A lap of Mont Blanc

Well, this was it. All the training so far this year, all the many hours on a treadmill, the 2,000+ km of running, the 60,000+ metres of ascent led to here. And here I was, standing far too far from the start line at the Place du Triangle de l'Armitie.

The journey to get there hadn't been without its ups and downs (both metaphorically and physically), but I was here and I was feeling fit and ready to go. The weather had been pretty rubbish and, with snow and extremely low temperatures forecast, the organisers made a last minute change to the course – we would no longer go over the random boulder field just inside Italy and we were due to make a “direct ascent” from Col des Montets missing out the Tete aux Vents

From the start I was pushing reasonably hard to get ahead of the crowds before the first climb after Les Houches. I caught and passed Caroline McKay as we ran into Les Houches, before I settled into a steady but strong rhythm going up and over the first climb to Saint Gervais.

Feeling good, the crowds here buoyed me on, with countless high 5's as it appeared the whole town had lined the streets; and after a quick stop for a bowl of salty noodle soup (the first of very many) I was on my way again.

 

On the climb out of Les Houches

Les Contamines came and went, with the realisation that I'd just passed Sally McRae and Amy Sproston (2 of the very elite women's field) - so I thought I must have been doing OK. 

Then the climb up to Col de Croix du Bonhomme which always seems to be a low point for me, this time being no different; but the reasoning for that is always the same - fuel. 

I was trialling a new sports drink ("Maurten", if you're interested) which is particularly hard to dissolve as it's so concentrated. The 2 bottles that I'd pre-mixed in Chamonix from the start had gone, but now part way up this second climb I realised that I'd spent the last couple of hours drinking only water and the fuel was just a gloopy sticky lump at the bottom of my soft flask.

And it was here that the wheels began to fall off; not even 50km into 170. I'd been unknowingly digging ever deeper into my energy reserves to maintain my pace, and in a 100 miler that's unsustainable. Arriving at Les Chapieux I was bang on my target time, crossing the Col de la Seine (the next checkpoint just 10km and 1,000m away) I was 15 minutes down.

It was cold coming over the Col, really cold. But I was still one of the few runners in shorts, as that’s how I prefer to run. At the Lac Combal aid station runners were coming in shivering and, just as I was leaving, the medics rushed to the assistance of someone who had collapsed and was in a particularly bad way.

One relatively small climb and I was on the steep technical descent down into Courmayeur, where I was hopeful that the organisers buses had managed to successfully transport Keziah. I was particularly careful on the descent but still managed to kick a root which sent me flying headfirst towards a sheer drop! Careful Rich, there’s a long way to go yet.

Through the melee of suporters, picking up my drop bag I was elated to see that Keziah had indeed made it. I grabbed some pasta and set about changing into warmer, drier clothes; I dumped the Maurten and swapped it for some bags of Mountain Fuel that I had as backup. Keziah went to rinse the congealed lump of sports drink out of my soft flasks; she commented that it must’ve been really cold out there having found the only sink in the gents toilets, not sure what that meant…

Despite it being 7am, I thought a quick 10 minute power nap was in order so I found a quiet corner and closed my eyes. Seemingly almost immediately Keziah said it was time to go, so I hauled on my race pack again and off I went.

 

Trotting through the streets of Courmayeur

In spite of the extended stop at Courmayeur, I had no energy climbing up to Rifugio Bertone; the damage that I’d done to myself from running the first half under-fuelled was irreparable, so I knew from here on in any times were out of the window and I was just battling to finish.

By Rifugio Bonatti a storm had rolled up the valley, bringing an icy wind and snow. The waterproof trousers and jacket (a rather lovely birthday present from K’s parents) were on – and much needed.

With more and more time slipping away, I was starting to get seriously cold and my head went too; leaving me contemplating a DNF at the Arnouvaz checkpoint. The only reason I didn’t pull out here was the lack of phone signal, and I knew that Keziah would kill me if I dropped out without at least discussing it with her.

At this point the organisers weren't allowing anyone to leave the checkpoint unless they were wearing everything they had with them. I put on everything item of clothing I had, including the emergency rubber gloves (don't ask), and there was nothing left for it but to head off into the clouds and climb through the snow storm into Switzerland. The trail down to La Fouly is normally great fun – 15km of steady descent – but this time I was hating it. I was cold, wet, miserable and I’d had enough.

As soon as I had service on my phone, I texted Keziah to say that I was pulling the plug and getting the bus back to Chamonix. She replied straight away that she was waiting at Champex (the next checkpoint after La Fouly) and that we should talk about it there – I checked my spreadsheet and that was at least 4 hours away with the speed that I was running, there was no way I was going to make that.

 

Feeling the cold on the climb up Grand Col Ferret

Whilst I sat shivering in La Fouly, trying to warm myself up with bowls of noodles, cheese, biscuits and any other food I could force inside me; Keziah negotiated the organiser’s buses again and met me in La Fouly… I may have had a 30 minute snooze while I was waiting too. My coach, Donnie Campbell, and the outstanding Dave Murdoch both called me for much needed pep talks; not sure who told them I was struggling though……

So, buoyed by seeing Keziah and another change of clothes, I set off down the hill towards Champex. My UTMB was still on.

The rest of the race passed in a bit of a blur, with the headtorch coming out for the start of the second night just after Champex. The climbs became a familiar pattern of unzipping various layers as I got too warm, before promptly zipping them all back up again for the decents.

I was able to press on, making reasonable progress now, and finishing times started creeping back into my head. I figured out that I could probably still finish in around 36 hours, which I worked out would be 6:30am on Sunday; so I took the conscious decision then to back the pace right off and take my time through the checkpoints. I’d finished 2015’s TDS in the middle of the night, and decided that with all of the negative from this race that I wanted a daylight finish and the rapturous welcome back into Chamonix that the UTMB is famous for.

The UTMB had one more final sting in the tail waiting for me though. The “direct ascent” from Col des Montets to La Flegere, was nothing such. I left Vallorcine with enough food and water for a 700m climb; what we actually had was a 500m climb, then a 300m crazily technical descent (pretty much all the way down to Argentiere) and then another 500m climb to the ski station. I ran out of food and water on the final climb, nearly having a massive sense of humour failure, but trusting in the reflective flags marking the course towards Chamonix. I’d started hallucinating by this point too, seeing people and animals coming towards us, and I don’t know how many times I ‘saw’ La Flegere but it was just shapes in the trees. That's not happened to me before, it was interesting to say the least.

On the last descent I got a bit of speed up, overtaking about 20 people. Regardless of the rest of the race I was going to have a strong finish.

I hit the outskirts of Chamonix and could hear the cheers of the crowds, the announcer on the PA system. Everyone cheering and waving me in; it was brilliant. Karen and George spotted me just before the final short loop to the finish straight, before I managed to spot Keziah nearly jumping over the barriers to give me a sweaty hug.

I trotted under the finishing arch 39 hours and 41 minutes after I’d started under it, punching the air with the relief that I’d done it – and I had another gilet to add to my fledgling collection.

From 2537 starters, 849 didn't finish. But I did, in 710th, and I couldn't have been happier.

 

Having dreamed about this since 2014, I'm a UTMB finisher!

The gilet will be coveted, as my 2015 TDS one is still – but it will be more of a reminder of the journey it took to get there.

So what did I learn from all of this:

Don’t try anything new on race day – I’d used the Maurten drink in training, mixing it at home, but hadn’t practiced using it whilst refilling bottles on the fly. Doing some research, I think the high mineral content in the Chamonix region water may have stopped it dissolving too. I’ll keep trying with it, as when it works it really does work, but will have to look into maybe having some pre-mixed in drop bags around courses (and have some trusty Mountain Fuel in reserve!).

If you don’t respect a 100-miler, it’ll kick your ass – I’d cockily said at the start that I was planning on finishing on Saturday (given the delayed start, this would’ve been 29 ½ hours). I’m confident that I could run the UTMB in under 30 hours; but maybe I should’ve focussed more on taking it steadily through the race, staying more in the moment, rather than worrying about finishing times before I’d even started.

If in doubt, EAT! – if you’re lacking energy, eat. If you’re feeling tired, eat. If you’re feeling down, eat. If you’re feeling sick, eat. If you’re in any doubt, eat! You’d think I’d know this by now, but fuelling is still the weakest part of my running; ultras can be as much of an eating competition as they are a test of endurance.

When things don’t go to plan (and they won’t), don’t give up – Less than a third of the way in when things started to go wrong, I knew I still had a finish in me. It was always going to be tough and I’m so glad that I was stubborn enough to carry on when I wanted to DNF. I’m also eternally grateful to Keziah for not giving up on me (and for snitching on me to Donnie and Dave, prompting their phone calls…).

So what’s the plan for the rest of the year?

Some rest. Getting back into a little bit of mountain biking (a week in Spain and then a 24 hour endurance race). And then one more race to end the year.

After that, it’ll be an extended rest while the plans for 2018 are formulated, concocted and agreed… watch this space.

West Highland Way and 2017 so far

So, despite promising myself that I'd keep this blog; I've failed spectacularly.
I'm going to blame being busy at work and moving house... the plus point being that we've managed to buy a lovely new grown ups house with trails from the door. All we need now is for some grown ups!

So, 2017 seems to be going pretty well so far. I'd hoped to run the Highland Fling in April to make up for my disappointment with my time last year, but I was offshore for the race so had to chose something else.
The Kielder 80k seemed to fit the bill. It was a great event run by High Terrain Events, with some seriously tough terrain and a field of some very talented runners.
I managed to hold on for 3rd place finishing in 8h20m, which I was pretty pleased with.

3rd Place at the Kielder 80k

I was fairly broken by the end of it though, mostly due to not fuelling properly during the race.
I have issues with my nose (I can barely breath through it), which makes chewing on the move difficult; as a result I quite often just don't eat. I try quite a lot of different things while I'm on my long runs, but I'm yet to find something that really works for me.
And I knew I needed to get my fuel right if I was to have any chance of doing well in my next event... the West Highland Way Race.

I'd been targeting this race ever since I crewed for someone in my first season of ultra running in 2015. I wanted one of the prized goblets for myself.

Keziah and I drove down to Glasgow on the Friday morning before the West Highland Way, having booked a B&B near the start line to allow me to get a few hours sleep. 
11pm came and it was time to head to Milngavie for registration. It was good to catch up with a few familiar faces, but I was conscious that I was going to be on my feet for a long time to come so made my excuses before sloping off back to car for another last minute snooze.

By the time the pre-race brief came I was still feeling remarkably relaxed - subdued even. Sean warned us there would be weather (and boy, was there some weather to come!), then I made my way to front of the mass of runners and waited for 1am and the start of the race.

Before I knew it we were off and heading into the darkness of Mugdock Park. I was making a concerted effort to keep the pace easy in these early sections, aware that pushing too early would mean blowing up further down the line.
(Thanks to Debbie Martin-Consani for the pacing guidance - not that she knows she did anything! I stole and tweaked her Fling times, as she's renowned for her superb pacing skills)

Drymen came and went, just about bang on schedule, with Keziah and Kirsty throwing a fresh water bottle and some food at me. Then the short climb up and over Conic hill already had me catching and overtaking people - and I still felt like I was taking it fairly easily. I was feeling pretty good at this point and happy with how the race was going.

The checkpoint at Balmaha was buzzing when I got to it. I spotted Keziah in the crowds and refreshed my food and water supplies, downing a lukewarm cup of coffee as I walked through the carpark (my diva demands - sorry race notes - had asked for the coffee like this, so I could drink it quickly).
The next section of the WHW is one of my least favourite. I'm not sure why, as it's a really pretty bit of trail tracking along the shore of Loch Lomond, but it seems to consist of lots of pointless climbs just to descend again straight away. Anyway, I was still feeling good and actually enjoyed the section - catching a few more runners before gliding into the next checkpoint at Rowardennan.
Onwards uneventfully to Inversnaid where the superstar that is Ruth Howie was waiting with my dropbag. This section takes in the new "Low Route" which is massive improvement over the old fireroad "High Route". A sweaty hug from Ruth (I was sweaty, not Ruth!), then a quick wipe down with an antiseptic wipe from one of the first aiders (I'd tripped on a root earlier), and I was on my way again.

Approaching the bothy at the end of the Loch, I started having thoughts that my Salomon Sense 6's might not have enough grip as the trail was starting to become muddier. 
Just as I was about to pull my phone out to text Keziah and ask for my S-Lab Soft Grounds; BANG! Down I went; slipping in some mud and landing heavily on a rock on my left knee.
I tried to jump straight back up, but I couldn't. I could tell that I'd hurt myself and took a few moments on the ground before wobbling back to my feet. My knee started stiffening straight away, I knew there and then that any hopes of a finish were fading let alone the fast time that I hoped for.
Hobbling into Beinglas Farm, I switched shoes and took on some more food. I was still able to run in short bursts at this point, but I was putting more pressure on my right leg to take the strain off the injured left.
More and more people were overtaking me at this point, as the running became slower and I walked more, including the first lady who came flying past me on the rollercoaster section north of Crianlarich. A few positive words of encouragement passed in either direction before heading into Auchtertyre.
This was the last check point that the wonderful Keziah and Kirsty were seeing me at, before passing over support duties to the marvelous Ali and Jonny.

By this point, I could tell I was moving much slower - by now both knees were sore, one from the fall and one from being forced to compensate - and I had a choice to make. The easy choice would be to accept that the race wasn't going to plan and drop out; the difficult choice was to keep going to Fort William.
Go hard, or go home - I wasn't going home just yet!

When I eventually made it to Jelly Baby Hill, there was almost no running. Murdo (what a star waiting out in that weather!) asked whether I was going to finish before he permitted me my jelly baby; I said I was, picked a red one and I headed off towards Rannoch Moor.

By now, the weather that Sean had mentioned had closed in. I wasn't dressed for the speed I was running (I'll normally run in short shorts, even in the snow); but the 50mph winds and horizontal rain meant I was nigh on hypothermic by the time I reached Glencoe.
Thoughts of a DNF started to enter my mind but I had the presence of mind to head straight for the cafe for a warm up. Gavin Bussey was there at the front of the queue and called across to see if I wanted a hot drink... between him, Ali and Jonny I soon had a down jacket, some hot coffee and a cheese toastie working their warming magic on me. The race team must've been a little concerned about me too, as Lorna McMillan who was marshalling came up to the cafe to check on me and to make sure I had someone with me if I was going to carry on.

The next sections passed in a bit of a blur. Jonny accompanying me to Kinlochleven and the Ali until the end.
The Lairig Mor was almost unbearable, with a strong headwind and my pace being reduced to a shuffle; my right knee was now giving out due the extra pressure put on it by trying to save my injured left knee. Darkness fell as we left Lundavra and I was in a pretty bad way; Ali trying to forcefeed me banana while all I wanted to do was curl up on the side of trail and sleep.

On the Lairig Mor - looking happy, but just wishing that it would all end

After a seemingly endless descent, Braveheart carpark appeared with Keziah, Kirsty and Jonny all waiting to walk it in to the finish with me (well, they walked, I was more of a stagger-hobble by then). And finally the Leisure Centre arrived and I fell through the finish arch 24 hours and 44 minutes after leaving Milngavie.

I collapsed into a chair and almost immediately fell asleep mid-sentence... I was totally spent.

I got my goblet, but was obviously well away from my sub 18 hour target - but the race will be there for years to come, I'll be back.
You may think that this report sounds negative, but all in it was a great experience; I'm immensely proud of myself for carrying on, when the easy thing to do would've been to quit. And regardless of any of that I wouldn't have finished anything without the unbelievable support of Keziah, Kirsty, Ali and Jonny.

The dream team

2 weeks later, as I sit writing this, the swelling has gone down and my knees look just about normal. I'm back offshore on the treadmill, easing myself back into it - just one more big training block to go before UTMB!

The First Test of the Season

Nearly time for my first race of the season. I'm not counting the Aonach Mor Uphill, as that was just an underprepared snot-fest... a bit of fun, if you will.

Just under 2 weeks until the Glentress Trail marathon. I'm really looking forward to this event for a number of reasons.
Firstly, it's being put on by the lovely folk at High Terrain events (https://www.highterrainevents.co.uk/) so it's sure to be a friendly, well organised event.
Secondly, I've mountain biked countless times around Glentress and I think it will be a great place to run (especially with much of the race route being on MTB trails).
And thirdly, it'll be good to test how my fitness is progressing after my winter break. I had a great season last year, so it was important to take some time away from training, but I've come back in 2017 raring to go. There were some good runs while I've been home, and I've been hitting the gym and treadmill really hard whilst I've been offshore... so I guess we'll just have to see what happens!

Destination Chamonix

Race time. The 119km and 7,300m TDS journey that will see me run (mostly, hopefully) from Courmayeur in Italy back to Chamonix in France. 

The race that I've been aiming and training towards since my first ultra in October last year. 

I'd done the training. My legs felt great during the recent recce on the UTMB route. 

I'd got a race plan, knowing when/where/what I was going to eat and drink. 

I'd got a great playlist lined up on the iPod. 

I'd set myself gold, silver and bronze targets. Tough targets. But achievable ones all the same. 

I purposely didn't share my target times… I don't want to deal with people's disappointment when I failed to meet them. 

The #1 aim for the race (and the only target that I did share) was to make it back to Chamonix and earn my gilet. Anything else is a bonus, but there'd still be some regret if I didn't run a good time too…

So at 0600 on Wednesday, after a short bus ride through the Mont Blanc tunnel, I embarked on my toughest racing challenge to date. 

I'd been warned about the concertina effect of the first climb out of Courmayeur so, after wishing Keziah and Carol luck, got myself into a strong position about 10 rows back from the start. 

With the start music blaring and a surprisingly huge crowd for so early in the morning we were off for a quick sprint through the streets of Courmayeur before starting our ascent into the wilderness. 

Even with my strong starting position, I was still passing people on the climbs and feeling pretty strong; eventually reaching the top of the first climb (at 2,409m and 1,293m above Courmayeur) in 1h46m and 189th place (almost to the second on track for my gold standard time). 

I remember plugging my headphones in to the uplifting beats of Fort Knox Five and letting a massive grin spread across my face as I gazed up towards the Mont Blanc massif... I'm running the TDS and I'm doing alright!

I started to pick more people off on the descent down towards Lac Combal, but was continually frustrated by runners in front of me wanting to walk descents at this early in the race. I took a few chances, hopping over rocks, and managed to overtake around 30 people on the 4km descent.

I try not to spend too long in aid stations, but when I reached the checkpoint I realised my hands were really cold as the early morning sun hadn't yet reached the valley; and I struggled to open the stick packs of Tailwind that I was using for fuel... think I need to look at alternative containers to the stick packs (but also a mental note that I needed to keep an eye on my body for the long day ahead!).

The next section of trail down, up and back down again to Bourg St Maurice passed in a bit of a blur.

The only memorable section was the short sharp climb up to the Col du Petit St Bernard. The support here was absolutely fantastic (with a couple of British voices cheering me on), and the climb so steep that it felt like the supporters were standing directly on top of us! An amazing atmosphere. One of the marshals shouted to me that I was only about 40 minutes behind the leader... shit, too fast!

After eventually reaching the checkpoint at Bourg (6h23m race time and 98th position), I quickly refilled my water and left through the town via the mandatory kit check; somehow making up 20 places through the checkpoint.

We were warned beforehand about the long climb out of Bourg. 1,900m of climbing, no shade, temperatures pushing 30 degC and I was leaving the checkpoint at 12:30pm... I started losing quite a few places here, and even briefly considered turning back to Bourg. I should've spent more time at the aid station to make sure I was properly refuelled and hydrated.

Almost 4 hours after leaving Bourg St Maurice, I topped out at the 2,546m Passeur de Pralognan... 10h09m into the race and down to 132nd.

Exhausted, I took too short a time to appreciate the views before the long descent to Cormet de Roselend. This was a tough descent; steep, rocky, a bit of a scree slope, there were even ropes fixed to help people on this section... definitely more technical than anything we'd encountered on the UTMB route and I briefly spared a thought for the runners behind me that would be doing this in the dark.

I didn't realise that the live tracking website also uploaded short videos from certain checkpoints. This was one of them. Lots of my friends back home were watching the videos and commented on how fresh I was looking for someone who'd run 66km and climbed 4,500m... what I didn't tell them was there was a flight of steps down to the guy swiping our timing chips; I nearly fell down the flight of steps, which was why I was running so quickly!

There was a drop bag available at Cormet de Roselend, where we could have left anything we wanted as long as it would fit inside the supplied bag... I'd chosen to just leave much needed suncream and the additional Tailwind I needed to get me through the rest of the race.

I was particularly jealous watching all the other runners around me changing into clean, dry tops; fresh shoes; and tucking into tasty snacks. I made do with some salty noodle soup and decided there was nothing for it but to get out of the checkpoint and make my way up the next climb.

The next climb came and went, followed by a great descent down to the pretty La Gitte (literally a solitary gitte in the middle of nowhere). On the descent, the river that we were following suddenly plunged away leaving us running on trail carved into the rock face in a beautifully picturesque gorge; just with a pretty big drop down to the side... if you check my Strava record for that section, there's a sudden massive peak in my pace, not sure why...

I was starting to feeling really tired by this point, but reached La Gitte (74.5km and 4,860m ascent) in 12h25m and slowly climbing back up the rankings to 107th.

The long climb up away from La Gitte was really testing my energy reserves, and I could feel a hot spot on the outside of my left foot. The race helicopter buzzing overhead and the latest Above and Beyond podcast took my mind off the climb and I was soon sitting next to the mountain rescue guys at the top applying a Compeed to my foot.

As I sat tending to my foot, a Greek runner topped out the climb. He was asked by the rescue team if he wanted any water but he declined, gesturing that he had some good music on and was keen to closely follow the attractive lady in front of him who was wearing the shortest of shorts, even shorter than Johnny Fling's... I can't really blame him to be honest; I got my shoes back on and followed as quickly as I could.

Cresting this climb, the Col du Joly (next checkpoint) came into view and I could even hear the music from what looked to be a hilltop disco. Great, I thought, I can taste the noodle soup from here!

But no... you can see the checkpoint, but you're not going to it. It seems to be a bit of a theme with the TDS route that, if there's a climb to be had, you're climbing it! So down we went, and then back up again... all with the checkpoint in view and earshot.

I eventually arrived after 14h49m, and it was time to dig out my head torch from my bag.

I hit a massive purple patch on the descent down to Les Contamines, managing to hit 5:00min/km pace on the flat section into the checkpoint having overtaking 10 people over the 800m descent. Total race time 16h12m and 100th place.

This checkpoint was a big milestone for me. I knew if I made it here that there were just 2 big climbs and just over a half marathon to go (albeit a VERY hilly half...). 

I set off from the checkpoint and quickly formed a group with 3 other runners. It was at this point that I realised that I hadn't actually spoken to anyone (apart from 'Grazie" or "Merci" to the aid station volunteers) since leaving Keziah and Carol at the start line all those hours ago. One of the other runners spoke broken English (but still phenomenally better than my French) and we had a good chat about the race and where we were from, this was great as we realised that we'd picked our pace up and dropped the other 2 runners.

This climb led to a much bigger descent than I'd anticipated down to Chalets de Miage. This looked like it might be a really pretty place to be, and my new French friend told me there were great views from here; up to the Glacier de Miage and the Aguille de Tricot... all I could see was the string of head torches zigzagging in front of me up the 600m climb to the Col de Tricot.

This was the last big climb of the race. And it was possibly the steepest, at least it felt like that. 

I was shaking my head in disbelief and relief as I topped out the climb, leading to a pair of medics rushing over to me. I told them in particularly poor french that I was just tired and, worried they might try to pull me from the race, ran off down the side of the mountain before they had chance to intervene.

According to my route profile there was supposed to be a 400m descent and then along to Bellevue. What we actually had was a 400m descent, over a rope bridge above a waterfall (I think as it was still dark), then up a bit, down a bit, down a bit, up a bit, then up some more to the checkpoint.

The ski station at Bellevue eventually came into view and, despite near exhaustion having run out of water and food some time ago, I knew I had this in the bag; I'd been running for 19h33m and was in 100th place.

The 800m descent down into Les Houches was tough going; my quads refusing to function normally which wasn't really surprising.

After a brief spell of dry heaving on the side of the trail (my stomach was completely empty and was now refusing to accept anything), I caught up with the lady in short shorts (who'd managed to lose her Greek admirer) on the descent and we ran into the final checkpoint at Les Houches.

I'd had enough of running now and just wanted to get this over and done with; so I managed to down a cup of Coke and carried straight on through the checkpoint. 

No sign of Carrie as I ran past her front door (it was 2am so I'll forgive her!). I thought about ringing the door bell but:

1. I wasn't sure which one it was
2. It was only 8km to Chamonix and I just wanted this to be over

Spurred on by the thought of actually being able to sit down and rest, I refound my running legs and covered the last stretch in around an hour, overtaking a couple of other runners in the process. So fast that Ross, who was coming down to meet me at the finish, missed my sprint finish* by about 5 minutes.

*no one saw me, so I'm claiming that it was a sprint... the actual pace may have been a bit slower!

Over the finish line to a slightly inauspicious finish. A random spanish guy who'd finished just ahead of me handed me a can of luke warm beer... but that didn't matter, it was the best tasting beer ever.

And after 119km, 7,200m of climbing I'd finished in 21h15m and 97th place. I was a happy man.

I missed out on my gold target time which was to finish on Wednesday (i.e. sub 18 hours), but given the conditions on the day I don't think I left anything out on the course... as my finishing photos lay testament to.

And I'd achieved my #1 goal, which was to claim one of the coveted finisher's gilets for myself. I'm going to enjoy wearing that with pride, a memory of the toughest event I've done (so far...).

So, what next?

Well, I think I need to take some time to take my race head off and put the fun back into running. I met some really great new friends out in Chamonix (the Scottish support contingent was incredible!), so hopefully some adventures with them to look forward to...

And then to Italy in November to gain the additional points I need to enter next year's UTMB....

A Devil-ishly great run

My prep for an ultra normally (well as much as you can have a ‘normal’ from only 5 previous races) involves building the training to a crescendo and then having a 2 week easy taper, to ensure the legs are fresh for the race.

My prep for the Devil was different; I’d run around 220km in the preceding 10 days with Elspeth on her Watershed Adventure (more on that in another post and at www.watershedscotland.com)… so not ideal.

I’d already pre-ordered the hoodie for this race, so that was my motivation for running. If I didn’t finish the race, I’d have a hoodie that I couldn’t wear!

So after just making the 0400 bus from Fort William, we were on our way to the start at Tyndrum.

It was great seeing a mix of old and new faces milling around the Green Welly café at registration; some folk recognised me from the Watershed, so it was clear that word of Elspeth’s exploits was getting around.

The usual question of aims for the race came up and, with little thought, I decided on the following:

• Main aim – to finish… so I can wear my hoodie
• Good time – anything under 8h30m
• Great time – anything under 7h30m

 At exactly 0600 (according to his brand spanking new race clock!) race director we set off up the hill and away from Tyndrum.

I was having a race-within-a-race with someone for who’d be the first of us to Bridge of Orchy; after just 51 minutes, I won – but I was convinced that I’d gone off far too fast as I wasn’t planning on being there until about 65 mins.

Bridge of Orchy – 10km. 0h51m. 25^th place.

I was feeling surprisingly great at this point; better than I’ve ever felt during a run.

Whether it was the Watershed training method… or the Tailwind energy drink I was trialling… I wasn’t sure, but I decided to keep the pace up and see what happened.

Rannoch Moor is normally one of my least favourite parts of the run as it’s a long steady ascent that just seems to sap the strength from your legs. It didn’t help that I’d spent the preceding few days zig-zagging through the bog of the Moor.

This morning, with the sounds of the latest Above and Beyond podcast thumping through my headphones, the sun broke through the clouds and I couldn’t have felt better. I was running strongly and a massive grin spread across my face.

Glencoe ski centre came much quicker than expected, along with the contents of my drop bag that I was looking forward to.

A guy in a hoodie with a beard grabbed my water bottle and started to refill it:

“Shit, you’re Paul Giblin” I said

“I know” said he “here’s your water”

(Paul’s won the last 3 WHW races and holds the record for that race, he was also joined at Glencoe by many of the rest of the Team GB ultra runners)

Glencoe – 28 km. 2h27m. 18^th place.

I chased a number of folk out of Glencoe, and passed Caroline Mckay (first lady) approaching Kingshouse.

Going up the Devil’s Staircase my legs still felt strong (in spite of the preceding week’s 12,000m of ascent!) and I passed a few more folk.

The sight of Fiona Rennie and Pauline (?) in fancy dress at the top of the Staircase was a welcome one (thanks for the jelly beans ladies!)… time to open up my legs and enjoy a fast descent down into Kinlochleven.

I didn’t see anyone else on the descent, and I started to question whether I was actually still in the race, and if so what position I was in.

Kinlochleven arrived about an hour before I’d anticipated being there, to my shock! A quick chat with the fabulous volunteers there let me know that there were only about 10 folk in front of me and that I should be able to catch the guy in front fairly soon.

Kinlochleven – 44km. 4h09m. 11^th place.

I was onto new territory now, having never run this section of the WHW before; so I was running blind and to feel.

Well, I still felt amazing… power hiking up the climb from KLL and even running some sections.

The Lairig Mor is renowned for its exposure to the elements, and for it’s spiky jagged rocks to hurt your feet (just to give you something to moan about even if the weather’s nice!).

All the runners at this end of the pack (it’s an unusual experience for me to be this far forward) were pretty spread out; I only saw, and passed, one other runner on the whole Mor.

Even the light drizzle couldn’t dampen my spirits, as my legs still felt great and Above and Beyond was still keeping me massively entertained.

It’s a long drag across the Mor though and the Lundavra checkpoint seemed to take forever to arrive. But it did arrive, and I was greeted by Alexa who told me I was in 10^th and to get my arse in gear down to Fort William.

I checked my watch, and was shocked to see that I was on course for a great time.

Lundavra – 57km. 5h29m. 10^th place.

On the climb out of Lundavra, I spotted another runner and chased him down; passing him at the top of the ascent. I don’t think he was expecting to see anyone else as he nearly tripped over as he heard me approaching (sorry about that!).

After a fun descent through the trees, a wee climb up on the fire road, and I had the next runner in my sights.

I was staring incessantly at my watch too as, in the back of my mind, a sub 6h30m finish was possible… I was astounded!

I managed to close the 500m gap on him by the time we reached the Braveheart carpark. Turning left up another climb (the final sting in the Devil’s tail), the guy in front saw me and kicked.

I tried to follow and was able to hold him but not close the gap; I waved at him to let him know that the position was his and I wasn’t going to race him – we both kept running strongly to the finish, now only racing ourselves and our watches.

The finishing archway and the blaring music were soon upon me, and I’d finished my best run ever (and I mean EVER!).

Finish, Fort William – 68km. 6h34m. 9^th place.

So the 6h30m finish had slipped away from me, but I’d still finished faster than I could ever have hoped for.

I’m putting a lot of my performance down to the training on the Watershed (long, slow, tough days out with plenty of climbing) and Tailwind (I didn’t eat anything solid throughout the entire race, but always felt full and energised).

Thanks to race director John Duncan, and everyone else who volunteered at the event to make what was a truly memorable racing weekend.

I need to reflect on exactly what went well, in the hope of repeating it in 3 ½ weeks at the TDS.

But for now, 2 days’ rest before re-joining Elpeth for my final support stint on the Watershed.

Learning from a DNF

On the bus from Inverness to Fort William for the start of the Great Glen ultra, I recall thinking that I could forget about my target times as this race was just about finishing and getting the 3 UTMB points that attracted.

At around 7am the next day, I DNF-ed.

DNF - Did Not Finish

The only other time I have DNF-ed a race, I'd torn my quad so I had a very valid reason for not continuing that race.

I wasn't injured during the Great Glen. A quick 10 mile recovery run the following day proved that.

What went wrong, and why did I pull out of the race?

I have no real idea. But I can say wholeheartedly that it wasn't a decision I took lightly. Any ambitions that I've got of entering the UTMB next year are totally out of the question - I won't have enough points.

The race started well. Neptune's Staircase at 1am.

Bill's race briefing warned us not to fall in the canal, amongst other things, then a horn sounded to signal us on our way.

I knew before this race that I needed to work on my pacing during ultras; I always start off strongly before fading badly in the later stages. After briefly chatting with Stuart Chalmers through the week, I'd decided not to try to run to a pace but to wear my heart rate chest strap (which I never normally do in ultras) and run to a constant heart rate.

I picked a heart rate that I felt was easily sustainable over 72 miles but was still sufficiently high to allow me to run fast enough to satiate my competitive spirit.

The first checkpoint (10 miles in) came and went (no drop bag here, just a top up of water); I was on course for a sub 13h finish if I could maintain an even pacing.

We'd already witnessed an extraordinarily beautiful sunrise when CP2 came at 20 miles in. Alexa (who I crewed at WHW race with 2 weeks previously) was there to hand me my drop bag and replenish my empty water bottles.

"How's your race, Rich?"   "Feeling good, so far so good" was my response.

Having downed a Muller rice and pocketed my other food to eat on the way, I was back on the trail.

I rarely spend much time at check points in races, as I think they're a very easy way to lose loads of time; so I generally just grab my supplies and get on my way (having spent the preceding couple of km's figuring out in my head what I need and want).

I was followed out of the CP by who turned out to be the equal first lady and another guy (Norman / Norry, sorry didn't catch your name!). I was happy enough to listen to the 2 of them chatting as I ran slightly ahead of them.

As the trail dropped out of the woods and back alongside the canal, I started to hit a massive low. I'd been eating and drinking plenty, so I don't think that was the problem; I had another gel anyway just in case.

I took a walking break, and let a number of folk past me, to see if the problem was that I'd been pushing too hard. As I was walking, I felt myself drifting off to sleep; I opened my eyes again just in time to catch myself veering towards the canal (with Bill's pre-race brief ringing in my ears); it was a scary thought that there was no-one in sight ahead or behind who would've seen me splash into that water...

By this point, I was already wondering whether I had another 40 miles of running in me.

Did I have that much running in me? Well, some of me... my legs felt like they'd be able to keep going, but my head wasn't in it.

I reached CP3 (30 miles) at Fort Augustus, still on course for a good finishing time; but as Ada was asking me if I had a drop bag to collect (I didn't here either), I was already shaking my head and telling her that I'd get the bus back to Inverness.

So, things I need to figure out in the coming weeks (and well before TDS...):

• What I eat, when I eat it and which CP's I put it at
• Caffeine! (I don't function in the morning without at least a couple of decent coffees, so maybe that would've helped)
• Pacing (running to a heart rate seemed to have been working for me, I don't thing I was pushing too hard; but I do think I need to experiment on what target or range of heart rates works for me)

Anyway, no time to dwell on the disappointment of my first non-injury DNF... I'm running the Devil in 3 1/2 weeks and then heading out to Chamonix. Onwards and forwards!

Cracking day in Kintyre

I'd never been to the Kintyre peninsula and didn't really see any reason why I would go there; not that there's anything wrong with Kintyre but there aren't any big hills and it's a long way... a very long way.

So, when I saw there was a SUMS race in Kintyre I thought, if I'm going to see the area I may as well see all of it at once! The 67 mile option for the Kintyre Way ultra was certainly going to give me that.

Paul McCartney wrote about the mist rolling in from the sea. When we woke up on the Saturday, there was no mist; only the promise of a great day. It turned out to one of those days where Scotland didn't fail to deliver.

It also turned out to be one of those days that I also forgot my suncream... but that was the last thing on my mind when my alarm went off at 04:00.

Somewhere between that alarm and 05:30, I'd managed to make my way to the start line at Tarbert harbour along with just 12 other idiots hardy souls tackling the full 67 mile ultra.

And we're off... Photo: Ken Clark Photography

The trail weaves its way in between a few houses before breaking out of Tarbert and immediately climbing to the highest point of the whole course (just around 385m).

A group of 3 (including me) had broken away from the remainder of the runners leaving an already sizeable gap. At the top, we were treated to majestic views over Arran with Goatfell still shrouded in early morning cloud.

Soon after Ian Docwra broke away from the other 2 of us in the lead group. That was the last we saw of him until the pub in Campbeltown. Ian not only went on to win the race but also smash the course record; a great run by him and a nice guy to boot!

The trail then dropped down to Claonaig and CP1, it was a welcome sight to see some of the Stoney Top Dogs relay team waiting for Chris to finish his leg.

Approaching CP1. 18.5km done in 1h41m. Photo: Ken Clark Photography

Still feeling pretty fresh, I dibbed in at the checkpoint and carried on. The next leg took us back over the peninsula from the East to the West, past a couple of picturesque lochans before spitting you out through some stunning woodland into Clachan.

The rest of the Stoney Top Dogs were there, so I was glad to receive help from Neil to have my water topped up while I demolished a flapjack, having realised that I'd barely eaten so far into the race.

Leaving the woods at CP2. 35.5km, 3h26m.
Photo: Ken Clark Photography

It was after this when things started to go wrong. About 30 minutes into this leg I was overtaken by the first of the relay teams (they'd started from Tarbert 45 minutes after us) and then shortly after that by Iain from Stoney.

That wasn't the problem, I was expecting the relay teams to come past me. After all, they had fresh legs for every section and I'd nearly done my first marathon of the day!

No, where things went wrong were when the trail dropped down onto the beach. I'm sure you've all seen the idealistic images of happy folk bounding down beautiful white sandy beaches advertising Southern Comfort or sanitary towels or some such. 

Well this was a shingle beach. If anyone reading this has any inclination to try running on a shingle beach, let me save you the time: DON'T!

It was impossible to run on and sapped my energy just to maintain forward progress.

Part way through the beach section, I was passed by an ultra runner dropping me into 3rd place. This, compounded with the struggle to keep moving, made me hit a real low and there were definite thoughts of dropping out of the race at the next checkpoint.

It may have been tough, but the views were stunning; Jura and her Paps visible in the background.

Photo: Ken Clark Photography

I reached the Tayinloan checkpoint (also the starting point for the 35.5 mile runners) and slumped on the grass. 50.7km run in 5h21m.

Having chatted to the marshalls, had a good feed and replenished my water, any though of a DNF was banished and I continued on my way.

The next section snakes back across the peninsula, this time from West to East.

And speaking of snakes, this was where I saw the first 2 snakes I've ever seen in Scotland. I'm fairly certain they were adders, but I'm also fairly certain they wouldn't have been troubling anyone after unfortunately seemingly being squashed by a vehicle's tyre.

Back to the race... an 8km climb up to a wind farm was hard going especially as the sun was towards its highest in the sky. The long descent down the other side was possibly harder work, with my quads already feeling the effects of my longest run of the year so far.

There are mile markers on the Kintyre Way, counting up from 0 at Tarbert; so each one provided a brief mental stimulation as you did the calculation of how far there was left to run.

I had a little chuckle to myself as I passed the 41 mile marker and stopped for a photo;

41 miles down, *just* a marathon to go!

The rest of this stage was fairly uneventful. A couple of the Stoney ladies relay team caught up with me in their van (apparently Google maps had directed them via the track I'd just run!), I took some water from them and they let me know that someone called Bruce was only about half a mile behind me (more about him later!...).

I was starting to feel pretty low again by this point, with a fair bit of pain starting to kick in along with a lot of tiredness; the last thing I needed now was to be overtaken, so I cracked on in the knowledge I was only about 5km from the next checkpoint.

What I didn't realise was that it was 5km over another hill...

I bumped into Bruce's partner at the top of the hill, who cheerily informed me that she had the Vaseline that he'd requested. I'd actually caught sight of Bruce at least a mile behind me, and the thought that he needed to stop to deal with some chaffing took some of the pressure off me.

So, CP4 reached; 75.7km done in 8h48m. 25km had taken me over 3 hours; I knew that I'd really started to slow but just needed to perk myself up for the final 2 sections.

The Stoney ladies were waiting at the checkpoint for their runner to come in. Kate helped me with my water, a bottle of Coke and some sandwiches; I was then given a stern talking to and told to get on my way... just what I needed to keep me going!

The next section was short. Only 9.6km.

But it started off boulder hopping down by the beach, where I passed a couple of the back markers for the 35.5 mile ultra, and then continued through a farm and then up...

Coming through the farm we were faced with a climb up a farm track. It was one of those climbs that just never seems to end. It was pretty much dead straight and extended as far as the eye could see.

Feeling really tired by this point, I just got my head down and settled into a steady, but strong, walk up the hill.

After a brief traverse along a plateau, the path then turned and dropped incredibly steeply down towards CP5 at Ifferdale. It was one of those descents that would leave you grinning from ear-to-ear with fresh legs; all I could manage was a grimace and to keep moving as quickly and as efficiently as I could.

Towards the bottom of the descent, Kara from the Stoney ladies came past me. I let her past just before a particularly wet looking section. The next thing I know, Kara was knee deep and face first in an enormous bog.

Fortunately that gave me the opportunity to skirt around the edge of it, as that may have been enough to break me and force me out of the race. Thanks for Kara for showing me the way not to go though!

Eventually: CP5 @ Ifferdale. 85.3 km done, 10h22m since I started and 22km to go. I was into new territory having never run over about 80km before, but there was only a half marathon to go.

Another seemingly endless climb saw me overtake a couple more of the backmarkers from the half ultra, but even just making forward progress by this point was tough. I popped a codeine to take the edge off the pain in my aching legs.

Past a reservoir and onto the tarmac road that would eventually lead me to the finish. The course notes said that the start of the tarmac was about 7km from the finish; I'd disagree as it felt much much longer.

The road descended quite steeply from the reservoir. "Great!" I thought, this is it down to Campbeltown... my heart sank as I saw a car struggling up the hill the other side of the valley! Only one thing for it, and that was to keep moving.

On cresting the next hill, I caught sight of Campbeltown for the first time; only a couple of kms to go!

I picked up my pace as I turned onto the main road, having my spirits lifted by a beep of the horn and a wave from a passing car; only to have them dashed again when the car beeped again immediately behind me.

I turned, and saw the mythical Bruce about 50m behind me! I picked up my pace again, but so did he... and coming around the final corner, with the finish line in sight, we were shoulder to shoulder.

Bruce kicked first and went for the sprint finish. I'd been in 3rd place for the last 10 hours... there was no way I was losing my first ever podium finish!

I don't know where I got the energy from, but I managed to put the hammer down and sprinted with everything I had... I made it! finishing a couple of meters in front of Bruce to the cheers of the race volunteers and some of the Stoney Top Dogs who were waiting for me.

This is Bruce. 67 miles and a sprint finish!
Chris Cowley's photo.

I was glad to see some familiar Stoney faces at the finish line. I had nothing left, so was grateful of the offers to carry my bags; I was even more grateful of the easy choice they gave me: soup and rolls across the road or a pint in the apres-race pub around the corner. 

I don't care how good your soup is, I'd been thinking about a pint for the last few hours so there was no contest!

There was a great buffet spread laid on, and I was even presented with a sizeable chunk of cheese for my 3rd place efforts!

3rd place cheese

In summary this was a great day out. Yes, Kintyre is a hard place to get to but it's totally worth it when you're there.

Will I do the race again? I'm not sure, there a bit too much fire road for my liking (and that beach section!); but Rob and his team lay on a great event, so I'd thoroughly recommend it for anyone that's not been to this part of the world before.

Some photos on this page, where listed, were taken by Ken Clark Photography. Ken was ever-present (and ever-cheerful) during the day. Look him up for all of your photographic needs!