UTMB Recce and pre-TDS thoughts

Well, what do you do when someone you’ve never met asks on a Facebook group whether anyone was up for running the UTMB course as a training / recce session over 4 days?

You say yes, of course.

So a few weeks later, that decision resulted in me meeting Caroline at the Brussels Airline check in desk in Edinburgh at 0430 on a Saturday morning.

Warning: I haven’t been able to condense 4 day’s awesome running into a short post…

The synopsis is: brutal trail, 4 great days’ running, great new friends, generally all-round amazing! Enjoy the photos…

With just 2 weeks to go until the start of the TDS (my ‘A’ race of the year, and what I’ve been working towards since October last year), this was to be a great chance to see how hard I can push myself in the high mountains and to get some last minute training in.

After a fairly uneventful flight, via the construction site that is Brussels airport, we arrived in Geneva and made our way to the baggage carousel; only to find that our bags weren’t there.

There was a long queue at the lost luggage desk, and that wasn’t a good sign… we were promised that our bags would be delivered that evening… but the bags didn’t turn up.

Over hearty portions of tartiflette that evening, we decided that we’d have to buy new running kit on Sunday (as we were due to start running on Monday) if our bags still hadn’t turned up: cue an unsuccessful Supermarket Sweep style dash around the Chamonix sports stores.

We needed more time to purchase replacement running gear (the UTMB route is a tough one, climbing to over 2,500m, so the right kit is essential) and, even with some borrowed kit from new friend Giles, we took the decision to delay starting the route until Tuesday.

Fortunately our bags arrived late on Monday and, having made arrangements to delay my return to the UK after the recce, Caroline and I were eagerly waiting where the start line will be in a couple of weeks to start running at 0730.

Pre-start selfie

The route takes us through the centre of Chamonix before joining a forest path out to Les Houches. Carrie is lucky enough to be spending the whole summer out in Chamonix, so we met up with her outside her flat there.

After a stiff 800m climb up through a ski resort, we were soon running down a grassy piste and into St-Gervais-Les-Bains. We got a little bit lost here, unable to find the path that our GPS watches were directing us towards, but made it down into the town and found a tap to replenish our water.

I realised that I hadn’t eaten anything so far, but stupidly did nothing about it; a decision that would come to haunt me later in the day.

The trail then follows a river up towards Les Contamines.

Now, you’d think that a path alongside a river would be fairly gentle, but this is the Alps… and most “rivers” here would be called a waterfall back in the UK… so it was steep!

Coke and some fruit in Les Contamines, spurred us on towards the 2,320m Col du Bonhomme. This wasn’t enough to counter the lack of food and water earlier in the day and, combined with the searing afternoon sun, I started to bonk quite badly.

Even so, the Col arrived and this signalled the last few metres of ascent for the day to the Col de la Croix du Bonhomme and our Refuge for the night.

Looking up towards the Col du Bonhomme

Relaxing outside the refuge after a tough day

Sunset views from the Refuge

Day 1: 45.9km, 3,087m climbing.

This refuge had the best Crocs of the trip (no shoes allowed inside!), and so after a great night’s sleep (my first experience of an alpine Refuge) we started the day with a long 900m descent into Les Chapieux – a benefit of finishing the previous day up high, and a great way to get the legs warmed up (and a great way to start celebrating my 35^th birthday)!

Looking back towards the Refuge

The route then turns back up the valley towards the Mont Blanc massif, eventually climbing to the Col de la Seine. My lungs and legs were burning as we reached the 2,516m col, which also marked our departure from France and our first steps on Italian soil.

First impressions though, were that France and Italy look exactly the same…….

Welcome to Italy selfie

Looking back into France

Some France, some Italy

 A fast descent down to Rifugio Elizabetta followed, encouraged by the thought of my first Italian coffee (the Italians do coffee so much better than anyone else!).

We missed a turning somewhere along the way down, staying on the main TMB trail rather than the slightly different race route; this also meant that we missed the 200m climb up to the Col des Pyramides Calcaires (and, at 2,563m, the highest point of the route) – I didn’t hear anyone complaining though!

We met Giles (he of the borrowed kit – thanks, btw!) here with the group of hikers that he was leading.

Fuelled by Italian caffeine, we carried on down and before climbing back up to the Arete du Mont-Favre. We then faced a quad-busting, almost continuous 1,200m descent down into Courmayeur.

I raced off, keen to see how my legs fared on a long descent, but stopped at a junction on the trail to regroup with the others. I’d started to get a little worried about how long I’d been waiting when Carrie appeared around the corner with Caroline hobbling behind her – she’d missed her footing on a wooden step and badly sprained her ankle.

Fortunately, we were only about 200m above Courmayeur and, after easing down the remainder of the descent, we went in search of a pharmacy for something for Caroline’s ankle.

Unfortunately, we arrived in the town right in the middle of siesta (I didn’t even know that was an Italian ‘thing’!) so had to make do with some fruit and a Coke to refuel us – and a bag of frozen peas to try and reduce the swelling on Caroline’s ankle.

It’s a little bit worrying that this UTMB descent is actually the first climb for the TDS route… I’m going to have to start fast from Courmayeur to avoid getting caught behind too many other runners, but not so fast that I burn myself out! What a start to a race!

Feeling fit enough to continue, we made the final 700m climb up to the Rifugio Bertone and our beds for the night.

It’d been another long, tough day and a couple of celebratory birthday beers ensured we were all sound asleep before too late.

How to carry your frozen veg on a long run

Day 2: 39.1km, 2,306m climbing.

The next day started with probably the best section of trail I’ve ever run on. Flowy and contouring around past Rifugio Bonatti, the running was incredible with amazing views of the sun-kissed summit of Mont Blanc and the numerous glaciers and peaks of the massif.

We quickly dropped into Val Ferret before our last Italian coffee stop at Rifugio Elena and the climb up to the 2,537m Grand Col Ferret, as this col marked our arrival in Switzerland.

Mt Blanc from Rif Bertone

Looking back along Val Ferret 

Feeling the altitude crossing into Switzerland

Team selfie heading into Switzerland. Photobombed by a random hiker.

A speedy descent ensued – with a couple of American walkers commenting that we were “hauling ass” and “a little bit crazy”. Smiles all round, especially as Caroline’s Rocktaped ankle seemed to be holding up well.

There was more amazing running to be had until our Swiss ice cream stop in La Fouly (Swiss ice cream tastes the same as any other ice cream, but just costs twice as much…). We followed the valley until Praz de Fort, where some buildings nestled in a col above us indicated the town of Champex du Lac – our resting point for the day.

The first signs of Champed up in the col

Although we’d had bigger climbs, the 500m up to Champex was probably the toughest of the whole course – never exceeding steep but never shallow enough to be able to run, it seemed to go on forever; and I had a nice hug with the “Welcome to Champex” sign when it finally appeared.

We found a pleasant Pension (with a not so pleasant owner) on the far side of the town to stay for the night – this also had the benefit of reducing the final day’s efforts by about 2km. Everyone was starting to feel the strain of our exertion, so dinner conversation was limited as pizzas were devoured and we were all soon in our beds.

Day 3: 43.7km, 1,966m climbing.

The next morning we awoke to the sound of rain outside. Over breakfast (which for once on the trip didn’t just involve bread and jam) the weather couldn’t dampen out spirits, with everyone keen to get back to Chamonix.

Today was also Carrie’s birthday, so all the more reason to be cheerful!

The final section of the UTMB route from Champex is essentially 3 big climbs followed by 3 descents, with very little flat; so there was nothing for it but to throw on our waterproofs and get moving.

The road through Champex soo turned into a fire road and then into hardpacked single track as we climbed towards Bovine. The rain had stopped and we were treated to some amazing cloud formations with a partial inversion.

At some point early on Carrie went over on her ankle, so both ladies were now taking it easy to ensure they didn’t do any further damage before their respective upcoming races.

From Bovine, the trail then drops down through wooded trails into the pleasant town of Trient.

Over snacks to refuel ourselves, Carrie announced that she was only going to run as far as the next town (Vallorcine, from where she could get the train home). We’re still not sure though whether it was a move to protect her injured ankle, or in response to the ominous looking clouds and claps of thunder ;-)

After another long climb, the trail hugs the side of the mountain before a quick drop towards the ski lifts of Vallorcine. This was where we crossed back into France, but you wouldn’t have known it unless you were looking at the map.

We met a group of mountain bikers part way down the descent; they were faffing with maps and were kind enough to let us pass. I was fully expecting to have a bike hot on my heels further down the trails, but it appeared that I can run down a hill faster than them as we never saw them again.

We sat out a brief rain shower in a café in Vallorcine while refuelling with more Cokes and some haribo (inside the café was apparently full, but we were offered seats under cover outside… whether the café was actually full or whether the staff took offence to my 4 day old running top is still open to debate).

As Carrie headed for the train, Caroline and I continued on. We were soon climbing towards the Col des Montets, the only section of the UTMB trail that I knew having been abandoned there to run home last year.

From the Col, you can see the trail zig zag up the route’s final climb to the Tete aux Vents.

Keen to see how much fitter I am than last year I put my head down and sped up the climb, surprising a family of walkers as I ran up the hill past them. I’m pleased to say that on one Strava segement for this climb my time this year was 10 minutes, compared to 14 for the same segment last year; giving me great confidence for the race next week.

When the building at La Flegere, finally came into view, we knew we were finally on the home straight with Chamonix a short 900m below us.

The rain had started to get heavier as we passed the beautiful chalet La Floria, but with just 20 minutes left until the end of the run it wasn’t even worth stopping to put jackets on.

So, eventually Chamonix arrived and after following the race route’s victory lap of the town centre, Caroline and I arrived back outside the church where we’d started this adventure 4 long days previously.

Finish line selfie

Day 4: 44.7km, 2,613m climbing.

 So that was that. We’d run the UTMB (well, most of it…).

Time for a shower, some clean clothes (it felt strange not to be in running kit) and then to MBC for a few birthday drinks with Carrie.

My immediate thoughts post run were that it was a tough course, really tough. But I’m feeling strong both climbing and descending, so I’m looking forward to the TDS next week with some confidence of a good performance.

I’m also looking for a 3 point qualifying race before the end of the year, so I can have a shot at racing the UTMB next year…

I've got some times in my head for the TDS. They're pretty ambitious, so I'm not going to tempt fate by discussing what they are. The main aim for next week is to finish and get my prized gilet, a good time is secondary.

There's something in the Water(shed)....

I agreed a while ago to help Elspeth with her Watershed Adventure this summer, 680 miles and 44 Munros along the imaginary dividing line where rainfall decides whether to head West into the Atlantic or East to the North Sea.

With having the summer off work, I had the ideal opportunity to combine a number of things; such as helping Elspeth out but also getting some valuable training in before the TDS. So I picked a 4 day period starting on the 10^th day of the Adventure that coincided with the first Munro of the trip and arranged to meet Elspeth in Glasgow for the start.

When I arrived, I was informed that Elspeth's running partner had decided to run a different route that day (and in fact from then on, he set off on his own separate adventure allowing Elspeth to continue alone).

I made a couple of changes to my own schedule, which allowed me to accompany Elspeth for a total of 11 days' running in 3 stints (I had to nip home for some camping gear after the first stint, and then had a race to run after the second stint...)

I could write tomes about the incredible and humbling experience it was to run with Elspeth for those 11 days, but I won't.

I have far too many amazing memories from the run, that a few words would not do them justice:

Suffice to say that I'm in awe... the Watershed has, to date, raised over £7,000 for the charity Funding Neuro... and Elspeth finished the run on 15th August, reaching her goal at Duncansby Head with a smile on her face all the time (well, except for what I'll just refer to as "the Glencoe incident"...)

Elspeth's fundraising page is here, if anyone reading is feeling generous. Or before 30th September, you can vote for her charity to receive £10,000 in a Mountain Warehouse competition.

They say a picture speaks a thousand words, so I'll shut up and here's a link to some photos

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!

WHW Training Weekend

Well, what an amazing weekend that was!

It's 4 weeks until the West Highland Way race (WHWR), all 95 miles of it from Milgavnie to Fort William, so the race organisers arranged for a training weekend based out the fantastic By The Way campsite in Tyndrum.

Despite not actually running the WHWR this year, I invited myself along as it would be an ideal opportunity to recce the route north (that I'll be running during the Devil o' The Highlands in August).

Strangely though, the 'organised' run on Saturday was heading south from Tyndrum. Strange as most folk had just recently run the Highland Fling, so had no desire to cover that ground again.

After a bit of to-ing and fro-ing on social media, a plan was hatched with most of us heading north. My plan was to get to the Glencoe ski centre, stop for coffee and cake, then head back to Tyndrum; a run that would somewhere in the region of 56km.

So, at 9am on Saturday a decent sized group assembled in the By The Way car park. A few folk looked slightly bleary eyed, having had the chance the night before to catch up with friends (old and new) in the bunkhouse... I may or may not have been one of the bleary eyed folk.

The consensus was definitely to head north, with people deciding for themselves where to turn back.

The sun was shining brightly as we set off, crossing the main road and heading off towards Bridge of Orchy. The day was truly setting itself up to be another one of those days that makes you appreciate everything; especially when you're out in the countryside doing this crazy little hobby / obsession of mine!

Climbing out of Tyndrum

I took up a place at the front of the group along with a few other guys who were planning on running to Glencoe too, setting a reasonably fast yet comfortable pace. Stuart, Jonas, Robin and I trotted along quite happily in the sunshine enjoying each others company and talking about everything from our home lives to the latest trainers that everyone was wearing; what a great way to spend a morning.

Jonas and Robin heading towards Bridge of Orchy

I was enjoying myself so much, that that's the last photo I took all weekend!

We hit Glencoe in the not too disrespectful time of 2h43m, which gave us plenty of time to enjoy a brew and some food before the return to Tyndrum.

On heading back over Rannoch Moor, we bumped into Rhona who was also heading to the ski centre. As we passed, we were treated to the sight of 3 vintage planes flying in low formation over us almost within touching distance; incredible!

As I was still not fully recovered and refreshed from Kintyre 2 weeks previously, I let the other guys press on ahead of me while I eased off the pace and enjoyed some peace and solitude; finally arriving back in Tyndrum (via an off license) in around 3 hours.

Kirsty from By The Way had organised some fabulous food for us that evening (including the amazing sticky toffee pudding, that Katie elbowed us all out of the way to get to first!...). The evening then included some interesting talks on polar marathons and injury treatment, before we all consumed possibly a little too much alcohol (purely to rehydrate ourselves, obviously!).

Sunday started fuzzily, both in terms of the weather and my head... a few folk were heading home early due to other commitments or injury. 

My plan was to head to Kingshouse to see what all the fuss about the Devil's Staircase was, dropping down to Kinlochleven, before turning around and doing it all again.

Setting off along Glen Coe, my waterproof jacket zipped all the way up, the infamous climb soon loomed into view; but it seemed no sooner had I started the ascent than I was stood next the cairn at the top! Even with the previous day's exertions in my legs, I'm not sure where the climb's reputation comes from. 51 mins from Kingshouse to the top.

I paused at the summit cairn chatting to a lovely lady who was on her 6th day of 7 walking the whole Way. She told me she was in awe of some runners she'd seen the day before running from Tyndrum to Glencoe; I let her know that that was me, but didn't have the heart to tell her that we'd run back as well!

Onwards and downwards! The descent into Kinlochleven is a long one; 550m all the way back to sea level. If anything, I'll be more concerned about burning out my quads during this descent during the Devil than the climb to get there.

Anyway, no time to to think about that now... after a quick sandwich and a coke in KLL, I turned about face and headed straight back up past the bemused faces of numerous walkers that I'd overtaken not long previously.

I was back to the Kingshouse in under 3h30m after I'd left, just as it really started to rain; this brought my total running for the weekend to over 85km with around 2,500m of ascent.

As I poured myself into the car for the long drive back to Aberdeen I was left to reflect on what was a great weekend:

Meeting some fantastic new friends, enjoying some amazing runs and generally feeling satisfied with life in general.

I think there'll be an entry into the 2016 WHWR ballot with my name on it too!...

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!

When life gets in the way

When I started writing this blog, it was a release. A way of emptying all the jumbled thoughts in my head, a view into the darkness, with a little bit of running thrown in.
I guess it was a bit of a release from the daily grind. But what about when the daily grind gets in the way of writing the blog?

Since the D33, exactly that's happened. I've:

• been in hospital for a (performance enhancing) nose job;
• been to London (twice);
• supported Katy at the national finals for the YCS
• still managed to run about 280km

So the nose job was instigated due to someone saying that my snoring kept her awake a night. 

I've no idea what keeps her awake at night any more but I do know she doesn't worry about my snoring. I went ahead with the op anyway; I've never been able to breath through my nose so this could only help the situation.

The swelling is still going down about a month later (and I'm currently getting over a head cold) but the results seem to be good.

Feeling like I've just been fighting

My mum knows me too well

I had 2 weeks of absolutely no running, during which I went to London for a weekend of music; and then went back down with Katy for open top bus tours, museums and the like.

Climbing was awesome. Katy's really into it and doing exceptionally well. There's been loads of travelling to all corners of Scotland, but seeing her climbing alongside (and as one of) the best young climbers the UK has to offer was a real treat.

So, back to running. This time next week, I'll be getting ready to run the 67 mile (110km) of the Kintyre Way Ultra.

I'm feeling pretty good about myself. I'm feeling comfortable with my running; but I'm also conscious that I haven't run further than 33 miles this year.

Even so, there's a pretty small field at Kintyre, so I'm hoping to place fairly well.

I imagine there'll be another post sometime next week after I've (hopefully) finished Kintyre.