The Longest Tunnel.

Don’t worry, I'm not going to give you a scalpel by scalpel account of a medical procedure but this has been the hardest thing I've ever been through and without the support of everyone that cares for me I doubt I would've seen the light at the end so quickly.

Sunday 17^th March Pauline took me through to St John’s Hospital in Livingston, I wasn’t nervous, I haven’t done nerves since my first WHW race in 2003, I was looking at it like doing a big ultra, I knew what was ahead would be hard, and whatever happened I would do my best.

Monday 18^th was the operation, being anaesthetised is not like being asleep, I remember being prepared for the op and then suddenly I was coming round thinking that was quick, except it was twelve hours later. I felt ok, but I was on a morphine drip, my mouth and the right side of my face was numb, I was breathing easy and could wiggle my arms and legs.  This is where my fight started,  getting my bearings on what will be the new normal for me, two thirds of my tongue has been removed and replaced with skin, blood vessels and muscle from my left wrist, my wrist has been covered with a piece of skin from my tummy.  I was in Intensive Care until Tuesday afternoon, having my vital signs checked every hour.  It was reassuring when they stuck an ultra sound gizmo in my gob and I could hear my heart-beat pulsing loud and strong in the transplanted tissue.  I was moved up to a single room in the plastic surgery ward and on Tuesday night Pete and Pauline came to visit, they were really surprise how almost normal I looked, we had been told about the possibility of massive swelling and bruising, and apparently I wasn't too bad, I never saw myself for quite a few days so I just had to take their word for it.  I smiled when Pauline said the stitches up my chin were so small and neat and looked like a little Devil’s Staircase.  (The reason for the scar being zig-zagged is because the eye is drawn to straight lines so when it fades it will hardly be noticeable) I was tired but still fairly bright, I’d only missed one night’s sleep and for an ultra-runner that’s a doddle.  With having a trachea tube I couldn't talk, but when folk asked questions that only require a nod or a shake of the head, and it is amazing what you can say with hand signals and a note pad and pen, it wasn't too hard making myself understood.

   

After another night of being checked hourly, and with the sound of the oxygen pump and feeding pump whirring away and the noise of the ward I had second night with no sleep.  I was warned that the third day was the day where most folk who have gone through this took a dip.  Yep, it was a struggle, not any particular painful thing, that was being controlled by drugs it was the overwhelming everything at once.  Lying on my back for days was just not right, neither was having my left arm bandaged in a big tight dressing from knuckles to elbow, a breathing tube attached to my throat, two drainage tubes in my neck, one in my left arm, a catheter in my bladder and intravenous antibiotics in the back of my right hand.  I felt like a beached octopus.  The room was kept uncomfortably hot to make sure my blood vessels are nice and open. I was lying doing nothing but sweating like I was running a 10k on a summer’s afternoon, my arse was stuck to the damp sheets and my back ached. 

Pauline had plastered the toilet door with photos of my running highlights, West Highland Way and family gatherings.  I found it hard to look at them without doubting my ability of ever being healthy and outside again. But day by day the tubes were removed and by Friday all I had was the feeding tube.  Besides being nil by mouth I was also nil by bum, but Friday was the day that things moved and not just my bowels, I was in my own jammies at last and was able to get out of bed by myself,  I went for a pee around every two hours, not because I needed, it was because I could!  I also managed to sleep for the first time since Monday. 

The tunnel was coming to an end, Pauline and Pete brought in Mel’s iPad that she has generously lent me and I was back in touch via facebook and email. It was such a comfort having all your support and visits, and all the cards and wee presents I’d been sent too, a guardian Angel, a beautiful hummingbird brooch with the words in the card “A wee strong bird that can go very far!”  brought a lump to my throat, and some that had me rolling with laughter, a People’s Friend (yes I did read it, but not the serial stories, I wasn't wanting sucked in like watching an episode of a soap)  the hack saw with the cake.  Knowing I was in the heart of a lot of prayers was a comfort, I embrace all faiths and my uncle who’s  just back from a holiday in India  sent me a little statue of Ganesh, he’s the Hindu god for luck and good fortune, and his belly gets a little rub every day.  Some practical stuff, hand cream, lip balm, note book and pens, some knitting to keep me out of mischief and one thing I’ll never forget, (I still didn't have the go ahead to eat anything with substance,) the first proper food I had in nearly a fortnight, it took me all night to eat it with a spoon, a delicious Scrumptiousness cake!

I was coming on leaps and bounds and started to question some of my treatment, like did I need to be fed through the night? Also, I didn't believe 1700 calories a day was enough me, I was polite but in my mind I smiled and though “Oi don’t you know I have the metabolism of Rampant Lion!”  I also opened my window a crack and what a difference, my room was far more comfortable.  I had a little giggle to myself when three different nurses were checking my vitals said, “That’s better than mine!”

I was to be kept in over the Easter weekend, no bad thing I suppose because if I was let out I would have went to Perth to watch the Anglo-Celtic Plate 100k and 50k races. But I followed the progress on twitter and facebook, not as good as being there but the next best thing available to me. Doctors stopped examining me and on morning rounds just stuck their head round my door just to say Hi and if I needed anything I knew where they were.  

On Tuesday I was allowed home and what a pleasure sleeping in my own bed.  Getting out and about, but I'm being good, no running until the skin graft has healed.  My right shoulder is dodgy with nerve damage, my speech isn't too bad, I am being understood, saying the letters L and R need a lot more practice but I’ll get there.  It is hard though, from the oxters doon I’m in excellent health and chomping at the bit to go for a run but I'm gathering my strength, I still don’t know if I've to get radio or chemotherapy but I'm prepared if I do. On the grand scale of a life time what’s another six weeks of treatment and feeling rough for a wee bit longer. I’ll find out on Monday. 

But before that I've got a great night out ahead on Saturday, a fortieth birthday bash where I’ll be returning a lot of the hugs and love I've been sent.

One more thing, I will not be called a cancer victim or sufferer. I am a cancer survivor! 

Just a few words before I go in.

Once again thank you all for the support; it is overwhelming how you all hold me in your thoughts and prayers.  Dearie me, you’re making me emotional, and I’m not going to cry until it’s over.  It’s not just on my blog or facebook, but emails, private messages, texts and phone calls.  (Mel has lent me her ipad and Pete will bring it in when I’m able to use it, so I’ll be able to keep in touch through facebook and emails.)  I’ve also had some very positive news from three friends, all unconnected and they all know someone who has gone through mouth cancer and they’ve all recovered to be fit and healthy, one is even a runner and they got back to it quickly.  This is reassuring especially after my last health scare.  When I came out of hospital that time the most common reaction I got when folk knew I’d had a brain haemorrhage  said “Oh, I knew someone that had one but they died!” My confidence of reaching the end of the day every time I heard that was not good, but that is now nearly eight years ago and my strength and belief in myself has grown since then and I have achieved so much and I have no doubt I will again.

I never expected this past week to be so debilitating, I think I was just looking at this as a wee procedure in preparation for the surgery, just a stepping stone towards the main event.  Recovering from having the teeth out was ok and I could eat fine as long as I did it slowly.  But the wound in my tummy is still a bit tender, and the most active I've been is to shuffle round Tesco’s, I even made Pete come to push the trolley!  My tummy hasn't felt hungry but I've shovelled the food in, just like racing, little and often, actually not that little.  Full fat milk, hefty milkshakes, loads of cheese, Reese’s Cups, I’d never heard of them before but they were given to me from Pauline’s friend, they’re peanut butter covered in chocolate and have 500 calories per 100g, hot cross buns with slabs of butter, toast with a hefty spreading of peanut butter and strawberry jam,  and Sue’s delicious home baking, that’s just the snacks I've had proper meals and puddings as well.  I had hoped to put on about half a stone but it’s just a measly three pounds!  I can’t understand how I can be so inactive, eat such high fat stuff and put on so little, although I haven’t manage to store a lot of fat at least every muscle fibre is fuelled to the hilt ready for the fight. 

We (Me, Pete and Pauline) were back at St. John’s on Friday to sign consent form and go through the nuts and bolts of the operation (Surgeon’s words not mine) It’s going to take a long time, around twelve hours with three surgeons  working in relay, lucky for me I know how to do ultra!  After seeing the MRI he is going to remove more of my tongue than he first said and there will be nerve damage, some will be permanent, some temporary also the incision will run up my chin and through my lip, he may remove a tooth at the bottom front for access.  Scars fade and I can LIVE with this! 

I can’t say often enough how much your caring words of support mean to me, they are a great comfort, I am honoured to have such a support crew, I am not fighting alone.  Hold me tight in your thoughts and prayers, especially tomorrow evening when I come round, it’s gonna feel weird.

Dave, thank you for my battle mantra.  Hands up, chin down.  I don’t know how many rounds I'm going and I'm not stopping until I've won.  I've got the best people in my corner.   My chin is gonna get quite a skelp, but that ok, I'm strong enough to take it, I’ll stay standing,  I'm not doing Marquis of Queensberry rules though.  Cancer doesn't fight fair so neither will I, the gloves are off and I have a roll of pound coins in each fist. 

COME ON!   

A wee update

It wasn’t easy writing my last post, I didn’t want to shock or upset anyone but I want all the help I can get and your words come from the heart and I can feel the strength you’ve all sent me with all the best wishes, good vibes, prayers and love.  Thank you all for your support here and on facebook it will make all the difference to my recovery knowing you all hold me in your hearts.

 Oh dearie me, (this is the closest thing you’ll hear to a whinge) I didn’t expect to feel so sore, the entry site for the feeding tube is tender and to be expected but I think my tummy muscles have a bad case of DOMS, they’ve been stretched beyond their normal, (if it was my legs I’d be fine), I’m trying to do a little cat (yoga) but the movement is microscopic at the minute.  I’m sure I’ll loosen off soon, and I had a great sleep in my own bed last night.

Don’t panic I won’t give a blow by blow account of having a general anaesthetic, teeth out and a feeding tube inserted but it was a lot sorer than I anticipated.  The dentist recommended three teeth to come out but the surgeon had other ideas, he took out six.  The wisdom one next to the duff one at the bottom, ok fair enough, and another couple on the other side, one did have big fillings but the one opposite was fine, I feel a bit robbed there, nae wisdom teeth left, I’ll be thick as mince but according to the piratical one my ranking in the Scottish Matriarchal system has soared. .

Coming round from the anaesthetic I was scared to move, the last time I was wired up to a light and sound show but I was ok, just a very numb mouth and tightness in my tummy.   The surgeon came to see me and examined his handwork on my tummy.  Wow! Last time it was this hard and round I was seven months pregnant!   (Mind you I did have a neat bump and I wasn’t the size of a house) Ok, I’ll be fartin’ like a horse later was what I thought.  But it was not to be; the air wasn’t in my gut but around my gut and would only dissipate in its own time. 

At tea time I managed to suck on half an egg sandwich, the lady that brought it said the bread was lovely and soft; well it was when I started it, just a bit stale when I finished it. I felt ok until about 10.15pm, then the trapped wind got quite sharp, I tried to breathe it away, normally when I take a deep breathe I feel it going down passed my belly button but I couldn’t breathe deeper than the bottom of my sternum, then I thought hang on, I’m in hospital with drugs, I don’t have to tough it out and pressed the buzzer.  Some painkillers and peppermint water and it eased, not enough for me to sleep but enough for me to relax a bit.  I’m a great believer in using thoughts and images, and I knew a lot of my friends and family would’ve read my blog by now, so I cocooned myself in all your prayers, best wishes and healing vibes being sent to me. 

In the morning the surgeon suggested I should stay another night after being so uncomfortable, just for his peace of mind. Gee thanks, so I resigned myself for another night as an inmate and Pauline and Pete brought me in some more jammies and stuff. I was put in a different ward, it was busy, stuffily hot and a vent/fan above my head rumble all night like an old lorry sat with its engine running, still no sleep but my tummy had eased a bit, in the morning I made sure I was bright and breezy for doctors rounds, I wasn't staying another night.  Thankfully they agreed and I was home in time for the rugby.  

Thank you Sue for popping round with some homemade Millionaire Shortbread on her mission of FUF (Fatten up Fiona) I’m going to lose weight so it would be helpfully if I could gain as much as possible before surgery. The rugby result wasn’t what I was looking for but it gave me fuel for thought.  Like I said earlier I like to use thoughts and mental images in my arsenal.  

On the outside I’m a five foot two, eight stone, fifty year old wifie. On the inside I’m as strong and as strapping as this Scottish Warrior, Richie Gray, six foot ten and twenty stone but I’ve picked Sebastien Chabal for my war face.  Cancer hasnae a chance!

Some news and I’m afraid it’s not good.

I'll start at the beginning, for quite a few months I've had an ulcer on the side of my tongue, my dentist was treating it believing it was caused by a rough tooth, he capped it, the ulcer wasn't going away and around Christmas it got really sore and swollen so he sent me to get it checked, I had an appointment on Monday 11th Feb, I went thinking I might get a prescription for steroids or something, I was told "It could be sinister, we'll do a biopsy, shall we do it now?"  So that was a bit of a shock at the time and traumatic going home with stitches in the side of my tongue and not what I expected, but I thought they were just being very cautious but on Monday 18th the news wasn't good.  I had a CT scan on Tuesday 19th and another long week waiting.  Tuesday 26th I was given more information and I am to have surgery, which will be around the end of March and hopefully it might be all the treatment I need, they can't say if I'll need chemo or radiotherapy until after the surgery.  

This week I’m on a tour of hospitals, on Monday I had an MRI scan at the Queen Margaret in Dunfermline, Tuesday a visit to Edinburgh's Western General to have my teeth checked, they are going to remove any that are not in good condition and that may include "over recovered" teeth, I had to ask what that meant, my four front teeth are crowns so that possibly included them.  I went in preparing myself with the thought that is if they take all my teeth out I’ll just have to smile with my eyes until I get new ones.  But I'm only going to lose one of my front ones and another two at the back, one at the top and one at the bottom.  Tomorrow I'm going to St John's in Livingston to have the teeth out and have a feeding tube inserted into my stomach since after surgery they don't want mince n' tatties going round my mouth. I'm going to have quite a few scars, they'll use a piece of skin and blood vessels from my left wrist for reconstruction after removing around a third of the right side of my tongue, then a wee piece of skin from my stomach to repair my wrist. Since breathing is good I will have a trachea tube for bit and a scar from below my right ear to the front of my throat.  

Apart from this I am in excellent health and running really well.  Thank’s to Kirsty at the By the Way for organising the Tyndrum weekend, it didn't totally take my mind off what is ahead of me but I was able to lock it away at the back of my mind and enjoy a wonderful run down the loch from Bein Glas to Inversnaid and back, and the company in the evening was second to none. At the weekend just gone, it was the Smokies 10, I knew I’d be close to my PB so I was still going to blast it, this was my twentieth time running Smokies 10, I’ve done it since 1992 and only missed it twice.  My PB was 1.19.36 set in 2003, ten years have passed but I didn’t doubt my ability.  I knocked over a minute off finishing 1.18.27.  Proof I’m fighting fit.

I’m going to have to withdraw from the 100km at Perth, I’ll probably still be in hospital and they tell me I won’t be recovered in time for the Fling.  This is going to wipe me out for a bit even if I don’t need chemo but  I’m not prepared to give up the WHW yet, I don’t have to make this decision just now, if there’s a slim chance I can still do it I’m hanging onto that goal.  I didn’t quite put my fingers in ears and shout La la la la when Pauline was suggesting that I want my tenth to be enjoyable and waiting a year won’t diminish my achievement.  We’ll see?

I've a big battle ahead of me, I am a fighter and I punch above my weight.  I have some wonderful people supporting me in my corner (if you’re reading this you’re one of them).  I've had some lovely emails, James reminding me I am my Mother’s daughter and Gail saying that I am still a Rampant Lion.  Damn right!  Cancer will knock me back on my heels but I’ll stay standing, it will scar me and have me spitting teeth but it will never take my roar!

A blast from the past.

When John Pares recently posted on facebook – I had an emotional moment at the beginning of yesterday's race. Like most runners in the cold, I took an old t-shirt to keep me warm and then throw away at the start. Yesterday's t-shirt was my 2003 2 bridges t-shirt, my first ever ultra. There was a small tear in my eye as I threw it. Then, joy of joy, it was still there at the end. Re-united to renew our 10 year relationship after just a few hours apart. Next time I will take more care which t-shirt I choose. - It sent me down memory lane, the Two Bridges Road Race was a classic and local to me.  I remember watching it in incomprehensible awe that runners could go so far.  A few years later Pauline ran it. I think in all, thirteen times and in 1996 she was First Lady.

It's a shame that such an iconic race has disappeared but the history is still there.  Well worth a read -  Two Bridges Race History

In 1999 I ran it for the first time, it was my third ultra, (I’d ran Lairig Ghru in 1997 and the Speyside Way 50km in April 1999) and I did it every year from 1999 to 2004, I’ve knocked the dust off from my old running diary, here’s my scribblings for Saturday 28^th August 1999

The Big One – Two Bridges

After feeling nervous all week I was ok this morning, just went through the routine of getting ready. It was bright clear day which turned out hot and sunny, ran with my sunglasses on.

                                                 Lynne, Pauline, Rabbit the Bruce and myself.

When the gun went off my stomach didn’t do the double flip like at Speyside 50km, I was prepared and ready to run.

Started nice and easy or so I thought, the first 2 miles was in 17 minutes. Quick panic and consciously tried to slow, 5 miles was in 45 minutes, a bit better but still too quick for my liking.

                                                 Going through Cairneyhill (Stan Milne just behind me)

I had a bit of pins and needles in my left leg (due to my niggly back) told myself it was only nerve pain and not muscle pain, I can run with that and it disappeared before Longannet.  

Concentrated on running easy and keeping relaxed, bounced along to Kincardine Bridge, on the bridge I looked at the views around, felt good saying to myself “One down, one to go.”

It was a bit unsettling after the bridge on the long stretch before turning left along to Skinflats, I didn’t like the lorries scuffing my elbow.  Stan Milne, his pal and the Devil’s Staircase guy pulled away from me.  I was still feeling unsettled when I saw Ian Laird at a drink station, I smiled when he said I was looking good and I looked like I hadn’t even broke sweat yet, then he said Pauline and Lynne were only a couple of minutes ahead, that made me panic again, I must still be going too quick.

At the next drink station Russell joined me for the rest of the race.  Just before Grangemouth caught up with Willie Mair then passed him.  After Grangemouth I started to feel comfortable (it’s a bit of bugger that I had to run 18 miles before settling down) cruised along to Bo’ness.  With the big hill in mind I wanted to get that bit over with.  At the bottom I got my juice and Kendal Mint Cake, walked while I drank and munched.  Then started to do wee shuffles so my legs wouldn’t be too stecky at the top, then I think the Kendal Mint Cake kicked in, I felt great, I wanted to run so I did, passing Stan and pal.  Really enjoyed the next few miles, I got to the marathon point in 4hrs 25mins, and then the long long slow climb got me but I still caught Margaret from Dundee.  I was beginning to tire but in my mind’s eye I was running with long strong legs and looked comfortable.

The Forth Road Bridge took a long time to come into view but I hauled it in.  On the bridge I had a few emotional moments when I looked left to where I’ve been.  On the slog up Ferry Toll Russell said Margaret was catching me and to pick it up.  Pick it up!!  I tried, but she got me at the top of Ferry Toll. Worked hard, puffing all the way just to maintain pace, got a lump in my throat when Carol Lisle gave me encouragement going passed her house.  I thought I was going to finish with tears streaming down my face but when I got to the top of hill and I could see down to the finish with Erin, Mum and Pauline cheering I ‘sprinted’ in with a great big stoopid smile on my face, I was so elated I could've cartwheeled  over the finish.

Doing the Janus thing

Last year has been a good one running wise, it was injury free, even snot and sniffle free, I’ve ran the most miles I’ve ever done in a year, just over 2100, I don’t normal do such big miles but it has been my first year without Mum, and my running has been my solace, it has held me together and let me release my grief.

I ran eight races in 2012, in February Devilla 15 km, not a normal distance but brilliant fun belting round a muddy Devilla Forest, in March the Smokies 10, a ladies only 10 mile race that’s  been on the calendar for longer than I’ve been running, it’s a quality hilly route which I use the run hard and hang on technique, I ran my third fastest time since 1999 (when I started keeping a detailed record of my running other than half marathons)  in April the Highland Fling, in which Pauline , Sue and I ran together, it wasn’t planned but when we were still together around the top of the loch we decided to stay together to the end,

a great day out and the bonus of a surprise several months later when an envelope from Scottish Athletic dropped through my letter box with the championship team gold medals!  In June a steady run at the Skye Half in beautiful conditions, and the only time in 2012 I wore my vest without layers underneath,

it’s my favourite half and the only one I do nowadays, I first ran it in 1993.  Then a fortnight later, the West Highland Way race for the ninth time, in the wettest conditions for the first half I’ve ever ran in, the rain did ease a bit along Rannoch Moor and I finished in just under 29 hours (one second under to be precise) 

August the 4^th was our 50^th birthday, there was no better way to celebrate it other than supporting Mel in her first ultra, the Devil O’ the Highlands, and have a bit of fun along the way, I don’t plan on growing old any time soon and when I do it will be disgracefully.

In September the Glenmore 24 and I was astounded to recording my one and only race win.  First Female with 109 miles, after over twenty five years as a plodder I’m very proud of this achievement and my engraved tea plate is in a prominent place, a wee shiny trophy  with memories that go deeper than my eloquence. 

After that I ran my eleventh Loch Ness Marathon and an enjoyable trot round the last race of the year, Glen Ogle 33.

Looking forward to this year, most of my races are entered, I have big goals, but I know nothing is guaranteed.

First is the 100km at Perth, I’ve never ran a 100km race or more accurately I’ve never stopped at 100km so my goal is 11hrs 30mins that’s when  I reached 100km at my first 24hour race at Perth so that’s what I’m aiming for, next with be the Highland Fling, I have no goal for a time other than my best WHW split, I’m a one pace plodder with my eyes on June which will be my tenth WHW race, I think I’ll be as nervous as my first WHW, funnily enough I’ve never been nervous before a race since then, just excited.  In 2003 I was heading into the unknown, there weren’t the trail races that are there now to build experience, and my longest race was The Two Bridges, a 35 mile old classic road race that sadly is no longer around.  But after doing Pauline’s support a few times I knew exactly what was in front of me.  It was sore, and the toughest thing I’d ever done but knowing I’d come through it gave me the strength to face stuff far scarier than running the most scenic 95 miles on the planet.   I don’t doubt my commitment to finishing for a tenth time, there may be stuff beyond my control and that’s what makes me nervous.

Next will be The British Ultra Fest in August, I’ve never ran on a track before or a 48 hour race so I’m thinking two birds with one stone!  I’ll have to employ tactics I’ve never used before,  like stopping for a breather, but I’m hoping I’ll benefit from stopping for a wee rest and I’m thinking around 4.00am, both days (I’ve picked that time because it has been the most unproductive time during my handful of 24 hour races).  I may be a plodder but I'm consistent.  I start slow and don’t go much slower, most of my 24 hour race splits are practically metronomic and during the WHW I’m always a bit concerned about making the half way cut offs, last year I made it with around an hour to spare and thanks to John K’s spread-sheets I was pleased to see my split from Kinlochleven to Fort William was the 52^nd fastest from the 119 finishers, a boost to my confidence in my own pacing, I certainly didn't speed up, so I’ll hold that in my favour hoping to maintain my pace for two days.  I don’t expect it to be easy and mentally it will tough.  During last year’s WHW race I added some secret ammo in my arsenal.  A fit and trained body can get you to Kingshouse but to get further requires heart and soul and if mine happened to fall into a dark place my comforting thought was to have an Angel with a strong hand on my back pushing me along the Lairig Mor but it wasn’t necessary, my body was feeling the miles, but my heart and soul were proud, my mind was clear and my head held high, I smiled as I thought, like that gallus bairn on a bike, “Look Maw, no hands!”  In my final hour of the Glenmore, my emotion was high, physically I found it tough but it could never reach what my Mum endured in the “end game” and she was my inspiration to push on. 

Now a few months on and looking back, “ Light-bulb!” Of course I didn't need to call on an Angel, she was with me without asking.  No matter how tough or sore my running in 2013 may get I know my Mum is proud of me and will always be with me.  My goal for 2013 is to keep making her proud.   “Look Maw, no hands!” 

Glen Ogle 33

Alarm set for 4.15 am, must be a race day! Porridge, banana and honey with a big mug of coffee enjoyed, I started the car about ten minutes before I left so it warmed up and I didn’t have to scrape the ice of the windscreen. Pauline and Morna were picked on time and we were on our way to Strathyre.  We weren’t liking the lumpy rain we saw in the headlights or being cleared away by the wipers.  Luckily it had stopped by the time we got to registration with a cheery Julie on duty. We picked up our numbers, lurked in the toilets for a bit of a heat then moved the car round to the finish (shorter walk to the pub from there).  Then we got ourselves ready for the walk back to the start.

Brrrrrr! I couldn’t look at Morna without shuddering, although she was wearing Buff, hat, gloves and kilt she had bare legs and just her vest!  I was wearing a long-sleeved thermal, t-shirt, vest, long tights, kilt, Buff, peaked Buff pulled down as far as it could go and still just about see where I was going. My only attempt at being a tough runner was fingerless gloves (so much easier to open a funsize packet of Maltesers)

A  wee race briefing from Mike, then a walk over the road to the start which was a bit different to last year adding on a bit more, by this time my shoulders were up to my ears,  my jaw was aching holding it tight so it didn’t chitter, I felt a brief warmth brush my calf, Mason dog! Hi Lee, hi Dave, how are…  No preamble (if there was one I missed it) we’re off.

I lower my shoulders, loosened my jaw and hope to warm up some time soon.  It was a long up hill at the start and I chose to run it, even though I wasn’t going much faster than those walking, I decided I’d run all the way until the hairpin hill with the view of Loch Earn then after that I’d see how I felt whether to walk or run the hills. 

I took my camera and whipped it out quite a few times as I trotted along but always looped the strap round a finger in case my clumsy frozen paws dropped it.  photos

In the loop of the forest I did a bit of walking and running on the hills, I felt my left hip and hamstrings tight when I walked and more comfortable when I ran but I wanted to stretch out the legs.  I was enjoying the chat with old friends and new, there were quite a few running their first ultra and what a cracker to pick for a first. 

After coming down out of the forest and before crossing the road again there was a troop of Scouts coming towards us, big cheers and high fives from them, a couple of walkers were just behind them, I wasn’t sure if they were with the Scouts or not but I high fived them anyway.  

On the way back along the old railway line with around twenty miles down and roughly thirteen miles to go I did a body check, everything felt fine, legs supple and strong with plenty life left, compared to last year, I remembered my legs being tight and sore.  In my reflection I smiled to myself, this year has been a good injury and illness free one and I felt quite bouncy with the bonus of that thought.  The weather had improved although still cold there were patches of blue sky, and when the sun shone on me I soaked up the warmth.  Folk were well spread out now and I didn’t see so many runners, so it was lovely to see some of my club friends appear just to offer some support Fabienne’s cheery face near the viaduct and Ken and Bill a few miles from the end. 

I didn’t feel the need to push hard but worked on maintaining my pace, but once off the cycle path and on the road it was time to haul into the finish, that’s where the beer and soup would be, also looking at the time if I didn’t slow down I’d finish within six hours.  I was wearing a Garmin, so had a bit of a clue how much further I had to go, I could vaguely remember where I was from last year, this year’s route was further than last year but I still wasn’t sure of the finish until I saw the marshal just before the shoogly bridge, I love how it jumps up and surprises you into the giggles! Round the tight bend and the finish!  Yaay, 5.46.19hrs, well under the six hours, last year I finished in 6.11hrs and it was a mile longer this year!  Although my Garmin showed the distance as 31.65 miles, still a wee bit short of thirty-three but no matter, it was quality not quantity. 

                           (photo from Glen Ogle facebook page)

A quick change of clothes and the luxury of a wet wipe round my face standing at the back of the car, then over to the pub for some well-deserved soup, beer and a blether.  The GO33 is a lovely race winding up the ultra-season for the year, a Bill and Mike Production, directed by Ada with a cast of brilliant marshals and helpers.  Thank you all for make this a day of happy running memories.