></span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20"><br>Category: </span></span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">39</span></span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">th/</span></span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">215</span></span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20"> </span></span><span class="s3" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">Veteran males</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">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.</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s7" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Why run ultras?</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">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 </span></span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">epiphany.</span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">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.</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> 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 7</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">6 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 experience</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">d enough and I was rejected. So</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> I entered the Hoka Highland Fling in 2013.</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s7" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">Hoka Highland Fling 2013</span></span><span class="s7" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20"> (the problem)</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">That experience was painful but not too bad (I still believe I could’ve gone on to Fort William), but my longest </span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">ever </span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">training run prior was only 27 miles</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> (21 miles that calendar year)</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> 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?</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s7" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The solution</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">This bit is important. Especially for someone who wants to improve. I refuse to accept I am at any given level in a sport. </span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">I don’t regard hope as a strategy. </span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">Whilst I know I will never be a world champion, there is always room for improvement. Big improvement</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">, not just a marginal PB</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">. 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</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> always question everything. Why do runner</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">s ‘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.</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> 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. </span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">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.</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> 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.</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">So I worked on every aspect of performance. </span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">Much like David Brailsford’s ‘marginal gains’ theory, I like the saying, “if you improve 100 things by 1% you will be 100% better”</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">. </span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">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</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">)</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">. 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</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> to minimise time off training</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">.</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> I trained harder with</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> most sessions being</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> hill reps, </span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">tempo, </span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">track work and intervals as well as doing more miles</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> (one longer monthly run rather than fairly long weekly ones)</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">, 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 </span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">stretched </span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">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</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> so I knew what I could realistically aim for</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">. 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.</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s7" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Pre-race</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">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 </span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">this year </span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">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. </span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">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</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> 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.</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">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. </span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">Rain was forecast for Saturday and so</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> 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.</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> 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 </span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">tab</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">s), 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 </span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">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</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> for me, I even relished </span></span></span><span class="s6" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="bumpedFont20">it</span></span><span class="s6" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="bumpedFont20">. 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. </span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s7" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">Milngavie to Drymen</span></span><span class="s7" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20"> (</span></span><span class="s7" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">12 miles - </span></span><span class="s7" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">1 hour 41 minutes 55 seconds)</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">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</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> and felt enormously content</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">. 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</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> 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 </span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">although I did get mild blisters and trenchfoot. I</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">t 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!</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> Running through the CP I took a cup of water and kept going. </span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s7" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">Drymen to Rowardennan</span></span><span class="s7" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20"> (15 miles - 2 hours 35 minutes 25 seconds)</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhshp57IW8LCi1uC-oD-aQmIOd6-d-wPvD2TL79ICXHUjnb-PfypR4HMzZQi9zzqoapqf4VcrMNqxLeLaKSXbjd0D-uS_BMzAwrY1Aa6K9HBg__jUzErXBK0vGwtUXxzhQLfDqEnMteJSo/s640/blogger-image-922301390.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhshp57IW8LCi1uC-oD-aQmIOd6-d-wPvD2TL79ICXHUjnb-PfypR4HMzZQi9zzqoapqf4VcrMNqxLeLaKSXbjd0D-uS_BMzAwrY1Aa6K9HBg__jUzErXBK0vGwtUXxzhQLfDqEnMteJSo/s640/blogger-image-922301390.jpg"></a></div><p></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">It still felt easy and I passed a fe</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">w 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 a</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">s 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!</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">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</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> </span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">between, a HUGE thank you.</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8d2hOZSRq2tJ4vCV4LfYT60a2nT4UX1NXtmd9jACovg5jp5z800_0V-lRMQaMpTfPFA4eGXwA1W_gAp_KtrzB6csWgXuLl31Ai8ss5Nmv6kqaoISogbFBsBr02wxprQpjrZ7bqZetKug/s640/blogger-image--1969188330.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8d2hOZSRq2tJ4vCV4LfYT60a2nT4UX1NXtmd9jACovg5jp5z800_0V-lRMQaMpTfPFA4eGXwA1W_gAp_KtrzB6csWgXuLl31Ai8ss5Nmv6kqaoISogbFBsBr02wxprQpjrZ7bqZetKug/s640/blogger-image--1969188330.jpg"></a></div><p></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">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</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> Nuun tablets</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> by mistake</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">. 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! </span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih-gt0Aae8sH758gp6154Gf0jUfRie0mh779BP8iamCRvp_UY1xQefTRVFtDe9RLm2U1qCihZ8xZEhI0lYx5567wbaIxVXrFs2w35ucWQIAN5wI-QcLhiIC_F2A6dX9tLAfwshkAF-7Hk/s640/blogger-image--942414074.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih-gt0Aae8sH758gp6154Gf0jUfRie0mh779BP8iamCRvp_UY1xQefTRVFtDe9RLm2U1qCihZ8xZEhI0lYx5567wbaIxVXrFs2w35ucWQIAN5wI-QcLhiIC_F2A6dX9tLAfwshkAF-7Hk/s640/blogger-image--942414074.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s7" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Rowardennan to Beinglas (14 miles – 3 hours 11 minutes, 36 seconds)</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">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.</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> The food was simply a bit heavy in my stomach. I was faster going downhill to Rowchoish than last year but the s</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">p</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">lit 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</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> 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</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">, getting there 3 minutes ahead. </span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s7" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Beinglas to Tyndrum (12 miles – 2 hours 24 minutes 28 seconds)</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">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. </span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">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! </span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">Here she started cramping. </span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">It was a role reversal of last year where she passed me cramping at the same place. </span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">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</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> 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</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> and emotion of the finish,</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> I </span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">still </span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">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!</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> 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!</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><br></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5CW3Mx6qtN8D79KWQl_aCzGlrWIkcz00nEl4V9E1kTBmmE6L7uIguE9CGu6kybAHCAQRzJ6A2q0K8JH2xNFXjMfPNzh_nx5XO1eI7V3QfUkixJfdYT0gc4b0wk970-bd82YCjObUIcKQ/s640/blogger-image--346226242.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5CW3Mx6qtN8D79KWQl_aCzGlrWIkcz00nEl4V9E1kTBmmE6L7uIguE9CGu6kybAHCAQRzJ6A2q0K8JH2xNFXjMfPNzh_nx5XO1eI7V3QfUkixJfdYT0gc4b0wk970-bd82YCjObUIcKQ/s640/blogger-image--346226242.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPjDgiz3wrFfwPwcT8vAb_c25eXWkhBGLV95POLQBCqu9rQkblwydy-0llseXVkKcUMS4ou7UyFDYooDJ8NDNtmeX7KMaVsk2AVW3SrhJoXnJWdf8LK1Tq3Bhy8QgNIfJTB36mQgePbdw/s640/blogger-image--11925419.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPjDgiz3wrFfwPwcT8vAb_c25eXWkhBGLV95POLQBCqu9rQkblwydy-0llseXVkKcUMS4ou7UyFDYooDJ8NDNtmeX7KMaVsk2AVW3SrhJoXnJWdf8LK1Tq3Bhy8QgNIfJTB36mQgePbdw/s640/blogger-image--11925419.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s7" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20">So what?</span></span><span class="s7" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="bumpedFont20"> </span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">Was it a good race?</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> 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 </span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">personally </span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">it was a great success and in the circumstances I think I went as fast as I could reasonably expect to on</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> the day</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">. 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.</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">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 </span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">still</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">. 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. </span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">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…</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">The big lessons? </span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> </span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">You can always push the body harder. The mind is the major limiting factor in the performance on the day. </span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">Never believe when someone tells you that you can’t achieve somethin</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">g, and never accept that you belong</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> at a certain level un</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">til you are happy with the</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> level</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"> you have reached</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">. A leop</span></span><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20">ard really can change its spots; from now on I will call myself a runner rather than just a bloke who runs a bit.</span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"><br></span></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s6"><span class="bumpedFont20"></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><br><p></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxmzAkNmSM8RPAy3GcjRWvoxYXFz1JZ0t7FaXtj1DLPDE5vtuJqhsaeuKOuS3h4DfvrYnL7FGh7FuIOBhqLVuiHeCklv4wqKs6PBp0t2JcbylAlOwZndjIAHxt5FR_koPOUHXlbCQcjKU/s640/blogger-image-2072305704.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxmzAkNmSM8RPAy3GcjRWvoxYXFz1JZ0t7FaXtj1DLPDE5vtuJqhsaeuKOuS3h4DfvrYnL7FGh7FuIOBhqLVuiHeCklv4wqKs6PBp0t2JcbylAlOwZndjIAHxt5FR_koPOUHXlbCQcjKU/s640/blogger-image-2072305704.jpg"></a></div> <p></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05345689920905474925noreply@blogger.com4