My Devil Debut

The first Devil race coincided with my first West Highland Way Race in 2003 and over the following years I was more than happy to be part of support crews for friends that were running when they had supported me.  When support crews were no longer required Pauline and I started heading up the Devil with a handful of Jelly Babies (on Saturday Pauline with Lois had 5kgs and was panicking about running out) 

I have used the Highland Fling as build up for the West Highland Way Race, it was perfectly timed for a last big effort, but for me, to run the Devil six weeks after felt too soon, I wasn’t recovered enough and just to slog out the stunning and challenging route risking injury and possibly scunnering myself in the process just to say I’ve done the Triple Crown held no appeal and I don’t think any of my eighteen Goblets sparkle any the less for it. So when I first heard there was a switch of the dates for the Fling and the Devil I thought. Oh, now here’s my chance to run! I entered as soon as the race opened. 

I smiled every time I thought about starting running in Tyndrum without fifty-three miles already in my legs. I didn’t dare think it would be easy, that would just slap me in the face if I did. It was going to be a different challenge. At registration there were smiles and hugs aplenty and when I went to the loo the queue for the men’s was longer than the women’s, love a race with around equal numbers.  

Photo from Martin Butcher

I have never seen Tyndrum so busy. I was amazed by the amount of runners walking over to the start after John gave the briefing, and great to see Keith, also with a double digits collection of Goblets making his debut too. 

photo from Jen Smith

I was a wee bit concerned I would be left for dust once we were off, I’m used to strolling out having a late lunch and a mug of tea. One roasty toasty year, my crew sourced me a half pint beer shandy from the Tyndrum Inn which went down beautifully. But this was 6am on a different day, I’m sure I’ll be fine. Being at the back most folk started sensibly and I had nothing to worry about. My race plan was based on having a brilliant day enjoying the route with it all in daylight with no real target time in mind but possibly around eleven hours. I did have a minor concern that five weeks previously I had fallen and cracked my ribs, it has been the sorest and most debilitating thing I have ever done to myself running, I even had to take time off work. I felt that although still tender with my race vest pressing against them they didn’t hamper my running but I was worried about falling because if I did, Sod’s Law would have me land on them.  

Once we were underway and settling into our own pace I was still amazed at the amount of runners there were, like a giant caterpillar happily creeping along with hundreds of legs working in unison. 

I looked left when I heard Martin and Stephen yelling from the road side, I laughed and waved back to their Olympic Gold Medal standard cheerleading. 

After going under the railway we strung out a bit more, excited chatter quieted to companionable silence and approaching Bridge of Orchy I heard my first Cuckoo of the year, the guy beside me thought it was just a woodpigeon but I’m sure of what I heard. Throughout the day I heard Cuckoos at least another half a dozen times. Wonderful! 

I timed it nicely so that I wasn’t held up by traffic crossing the road, dibbed my dobber for the first time and headed up the not-today-jellybaby-hill. It was lovely to feel my legs moving upwards nicely without the tiredness I usually have in them at this point. Once at the top I look around, the views are stunning, although muted with low clouds and no sunshine the colours are still rich, it was neither too hot nor cold with not much wind, perfect for running really.  I’m used to just hurpling over the loose boulders down to Inveroran, my legs felt good and wanted to scamper but mindful of my ribs, I took it gently, a cheery bunch of runners moving freely went by. 

Along the road Llinos was out with a brilliant cheering squad and Scooby snacks for the long climb up Rannoch Moor. I kept a good steady run a bit, walk a bit pace mostly on my own,

I do love having the vastness of the Moor to myself, it is a long haul and I am also glad to see Peter Flemings Memorial, it signals the top before descending. I decide to have a pee stop before hitting civilisation, I’m scanning the heather for a suitable spot, then I heard Stephen and Martin, they’d climbed up from Glencoe to cheer some more. I pause for a hug and not a pee!

photo from Martin Butcher

I head onwards looking for another suitable spot as the path bends round, I can’t see anyone and I move off the path over into the heather and crouch down. I laugh to myself as Jen and Karl run past, Karl shouting “Nothing to see here!” At least my wee kilt has an advantage over a skort, and offers a modicum of modesty, with no arse cheeks assaulting anyones eyeballs!  

Once I’m all tucked in comfy and back on the path, I head round and down to the Glencoe checkpoint, and what a difference to that pile of rubble that masqueraded as the path that diverts to the Ski Centre, it’s practically a carpet in comparison to its previous condition. In the checkpoint I dib in, pick up my drop bag,

photo from David Downey

laughing and blethering with pals then headed down the road towards Kingshouse with Karl and Jen. Oopsie! I had forgotten to top up my water bottle, I wasn’t carry a big one, just a 400 ml size and I had around a third left in it, I dither for a moment, it wasn’t roasty toasty, I’m not an overly sweaty runner, (I don’t run fast enough) and I’d just picked up a chocolate milkshake, I’m sure I’d be fine for fluids, I wasn’t turning back.  

photo from Stuart MacFarlane 

I carry on past Kingshouse and up the path that climbs away from the road to just trundle along parallel to it before coming back down, there is a lot of erosion along this part and as much I’m taking in the majesty of the mountains around me I’m warily watching where I put my feet.

I head down towards the gate, Billy has just gone through but notices I’m not too far behind, he retraces his steps back to open the gate for me. What a lovely thing to do and it’s great to see him for the first time in ages, he’s had a rough time with injuries and this is his first race in five years. What a cracker to pick for a comeback! We have a wee catch up and take a selfie, a wee tradition, I think since the Fling a good few years ago. 

Fling 2018 

There are a lot of walkers on the route now and they are so encouraging as I go by, I loved my stomp up the Devil, reveling in my surroundings.

Yay! The top, I wave to Pauline, Lois and Graeme and yell to Pauline “Where’s ma Jelly Baby!” She gave me two, an orange and a green one, she had them set aside for me in the wee shelter, (except she didn’t tell me until days later that a walker’s dog may or may not have had a sniff and wee lick as it went by!!!!) 

Photos from Graeme Monument Photos

I tootled off over the summit, and was also given a wee Percy Pig from the reverse sweepers. I caught up with Jen and Karl, he said he’d fallen in the first mile and was sore, also he’d hadn’t felt too great before the race so was having a low moment. He told me that Jane wasn’t too far ahead and I should try to catch her up. “Oooft! I’ll try!”

Jen and Karl

Was it the sweeties I’d been given? Was it having legs that still worked relatively well? Was it being able to take in the grandeur of the hills around me? Was it being able to see and pick the best path over the boulders and rough terrain? I’ve been over this section more often than not in the dark restricted by the tunnel vision of a headtorch. It was probably a combination of all of the above. I was absolutely buzzin’, loving, where I was and what I was doing, scampering, skipping and dancing down towards Kinlochleven. Once onto the steep track I started to feel my quads, they knew they had been working, and remembering my ribs, if I fell here it would hurt so I reigned it in a wee bit, still making good progress down to the checkpoint. Jen came flying past me running well, saying Karl had told her to go on and that he was going to drop out at Kinlochleven. I hoped he wouldn’t and once he had a bit of time to himself without feeling he was holding Jen back he would get his head back in the game.

Ken filled my water bottle while I drank a wee can of Starbucks coffee from my dropbag, and tuck my wee squeezy pouch of custard in a pocket. I mentioned that Karl might want to try and stop here, so have a word! Then I headed along to the climb out of Kinlochleven up to the Lairig Mor. Ooyah Beastie! It's a monster, longer, steeper and tougher than the Devil’s Staircase but without the scary PR! My legs are feeling it, I make slow progress and eventually reach the top. I take a moment to look back and catch my breath before settling into a steady pace.

 

Oh no! Jane is sitting on the edge of the path, mopping blood from the palm of her hand, her chin has quite a bump but I tell her it’s fine and it’s not bleeding, she has a few moments to gather herself before I help her up.

We don’t agree to stay together, it just happened naturally as the trail ribboned before us, she says she doesn’t want to talk too much as it hurts her jaw, that’s fine I’ll blether away, hoping I don’t bore her too much as I reminisce.

I’m going back 28 years to my first time on Lairig Mor, it was through the night doing Pauline’s West Highland Way Race support, all I could see was the circle of light from my head torch, we approached a shin deep river, I waded through the freezing water and turned to shine my torch to help Pauline pick her way over, luckily the beam of light caught the bridge off to the side, at least Pauline got to keep her feet dry and every time I’m on the bridge I smile at the memory.  

Jane and I kept each other moving consistently, I’ve always thought that the Lairig Mor is too bouldery, I don’t change my mind, it still is! Also Lundavra takes longer to reach than you expect. Yep! That’s still true as well. But finally we reach it and dib in. Yay! We’re on the home straight, except it’s far from straight, having a stingier sting in the tail than a nest of scorpions, with loads of steep ups and downs, both of us complain about the huge steps down, those monsters were not designed with wee stecky legs in mind, once down them, it’s no long until the path climb back up. 

Eventually I see the flags for watermelon hill. Another heartfelt Yay! Chris asks “Where have you been?” My reply isn’t too ladylike but I’m very polite to Mia and let gravity ease me back into running.

photo from Chris

My quads are feeling it so I concentrate on staying relaxed and loose and let the  descent pull me down, when it levels out and I stomp up towards Cow Hill, I actually enjoyed it! (Yeah I know. How?) It’s just in keeping with the bonny route, staying away from the road with a jarring shuffle along tarmac or having to watch out for traffic stepping off and on kerbs, the last thing you want to concentrate on at the end of a long run. As much as I preferred Cow Hill compared to the road I was still repeating in my head that well known and well used runner’s mantra, Where the feck’s the finish? I was straining my ears to hear the cheering from the field. At last, I could hear cowbells and cheering, it was a short steep descent round through the last of the trees and into the field to revel in my moment of glory. Marvellous! 

photo from David Duncan

photo from Martin Butcher

photo from Tom Frow

Massive smiles and hugs, I take a few moments to catch my breath before heading for a shower and get cosied up in my new hoody. In the Marquee I have some lovely lentil soup, a big cup of tea and a beer lined up in that order. I’m joined by Jane and Donald, Jane finishing First V70 with her jaw purpling up nicely. Then Karl and Jen, he’s had a couple stitches in his bashed knee, of course he finished, with the Karl panache we know and love, what’s more impressive is how Jen looks comfortable kneeling after running all that way! 

As we finish our food Yan announces that the final finisher is on her way and can everyone line the finish to welcome her home. This was the loudest cheer I’ve heard all day, the emotion and the love that fills the field is tangible and what makes the Scottish Ultras so special. I’m guilty of being a serial offender at quite a few Scottish races, I don’t feel the need to travel abroad when everything I love is right here, this might have been my first Devil O’ the Highlands and all being well, it won’t be my last. Thank you John, Noanie and everyone volunteering, you have given me a very special day, much love to you all. 

 

Glenmore 24 2024. The toasty one

My approach to this year’s race was no different to previous years, just to glide seamlessly from recovery to taper. My training has been a bit light this year with a dodgy Achilles but with a good rest after the West Highland Way Race, I felt my Achilles had recovered and in August I could start doing a bit of effort again and used the club’s hill sessions in the Public Park specifically for Glenmore. I’d walk the ups with a smooth strong stride and trash/condition my quads with a hard effort on the downs. I didn’t see any reason why I shouldn’t aim at the 100 miles. So plan A in place but also with the hindsight of fourteen previous 24 hour races,with ten of them going over the 100 miles, really only two of them having gone according to plan A. I think a better name is just to call it a wishlist and be prepared to adapt. It wouldn’t be a do or die effort, just no faffing using my simple plan of covering five laps in the first four hours then a lap an hour which has worked well previously and enjoy my day. 

Pauline and I had a good journey up the road with only about ten minutes at the Broxden roundabout and arrived at the Hayfield early, so we just relaxed in the sun, drinking tea and chatting until 4pm and we could start setting up our shelter before heading to our holiday home we had booked, this was the second year we haven’t slept in the Hayfield before the race, must admit, I enjoy having a real bed and a proper bathroom. 

The fancy dress theme this time was Barbie and my face ached with all the smiling and laughing at the efforts, we didn’t stay too long and headed back to our house for an early night.

photos from Bill Heirs 

The forecast for Saturday was really roasting, 25 degrees, I don’t think we had such high temperatures all summer! So my plan was adjusted, first and foremost RUN TO THE CONDITIONS, there’s no point dying in the heat in the first few hours and not being able to maintain when it cools down, saving my effort for the last four hours and not wasting it in the first four hours. Sue and I were doing the 24 hour race, with Ken and Val doing our support, Pauline was doing the 12 hour but with not having done a lot of running this year, her longest run being around 14 miles, was just going out for an enjoyable afternoon/evening tootle and stopping before sunset. Allan was driver and gofer, picking up pizza for the crew in the evening, taking Pauline back to the house after her run and when they returned in the morning, they would bring bacon rolls for Ken and Val.

photo from Alan Brown

After the briefing from Bill we were lined up and ready to go at 12 noon, I decided to take my wee camera round the first loop, pausing occasionally to take a photo, no pressure to hit a target lap split. Out on the course there was a wee bit of shade from the trees at times and a gentle breeze which helped make it feel a wee bit more comfortable, maybe we weren’t going to be fried alive after all.

For the first three laps I felt fairly comfortable, enjoying being back on the loop, the tall trees, the vibrant heather and views down Loch Morlich, it was quite warm but I wasn’t overheating. I was surprised that it seemed to get even hotter as the afternoon wore on, I had hoped that the temperature had plateaued even if it wasn’t starting to cool yet. I hadn’t been wearing a Buff until around then and I picked up one which had been sitting in a bowl of cold water ready for when I wanted it, I had a mild sensation of waterboarding myself as I pulled it over my face but half way round the next lap I still felt quite warm with a scarf round my neck so I took it off, rolled it into a long tube, draped it round the back of my neck then tucked the ends in my bra straps at my collarbone, a lovely cool cloth on the back of my neck and the air at my throat, lovely, I have never done that before and it’s always nice to suss out something new. 

It was just after 5pm and still not any cooler, I had on my eating plan some rice pudding but Val tentatively asked if I’d like a Rowntree's Fruit Pastille ice lolly and handed me one. Wow! I had no idea where they got them from and didn’t care, and not usually my first choice when choosing a cold treat, but oooyaah beastie, it was the best! I had devoured it before reaching the end of the Hayfield, I’m glad I had a soggy wet buff scarf with me, I poured some more water onto it from the bottle I was carrying to wipe my sticky face and hands, the lolly was a bit drippy and I wasn’t letting any of it go to waste. 

For my evening meal I had planned macaroni cheese but I really didn’t fancy something as heavy in the warm weather but the chicken soup I had on the list for later went down fine, my stomach was doing alright, but only just. I don’t stop to eat when running, so every year I place a small cool box at the top of the hill at the end of the Hayfield lap and pick up my custard/rice pudding/milkshake or whatever at our shelter and walk with it until I reach my box with no pressure to finish what I’ve had and drop my grub in it so the crew can pick it up and I can polish it off the next time round, last year some minger thought it was acceptable to use my box for their rubbish, which included some slobbery orange peel! Boke! In case the eejit was running again I pre-empted them and placed a polite no rubbish label on it. Happy to say there was no puke inducing random rubbish in my box this time. I did have a few wee bokes through the night but it was not as bad as last year. 

As time moved on it was lovely to keep meeting the same folk around the same place for quite a few laps for a few strides, we were running different paces just to-ing and fro-ing working to our strengths. I had wondered if I would catch up with Pauline at some point knowing she was just enjoying her day with no pressure. The first time I saw her she was in our shelter, having completed a cheeky wee ultra of seven laps, twenty-eight miles well within daylight hours. She might have considered another lap but Allan had arrived with the pizza, perfect timing to say “That will do nicely!” 

Eventually shadows grew longer, the sun was dropping towards the hills behind Loch Morlich, and it began to cool, the optimistic plan of being able to pick up the pace a smidge didn’t really materialise but I stayed fairly consistent.  We haven’t always been blessed with a glorious sunset at Glenmore but we were this year. I took my time on the sunset lap watching the sky turn pink and the sun glittering gold along the loch. It was an emotional moment, taking me back to my special six hour run in 2013, three months post cancer treatment and a huge step in returning to normal for me. I was back home doing what I loved in the bosom of my ultra family.  As I watched the sunset in 2013, tears streamed down my cheeks as I sang Runrig's Hearts of Glory, the lyrics perfectly summing up my situation. I was happy to be on my own this year so I could sing out loud as I watched the sun set. 

There's a vision coming soon
Through the faith that cleans your wounds
Hearts of olden glory will be renewed

The colours of Scotland leave you young inside

There must be a place under the sun

Where hearts of olden glory grow young

photo from Sarah Robertson

As much as eating will always be a challenge, I am now eleven years healthy and the joy and  privilege of being so fit and well will never be taken for granted, as long as I can run in beautiful surroundings I will never grow old. 

The night wore on and I added a long-sleeved layer and my peaked Buff to keep my head-torch comfy, another lap in the dark and I added a fleece but I never needed anything else to keep me cosy. The sky was clear and the temperature must have dropped pretty low going by how well wrapped up folks in the Hayfield were. I was moving well enough not to feel too cold. I did pause a few times to put my hand over my head-torch and look up and enjoy the wonder of the stars. 

At one point I was having little nod offs but I managed to catch up with Lois and Mairi, Lois was my saviour last year when I was seriously sleeping on my feet and was likely to keel over in the heather. Again this year chatting away brought me out of my sleepy time  and also having some  coffee helped too. 

At around 4am I wasn’t sure what I wanted to eat, I still didn’t fancy the macaroni, Ken offered me some of Sue’s lentil and bacon soup, it was quickly warmed and put in, what looked to me like a small child's plastic bowl, I usually just walked round the wee loop eating but I was fighting a wee bout of the dry heaves so this time I stood at our table and shovelled it in like a petulant child who wasn’t getting any pudding until it was eaten. Like a petulant child I wanted a round of applause when I finished, Val humoured me. 

Throughout the race I paid no attention to comparing this year’s run to the splits of 2019, I knew I wasn’t going to make the 100 miles and I wasn’t stressing about it either (now looking at my timesheet recorded by Val and Ken) I started taking over an hour per lap around 9pm and over seventy minutes a lap after 2am but as dawn approached I did pick up the pace a bit with the restorative powers of daylight, and at around 8am I began to think about how many more laps would I manage, I didn’t want to spend a whole hour on the Hayfield loop or have to push hard to squeeze the final lap in, so with a bit of effort I pushed on and brought my third last lap back under an hour and then I wouldn’t have to panic for my last two laps. I’d have around an hour for each of them and around half an hour of “fun”on the wee laps. Perfect! I managed to keep the momentum going knowing the end was in sight. On the final lap, I caught up with Sue, she was having a brilliant run and was on lap 25. At the top of the hill, I pushed on for my final descent into Hayfield and to let the crew know to get the cameras ready, Sue was on her way. I paused briefly at our shelter to see Sue celebrate getting the horn signalling her 100 miles! Yay!

Right! I’m off! On a mission! I’ve completed 23 laps, 92 miles and I’ve got thirty odd minutes to try and match last year's distance of 95 miles. I dumped my water bottle, I didn’t need anything now except oxygen and my elbows to beast as many wee laps as I can! Stride up that wee bastart of a hill, shout my number at the top to clock my lap, then keep up with gravity as I pushed down the other side, round the bend holding on to the momentum for as long as I could.

photo from Colin Knox

photo from Allan Macaulay 

photo from Alan Brown

Deep breaths to get me round the bottom and stride up the hill again. On my plan I’d written in capital letters THERE’S BEER AT THE FINISH, a mantra I've used in many a race to pull me in and asked for a can to be placed on the table so I could eyeball it every lap round.  Pauline thought I needed a better carrot than that, and ran with it in her hand for me to chase as I looped round. 

I was looking at my watch now, pushing each wee lap as hard as I could, feeding off the encouragement roared by everyone supporting. The time counted slowly down one last push up the hill… Can I make it to the bottom… Push hard… Round the bend…Can I stop yet? Finally, the horn sounded and I bent forward with my hands on my knees and breathed deeply down to my boots.

A slow walk back to our shelter, not knowing quite what to do with myself. I changed my manky, sweaty top and club vest for a lovely clean t-shirt and gilet and opened my beer. You can keep your scientific post run recovery fluids, Belhaven Best has everything required. Yeeeees!

We gathered for the prize-giving, it was a lot cooler now, Sue and I cooried under a blanket over our knees looking like care in the community, which we were, Ken, Val, Pauline and Allan did a grand job of looking after us. Thank you all for pandering to my diva demands.

There was a technical glitch with the laptop for the results but we were given our race medals, then we headed back to our house. I had a lovely long shower, followed by a chilled out evening with more beer. When I saw the results later with all the wee loops and partial loop added to my distance it was mission complete! Even a wee smidge further than last year! 95.38 miles. 

A brilliant and perfect day/weekend spent in beautiful surroundings with the best of people. Thank you Bill for rounding up the best marshals, every supporter wishing everyone well and the runners I spent some time on the course with. Thank you all for giving me more memories to cherish. 

Here’s how my Glenmore numbers add up now. I’ve a total of 1221.84 miles. 

298 big laps and a cheeky wee ultra of 29.84 miles on the Hayfield.

2011  108 miles, there were no wee laps for the first year 

2012  109.01 miles, 1st Female

2013  25.45 miles, a 6 hour special just for me post mouth cancer treatment

2014  89.56 miles 

2015  107.35 miles

2016  103.26 miles

2017  102.04 miles 

2018  102.61 miles

2019  103.36 miles 

2021  98.02 miles

2022  82.75 miles, 5 days post covid infection

2023  95.05 miles 

2024  95.38 miles