My 19th West Highland Way Race

January 1st is when I start to focus and train for June, my build up was going well until March 22nd, I was having a wee recce of the 4 mile loop for the Devilla 8hr, I caught my toe and fell hard, bashing my ribs, it was the sorest and most debilitating thing I’ve ever done to myself running, I even had to to have a week off work. Checking the NHS website on broken/cracked/bruised ribs the advice given suggested anywhere be two to six weeks to heal. Alright then, two weeks it is, I didn’t run at all for the fortnight before the Devilla 8hr, I managed a slow and sore 30 miles, perfect training for the latter half of the West Highland Way Race then!

I thoroughly enjoyed my first Devil O’ the Highlands, what a difference having legs that work and move properly, my ribs were still tender so I was a bit wary of falling, Sod’s Law would have me land on them if I did, so I ran with caution but not on the descent from the Devil’s Staircase, I revelled in it, skipping, bouncing and dancing in the daylight (not usual for me on this section) down to the steep track leading to Kinlochleven. I loved it!

Then within a blink of an eye the race was only a month away, taper time, have I done enough? Probably not, no matter, it is what it is. I have never been a runner with physical talent but I have experience and determination. I also have an excellent team with a massive amount of experience between them. Pauline, having ten goblets, the first one in 1997, technically it’s only nine since she received a crystal rose bowl for finishing 1st Lady in 2002,

and in the years she didn’t run, supported me since 2003. Val and Allan, this is Val’s 22nd year of support, having looked after several runners since 2001. Allan, has a good number of years supporting, his first race role was running with Pauline and Lynne over Rannoch Moor in 2002. Ken and Sue, have many years of support too, Sue has two goblets of her own and Ken has also supported at the sharp end assisting Richie Cunningham in his race wins. 

Neil, after being my support runner for the last two years has abandoned his duties, (I will let him off as he will be standing beside me on the start line). Clara, new to the crew, taking on support running, was delighted to be asked and happy to take on the role, she was planning to be around anyway, coming up with her family to follow the race. (Alan Kay, star of Closing Distance is her father-in-law, he has 13 goblets, a PB under 22 hours and first ran the race 30 years ago. You might have noticed him at the prize-giving, he was the guy in the 1995 race t-shirt.)  

Neil MacRitchie’s crew also has a wealth of experience too; he's had three out of the same four guys for almost all his years with one taking up running ultra and finishing within the top six of his last race. 

My crew split support into two shifts so no one would be awake for two nights on the trot. Pauline and Val were doing the first shift from Milngavie, meeting Allan, Ken and Sue in Tyndrum Saturday afternoon. We were using Allan’s car as the support vehicle from start to finish. Allan drove Val’s car up so it was a simple swap of car keys when they met, with Allan taking over driving duties and Ken and Sue pandering to my Diva Demands.

So with the crew and plan in place, I had all my gear packed by Thursday. Friday is a loooong wait, doing nothing, maybe a wee last minute faff and a lie down listening to a podcast with the curtains closed. Val and Pauline picked me around 8.30pm so we timed arriving at registration nicely. It wasn't too busy with plenty time for big hugs with the race team as I registered, picking up my number, tracker, goody bag and timing chip doofer, it was my least favourite kind, a big flat square, not quite big enough to be used as a coaster but not far off! Just another one of those annoying things, designed by men to be worn by men with no consideration of how impractical it is on a small, thin wrist but it was an easy fix, I threaded a cord through the wee hole and wore it round my neck. We sat in the car and dozed until it was time for the briefing and then finally after all the waiting it was 1am and we were off! WOOOHOOO! 

There was a record entry of 243 runners starting this year and it seemed very busy through Mugdock. I'm always very wary of my footing at the start, there have been some race ending ankle rolls in the first few miles before and I’m a bit paranoid about being one. I gradually settle down slightly, it was dry underfoot and easier to see where I was putting my feet compared to last year’s drizzle, the heat of day made the trees smell like Incense, and along the path of a thousand gates, most of them stood open, there were a few patches of mist which made the ground look flat, I pointed a hand torch low to the ground which highlighted lumpy bits and sticky up stones that might catch me unawares. 

I was a bit down on my ETA for Drymen but not enough to make me panic… not yet! I picked up a milkshake, left my headtorch and maintained what I felt was a good controlled effort towards Conic Hill, watching for the sunrise over my right shoulder.

When I started to head down, I took my phone out and called Pauline, “That’s me on the crazy paving!” They could get the kettle on for my pot of porridge and mug of tea. After that my eyes never left the path, I would forgo a glance at the stunning scenery to make sure I got to the bottom without any broken bones.

photo credit - Scott Wilson

Yay, the path eased into a sensible gradient then through the gate into the trees, another short steep descent but, at least now, it was wooden steps and not scary. Pauline was standing on the path just above the checkpoint with my porridge, it wasn’t quite perfect, more like warm muesli (Goldilocks was a Diva too). I dibbed in at the Balmaha CP and walked on shoveling in my porridge until I reached the car,

I swapped the pot for my mug of tea and continued on without breaking stride, Pauline walked with me as I probably poured equal quantities of tea down my chin as I managed to drink, I handed over the mug, wiped my face and set off up to Craigie Fort.  

I love the section towards Rowardennan, the constant ups and downs and twisty narrow path through ancient trees, changing from running to walking and back to running fairly smoothly.  This year I never managed to have a tootle along in training. I know the route well but was a bit concerned that the lack of practice would be telling, I did have a wee boost to my confidence when I passed another runner, he said my walking was faster than his running.  

I arrived in Rowardennan another wee bit down on my time, now around 10 minutes behind what I’ve done before, I had a slick sock change, my feet feel fine but it is pre-emptive of problems, Pauline flosses between my toes with a wet wipe to remove any dust, she’s not just being thorough, she knows it makes me squirm!

I have more porridge and tea while she sorts my feet, I also changed into a fresh t-shirt, opting for a white one because it would reflect the sun’s heat when it would be shining after Beinglas where the path opens up with no shady trees to keep it cool and when I get there it will be around the hottest time of day.

Heading towards Inversnaid you just have to go with the flow of the low road, moving cautiously on the steep descents, stomp the ups, scramble the wee scrambly bits and run where you can, a gentle introduction to what’s to come after Inversnaid. I dibbed in at the CP and was handed my dropbag, I took a few moments to down a dinky can of coke as quickly as I could while chatting to Amanda, she asked another runner how he was, his reply was so derogatory of the path into Inversaid it made me snort coca-cola out my nose! Oh dear, he’s not going to like the next bit much either. 

Along the lochside, there has been a fair bit of erosion over the last few years, I was really surprised to see even more deterioration since Sue and I had a lovely day going from Rowardenan to Derrydarroch a month ago,

photo from last month

it’s amazing the damage a wee bit of wind and rain can do, more trees had fallen, sweeping parts of the banking into the loch, with a fair bit of extra scrambling up, over and round the ever changing terrain.  I still felt I was making decent progress along, not pushing too hard that I’d make mistakes with my footing… or so I thought! I caught my left foot and couldn’t stop myself, I was going over the edge, next moment Bang! “Ow!” My peaked Buff and sunglasses flew off and were behind my head, I was lying on my back in a big jaggy bush, luckily I think it slowed me down before I hit my head on a boulder, I gathered up my Buff and glasses and rubbed the back of my head, my hand came away wet and bloody. Next thing I know George is looking down at me, I think he said something like “What are you doing down there?” and helped untangle me from the jaggies and haul me back up to the path, I started brushing the grit and dust from my hands, I had quite a few scratches on my arms, I looked down, the front of my t-shirt was splattered in blood. Oooft! George checked the back of my head saying he had dressings, I was carrying some too but I wasn’t for faffing, I stuck my Buff back on making sure it was covering the dunt. George, thank you for your help. Head wounds aren’t always serious but they are usually messy. I decided this was the case, it was sore enough to make me shout out, but it didn’t make me feel sick or dizzy. As I eased back into scrambling along the lochside, I did a wee self assessment, (just as well I wasn’t on a rugby pitch, I’d have been sent off for a HIA) I knew exactly who I was, where I was and what I was doing, and on current affairs, the late Janey Godley is still right about Donald Trump! With that thought, I smiled and carried on, no major damage done, just embarrassing wearing a blood splattered white t-shirt, but what was really lovely, every runner or walker I encountered before getting cleaned up asked if I needed help. 

I was starting to stress the Beinglas cut off, and having a wee lie down wouldn’t have helped, once off the scrambly path I started to push on, it felt warmer without the cover of trees in the early afternoon. I caught up with Bridget, she was moving well at a comfortable pace, I passed on my concerns, she was a bit surprised and hadn’t realised we were cutting it fine and instantly increased the pace, shouting over her shoulder. “Do you think this is fast enough?” I answered “Yes, I’ll try to keep up!”  I looked up at the pylons, they are level with Beinglas and seemed miles away. We worked well together, pushing hard.  For the first time I didn’t pause at Dario’s post, I just glanced back apologising, promising to come back with my hip flask soon.

We made it! Beinglas 42 miles - cut off 1pm (12 hrs) I did it in 11.43 hrs. Yay! The closest I’ve ever come to being timed out. Alan was calm and reassuring, never doubting I would make it. I drank a milkshake from my dropbag as Hazel used several wet wipes to clean me up. 

photo credit - Alan Brown

I walked out of Beinglas, letting my shoulders drop taking a few deep breaths releasing the stress and tension, I hadn’t taken on any food or drink pushing the last hour or more into Beinglas so I decide to relax and take it easy for a mile, regroup and get some fuel in, the sun wasn’t shining as brightly I thought it might, but it was muggy and hot, (25’C recorded at a weather station in Crianlarich) I was quite happy to keep it easy for another hour, no need to work hard in the heat, I’ll save it for when it cools down. I could see a bright orange t-shirt ahead, I thought it was Neil and slowly pulled him in. Not long passed the big gate at Bogle Glen and onto the rollercoaster I caught up with him, it was great to have a wee blether as we swooped up and down. When we neared the final descent to the road he took off at a swift, smooth, efficient pace down to the road crossing, I plodded on and crossed the road, timing it nicely without having to pause and headed along to Auchtertyre (51miles) - cut off 4.30pm (15hrs 30 mins) I dibbed in 14.59 hrs with half an hour to spare even though I’d relaxed my pace. I hugged Robin, reassuring marshals I was fine and just needed a clean t-shirt. I had my second sit down of the day, my feet up, Pauline sorting my feet again, with clean socks and a change of shoes. I needed quite a handful of wet wipes, I was still quite grubby, a clean t-shirt. Ta-dah, my appearance would no longer cause alarm. I wolfed down some cream of chicken soup then washed that down with a can of low alcohol beer, exceptionally refreshing!

I waddled out with a full tummy and Val for company, lovely to chat and catch up on their day, they drove round by Callander, it’s a less stressful journey than coming up the west side of the loch, they stopped there, had some chill time and a massive roll for second breakfast. We eased along to Tyndrum where Allan, Ken and Sue were waiting. Pauline swapped with Val to see me along to Bridge of Orchy, and with the race route going through the centre of the village I took advantage of the public toilets for a civilised pit-stop before marshals saw us safely over the pelican crossing. 

Pauline tootled about with my camera as we shuffled along in the sunshine.

I’m not sure when we looked at the time but I became aware that we were going to cut it fine for the Bridge of Orchy cut off. Not again! This was my second sprint finish of the day, I’m no Mark Cavindish, I don’t like it! Sue had come out to meet us, and I was slightly reassured I should be fine, although if the traffic was heavy I’d have an agonising wait until it cleared. Sue went on down to the road and shouted when there would be a safe break in the traffic for crossing, I didn’t have to burst a gut to make it or wait too long. We ran up the bridge and dibbed in. Bridge of Orchy 60 miles - cut off 7.30pm (18hrs 30mins) I made it in 18.16 hrs. Oooooft! 

The past few years I’ve stressed Beinglas and relaxed after that, I’ve never had to be so aware of the cut offs this far up before. Was it the weather? I have probably relaxed too much, I did have a longer stop in Auchtertyre than really necessary, and with the warm weather I didn’t feel the need to move to generate heat. My lack of training/speed work? I am not going to mention age, I’m only 62, well 62 ¾! (Mental note to self - For next year do speed work and don’t fall over in the build up!) 

Pauline and Val can stand down now and head to our accommodation in Fort William for some well deserved rest, food. a glass of wine and a sleep in a real bed. It was a bit of a blur getting ready for the next section, Clara had arrived to escort me along Rannoch Moor, I hope she didn’t think all this panic was normal. I had a few mouthfuls of rice pudding and Sue walked up the hill for a bit, waiting to take back my mug once I’d finished my coffee. As usual, it's the first one I have in over three weeks and I usually savour it, the luxury seemed irrelevant at that moment but I didn’t doubt I would feel the benefit. Clara and I made steady progress up the hill to the 100km mark and my reward from Mike, a Vimto jelly baby. Thank you. Then we headed down to Inveroran. It was a beautiful evening.

I don't think I’ve ever seen this tree look so bonnie. Clara was like a breath of fresh air, her first time support running and she was marvellous, encouraging where to run and pointing out the smoothest terrain for easy passage, we had Jordan for company too, I love how during the race you have conversations with brand new pals, getting to know them, where they’re from and their journey to making the start line. Climbing up towards Peter Fleming's Memorial Cairn Jordan was having a bad patch and told us to go on, but it wouldn’t be right if we did. Clara stayed with Jordan, she phoned Sue so she could find his support and give them and the race team the heads up he wasn’t feeling too great so he could get the help he needed. I maintained my steady pace and caught up with Neil again for more chat,

after we crested the top, he again descended with speed and ease towards Glencoe. I headed down in my own stottering style and only then did I feel my arms cooling and pulled on my arm warmers, it was after 10pm  For the first time in over quarter of a century of being involved with the race either running or support this was the first time I’ve crossed Rannoch Moor in a t-shirt with bare arms! It must have been a warm day after all.

I dibbed in, Matt said he was relieved to see me, he didn’t want to be known as the guy that DNF’d Fiona. I felt guilty for making checkpoint leads panic almost as much as I was. It was my responsibility and solely on me, if I had been timed out, it was my own stupid fault for not running fast enough! (This is no reflection on anyone timed out, I’m giving myself a stern talking to!)

At the car, Ken did my feet for the third and final time. Apart from one wee hot spot, my feet were in great shape, fresh socks and the same shoes would see me to the finish. I was trying to eat some mac n cheese, I was having a wee bit of difficulty, my gag reflex wasn’t for letting it go in, I persevered but I didn’t manage very much. I was meant to walk on with it but had gone off the idea. I took a Yazoo banana milkshake instead. It was cooler now the light was going, I pulled on my old fluorescent yellow WHW top and tied my old blue fleece round my waist (a favourite since wearing it going over the Devil in 2007 for my PB) Sue would be with me now all the way to Fort William, we headed down to the main road, I had my head torch on, it wasn’t totally dark but I wanted to be seen, I was telling Sue about the eejit that just about took out Karl, Jen and myself at this point in the Devil, haring down the road at a reckless speed (I doubt they were involved with the race) At the Kingshouse, folk were standing outside with beers and a bonfire. Aw man, what a perfect evening! They shouted encouragement as we went by, that was lovely, they didn’t have to. 

Going over the pointless bouldery climb, up and away from the road just to come back down about a mile later. Sue and I discussed what I was wearing, it was cooler and breezy, three-quarter length Skins don’t keep you warm, at Altnafeadh I’ll pull on my cut-off waterproof breeks, not very bonnie but extremely practical, really easy to get on and would keep my quads warm and working. Also the humble Cup-a-Soup Broccoli and Stilton flavour did what the mac n cheese should have. 

We had a steady slow climb up the Devil and over the top, the waning moon was rosy red, we were in a privileged time and place to see it, Sue’s photo doesn’t do it justice but you might get the jist. 

We came across a guy standing still, he pointed to a body lying in the heather all comfy and cosy looking, saying "Do you know who it is?”  I’m afraid I rudely pointed my head torch into their face to check, their eyes screwed and blinked open.  “Sorry Neil, I’ve disturbed your Nana nap.”  A misnomer and a totally inaccurate description of his internal battery super recharge. Shortly after, once again, Neil and Gordon swept passed down to Kinlochleven.  It started to drizzle a bit, we decided it wasn’t heavy enough to bother putting jackets on, we’ll be fine, a short time later it was getting heavy, ok, we better stop and get the jackets out. As we were just arriving into Kinlochleven I thought the street lights had a funny turn. Sue asked if I’d seen the lightning? Eh? Sure enough a huge rumble confirmed it was lightning. In the checkpoint and a hug from Julie, Neil was sitting in a chair sorting stuff and said he was going to have a tactical break. A good idea, I looked out and the rain was stotting down and bouncing off the pavement. I spent half an hour having porridge and a mug of tea, poor Allan was sent out to the car to get my big jacket and full length waterproof trousers.  

Clara rejoined us and would see me into the finish.  It was light when we left, still raining off and on but the cloudburst, thunder and lightning had passed. Progress was slow going up the biggest climb of the route, my legs were tired but moved well, I will never have speed but I have consistency, it was time to relentlessly move forward.

It is good having two support here because they can have a conversation that isn’t just one sided, normally the runner doesn’t contribute much more than an occasional single syllable at this point but I think I manage to join in reasonably well. 

I have crossed Lairig Mor in the wet before but so soon after the deluge it seemed like a river in full spate, so no point trying to keep our feet dry although I preferred to skirt round anything more than ankle deep.  There was no running happening but I felt I had a good strong march, even with wet feet they were still in good condition and I was able to place them exactly where I wanted. We moved well, Sue and Clara setting a fine pace but I dropped back on anything that went upwards. (Another note to self - do more hill work for next year.) 

Eventually Lundavra was in sight, I dibbed in and we looked for Ken and Allan. We were asked if the car down at the road was our support, Sue answered it was, we were told that they were asleep. I laughed out loud, I was looking forward to a mug of Horlicks and a couple of custard creams. The kind lady asked if she should go and get them, we decided  we’ll manage without, although it would’ve been nice, it wasn’t worth the wait. She said that she’ll let them know we’ve gone through and could pass on a message. I laughed and yelled “Tell them they’re sacked!” I was carrying some custard, Active Root Gel, Tailwind and water, not a patch on a hot drink and a custard cream to dunk but I’ll survive. We carried on up the hill, “only” around eight miles to go but with some cruel climbs and descents to tackle, we marched on… and on. The regrowth of what we once upon a time called the spooky woods, dense forest with very little light was harvested a good few years ago is looking lovely, fresh and green, with native young trees and shrubs, now a delight to pass through except for the massive misshapen wooden steps down the steep path, totally unacceptable at this point in a race, I whinged accordingly. Then I thought back to when there were huge deer stiles, ok, maybe not as bad as them but still horrible!   

The last long, steep hands on thighs, slow motion climb up to the fire track. Now roughly five and half miles to the finish, we settle back into a good strong paced march and as we head down Sue suggests we should stick in the odd wee shuffly run especially if I plan to sprint from Morrisons. Alright then, I suppose so! We wonder how others are fairing and I say I don’t doubt Neil will come thundering by now we’re on the way down, sure enough about ten minutes later, Sue turned round, looked up the track and cheered. What a wonderful sight to behold, Neil sailed by smoothly, strongly and effortlessly like a majestic tall ship under full sail. Fantastic! What class! On his way to his 19th Goblet - superb!

I plod on some more, getting near Braveheart we see Ken, he's walked up a bit to find us,

Allan is waiting with the camera, so I run! We’re on the pavement and the final effort, cars peep as they go by, Lorna gives me a hug, I approach the roundabout at the Woollen Mill, there’s a big group with Morven cheering, my emotion is close to spilling over as she hugs me. I can finally believe we have done it! We’re not quite there yet, just before the old finish Sue sprints ahead to the pedestrian crossing, ready to perfectly time pressing the button for me to cross without having to wait. Once over I break into a shuffle and keep it going, round the station and I hear Martin, I pump my arms to make my legs stronger, cheering is all around me and pushes me in into the hall and over the finish line. Ruth hugs me tight, then I find my doofer and dib in for the last time.

I’m hugged to bits as I try to gather myself. Ruth brings me a cup of tea and Allan fetches the custard creams, finally! I have time for a quick shower, Pauline came with me to make sure I would hurry up. We were in our seats in time to see Robin receive heartfelt standing applause, he had run a virtual West Highland Way over the last few weeks, Ian had given his permission for him to finish properly under the arch. Wonderful. 

I was delighted to see Jordan bring the race home flying a Saltire above his head.

The prize giving is a slick affair but everyone has their moment of recognition and celebration.

photo credit - Stuart Macfarlane

182 Goblets were awarded this year, but the conditions took their toll with 61 DNFs, the highest number recorded, I hope most will hold onto their dream and come back in future, their Goblet will be all the more cherished when they succeed. 

No Goblet is earned by an individual. Crews willing to give up their time and energy to selflessly pander to runners that aren't always gracious make Goblets happen and the hundreds of hours Ian and his race team put in make Goblets happen. I thank you all for making my Goblet very special. 

Thank you Pauline, Val, Allan, Ken, Sue and Clara for looking after me, feeding me, taking photos and making memories I will cherish forever.

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.