Hamilton

For the Average Runner thinking of tackling the West Highland Way Race, I present my story of the 2006 Race.

A Tale of two Breaks

Average Runner, if you are like me you can forget about sleeping on the Friday. It just wouldn't happen. So, as my Support Crew and I park in the Milngavie Railway Station at just after 11pm, I am already tired but have moved the nervous stage that had gripped me up until that point. Just accept that this is going to hurt but you will get through it.

The camaraderie amongst the people involved in this race is incredible. You should take comfort and strength from this. I spoke to 'Madman' Dave McLelland, Ian Beattie and Debbie Cox, and feel better for knowing that we are all in this together.

At 1am precisely we are off. Good start, tendinitis seems to be behaving itself. Two lads with a couple of pints in them decide to join the Race and I am now concerned about how I am going to look if they beat me!

Buy yourself the best headlamp that you can. I got a micro Petzl and it wasn't enough. It isn't bright enough and I can't really see where I am putting my feet. Mugdock Park isn't too bad but the footing can get nasty down towards Dumgoyne.

This is really where my Race plan comes undone. I had hoped for a 24-25 hr time, which is...'average'. It was not to be.

I first go over on the left ankle. You are going to have to get used to this Average Runner. Walk a bit, then get back into your trot. Third of mile later I go over on the right ankle. This is a sore one but I get over it. We are about 5 miles out when I go over on the right ankle again. There is a sharp, intense pain and an audible 'CRACK'. The crisp, still night time air is rent asunder with my profanity.

This one isn't so easy the shake off and my trot now has a distinct hobble to it.

Can you imagine how I was feeling? I had trained for seven months, spent a fortune on this and that, and I had brought out two Support Teams in the middle of the night and now there was a chance that it all been for nothing. 5 miles in for Heaven's sake.

I decided to take Ian Beattie's sagely advice and run my own Race. Everything was going to have to be done slower, especially in the dark.

It was after 3pm when I met my Team at Drymen. My 'Requirements' text had been 'cake tea drugs' and I got them down me as quickly as possible. In making the change from road shoes to off-roads (Asics Trabuccos by the way), we noticed a lump, about the size of half a golf ball, sticking out of my right ankle. I won't write what I said at that point, I'm sure you can imagine. Shock over, right shoe on nice and tight to keep the swelling down, then off towards Conic Hill. In all honesty, I doubted that I would get to Conic as I took the first steps away from Drymen. The pain was pretty bad.

The next hour was nasty. I expected pain on this Race but not this early. Conic Hill was remarkably dry considering the rain we had that week. Still, it was slippery enough and I didn't want to over on that ankle again, so I was a lot slower into Balmaha than normal.
The Team, bedecked in their Midgie Nets (a must) had soup waiting. I changed socks here so we got to see the extent of the damage. The lump was bigger and there was a good deal of bruising, but I had done 20 miles and I wanted to see how far I could go before having to pull out, or be pulled out as my Team were looking rather concerned.

Average Runner, never under estimate the power of Adrenaline. Off we go to Rowardennan.

You can set a decent pace on this section, so I did. The Team seemed a little surprised to see me come in around my new predicted time. They asked all the normal questions and gave them reasonably truthful answers i.e. “It hurts” and “I still feel sick”. Since the Race, I have a photo from this stop. I don't look happy. The Teams worries were amplified as I having a change of Support Team at this point, which is something else I would recommend Average Runner. This Team, that included my Fiancee Pauline, would not see me again until Bridge of Orchy, which at the pace I was going would be about 5pm. Promising them that I was fine and would keep in touch, I set off for Inversnaid.

I like this stretch. Some of the views across the Loch are stunning. The ankle was making its presence known so I was even slower on this section and I was feeling quite sick by the time I got my bag from the T.S.A.R.T. guys (God Bless Them!) in the car park of the Hotel. Sick enough that I couldn't face the rice pudding it contained, so I after a 10 minute break.

Not eating was probably a mistake. Average Runner, you will go through highs and lows in the course of this race. Energy levels are certainly a factor. So can guess what happened in the next section?

I hate this section anyway, but adding in the pain in my ankle and the nauseous feeling, I fell into what I can only describe as a 'depression'. No energy, no pace. I made a change to my Support schedule and asked the guys to meet me at Beinglas Farm. Dario doesn't really like us doing this, but given the Health and Safety implications I didn't think he would mind.

My 'Daytime' Support were brought up to speed as I forced down a big muffin. Feeling much better, I set off for Derrydarroch Farm.

This was a highlight section for me as I caught up with Jim Drummond and decided to travel with him for a bit. Jim is a wealth of knowledge and stories, so the four miles passed very easily and I was, dare I say it, 'perky' on meeting my Team at the Farm. A quick stop and off towards Crianlarich.

The weather was great. Personally, I like it it warmish and the only thing that could have improved the conditions for me, would have been a light shower. So, the run over to Bogle Glen was actually pleasant...well...as pleasant as being 45 miles into a 95 mile race can be.

While making a couple a phone calls going through the forest section, I noticed that the swelling had gone down a little on my ankle. Unfortunately, every other step still had an element of pain associated with it, but you can endure. Average Runner, it is astonishing what you can endure if you want something strongly enough...and I didn't want to have to do this again!

I stopped again at the A82 crossing. It would be my recommendation to break the Race up into small chunks. Only 5-10 minute stops usually, but plenty of them. One of my 'Original' Support Team, Paul Walker, came out a bit from Tyndrum to meet me as it had been a while since they had seen me and they wanted to confirm that I was in good shape...well...still moving anyway. Company can be good Average Runner. You can get into a conversation and the miles just flash past.

Tyndrum is 53 miles, over half way and I decided to re-charge the batteries there. Eat, drink, change T-Shirt and socks. This gave us a chance to check the ankle. It was almost entirely blood red and the lump was well and truly back, bigger than ever. More Ibuprofen and on with the next 42 miles.

Looking behind me, about a mile out of Tyndrum, I saw what looked like Tim Downie running along the track. Now Tim was supposed to be supporting Jim Drummond and I couldn't work out why he was on his own. Trotting along he told me that Jim had partnered up with another runnerand he had decided to run along with me instead. As I have said, the people associated with this Race are just incredible. Now Tim is a certifiable fruit loop but he is also a great bloke and a strong runner, so with cajoling and conversation Tyndrum to Bridge of Orchy turned into my best timed section of the Race. Thanks Tim!

At Bridge of Orchy we got the news of the first of the eponymous breaks. Jez Bragg had broken the Race record by a massive 45 minutes. I am in awe of this gentleman and his athleticism. However, my Race wasn't over yet and the pain was getting worse, but you now find yourself saying “I've come this far. It's only another 36 miles”. Look, don't judge my sanity now. Wait until you are in the Race and see how you behave! However, the section scared me. It is 12 miles to the other side of the Rannoch Moor, no stops and I was hurting.I was to be helped along by two runners this time though. Tim was staying on to Kingshouse and my Support runner, Kenny Murray, was joining us as planned.

There is section of tarmac just before the Moor and this set everything off. Everything decided to moan at the same time, including me. Luckily, both Tim and Kenny were familiar with Hamilton moaning and took it in good spirits. About halfway across the Moor we caught up with hobbling Lady runner. She was in pain so I asked if she wanted a pain killer to help her across the Moor. Tim wanted to stay with her but she insisted that we press on. Not sure that I'd have that that brave in that place and in those circumstances. Gutsy Girl.

The last quarter of the Moor was another low for me. The end couldn't come fast enough and I couldn't go any quicker but we eventually got to Blackrock Cottage at around 8pm. I took another longer pit stop. Ate, took pain killer and put on an extra two layers of clothing as I was shivering badly. I felt done, but there was only 24 more miles.

Tim went back to supporting Jim Drummond with my thanks but the Support Team didn't want me heading out by myself, so Kenny once again stepped up and offered to accompany me to Kinlochleven which is only 10 miles further on.

What a 10 miles though. First, Glencoe. Awe inspiring. Chills down the back of your neck. The Support Team and the pain killer had done a good job as I managed to run up to the ludicrous part of the trail that climbs the hill for no reason whatsoever. Up to Altnafeadh it was a mixture of run/walk as I had to be very careful of my footing. Every sideways movement of my ankle hurt like hell and the pounding had also left the soles of my feet very sore indeed. As we approached Altnafeadh I said to Kenny that we had to run in so that the troops could see that everything was once again ok before we tackled 'The Devil's Staircase'.

Average Runner, the climb to the 'Staircase' and the 'Staircase' itself are tough, especially after the preceding miles but if you are steady and determined you will get up...it's the other side you have to be scared of!

We left the beautiful views from the top of the 'Staircase' behind and started to decended towards Kinlochleven as the last rays of light fell away. On went the lamps. Now I say 'decend towards Kinlochleven' but one of the killers here is that you can see the lights of the town in the distance down in the Glen, however, the WHW takes you everyway BUT towards it. IT IS TORTUROUS!!! The trail at times is fine and at the end is actually tarmac, but for the majority it is treacherous. If you are in the dark here Average Runner, SLOW DOWN. Take it too fast and it could be the end of your Race.

On a couple of occasions the frustration and tiredness had me breaking into a trot on the downhill sections but a misplaced foot and an increase in the pain would bring me back to to my senses. I decided here that it would be stupid to attempt the final two sections in the dark. The best tactic would be to rest up and leave Kinlochleven at dawn. That would still give me about 7 hrs to cover the final 14 miles.

On arriving at Kinlochleven Health Centre Pauline and Marie-Ann, from my Support Team, told me they had got a tubegrip support from a Doctor and he was now asking to have a look at my ankle. I almost exploded in shock and fury as the Marshal at Kinlochleven was Dr.Chris Ellis, the Race Doctor, who could withdraw me from if he thought it necessary. They, of course, were doing what any good Support Team should do, but all I could think of was being withdrawn from the Race with only 14 miles to go. 76 pain filled miles for nothing. So, me and the Support Team weren't on the best of terms.

Chris Ellis, as it turns out, is a great bloke, a gentleman and scholar. I want him as my GP. He examined and prodded my ankle, and I lied to him about what hurt to no avail. He diagnosed a probable fracture to the tibia (the second and last of the eponymous breaks) and my heart sank. I was sure that that was it, he would take me out of the Race. He then said "You've run 80 miles on a fractured ankle". It was actually 76 miles but I didn't think it was the time to be splitting hairs. "Have you considered stopping at any point?" he questioned. "No!" I snapped back. "Well relax" he said "I won't be stopping you finishing the Race".

Oh. My. Good. God. The feeling of relief was unbelievable. Turns out Chris is a sportsman himself and understands the sporting mentality. He did insist on icing the joint, then I would get a couple of hours sleep. If the ankle condition hadn't gotten any worse in that time i.e. no increase in swelling and toes stilled moved etc, I could go on. I was scared that I would seize up given that much downtime but I was in no position to argue. Went to sleep at around 1:45am.

Pauline woke me at 4:20am. First reaction was 'why didn't she wake me at 4am', then the shaking started again. I didn't want Chris to see this so I got up and stretched to get the blood flowing. Chris checked to ankle, which looked as though it should be attached to a cadavar, but gave his ok.

Paul Walker and I ran out of Kinlochleven at just after 5am. We were in last place but still in the Race.

The climb out of Kinlochleven didn't seem that bad actually. We passed Jim Drummond, Jim Vemeer and a couple of other guys on the hill and Paul adopted the right attitude of telling me to get a move on.

We got into Lunarva quicker than the Team expected so no-one was waiting for us. I checked in with the Marshalls and was told "So you’re the one with ankle, we heard you'd pulled out". As you would expect one minute later the Marshalls were fully aware of how 'in' the Race I was. It turned out I needn't have worried as my Support Team had already been through this with them and it had been confirmed that someone had made a mistake somewhere. Panic Over.

People kept on looking at my groin which was rather disconcerting. Turns out that the fresh application of Vaseline from Kinlochleven had soaked into my shorts making look as though I had had an accident in my pants. I assured those there, and every other person I met that morning that I hadn’t.

Stayed long enough to get some more water and set off for Fort William stating “Everyone has a 10k in them”.

You would think the last 10k would seem a nice run. It wasn’t, everything hurt. I don’t just mean injury pain but quads, calves, lower back, hips etc.It seemed to take me a lifetime to get over stiles. Into the forest there are steep climbs and equally steep decents that move your weight around, isolating muscle groups that already had had enough. Paul was using the map and landmarks to call out the distance remaining as physically and mentally I was shot. Questions put to me would receive one word answers. There was no chatting, or even moaning, just Paul talking away, trying to keep me going.

Leaving the forest I perked up a bit. 4 miles to go and even if I couldn’t run I still had my stompy run although it had developed a limp a long time before.

There was a surreal moment on the pavement entering Fort William when a guy walking his dog went past me. I just couldn’t quite get to grips with the normality of it. Can’t remember what his reply was to my enquiry of “Give us a cokey back Mate?”

At the sight of the Blessed Roundabout we broke into a run (where does that energy come from). I crossed the road, not even considering the traffic and there it was Lochaber Leisure Centre. The most beautiful sight in the world. Enjoy those last few steps Average Runner. You will have earnt the feeling of accommplishment and pride in yourself.

Luckily Dario and Sean were in the Centre when I finished, so I got to thank them for letting me into the Race.

There is relief, but also anti-climax about the finish. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to behave. Should I be crying? Should I be jumping up and down (an impossibility on the ankle)? Instead, I thanked my Support Team and then stood there wondering what to do next. I am sure you will come up with something far better.

My finishing was 32 hrs 33 mins and some seconds. I’m disappointed in that but considering the circumstances I suppose it is fair.

My last bit of advice would be to attend the Prize Giving. We were all knackered but went anyway and thoroughly enjoyed it. Dario is quite the MC with funny quips about a lot of the runners. Adrian Stott had some poignant words to add and, of course, we all got to applaud the magnificent Jez Bragg.

A rather long tale of two breaks. Enjoy your Race Average Runner. It is an experience you will carry with you for the rest of your life.

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Bellarby

West Highland Way Race June 24th 2006

I entered this race back in January. Its fearsome reputation gave me many sleepless nights, but training went well and Friday 23rd June 2006 saw me and over 100 other runners and their support teams gather at Milngavie railway station for the 95 mile West Highland Way race. Normally, a quiet suburb of Glasgow with the last train just departed, tonight the car park was a seething mass of lycra, head torches and nervous banter. I am nervous and can’t stop shaking. I can’t hear the race brief – something about bodies and numbers? One a.m. and the race is off, through the pedestrian precinct and then out into the country. The pack slowly spreads out and after 5 miles I find myself alone. I was not at the front or back; have I gone the wrong way? The first refuelling stop at 6 miles confirms the right route – along the old railway line. The next 5 miles is also alone – where is everyone? Occasionally I hear the sound of gates bashing shut a few minutes behind or ahead, other than that a quiet, calm night. As it begins to get light for the climb over Conic hill, I am overtaken by several very fast runners – part of the lead pack that unfortunately took a wrong turning near Drymen and lost 25 minutes. One of them is clearly very annoyed with herself! The rough descent to Balmaha is busy, but goes without incident. I have a quick bowl of rice pudding and a flapjack and am away again – once again alone.

I struggle somewhat in the constant up and down alongside Loch Lomond and the sight of the checkpoint at Inversnaid and some runners comes as a welcome relief. I perk up and enjoy the rough footpath North of Inversnaid and a bit of chat. I arrive at Derrydarroch in good shape and now in 20th place. A typical pit stop involves replenishing energy bars, gels and juice from the rucsac, a bite to eat and sometimes changes of socks, shoes and vest. My team for the first half of the race is my wife Helen and father in-law and after Tyndrum it is my parents and brother and sister in-law – a whole family and superb teams. After stopping still even for a few minutes it is tough to get back into a rhythm, so my longest stop of the day is 4 minutes. Whilst I sit down to eat, the shoes and socks are replaced, and the rucsac replenished. An F1 pitstop couldn’t be smoother. As I leave I shout back the requests for the next stop.

The next few stages all go very well and I’m beginning to enjoy myself. With one exception I see no other runners in the next 35 miles and the run over Rannoch Moor is lonely but exhilarating. Bizarrely on the descent down from the moor I see a familiar couple ahead. It is my uncle and his wife walking the West Highland Way. Both parties are as completely surprised as each other, but 30 seconds later I leave them shaking their heads. At Kingshouse I have moved up to 11th place – do I run with my eyes shut, that I can miss 7 runners? Not being in the top 10 means I can take advantage of a support runner and my dad (recently returned from a mountain marathon) joins me for the section to Kinlochleven. The ascent up the Devil’s staircase is a welcome chance to walk, but the descent is very tough on the quads and slow, but there is hot soup waiting and that goes down well. My support runner changes to my brother for the slow climb out of Kinlochleven. Unfortunately we meet my fellow clubmate Carl Pryce just retiring near the top of the climb. Shortly after, it then occurs to me that I am in the top ten and thus technically I’m not allowed a support runner! We briefly discuss the morals of this case and as the rules aren’t clear on this point and I can’t just abandon my brother in the middle of nowhere, we continue together. It also occurs to me that if we get overtaken, the overtakers would be in 10th place and we could get them disqualified. This logic is lost on my brother who points out that then we would then move back into 10th place and open ourselves up to also being disqualified by a justifiably vengeful runner! The next few miles are very tough – rough, undulating, bleak. My slow speed makes me paranoid about being overtaken and dropping back to 11th. I constantly look back until this risks a trip – I ask my brother to do it instead!

A pizza takeaway awaits in Lundavra. It’s cold and a bit midgy, but absolutely superb and I wolf down 4 slices of Hawaiian with extra topping of jelly babies. Beyond Lundavra however the terrain is still rough, the stiles (deliberately?) huge and progress slow. With about 4 miles to go, we are climbing up a very gloomy path in the woods when we hear voices behind–are we about to get overtaken? Instantly the pain, soreness, and blisters disappear (adrenalin or delayed pizza effect?). I start to run up hills. I get faster and faster, I shout; I am a new man. The descent to Fort William begins and the speed increases; my support runner can’t keep up, I race along the road, across the roundabout, past my rather startled wife - “I’m being chased” I shout, and sprint to the finish! I break down in tears and a babble. Unbelievable! The chasing runner arrives 7 minutes later and my brother shortly behind. What an amazing day.
Footnote: As part of this year’s race, I volunteered for a survey into nutrition and hydration strategies for utltra-endurance events. They weighed me at the start – 73 kgs. They checked urine – well hydrated. I was weighed at the end – 75 kgs! As I can’t have got more hydrated than the start, and I didn’t eat enormously (apart from the pizza), the difference must be either accumulated mud or midges?

A huge thank you goes to my brilliant support team and to all of you who sponsored me. Over £2,000 was raised for the HOPE for children charity.

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Rogers

The West Highland Way Race. 17th June 2000

Whilst on a visit to Loch Lomond during the summer of 1999 a taxi driver told me that there had been a race along the West Highland Way the previous weekend. As a South Downs 80 'orphan' I was immediately interested and wanted to know more, but my enquiries came to nothing and I put it to the back of mind, a place from which few projects ever emerge to see the light of day.
However in March 2000 after a flash of inspiration, I finally called the Trail Runners Association. They gave me Jim Stewart¹s address and a couple of weeks later, after call from Dario, I was in. Now all I had to do was to find two people who think that standing around in the middle of nowhere for up to thirty hours, getting eaten alive by midges whilst feeding bananas to
an irrational and increasingly unstable individual, might just be good fun. Fortunately, I know people like that.
So it was that at 9pm on the Thursday before race day, I set off with Bob and Jaff (an sdw 80 veteran) for the long drive northwards. Jaff had thoughtfully converted the back of his Peugeot estate into a makeshift bed which I, as the pampered 'athlete' dozed in, whilst Bob and Jaff selflessly shared the driving, listening to Travis over and over again as we drove on
through the night.
After a stop just outside Carlisle for an overpriced Granada Services greasy breakfast (It just had to be done), we arrived at Milngarvie at 8 am with indigestion and nowhere to stay.
Jaff suggested, with lids at half mast and eyes a latticework of distended bloodvessels, that camping would be an easy and cost effective option. Luckily, we found a B&B.
The next couple of hours were spent in Tescos cafeteria, planning checkpoints and stocking up on provisions while we waited for the previous nights guests to vacate 'our' accommodation. To kill a bit more time we wandered around the town, stopping at a bookshop where Jaff bought a guide to the WHW. Flicking through the pages he arrived at a double page spread
showing a bleak stony track twisting into a misty infinity. This was Rannoch Moor some sixty miles into the race. Jaff shook his head and grinned as we hurried off to the B&B for some rest.
That evening I had an excellent meal of pasta washed down with a glass of wine at the Mill restaurant next to Tescos  before returning to the B&B to attempt sleep. All I could think of was where I would be in 24 hours time. Suddenly Jaff burst in. It was 1.30 and we needed to get a move on.
Fortunately we were only half a mile from the start, but even with over an hour to spare, my fidgety pre-race rituals seemed to take up all the remaining time. Finally we were called over for the blood curdling race briefing. Up until this point I hadn¹t realised that only 120 people had managed to complete the race in the past 17 years. Suddenly my sub 24 target seemed dangerously ambitious. Despite having completed the South Downs 80 twice, I knew I was undertrained for this event. I decided then that I wouldn't lift a finger until marathon distance had been passed.
And then, with cheers echoing round the concrete walls of the underpass, we were off into the night. Slowly the darkness gave way to a grey dawn, and it became clear that a quite a number of people had gone off at a very confident pace. I reminded myself that it was a finish I was after, as I was raising money for The Harefield Hospital Research Fund, and that anything else I might achieve would be a bonus.
Suddenly we were at Carbeth. I was surprised and pleased that Bob and Jaff were there to meet me. The midges were out in force, and I was getting bitten, so after a quick swig of coke and a spray of Autan, I resumed my cautious shuffle towards Drymen. At one stage having stopped to remove some zinc tape on my little toe, I was last on the road. This didn't bother me in the slightest, there were still almost 90 miles to go, and I was determined to use the first couple of hours to get properly 'bedded in' and comfortable.
By the time I arrived at Drymen it didn't look as though the sun was going to break through the thick cloud. This was slightly disappointing from a scenic point of view, although for running the conditions were excellent. There was a slightly chilly wind blowing and I decided to wear a Helly underneath my thin vest. Once again Bob and Jaff were on hand with everything I could possibly have needed, in this case a cup of tea, a syrup sandwich and a piece of chicken. By now I was looking forward to the ascent of Conic Hill and the arrival of Loch Lomond which would mark the end of the first section of the race; my 'bedding in' period.
The ascent of Conic Hill brought with it a dramatic change of scenery. Loch Lomond, its southern expanse studded with dark wooded islands, seemed to mark our entry into the highlands. I began to think of how things would change beyond it's northern tip. The weather by now was almost threatening rain, the previous day having been warm and sunny, and I must confess my kit was more geared towards a sunny day than the possibility of a downpour. I swept down into the midge infested car park at Balmaha feeling strong, but mindful of the fact that I had barely done 20 miles. As I stood chatting, Bob, shrouded in his mossie head net, sprayed me from head to toe with insect repellant, adding a certain piquancy to the potato salad I was
spooning into my mouth.
Winding my way along the shores of Loch Lomond towards Rowardennan I noticed for the first time that the field had become strung out. At times there was nobody visible either in front nor behind. Steadily, I began to catch up with people. At first I took this as a sign that I might be going too fast and throttled back, but I felt comfortable, and by the time I arrived at
Rowardennan I had moved up to 18th place. The small wooded car park was crowded with race supporters, the midges must have thought it was Christmas. Bob and Jaff encased in their mesh head nets, were waiting with a pint of hot soup, I drank the lot, including the crispy croutons.
I had now passed marathon distance and I was feeling on top of the world. I decided to increase my pace a little and set off alone along the undulating broken shore towards Inversnaid, enjoying every minute of it. It was about this time that I received the first of many calls on my mobile from friends offering me encouragement and support. This was a tremendous morale boost and was especially valuable in the later stages of the race when things became very much harder.
Inversnaid Hotel comes as a sudden surprise, an oasis of civilisation in the midst of a jungle of twisted tree roots, sharp undulations and rocky outcrops. Once again Bob and Jaff, this time enjoying a rare midge free area, were on hand with food and drinks and words of encouragement. The end of the Loch Lomond section was now imminent and I was looking forward to
reaching the checkpoint at Inverarnan. I was still passing the odd runner and still full of running, but with 40 miles now behind me I knew it wouldn't be long until the miles began to take their toll.
The Inverarnan checkpoint team greeted me enthusiastically as I craned my neck in search of Bob and Jaff. Just then my mobile went off. It was Jaff. The signal was bad, but the gist of his message was that they hadn¹t been able to make it round from Inversnaid in time to meet me, but they would definitely meet me at Crainlarich. This wasn't really a problem, but by now I was aware that I had a job on my hands. I had also run out of water. After filling my bottle from a stream, I pressed on to Crainlarich where as promised, Jaff was waiting by way of consolation with what amounted to a small hamper; pasta salad, mars bars, bread, chicken, rice pudding, fruit salad, bananas, tea and coke. The next five miles to Tyndrum are quite
hilly, and with a full stomach I was struggling to maintain my earlier pace. Tyndrum at 53 miles into the race, is definitely over half way, and I was glad to be counting down to the finish, even if it was another 42 miles away. I tottered away from the checkpoint with yet more food inside me, pasta twists with garlic sauce this time. By now my stomach was like a balloon and I had eaten so much the rhythm of my breathing was affected. I decided to walk until things settled down.
The section to Bridge of Orchy was the fastest yet, but I had begun to notice that my legs, in particular my shins, were really starting to hurt as the relentless pounding from the stony granite track began to tell. Bob came out to meet me about a mile from the checkpoint. I was grateful for this as he probably saved me from going off course. For the first time I sat in the
car to rest my tender legs as we discussed the possibility of an RV at Ba Cottage in the middle of Rannoch Moor. I was really enthusiastic about this, as it would be a welcome break on the longest and most barren section of the race. At this point we were advised that it was possible to get a car up there. This was good news for Bob and Jaff, as it would save them a long
hike up from the A82.
With a deep breath I set off up the rugged track to commence what I regarded as being the make or break section of the race. Sub 24 was well on the cards, and I had moved up to eighth place. All of this was a bonus, but by now there was a lot to lose as well. As the stony track stretched away in front of me into misty infinity, I recognised the bleak scene portrayed in
Jaff¹s book. I jogged as often as I could bear to, but the hard, rocky trail was really hammering my shins. Occasionally there were stretches of narrow peaty pathway to the side of the main track and whenever these occurred I teetered along them, grateful for some relief from the harsh pounding. At last the way began to drop down towards Ba Bridge. But something was worrying me. The track had become very much rougher, it would be impossible to get a car along it. I wondered if it was any better from the opposite direction. This didn't seem likely, and it dawned on me that Bob and Jaff probably weren't going to be waiting for me at Ba Cottage. Sure enough as the cottage came into view I could see no one. Perhaps they were exploring the ruin? But no, there had been a misunderstanding. They were in fact waiting for me at Blackrock cottage, a mile and three quarters from Kingshouse, and you could get a milk float up there. This was a major setback as I had run out of water, and my pulverised shins weren't going to allow me to climb down to the stream. I pressed on. Just then, as I hobbled onwards up to the crest which marks the descent to Kingshouse, I saw two men on mountain bikes picking their way up towards me, illuminated by intermittent bursts of sunshine. They drew level with me and stopped. I would like to offer my thanks to these guys, unfortunately I don't know their names, they were supporters of one of the continental runners and I was to bump into them several more times. Their kind words and offers of drinks made a big difference at a low moment for me. I passed Blackrock cottage, grumbling ungraciously and pausing for a swig of water.
At last Kingshouse came into view and I staggered into the checkpoint in considerable discomfort. By now my legs were very painful, and I asked if we had any pain killers. No sooner had I asked than I became convinced that taking them would be in contravention of the rules. Bob returned with paracetamol which I refused, settling instead for a clean pair of socks, a pint of tea and some rice pudding. I sat in the car blathering nonsense in between shivering bouts, for a full 25 minutes before dragging myself out for some more West Highland Way.
Shortly after setting off my mobile went off again. This time it was three mates of mine phoning from a pub in Stepney, sinking a few pints before the Germany match. Our situations could scarcely have been more different, but despite feet that felt like clubs of raw meat and shins that were seemingly being attacked by a maniac with a cold chisel, I was happy. Well, sort of. Ironically, the steep climb of the Devils staircase provided me with a form of relief, as negotiating the gradient meant that I was using different muscle groups, allowing my shins respite from the ceaseless pounding. On arrival at the top however, the track became more rugged and broken than ever before. The descent to Kinlochleven was little short of agonising, and apart from the final section I managed only a bare minimum of running, lurching along through the housing estate as best I could.
Someone had told me that the WHW shelter could be difficult to find, and I was relieved when I saw Bob jogging towards me to lead the way in. The good news was that I was way ahead of my schedule for sub 24. In fact if I could do the last 15 miles in 3.30 I would get under 20 hours. And with Scottish licensing laws, a pint of Orkney Skull Splitter in the Grog & Gruel was a distinct possibility! I left Kinlochleven with Jaff accompanying me and a renewed spring in my hobble. Then a sort of reality kicked in.
The last 15 miles were a blur of freezing cold, clammy heat, thirst, nausea, an inferno of bites, interminable grey vistas disappearing into the gloom, claustrophobic suffocating woods screaming with midges, red toads slithering across the path wherever I looked, cow dung, giant fences, hills, 20 hours on the clock and not a street light in sight, an endless dark escent.....
Then suddenly, Bob, hunched over a roaring Peak stove, hastily knocking up a brew by the roadside. ³Here you are Tim, mate. Brew for you². he said offering up a thermal mug. The last thing I wanted at that moment in time was a brew. In fact, I felt like spewing. Jaff, having witnessed my earlier retching spoke for me. ³Bob, I dont think he¹s up for it, mate².
I meandered off up the whirling orange street, whimpering to myself, with Jaff quietly shuffling along beside me trying to match my pace, which by now was roughly equal to the growth rate of fungi. Bob drew alongside in the car. ²Anything I can do for you, Tim?² I felt a strange need to be entertained. ³Yes please Bob². I murmured, ³could you put Travis on the CD for me?² ³No problem, mate². The raucous strains of Massive Attack thudded down the sleeping street. ³Bob, he wanted Travis. Its number 4². A pause before a new form of dance music hitherto unknown to me, but nonetheless forming an important part of Jaff¹s son¹s C.D. collection rent the air. ³Its alright Bob², I croaked. ³This will do². ³No worries, Tim. You asked
for Travis and you¹ll have it.² ³No really, Bob. I dont mind this, honest² I whispered in desperation. Jaff said something and it all went quiet. At last we came to the roundabout. We were now in Fort William with less than half a mile to go. ³Come on Tim. Nearly there. ³No we¹re bloody not! It¹s miles!², I whined. I was convinced they were lying to me and I wasn¹t going to fall for it! By this time my progress had been reduced to walking sideways whilst supporting myself hand over hand along people¹s fences and garden walls.
As I passed the Nevis Bank Hotel I looked up to see a man in a bow tie holding out his hand. I took it and he shook my hand, ³Well done .You¹ve done very well². I was so touched I could have cried. I was also very relieved, as he had told me that the bar was still open for residents, and we were booked in there. ³Look Tim, come on its here!² Nah, They must think I was born yesterday I thought to myself as I stood there swaying, staring saucer eyed at the entrance to a leisure centre. A woman emerged. ³What are you standing around out there for? Come in and finish!² she said a touch impatiently. It had taken me 22 hours 15 minutes and 17 seconds. I had finished in sixth place.
Fifteen minutes later my ankles were swelling to the size of my calves and dark blotches were spreading over my shins. Bob thought I might have a stress fracture, and as there was an A&E just a few hundred yards down the road, decided that it might be wise to visit. I was convinced it was a plot to keep me out of the bar. In fact  I¹m still convinced it was a plot to keep me out of the bar.
As I lay on the couch in casualty, the doctor asked me about the race. ³Where did it start?² ²Er, Glasgow², I replied. ³So what are you doing here?² ³Er, it was from Glasgow to here². ³You¹re mad! Are there many more of you?² ³I¹m not sure, but I came sixth². ²And I thought I was going to have a quiet night! he groaned. ³Anyway, I think we¹re going to keep you in
overnight². My heart sank as I realised I was going to be deprived of my celebratory wee dram. A pretty staff nurse wheeled me to the bathroom and began filling the tub with steaming hot water, ³would you like me to bath you or will you be alright on your own?². ³No it¹s ok, thanks. I¹ll manage by myself². I replied, obviously suffering from some form of delirium. Perhaps I was trying save her from having to look at my feet which Bob, a paramedic with years of experience with the London Ambulance Service had said were the worst he¹d ever seen still attached to a person.
³Are you alright in there?² I awoke and sat bolt upright, sending a tidal wave  of bath water slapping onto the floor. ³Won¹t be a minute!² The nurse led me into the ward and I eased myself between the crisp white sheets and slept. The next morning I awoke to find the ward filled with sunlight and an unpleasant smell emanating from beneath the bed. I leant over and iscovered
a plastic bag containing what was left of my trainers. I thought about keeping them as a souvenir, but on closer inspection decided against it. I was taken to be X-rayed. I expected my shin bones to resemble the glaze on a Ming vase, but there was nothing! The doctor said it could be compartment syndrome, where the sheaths encasing the muscles become frayed. There was plainly something wrong because my ankles we¹re bulging over my unlaced trainers and I couldn¹t walk. I still felt like a wimp though.
Bob & Jaff arrived to collect me. We went straight to the pub. We didn¹t have long before the presentation and after a couple of quick pints, Jaff insisted on wheeling me there. I didn¹t have much say in the matter. I felt very self conscious as I rose unsteadily from my seat in the Nevis Bank Hotel to collect my crystal goblet and souvenir porridge. Porridge? Perhaps
someone felt I needed a few more hairs on my chest. All too quickly it was time to leave. We wished we had booked another day off work to relax in the glorious sunshine, but it was not to be. I squeezed myself into the back of the car and drifted off to sleep with the sound of Travis softly speeding us home.

This epic race was the highlight of my year, but it was one I would have missed without the help of some good friends to whom I would like to offer my thanks. Thanks most of all to Bob and Jaff. Thanks to Dario. Thanks to everyone who turned out to man checkpoints, and to everyone who offered me a word of encouragement along the way.
Thanks to the staff of Fort William Hospital. (I'm still trying to figure where to put the stamp on a pair of crutches), and lastly to everyone who sponsored me so generously for a worthy cause. Congratulations to Wim and Kate for their amazing records and to everyone who turned up to have a go.

Tim Rogers. September 2000 West Highland Way Race June 23rd & 24th, 2007

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Scott

William Scott

So, after twelve months of training specifically focused for the West Highland Way Race, there I was at 1:00am in Milngavie at the start of the race. 120 had entered last November and a further 30 had been promoted from the reserve list, but by the time of the race start 45 had dropped out and now here were 105 runners ready to face a day and two nights running 95 miles across some of the roughest terrain in Scotland. I don’t know what I looked like, but the other 104 looked terrifying hard and fit.

We started with a gentle jog through the underpass of Milngavie Station with a blaze of flashing cameras. Within a few seconds we were into Mugdock Woods, relatively easy terrain, but with plenty of opportunities to turn an ankle in the dark. I chatted to people in a deliberate effort to keep my pace down. I was also anxious to keep as many people in sight as possible, as in the dark it was easy to miss a turning and get lost. However the first 7.3 miles seemed to go in very easily and before long, there I was approaching my first support point, the Beech Tree Inn at Dumgoyne. Tony Barry from the running club and my daughter Amanda were waiting with a carbohydrate drink and re-fils of energy gels. I’m glad they spotted me as I would never have recognised them in the dark with their faces covered by midge nets. A few miles more and I was totally alone, but soon came across a blaze of lights where the race organiser had arranged escorts through 100yds of road works. Down into Drymen and there was Tony & Amanda again. So far so good, 12.3 miles and I was 6 minutes ahead of schedule. However, that was the easy bit, next was the Garadhban Forest and Conic Hill and it was starting to rain. The mist came down and the rain turned to a downpour. I am not sure if it was because my glasses were wet or the mist but I could hardly see. My neck ached as I strained to pick out the rocks underfoot in the small beam of light from my headtorch. At last the sky began to lighten and I reached the top of Conic Hill. From there it was just a short but very steep descent into Balmaha, the first checkpoint. 19.2 miles and two minutes down on schedule - Conic Hill in the rain, mist and dark had been hard and dangerous, but I felt ok.

I enjoyed the next stage, even though there were quite a few climbs, and I reached Rowardennan (26.9 miles) 5 minutes ahead of schedule, feeling really good. Rowardennan was the last point I would see my support until after the arduous stretch up the east side of Loch Lomond.

The first few miles to Inversnaid is a forest track, but then it turns into a twisting up and down narrow path with a lot of scrambling but eventually I reached Inversnaid (34.3 miles), 28 minutes ahead of schedule. I had gained 23 minutes on that stretch from Rowardenan. The road access to Inversnaid involves a long detour and is not practical for support teams to reach, so it is manned by a mountain rescue team who handed out the runners’ drop bags left with them at the start. I had experienced a few dizzy spells on this stretch, so I dissolved a packet of re-hydration powder into a bottle of water. I drank a litre of water, a litre of carbohydrate drink and after a quick call to Janet to let her know that I was ahead of schedule, I set off again with a mars bar in hand.

After the start, my wife, Janet, and Colin had returned to their hotel rooms to get to sleep. Then, after Rowardennan, they swapped places with Amanda and Tony and headed up the other side of Loch Lomond to join club members Mathew and Suze at Beinglass.

Inversnaid to Beinglass is probably the toughest part of the West Highland Way, and I was glad to get it behind me, arriving, smiling as you can see in the photo, at Beinglass (40.9 miles), losing four minutes, but still 24 minutes ahead of schedule.

Amanda had set up a text group of friends and family back home and had been sending out regular updates of my progress. Many of those receiving the updates responded with messages of encouragement and Amanda read them out to me. This regular flow of messages not only encouraged me throughout the race, but also kept up the level of excitement with my supporters.

The next 10 miles to Auchtertyre were uneventful and I gained a minute, now 25 minutes ahead of schedule. However, I was tired and my hips were aching, so I took advantage of a massage from the “Athlete’s Angels”. The massage must have worked, because I didn’t notice my hips ache again for the rest of the race. The race rules allowed me to be accompanied from this point, so Suze set out with me for the next 10 miles to Bridge of Orchy (59.6 miles), where I arrived 36 minutes ahead of schedule. Anyone who can remember their first marathon will recall that about the 20 mile point, you suddenly get a wave of emotion, because you know at that point, that having come that far, one way or another you will complete the marathon. That was just how I felt at Bridge of Orchy! Almost 60 miles completed (59.6 to be exact), 36 minutes ahead of schedule and ONLY 35 miles to go. I knew at that point that I was going to do it.

After a short break, Suze and I set off over the hill to the Inveroran Hotel, while the support crew took the short-cut by road. It was then a tarmac mile to Victoria Bridge. The tarmac was a joy to run on after the stony ground of the previous 62 miles. On this stretch Suze & I were joined by Amanda and Colin. At Victoria Bridge, Amanda & Suze were picked up by Tony in his car, whilst Colin & I headed off across Rannoch Moor

I had been dreading Rannoch Moor as it is bleak and very exposed, but the weather was kind to me and I arrived at Blackrock Cottage on the other side of the moor two and a half hours later, now 56 minutes ahead of schedule, having skipped my scheduled 20 minute rest at Victoria Bridge. I also skipped my scheduled 5 minutes at Blackrock Cottage and ran on to the Kings House Hotel (71.5 miles) arriving 63 minutes ahead of schedule.

The Hotel marks the entrance to Glen Coe and is a popular stopping point for climbers. I don’t know if it was planned for the race, but a piper greeted my arrival and departure. I had planned a twenty minute rest here, but only took about 15 minutes. Tony took over from Colin for this next 9.1 mile stretch to Kinlochleven. The first 2.9 miles to Altnafeadh were easy enough and paradoxically the steep climb up the Devils Staircase was a relief as it used a different set of muscles. But, darkness fell while crossing the high plateau and the descent into Kinlochleven was painful and seemed to go on for ever. However, we eventually reached Kinlochleven (80.6 miles), where the crew were waiting with hot soup and jammy rolls. I lost 48 minutes on that descent, but I was still 36 minutes ahead of schedule, with only 14.4 miles to go.

Colin took over from Tony and we headed out of Kinlochleven up through the steep wooded hill to the Larigmor, an ancient military road through the highlands. Once on to the Larigmor it started to rain heavily and I started to get cold. I put on a waterproof jacket, but the dark and the rain made progress slow and painful. I was constantly kicking large stones and my feet really hurt. Just like the descent to Kinlochleven, the Larigmor went on for ever, but eventually we reached the checkpoint at Lundavra (88.1 miles), having lost another 14 minutes. Lundavra is a bleak spot high up between Glen Coe and Glen Nevis, but support teams can reach it by means of a narrow forest road. The race marshals had built a large bonfire to keep warm and Janet & Amanda were huddled in our van trying to stay awake while they waited for Colin and me. Despite the slow progress along the Larigmor, I realised that I was still 22 minutes ahead of schedule and if I made a good effort I could beat 30 hours for the race.

Only 6.9 miles to go and I could almost smell the finish. Light had just broken and the rain stopped. I felt really good and pushed on strongly to the finish, briskly walking the climbs and jogging the flats and descents. Before long I was on Glen Nevis Road, which marks the last mile into
Fort William. Tony’s car appeared and Janet and Amanda climbed out to escort Colin and me the last bit into the Leisure Centre at Fort William.

For the eight months since I entered for the race, I had tried to image how this last mile would feel and there I was actually jogging up to the desk at the Leisure Centre and checking into the finish in a time of 29 hours 31 minutes and 35 seconds in 59th place. I would have been happy to finish just within the qualifying 35 hours, but to finish with five and a half hours spare was a huge bonus.

Out of the 105 starters, 76 finished. I was very lucky, I don't think my preparations or race could have gone any better. Absolutely everything went well :-

· My training was at the maximum my body would have endured without injury (especially my back and ankles). (Massages every 6/7 weeks from Jo Spinak also helped avoid injury.)
· My tapering went well.
· I slept reasonably well on the Friday afternoon and evening of the race.
· I selected the right kit and didn't change it - Walsh fell shoes, double thickness socks, lycra shorts under normal running shorts, yellow Ron Hill long sleeve top, WHW buff, gloves. (I did add 2 layers on the Larigmor)
· I didn't get lost, unlike a few others in the race!
· I didn't fall or go over badly on my weak ankles. I was very cautious at dangerous spots.
· I drank consistently from my camelback, refilling regularly.
· I also drank carbohydrate/electrolyte drinks, including tipping a packet of rehydration powder into a bottle of water at Inversnaid.
· I consumed a gel or energy bar every half hour. (I hated the stuff by KingsHouse, but my supporters kept nagging me.) Other food/drinks included 5 jam rolls, 5/6 cups of soup, one cup of coffee, a bannana, and a Mars bar.
· A massage at Auchtertyre helped forestall tiredness in my hips.
· The weather, apart fom Conic Hill and Larigmor was excellent.
· And finally, I paced it perfectly

Although I felt tired towards the end (especially the descent to Lochleven and the Larigmor) I didn't have a single attack of cramp and I always felt positive - what a change from that practice run in March with Kevin, Mark & Michelle, when I had to pull out at Inversnaid and get the ferry !

Finally I must give thanks to my support team of Janet, Amanda, Tony, Colin, Suze & Matthew, who were fantastic. Also thanks to Carol & Ray who supported me on my practice runs on the West Highland Way, to all those who sent messages of encouragement and to all those at HPRC who I have bored for months about my training for this incredible race.

William Scott
June 2007

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Sheridan

THE RENAL WAY

After many months of intense training and preparation little did I know how unprepared I was for the West Highland Way race of June 23rd 2007 and its aftermath. On arrival at Milngavie the place was awash with people and it was a hive of activity even though it was just after midnight. White van man was evident everywhere and people were milling around making their last minute checks to supplies and equipment. I met one or two people with whom I had done some training runs and chatted to them to try and assuage the nerves that were building up inside me. The race briefing was held in the church hall and my team consisting of my two sisters-in-law Maureen and Ali, my brother Antony and his friend Tam had gone to the hall early to get a seat. Dario went over various points, especially the need to keep your race tag on at all times so that if need be a number could be identified to a body (that certainly helped calm the nerves).
On the line I met John Kynaston, another whom I had done some training runs with, and wished him well for what lay ahead. 1am prompt and we’re off. With so many people there were one or two jostling for position. My strategy was to set off at a reasonable pace and keep going for as long as possible till I inevitably slow down. I met Ian Beattie on the way and congratulated him on his sub 3 hour Zurich marathon. My head torch lights the way and soon with darkness all around it gets very quiet and surreal – where is everybody? Coming along the old railway line just before Glengoyne distillery I catch up with the runner ahead of me. She is Lucy Colquhoun who had smashed the female time for the Highland Fling race held at the end of April. My thoughts are to try and tail alongside her as much as possible. We pass through Drymen and I grab some electrolyte gels from my support crew as I run by. As we approach Garadhban forest we are re-directed along a diversion. This diversion appears to turn and twist and go on forever, at one stage we even thought we were lost. Running along we catch up with Wim Epskamp who had won the race on a few occasions. I was in my element; here I was running alongside such exalted company, but for how long? Running along this diversion through the forest and not able to see the road too far ahead gives us an uneasy feeling. I don’t know if Wim has the same feeling but he decides not to follow the diversion signs and takes a different route, that’s the last I see of him.
Finally we emerge from the forest into more familiar surroundings and see the beginning of the grassy incline with the dark figure of Conic Hill looming to the left in the background. The rain that had been coming steadily down really started to chuck it down now. At the foot of Conic Hill Lucy took off and I never saw her till much later, also another guy overtook me since I was half walking/half running up the hill whereas he was running all the way. I was extremely careful on my descent down the Hill as previous experiences of ending up on my backside had taught me to descend conservatively and the wet conditions didn’t lend themselves to any great sustained bursts of speed. Again another runner overtook me here.
Coming in to Balmaha a black veiled person, who turns out to be Maureen (one of my support crew), claps me and directs me to the rest of my support crew. My strategy was not to sit down at checkpoints, particularly the early ones. I fuelled up with Ambrosia rice and a bottle of electrolyte while my crew swapped my camelbak for a bumbag filled with sandwiches cut into small squares (so that I could eat them on the run), jelly babies as well as a bottle of electrolyte and I was off and running within minutes. I’m feeling quite relaxed and am going at a fairly decent pace. Since I don’t see anyone I don’t know where I am in terms of race position and decide to keep going for as long as I can. The rain stops and the gloomy light starts to fade and everything looks so much easier to run through. Soon I reach Rowardennan and my support crew swing into action. I eat my pot of custard and drink from my bottle of electrolyte while they fill my bumbag with jelly babies as well as a bottle of electrolyte and some chocolate. Since no-one is meeting me at Inversnaid we have decided that I will put on the Camel bak filled with water, blackcurrant gels, sandwich pieces and a bottle of lucozade sport. Well laden down I leave for the next checkpoint again after only a few minutes stop.
As I run along I make sure that I drink my water and electrolyte since it is going to be a long race. My small square jam sandwiches taste lovely and the gels are going down a treat, all in all so far so good. Inversnaid comes into sight and the first real sign of tiredness comes here as I push myself down the long flight of stairs to the hotel. I eat a tub of custard and drink some water before pushing onwards. From my experiences in the Highland Fling I knew that from here on in would be sore. Thankfully although I was tiring I felt able to keep pushing on at a reasonable pace. Coming out of the boulders and tree roots I start ascending a hill and am overtaken by Lucy Colquhoun and a guy in red, who turns out to be the eventual winner Adrian Davis. As much as I want to keep pace with them they are going too fast and I have to let them go.
Still feeling strong I approach the next checkpoint of Derrydarroch where I eat my pot of rice and drink my electrolyte. I sit down for the first time and get my legs rubbed with tiger balm. I decide to change my top here and although I had planned to change my socks I felt it better to keep them on since I didn’t know what state my feet would be in and what skin would come off if I took them off. I take off my bumbag and get my Camelbak filled with water, electrolyte, blackcurrant gels, jelly babies and a sandwich. The hill out from the farm is quite rocky and covered in cow dung, which makes it even more treacherous to traverse through. On into the trees and the undulating hills I eventually come down under the viaduct and cross the A82 to a tarmac road. I can see Auchertyre Farm in the distance. After what seems like an age I arrive at the checkpoint and greet my support crew. Gratefully I accept the offer of a chair and get my legs rubbed with tiger balm. I take a pot of custard and some electrolyte. I remove my Camelbak and put on my bumbag filled with electrolyte, blackcurrant gels, jelly babies and a sandwich. I had arranged for a support runner (Alan Jeans) here but since I am in the top ten he is not allowed to run with me. Being in the top ten has made me more determined to push on and I move off with renewed vigour in my step even if it’s somewhat sluggish. The hill out of tyndrum is especially challenging and as I am moving along the valley I suddenly feel sick and throw up my last pit stop. At this point someone, who makes sure I’m okay before he carries on, overtakes me.
I’m glad to see Bridge of Orchy as the last few miles before it have been extremely arduous. The chair has become a must and I plop myself down to get my legs massaged and proceed to eat some pasta with tuna mayo and drink some electrolyte and coffee. The Bumbag is changed for the Camelbak filled with all the usual plus a banana in my hand. I struggle to get out of the chair and find that the hill out of Bridge of Orchy is especially sore and tiring at this stage. I now find that I am in walking then running mode, more walking than running. The vast expanse of Rannoch Moor has me walking a fair chunk of the way and as I glance over my shoulder there is no one to be seen. I fully expect to be overtaken any time soon by the pack but where have all the runners gone? Why is the place so deserted? On the brow of the hill Kingshouse can be seen among the trees. It seems like a mirage because it doesn’t appear to be getting any nearer. My wife and brother-in-law greet me before I cross the busy A82 and their encouragement spur me on. On my way in to Kingshouse some of my family have come out to meet me but the marshals don’t take too kindly to this and ask am I being paced. It’s not something that would have come into my head but I can see their point and I soon set them straight.
The chair at Kingshouse is a godsend as is the leg rub. I take some Chicken soup which tastes uniquely lovely and it goes down a treat. I also eat some peanut butter sandwiches and drink some electrolyte. The Camelbak is changed for the Bumbag filled with all my goodies. My movement is now very slow and I find it hard to get any real momentum out of Kingshouse. I even find it hard to get a good walk going and feel that I am now dragging my heels. Before the Devils staircase I am overtaken by another runner and on my slow ascent I am overtaken by another runner I know as Allen Smalls. Since the way becomes rockier, I find that some of the parts are tricky to cross. As I pass the hydro pipes I know that Kinlochleven will be reached soon enough.
At Kinlochleven I have a multi food flask with salted potatoes, some coffee, jelly babies and electrolyte. My legs are rubbed with tiger balm; the left leg by Maureen who manages to keep her latex gloves intact while my right leg is rubbed by my brother-in-law David who somehow shreds the latex gloves completely. My morale is good and the encouragement from my support crew and family keep me going. The Camelbak goes on and I’m off on the last leg. Coming out of Kinlochleven the ascent is particularly grating and I force myself on. To make matters worse a guy on a Scrambler bike is playing around on the slopes. He passes me several times on the way up and I am almost tempted to hitch a lift since my walk is more of a slow shuffle now. In the distance I can see the end of the road, however when I reach it and turn the corner another even longer stretch pans out. This seems to go on and on and I find that I just want the trees to come into sight. Through the trees and what’s left of them I see the smoke of the fires at Lundavra. Here my crew and family are very encouraging and I try to run some walk some. Up and down through the forest I reach the exposed tree root and know that this last climb will bring me out from the forest.
I don’t know what happened, possibly all the up and down movement but my quads are completely on fire as are my feet. I limp along now on the downward slope and am passed by George Cairns and Murdo McEwan both of whom are running, which I am in awe and jealous of. Passing the Braveheart car park I now know that the end is in sight. I shuffle on to the tarmac road and try as much as possible to lift my legs into some form of canter but they are not willingly responding, damn them. I pass the Nevis Bank Hotel and see some of my Crew ahead, which seems to bring my legs to life and I begin to shuffle again. Then as I approach the Leisure Centre the skirl of the pipes confirms I have finished and Fort William has been reached.
Sitting with my head in my hands I meet Murdo who is apologetic for passing me so late in the race. After a quick shower I headed straight down the road to Glasgow and en route was sick. Since I had been a support runner for my brother-in-law in 2005 and seen him do the same I was not unduly concerned. The next day however I was constantly sick with anything I drank or ate. On the Monday my wife persuaded me to go to Casualty to get myself checked out. The doctor checked my breathing, pulse and vital signs and I also had a chest x-ray. She thought that I was fine, possibly a bit dehydrated but that she was going to let me home. In the meantime another doctor came into my cubicle. Apparently he had run the race in 2000 and had heard about my plight. We were chatting about the race, how the conditions were, how many entrants there were and what was wrong with me.
When his colleague returned he asked her had she checked my bloods. On checking my bloods it became obvious that my kidneys were not functioning. I was immediately put on a drip and told that I was being admitted to hospital because there was a problem with my kidneys. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that there was anything wrong with me never mind seriously wrong with me, even then I did not realise how serious the issue with my kidneys was.
I was taken into an acute receiving ward of the Southern General hospital. I assumed the drip was to offset any dehydration and that I would be out soon. Unfortunately on seeing the consultant, he told me that my kidneys were not working and that I would require undergoing treatment to try and get them going again. The treatment consisted of a drip administered on a 4-hour basis. A catheter was inserted to try and gauge urine output. On the Tuesday the dosage was increased to a 2-hour basis to try and flush the kidneys through. I developed fluid in the lung, which was severely restricting my breathing. Regrettably it was becoming apparent that this treatment was not having the desired effect so on the Wednesday I was transferred to the specialist renal unit in Glasgow Western Infirmary.
On arrival at the Western Infirmary the nurse made it clear that dialysis was an option being considered in my case. My treatment continued with a drip changed every 2 hours, however I was still having difficulty breathing due to the fluid in the lungs and what I noticed was that the lower half of my body was starting to swell. My weight gain was 3 stone in fluid and I felt like the Michelin man because I had to shuffle side to side when I was on my feet. On the Thursday my creatinine (blood purification) level had risen to 768 and the doctor told me that any level between 700-800 was when dialysis was used. Thankfully the consultant persevered with my drip treatment and the catheter was removed on the Friday.
Throughout the weekend my drip treatment was continued and my creatinine levels were starting to slowly drop. On the Monday morning my drip was taken from me and I was able to waddle about freely. I was given water tablets to take on a daily basis to try and clear the excess fluid. I was let home on the Wednesday but I found sleeping lying horizontal very uncomfortable since I could hardly breath due to the fluid in the lungs and slept sitting up. I attended the renal unit in the hospital on the Thursday, Friday, Monday to get my bloods tested and my weight measured.
The Wednesday saw me attending the out patients department for tests. The consultant was happy that everything was moving in the right direction and that my creatinine levels were now at circa 268. Finally I attended the out patients department at the Glasgow Western Infirmary on Wednesday the 15th of August and my bloods were tested, my weight taken and my urine sample tested. The consultant was happy that everything was moving in the right direction and that my creatinine levels were now at circa 128. He was happy that I had made a full recovery and that he no longer needed to see me. He also informed me that there would be no lasting damage and that everything should be back to normal. In addition he stated that there was no root cause for my kidney failure but that he could not guarantee it would not happen again.

Dario contacted me to see how I was getting on and also to say that I had won the Veterans prize, which was some consolation after my troubles. Medical advice is not to run the West Highland Way again but I always hoped to break 20 hours………

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McEwan

WET HIGHLAND WAY RACE - 22 June 2002
A Perspective through the Precipitation

Within hours of my completing the West Highland Way (WHW) race in 2001, the question had been asked a dozen times. "Will you be doing it again next year?" There was no immediate answer either way. Physically the body was pretty well trashed - fortunately only in the very short term; mentally the brain was going through a turmoil of emotions - high, low, and high again; right off the top / bottom of the scale at times. So there was no definitive "no"; and, equally, no definitive "yes". But, if the truth be told, I guess it was pretty much a "yes" within about a week.

Why do it again, though? Would it not just be a re-run of last year? (Apologies for the pun.) Why not do something different? No, I figured; it would not be the same, not at all. In 2001 I really had no idea of what I was letting myself in for, having never competed in anything longer than the (pretty arduous) 18 mile Two Breweries hill race. Advice and assistance had been forthcoming from many sources - including Dario, the very patient race organiser, and several other very kind individuals who had done the WHW race over the years. This had been a tremendous help, but only by doing it myself could I fully begin to appreciate the enormity of the task. So I'd done it in 2001, though it was a hugely greater challenge than I had prepared myself for. However, I'd survived to tell the tale, and enjoyed it - most of the time. Wouldn't it be great to do it again with the knowledge gained from last year's experience - to revel in the highs, and to try and work out a way of avoiding the troughs of despair and anguish experienced around Ewich, Rannoch Moor, and Lundavra? Notwithstanding 2001, though, I'd never managed to get my head round the enormity of it all. 95 miles distance from Milngavie, on the northern outskirts of Glasgow, to Fort William - the best part of four full marathons back to back; 11,600 feet of ascent……..

A week before the 2002 event, and all had gone reasonably to plan. Countless hours of training runs in the bank, support team lined up, and a gentle taper down. So much time on my hands in this final week, with only a couple of runs to the post box and back. Now it was no longer a week away - it was tomorrow. Self-doubt overwhelmed me. Should I have done more training? Should I go out for a long run now? Why am I doing it again - I didn't have to, did I? A condemned man awaiting the gallows. Sleep would not come. Friday 21 June: "This time tomorrow I should have reached Beinglas". A few hours later: "This time tomorrow I should be going across Rannoch Moor". "Will it be raining?" Probably. The west of Scotland weather forecast for Friday had been wet wet wet. A couple of 'phone calls confirmed that it was indeed wet wet wet - with little let up for tomorrow. Early evening: we tried in vain to sleep - the phone rang three times from well meaning well wishers; the doorbell rang - a neighbour had locked herself out of her home. No chance of sleep - the mind was racing anyway; these interruptions, if the truth be told, were welcome distractions from the overwhelming emotions charging around in the head. 22.00 hours: a huge bowl of pasta; didn't really want it, but it seemed a good idea, and somehow all disappeared down the throat. 23.30 hours: time to set off for Milngavie, the start - the "bottle bus" loaded to the gunwales with paraphernalia for all weather conditions ("5 complete changes of clothes; no kidding", Dario had strongly recommended). Support team and myself - treated to the front passenger seat with marginally more leg room - somehow squeezed in. Initial intermittent drizzle soon escalated to heavy rain, but reverted to damp as we approached our destination.

Milngavie railway station, 01.15 hours. Empty at this time on 364 days of the year; chock-a-block full tonight. We register, and sign the mandatory death disclaimer before receiving race numbers and goodie bag. Nervous banter. Time flies by; a few words of advice and encouragement from Race Director Stan Milne. Total silence. For those condemned, the gallows are very, very close. A warm hug from Jo - chief supporter / organiser, who has lived through the agonies and the ecstasies of the past few months, as well as having been through it all in 2001. A quiet "Go", and the guillotine drops…… Into the tunnel, up the steps, and through Milngavie shopping centre. It's dry underfoot. Very quickly out onto the trail northwards through the woods, head torches bobbing up and down. Skirt round the first few puddles. Its dark. Fail to see the next one, and run through it. Wet feet. Can't avoid the next one - 20 feet long, and right across the trail. Soaked feet, along with everyone else. We're all going about 7 minute mile pace. Far too fast, but no one wants to let up and lose face. No banter now. Just the sounds of 72 pairs of feet padding along in the damp darkness. Surreal.

Slowly we spread out into a more regimented pattern, with less jockeying for position. The lights from the front group are occasionally visible in the middle distance. Our, second, group proceeds at a comfortable pace, alternating lead runner role from time to time, and splash splash splashing along the old railway line past Glengoyne distillery. We cross the main road at Dumgoyne. I'm leading the group, and suddenly find that everyone else has peeled off to meet their support teams. All alone - no one behind; the lead group very occasionally visible ahead in the weak light of dawn. Its now splodge splodge splodge through ankle deep mud and other substances deposited by the nearby cows. I try, not very successfully, to avoid it spraying up on to the half eaten sandwich I have been carrying and very slowly eating over the past three miles. Dark grey, rain laden, sky, with a hint of light to the north east. No torch needed. The only sound being the increasing birdsong with the slowly awakening day. The sights and sounds will no doubt be the same tomorrow, but nobody will be here to pass through it. Today I'm passing through - a casual visitor lapsing into an almost hypnotic state.

The road approaching Gartness (10 miles). Some support cars; a few clean puddles to splash through. It starts raining. Some replenishment offered from the support team. Do I really want to eat cold rice pudding and peaches at 03.45 a.m.? Yes. It goes down a treat. Nearly at Drymen (12 miles), now going through a recently vacated cow field. Ankle deep mud etc. again. The rain continues. The support / checkpoint lifts my spirits briefly; but, with the rain, the daylight diminishes and we almost revert to darkness. I walk, albeit at a reasonable pace, up the long gradual hill; but I hear soft footsteps approaching effortlessly from behind. Sam Kirkpatrick. A brief exchange of greetings, and he flows ahead comfortably into the gloom. Low morale. I've done 13 miles; 82 to go……

But things change. Into Garadhban forest, where to walk is to be eaten alive by midges. I chose to run. Quite a few folk around now, mostly perked up by a bit of refuelling and the slowly emerging daylight. Out of the forest, and into improved daylight, looking across towards the lower slopes of Conic Hill. Three quarters of it is shrouded in mist - maybe its better not to see what's in store….. Ankle deep mud again - but this time it is enhanced by sheep, not cattle. What variety I am enjoying! Down quickly to the bridge over the raging Burn of Mar, and obligatory walk up the steep steps on the far side. As we slowly ascend into the mist, people are lost from view. The temperature plummets. No sounds at all. Am I in a run? Am I in a race? What am I doing here? Weird. I slip and slide down the grass, which gives way to rock, which gives way to uneven steps, and a rapid descent to dozens of midge protected (wise) supporters, and dozens of midge unprotected (unwise) supporters at Balmaha (19 miles). Not an official checkpoint - more of a staging post before the joys of Loch Lomondside. A brief pause with my three supporters, who look like they've just emerged from a night shift at a leaking nuclear power station. Anti midge clothing does tend to make a certain fashion statement, which has not yet reached the catwalks of Milan, Paris or New York. Next year, maybe.

Loch Lomondside, and the water is as calm as a millpond. High grey cloud throughout, with the occasional cotton wool white cloud drifting around at lower altitude. Jorg Painsipp ahead, running on the shingle beach; he vaults - successfully - across a burn. Twenty yards behind, I pause. The shingle gives way to fine grit on either side of the water. I leap, successfully, across the water, but land in the grit - ankle deep; the shoes fill with very fine stones. Something new to think about. Over five miles to the next major pit stop at Rowardennan. Should I continue, and hope that the grit does not rub my feet to shreds; or should I stop and have a rinse out? Think…….. Decide……. Continue….. - so now it is scrunch scrunch scrunch; bit risky, but not unpleasant. Switchbacks, forests, a bit of road; three or four folk in sight. I trot into Rowardennan (27 miles) feeling pretty good, but with no idea where I am in the field. I ask fellow runner Don Lennox where he thinks we are. "Rowardennan", he replies. Thanks, Don, I know that - but I've no idea if I'm in 6th place or 56th place. It doesn't really matter; I'm pretty much on schedule, and can now get the grit out from between my toes.

Don, Guus Smit and I continue to make good progress towards Inversnaid - eating up the miles comfortably; quite glad to leave Rowardennan, midge capital of the universe. We chat away about Wim Eskamp, WHW record holder, and a good friend of Guus. Suddenly Inversnaid (34 miles) arrives - just like that. Sister / brother in law Mary / Roderick are here, bright and breezy, with a car boot full of goodies. Alongside are the Trossachs Search and Rescue Team, resplendent in full midge protection gear and bright orange overalls. Opportunity for a photo call, and some cheery banter. Coach tour party groups emerge from their overnight accommodation, and totter over towards their coaches - probably heading for Fort William, just like us……. Well, kind of like us. Guus and I continue. His mind is totally focussed on a Pot Noodle stop he has lined up at Beinglas, 7 miles hence. I'm rather more focussed on the slippery boulders to be negotiated twixt here and there. Again the miles pass - a bit slower, but by no means uncomfortably; though I pass half a dozen or so who do not look so happy on this jumbled terrain.

Beinglas farm (41 miles). The midges, runners, and supporters are here in force. Adrian (Run & Become), clipboard in hand, Allan Douglas, John Donnelly, Dave Wallace. A party atmosphere…… almost. Someone asks if I am Murdo McEwan. "'fraid so", I respond. He - Sam - turns out to be a friend of my niece who is currently in Australia. Well, well, well! That gives me something else to think about. Off again, now with Allan Douglas; and just behind Dave Wallace with his distinctive walking run gait. I try to mimic it, not very elegantly or successfully. Dave has done the race nine times, so should know the least boggy route across the boggy bit ahead. He doesn't. Apparently it changes each year. Its very dark bog, enhanced by the onlooking cows, and very deep in places - but we do manage a route where it doesn't reach the knees. Carmyle Cottage, across the main road, and support runner Cissie joins me to stretch her legs over the hill to Ewich. Cissie is not so keen on cows, but she is soon resigned to her nice white trainers not being white for long. About 30 paces. We approach a stile surrounded by cows standing in their own deep proverbial; experience as a cattle rancher would be useful. They refuse to budge; we splodge through and past - our every move being watched impassively. What do they think about? I wonder. Aching quads, but no trough of despair, we descend to Ewich (49 miles). Allan and Dave both looking incredibly strong. I tag along with Dave - his "walk" and my "run" complementing each other for pace. We lament the fact that an event such as this gets such limited media coverage. In New Zealand it would be front page news. Why is the rest of the world so focussed on the football world cup and Wimbledon tennis when the West Highland Way race is in progress? One of life's imponderables. Splash through the clear river just before Tyndrum (53 miles), and we reach this milestone with relatively clean footwear. A welcome break allocated here, as the support team moves into action like a well oiled machine. Where did Les learn his massaging skills??? Ten yards away someone else looks very unhappy - the aggressive massaging to his legs bringing no relief to his ashen grimacing face.

Dave and I continue, accompanied briefly by his 14 year old son. Up up up the gradual ascent to the watershed, the county of Argyll, and a completely new landscape stretching out far ahead for many miles. Ben Dorain - head in clouds - beckons us on; it looks bigger every time I see it. A long long straight (and dry!) track to Bridge of Orchy. No one ahead; no one behind. Somehow I manage to keep running - well, I kid myself it's a run. At any rate it is more than a walk, and that's good enough. Nearly 100 km. travelled now, and approaching the start of the "Did Not Finish Drop Out Zone" - though some will have dropped out far earlier. But at Bridge of Orchy I'm feeling fine - well, as fine as can be expected - and wonder why the marshalls insist I carry an orange survival bag for the rest of the journey. Up up up over Mam Carraigh. The sun is out for the first time! Beinn Starav emerges into view to the west - the first summit not obscured by cloud and, as it transpires, the only summit not to be obscured by cloud over the whole route. Why on earth do I have to carry this survival bag? Meanwhile the first of about 1,600 Caledonian Challengers passes by, looking fresh as a daisy. The Challengers are running / walking - the ones at the front running; the others walking at varying speeds - on their 54 mile journey southwards from Fort William. Now a descent to Inveroran, and approach Victoria Bridge - no sign of anyone else coming the other way; that lead runner is miles ahead. The sun's still out; slight breeze; no midges; pleasantly warm. Pass Sam Kirkpatrick - he's walking, and reasonably happy; certainly not in Drop Out mode by any means.

Victoria Bridge (63 miles) - brief support stop - and Rannoch Moor beckons. A trough of despair last year; but not so this time round, for some reason. No one ahead, no one behind; a few Caledonian Challengers pass by, including the first lady. Some are fulsome in their encouragement, some grunt a greeting, many don't seem to notice my existence. Strange how folk can be so different. Meanwhile the sun has gone, there is no tree shelter at all, the barren landscape affords no protection, the whole sky is grey, and a heavy rain cloud approaches rapidly round the side of Clach Leathad ready to ambush and catch me unawares. But I'm not falling for that one, as I pull a plastic rubbish bin liner over my head and plod on into the heavy - and cold - precipitation like some kind of slow moving scarecrow. But morale is high, and I can enjoy and appreciate the vast volume of water passing under Ba Bridge. Very pleased that there is indeed a bridge at Ba Bridge - a river crossing here would be suicidal. Up up up, over the brow of the hill and there's Kingshouse, a tiny white coloured oasis in the midst of a landscape of varying shades of brown. The reverie of the environment is totally lost as I hit the main road, and somehow scuttle across between severely overspeeding vehicles. Not nice.

Trot into Kingshouse (72 miles) - The End for some; but The Start to The Finish, 23 miles away, for others. For me it's time for a shirt change - but still keep the incredibly manky Carnethy club running vest on top, of course - and time to wolf down some pasta in wild mushroom sauce. Off again. Its dry on the minor road leading away from Kingshouse. About a mile. Over the stile, and its wet - but clear water wet, not cow brown bog wet. Squelch uphill, then rapidly descend to Altnafeadh. Now to the infamous Devils Staircase, zig-zagging up nearly 800 feet. No problem. I did run it once, but not today. Steadily up, accompanied by support runner Cissie; ascending into rain and huge temperature drop - this was rain of stair rod proportions. On with the plastic rubbish bags; don't need the survival bag…… but now kind of reassured that it is there. (These race organisers think of everything!) Summit cairn. No one ahead; no one behind -very much in solo run mode, albeit accompanied by stalwart Cissie, having seen no runners going our way since Sam, over 2 hours ago. Everything is wet - the sky, the ground, the path in particular provides a conduit for the water rushing down to find the fastest way to the sea. We too are descending to sea level, but the water seems to be more adept than us at gliding effortlessly along the path. Again a landscape where I am passing through - not unlike 70 miles back, before Drymen. Seems an age ago. But now we have moved on to the knee jarring descent past the vast black hydro pipes. It's sheltered here. Trees. But every river is a bursting torrent of white water hurtling downwards with uncontrolled energy.

Kinlochleven (80 miles). A brief stop. Cold, and rain, discourage any thoughts of lingering longer. Morale is fine, and a brief cheery greeting / smile to the marshalls. I'm sure that in marshalling terms this must be the worst possible location in the world - but there is a fish and chip shop down the road, so its not all bad news. Still no sign of anyone else. Up up up through the shelter of the trees to the totally exposed, always into the wind, nearly always into the rain, Lairig Mor. It does not fail to let us down in any way as we trot / splash along the flat and the descents; walk / splash on the ascents. Reasonable progress; then John McLaughlin plus his support runner bound past us. We try to reassure ourselves that they were going really fast, and we're going okay; rather than they are going okay, and we are pathetic. A full pack of jelly babies down our throats helps to confirm the more positive view of things. We trot down towards wet Lundavra - 88 miles gone; 7 to go.

Quite a crowd of people. "Have you seen Sam?" asks one slightly concerned supporter. "About 24 miles back". My response doesn't seem to reassure him. Cissie and I continue. Up, down, up, down, what a horrendously convoluted route through the forest. Its wet - needless to say - but by no means unpleasantly so. Then….. up up up, and out of the forest to see Fort William way way off to the left, and the lower flanks of Ben Nevis ahead - most of its vast bulk obscured by cloud. Downhill all the way now; no one ahead, no one behind. Back to solo run mode. Is this really a race? Where is everyone? Down down down at a very reasonable pace; cheers from support team Jo and Les at Braveheart car park. One mile on tarmac to go. On cue the rain starts again, the pace does not slacken, the 30 mph sign, a few houses, the roundabout, the Nevis Bank Hotel, 100 yards to go, its raining hard, the Leisure Centre, splash splash splash through the car park, and we've done it!

The Leisure Centre. I guess normally bustling with the activity of swimmers and keep fit enthusiasts. Now an oasis of calm. Hot shower, one cup of tea (I decline the offer of a whisky!), and that's it. Once again the head is buzzing with emotions - like a washing machine in some kind of crazy high speed spin mode - but physically there's no problem. Amazing! The rigor mortis like stiffness in the legs will inevitably follow shortly but, for the moment, just sit down and try (totally unsuccessfully) and come to terms with the whole experience and enormity of it all.

Of course the experience and enormity of it all - I still can't get my head round it - would not be at all possible without the effort put in by all the Organisers, Marshalls, Supporters, and my fantastic Support Team - Jo, Cissie, and Les. These good people, and those competitors who are out on the trail for over 30 hours duration (and their support teams), are the real stars of the show. All I have to do is to try and keep running, and try and keep cheerful - which I did manage most of the time!

Question now is - Will I be doing it again next year……….?

Murdo McEwan - 2002

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RennieWest Highland Way Race 2007
95 Happy Miles

This year’s training started terribly, I put my back out on New Year’s Eve, what made it worse was I wasn’t doing anything daft and was sober too. So January 1st the day I normally start to focus on the race wasn’t what I’d planned, I ended up with two weeks off work and £200 on a chiropractor but money well spent. If I’m going to have a month out I suppose January was the right one to pick! So in February I got back into my schedule, running slowly but able to cover the distance and as the months progressed so did my training with no more mishaps.

The week before the race I felt calm, prepared, and ready to go. But the weather reports on the race website forum were not good, I had no plans to check the weather, because what ever it was I would cope with it. There is no such thing as bad weather only bad clothing and I planned to have at least three of everything in my arsenal. But it doesn’t matter how good your Gore-tex, it wouldn’t be much use in a flash flood carrying boulders in it’s path, I was starting to panic, how would I react if the race was stopped for safety. I emailed Bob Allison my concerns. His voice of reason told me to stop worrying, I’m more than capable, get my head down and nail the 30 hours, just go for it! He was right, I calmed down; of course I’ll do it,

On Friday I just ate or slept while waiting for Pauline and Val to pick me up at 10.00pm with enough gear to kit out an army. At Milngavie greeted the old faces and some new ones with best wishes for this year’s race, Steven King, making his debut, looked absolutely petrified. At the race briefing I was right at the back and couldn’t hear, but managed to catch something about the weather, we might get thunder and lightning but if we do it will be in the early stages and in daylight. That’s fine I can live with that.

At 1.00am after the obligatory team photo, we were off, all 104 of us. After all the preparation and waiting it was good to get going. I was still smiling at Bob’s challenge, last week I’d set Bob a quiz (a Munro bagger with the full set) I emailed him a photo of me sitting on top of Blaven, a Munro on Skye, offering him a Mars Bar as a prize if he knew where I was. He won it easy and promised to give me back the Mars Bar if I broke Russell Adams time of 28 ½ hours from a few years ago. I was confident of knocking an hour off my previous time and getting under 30 hours but Russell’s time? We’ll see.

Kept it nice and easy in the dark, staying relaxed, as I turned into the field at Drymen, I was careful not to tread on the hedgehog trundling across my path, I phoned Pauline to say I was on my way, I wasn’t stopping just swapping the rucksack for the bum bag, I forgot to tell them I wasn’t slowing down either; I was running up the road trailing my rucksack in one hand waiting for some one to take it. “Come on, hurry up!” They soon got into gear and I had my bum bag. I had a wee panic when I came to a sign that said “West Highland Way Closed” and a big arrow pointing down hill, I didn’t like the look of the diversion because what goes down must come back up, also I couldn’t see the couple of guys that were just in front so I decided to stick to the proper path, my rational being that the path is closed for forestry work and at this time in the morning any tree-chopper-downer will still be tucked up in bed. The rain was heavy and there was no sign of it letting up, went over the stile where there used to be trees, looked to my left, Conic hill wasn’t there, it was totally hidden in clouds, oh well, no view from the top this morning then! Plodded on and over the top to be cheered on by the Scouts who were there to see the sunrise, then magically a big hole opened in the clouds and I could see up the loch. Wow! The view! It made climbing the hill in the rain worthwhile. Took the descent gently, complicated by my phone ringing, but I was able to tell Pauline and Val I would be going straight through Balmaha, have my coffee and rice pudding ready also my Gore-tex jacket, the one I was wearing wasn’t quite up to the job. Val had a hard task chasing me up the road with my mug; a wee tip, next time put the lid on! Pauline had to walk up the hill with me as I enjoyed my caffeine hit, passed Pauline my mug and banana skin, see ya at Rowardennan.

Rowardennan was where my support came into their own, I sat in the big foldy chair as Pauline and Val grabbed a foot each and like a mirror image they worked together, wet wipes, Body Glide (stuff like Vaseline but better) fresh socks and trail shoes, “Val, I thought you didn’t do feet!” A quick squirt of Skin So Soft, refuelled rucksack and I was off within 6 minutes. I’m not a numbers junkie and I run to my heart and soul not the watch, gadgets and gizmos but I wanted to know how I was doing. I was told I was 19 minutes ahead of last year’s time. Righty-ho! A good start, 27 miles in, that’s the warm up done, time to keep a good effort without over doing it. Took a mental note to reprimand my crew, when they filled my drinks bladder, I only wanted a litre in it but they didn’t squash the air out. My juice was sloshing around like an old washing machine!

I had quite a lot of company along the side of Loch Lomond, a few race virgins, I felt for Shirley, she had lost the path somewhere after Rowardennan and found herself in thick bracken and couldn’t retrace her steps, she ended up wading up the loch for around 20 minutes until she could get back on the track. Trying to find a silver lining for her I commented that at least the cold water would be invigorating for her legs! Also Derek and Stephen Morley, who blame me for them ever running this race, a few year’s ago I was running with them at Glenrothes 50km and said something about a great wee race they’ll need to do. I think this is their third WHW. This was the only section of the race I hadn’t covered in training this year, but it was indelibly etched on my memory, took it nice and easy, I wanted both legs intact to be able to run again when I got onto easier ground. I did well hanging on to my ginger jam sandwich when my toe got caught on a root and I fell over to my right, it wasn’t much of a fall, but a sharp boulder found my right shin. Once I was up I didn’t look at it, wasn’t sure what I’d see but my leg took my weight so must’ve been ok. Picked up some juice and a chicken roll at the checkpoint in Inversnaid, I drank some juice and put the roll in my bag, I wasn’t going to eat it until I felt secure in the knowledge that I didn’t need both hands for hanging onto rocks or trees to keep me vertical. This section did seem to take a lot longer than I expected but was relieved to reach the flat grassy stretch that signalled the end of the dodgy terrain, hurray! I can get my roll out now. The legs were strong and moving well, making good time to Beinglas Farm where I changed back to the bum bag and ate a rice pudding, I asked about my time and was told I was still ahead, they’ll tell me exactly by how much at Derrydaroch Farm. I tootled off up the path approaching half way doing a wee stock take of how I was feeling. I was surprised and delighted to realise my legs were supple and strong, I had to repeat it to myself “My legs are supple and strong!” just to make it sink in how good they felt. My stomach was happy, the only thing I had to show for forty odd miles and lacking a night’s sleep was that I was scrunching my eyes up, the sun wasn’t shining but looking at the path I found it too bright. Right, ok, just my head was tired! That’s fine; you don’t need a head for running. Chickens do it all the time! With that thought I had a little chuckle to myself and headed into Derrydaroch Farm where they had the big chair and fresh socks ready, they must have been a bit tired too, it took them seven minutes to do my feet, find my sunglasses and tell me I was now forty minutes ahead.

On the path along to the forest above Crianlarich I had William for company, a first timer from Nottingham, he’d seen Val and Pauline working on my feet and thought it looked nice but he didn’t dare take his shoes off. We blethered through the steep climbs and dips where the rain came back, propped the sunglasses on my head in poser mode and pulled my sleeves back down, didn’t bother with a jacket, it wasn’t cold. After crossing the A82 Pauline met me in the field, she had walked out from Auchtertyre Farm with my soup, I decided I was wasting a good running stretch walking on the flat road and started to run but soon gave up, it was too hard trying to eat a portion of Mrs Baxter’s best Scotch Broth and phone home to report I’m still alive and well, I do deserve a wee breather occasionally don’t I? It was good having Auchtertyre Farm as the checkpoint because I’ve always felt Tyndrum took ages to come in although only a further three miles away, so happily trundled off, fed and watered knowing Pauline would join me at Tyndrum (53 miles).

At Tyndrum it took me ages to cross the road, didn’t mind being a headless chicken but didn’t want to be a dead one, where’s a lollypop lady when you need one! Now seventy minutes ahead, I’ve got my hour but how good can I make it, my head had woken up, legs still bouncing along and even better, my feet were in excellent condition, in the past at this point I’ve had more plasters than skin, I was buzzing, there is no way I’m letting this go. Pauline had fun with my new digital camera also nattering away with Neil MacRitchie and his support the section to Bridge of Orchy whooshed in. Now at Bridge of Orchy I felt as if I was in the eye of a storm while the tornado whirled around me, I was sat calmly in the big foldy chair, (giggling to myself again) with Pauline at my feet, throwing my shoes and socks over her shoulder as she did my feet, changing to fresh socks and my second pair of trail shoes, Val was one handed preparing my rice-pudding with honey and a mug of hot chocolate, George (supporting Steven) had taken this moment to phone. All this mayhem was over in six minutes; Val and I were walking up the hill as I drank my hot chocolate. Pauline shouted “See you at Kingshouse.”
“Oy! Hang on! You’ll need to come up the hill, I’m not carrying my mug all the way to Kingshouse!” When Pauline returned a guy was helpfully clearing the road of all my debris, he gently kicked it closer to the car for Pauline to tidy up, her task after that was to drive round to Kingshouse with Val’s brand new car, a clever one that knows all by itself when to put lights and wipers on, all Pauline had to do was point it in the right direction and not hit anything, not like the support driver I saw early in the race on the B821 where the WHW crosses over at four miles in. The driver was moving up the road slowly with the back near side door wide open. I wondered if he knew. Oh, he does now; it’s just hit a tree!

Val and I had a good steady pace along Rannoch Moor, discussing what clothes I’d take with me over the Devil’s Staircase. Decided since I’m still moving well, I don’t think I’ll get as cold as last year so I’ll just take the tracksters then heard what we both thought was thunder, ok, I’ll take the Gore-tex trousers. Kept a strong pace up and over the hill, Kingshouse now in sight, usually what happens when you hit hard tarmac after a long trail run, your legs die a horrible death (if the wheels don’t fall off the bogey they at least turn square), after descending the rough path and down on to road at Glencoe Ski Centre I still felt amazingly good, I lengthened my stride to give my legs a stretch and cruised down the road I could also see how well I was doing, the sun was still high above Buachaille Etive Mor last year it was going down behind the Devil’s Staircase then I heard a stern voice behind me “FIONA, EASE UP!” Val had slowed to phone Pauline with instructions but couldn’t get a signal; she had to work hard to get back to me, she continued her reprimand, “You’ve a long way to go yet!” I had to explain I wasn’t pushing, only stretching my legs, honest. Val was concerned, and wasn’t going to let me work too hard too soon. After crossing the road Val put a sprint on into Kingshouse to find Pauline with a change of instruction, with me being ahead of schedule, she wouldn’t have my pasta ready. Val had suggested I wait for it. Ha! Not on my list of options, I’ll just get it at the bottom of the Devil. At the car Pauline had some clothes ready for me she also shoved in my mouth a great huge chunk of chocolate (Yorkie It’s Not For Girls, we now know why it’s not for girls. On the “Things not to tell your runner ‘til later” list Pauline admitted that she couldn’t break the chunks apart and had to bite the piece off for me, I didn’t notice the teeth marks.) Also a ploy to stop me shouting at her, but it failed “No, not that fleece, the blue one and my Saltire Buff scarf and the clear glasses”. After getting the fleece on Pauline told me to bugger off, she would catch me up with my refuelled rucksack and Val will drive along to Altna-feadh to prepare my pasta. I was now 1hr 52 mins ahead of last year’s time.

Enjoyed my pasta walking up the Devil’s Staircase, Pauline taking loads more photos on the way up. The top and its still daylight, what a boost and a novelty! What a difference it made being able to see and so much easier to pick a route through the rocks and on the steep descent managed to run well finding that fine line of running well but not going too fast getting out of control and having to use my quads as brakes. Into Kinlochleven with another confusing diversion but I followed this one as it was marked WHW Race, I thought the checkpoint had changed but you came out at the usual place only going round the back of manky factories instead of the nice path through woods, oh well, got there anyway. Kinlochleven was heaving with midges, they were getting under my glasses, a close fitting wrap around style I wear specifically to keep the beasties oot ma face! I skooshed Pauline in the face with the Skin So Soft as she changed my socks for the last time, drank my oxo as fast as I could went over to the checkpoint in the Health Centre and announced “That’s number two in and number two out!” relieved to get out of that heebie-jeebie inflicting pit. Val soon caught me up. Right this is where I’ll start making an effort, fifteen miles to go, in the past I’ve found this section the toughest, struggling slowly along while the Lairig Mor maliciously laughs in my face as it winds on and on throwing stones at my toes, biting my bum and slapping my face making me think death could be a pleasant experience. It’s not getting me this year, I still feel good, legs still supple and strong, stomach happy, only a blister on the ball of my left foot and there’s no way that will slow me down, I’m now 3.15 hours ahead and moving well, Val set a fast pace and I kept with it. The light was going but still didn’t need torches we could see a light in the distance, it wasn’t moving, it couldn’t be runners, didn’t puzzle over it for too long. I looked up, whoa! My fourth WHW and my first real hallucination, I can see a car parked on the Lairig Mor… Aw! Wait a minute, there really is a great big 4X4 sitting there, an extra checkpoint since there is now access up and a phone signal at this point. Oh well! Disappointing but puzzle solved. I put my torch on, it still wasn’t too dark but it gave me something to follow, as it got darker the path seemed to get harder, stopped running, but didn’t slow too much it just used less energy to walk with a good long stride over the stones and puddles but broke into the odd stagger as my feet skittered over boulders, Val gave her ankle quite a sore one but she carried on regardless. I kept pointing my torch up the path looking for the trees; although it’s good it was no searchlight, but eventually I could smell the forest before I saw it, (why don’t pine air fresheners ever smell this good).

At Lundavra Pauline gave me my last mug of coffee and took over the reins for the last push. Val went off to find her black car abandoned by Pauline on a pitch-dark track somewhere between Lundavra and Fort William. Both Pauline and Val had been good at reminding me to eat and drink along the way but it wasn’t difficult, my guts were good, possibly something to do with the large quantity of crystallised ginger I’ve munched all the way. We kept a good pace through the spooky woods, I’d given Pauline permission to shout, bully and do whatever it takes to keep me going and not to slow down on the last 10km but I was on a high the whole way she didn’t have to say much. When we were going over the Devil’s Staircase she gave me a pep talk, “When it gets dark you might take a dip in spirit and energy but get aggressive and fight it.” It never happened, I was still giggling to myself. I stumbled across the stones and let out a yell. “Yike-arroonies!” What kind of aggressive, fighting talk is that! I thought. Pauline never commented or looked round, just as well, don’t know what she would of thought of the manic grin on my chops. Over the stile and onto the wide forest track, Pauline looked up and noticed there were torches just behind us. “That’s ok they can go past me if they want. But they’re going to have to be good to do it.” Earlier in the race I had considered changing my shoes at Lundavra going back to the road shoes I had worn up to Rowerdennan but I didn’t bother, nothing was going to help or hinder my sprint finish. On the steep downhill of the forest track I lengthened my stride, pushing a hard 10km effort breathing my lungs inside out. We caught and went past another runner who was walking a good pace, it was Alan Young one of the race’s fore-fathers who did most of his WHWs before the archives began coming out of retirement to celebrate a birthday. Goan yersel auld yin! (If the Brechin Boy ever reads this I’ll get a cuff roon the lug fur ma cheek!) Carried on down the hill. Pauline shouted at me, “Your posture’s going get your head up!” I was struggling to see the path in my torchlight and said as much. Pauline replied my torch looked bright enough to her. She was right, I took my glasses off they were steaming up. “Here, you have them.” At the Braveheart car park Pauline got the phone out to let Val know we were on our way in, “Don’t bother, there’s Val.” She was waiting in the car park. Onto the road and into street lights for the last mile gave Pauline my torch, didn’t bother to switch it off, she can deal with it. Wasn’t sure if I would manage to wind it up much more for a sprint finish, I was going as hard as I could already. I went past a runner but didn’t have breath to acknowledge her at least Pauline had the manners to do so. Where is the Leisure Centre, I can’t keep this effort up for much longer. At last, I can see it. Pauline sprinted ahead to get a photo, I giggled to myself again and thought, “You’re going to have to go faster than that!” as I wound it up a smidgen, she failed. Luckily Val was there and caught my moment of glory. Number two finished in 26 hrs 14 mins 48 secs knocking 4hrs 46 mins from last years PB. What a race! I don’t think it could have been any better; I must be a proper loony to have laughed all the way round but I really did enjoy every minute.

There are no words adequate to thank Pauline and Val for their support and ability to adjust as I constantly surprised them as I arrived in every checkpoint ahead of schedule. My total stop time was 20 minutes and the longest being 7 minutes. I do get to return the favour for Pauline when she runs for GB in Canada next month. (I think twins do make excellent support for each other, we’ve been poking each other in the eye since before we were born, and I won’t have a problem watching her hurt as she attempts to break her own Scottish 24 hour record.) Val, any time you need me for a daft adventure I’ll be there.

Bob congratulated me and handed over the Mars Bar, he asked what would I do for a whole box full. I answered sub 24. But just a box of Thornton’s Continental will do it. So Bob, you’d better be standing at the Leisure Centre at around ten to one in the morning on June 22th 2008 with my choccies!

Fiona Rennie

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Allison

The 2004 West Highland Way Race. A midsummer adventure…again.

It was Friday evening, the 18th of June 2004. After months hiding out in a mountain cave of unknown location, trying to resist the jam piece cravings, the long training runs and avoiding sending in the entry form, I now somehow found myself a passenger in a designated race support vehicle heading for Milngavie…again!

The car park was busy with runners, supporters and marshals as we arrived to register at the train station ticket office.
"A ticket to Fort William please".
"All the trains have left sonny, just sign this disclaimer and you can join the other mad nutters who are going to run there."

The adventure challenge that you are about to embark upon is quite a thought. Milngavie to Fort William, 95 miles up the West Highland Way…
As I walked back to the car, now attached to my handy hospital friendly race number wrist tag, I surveyed the assembled gathering thinking, there are probably only a handful of days in my life as extraordinary as this.

I was performing some last minute race rituals when my friend and fellow entrant Russell Adams approached my support vehicle. I was in a contorted position in the front seat, leggings down at half-mast, applying cream to my tender bits. He laughed loudly and so did I. A welcome break to the tension that we all felt. After the customary shaking of hands and the exchange of good luck remarks I noticed time was almost upon us. 12:45 am and Dario's pre-race briefing contained a thought provoking assortment of words like "snow forecast on the hills" and "bivvy bags required from Bridge of Orchy onwards!"

Derek Jablonski, who was an invaluable support to me last year, had decided to have a go this year. The event has that sort of influence. We both headed towards the underpass ready for the off and assembled with Dave Muir and Jez Tomlinson near the back of the enormous field of 90 runners. I felt the cool night air even with my hat, gloves and rain jacket on. A few of us from Fife who had done some training together intended to accompany each other as far as we felt the pace comfortable then go our own ways. I fidgeted with my backpack straps and chatted apprehensively. A few cameras flashed from the road banking then a reserved cheer as everyone suddenly began moving through the tunnel. The 2004 WHW race had begun.

We made our way past the late night revellers in the Town centre and off into the blackness of Mugdock wood. During these early miles the trick of the night blunts the concept of distance travelled. It's a time to relax and enjoy, pondering what lay ahead. Even though I had previously passed this part of the Way a few times, I wasn't confidant of recognising the route at night. I also thought the runners in front of us were too excitedly chatting away to really notice. I suggested to Derek that we slow up further from our already slow pace and drop back to give a clear view ahead. I had my map and compass but didn't want to have to use them. Now warming up, we also decided to remove our jackets.

My suspicions were confirmed as we approached Arlevan cottage. A row of torchlight's had continued down the landrover track and way off the trail. They were obliviously bobbing around in the darkness towards Ardoch, shining like a landing strip for a close encounter UFO. We called to the nearest runner in front as we turned left on the trail and looking back, saw that the message had filtered down and all the lights were now dancing back towards the route.

Derek, Dave, Jez and I chatted intermittently among ourselves and other runners as we made our steady way to my first arranged fuel stop at Drymen. Entering the approach field I remembered to switch on the flashing armband so supporters Jean and Gus Bowman could see my imminent approach. Molly their friendly Spaniel looked on, thinking, "That looks like my flashing collar?" Yes Molly, it was and thanks, that's a chew bar I owe you.

With the first fluid fill successfully undertaken using my new giant formula one style plastic filler (thanks to Malcolm) and a jam piece eaten, it was on towards Garadhban Forrest. Here I met Phyllis Lemoncello a fellow Fife member and begun the gradual climb up and over Conic Hill. I kept my head torch with me but the morning light soon began to filter through and it was unnecessary. The summit was clear of cloud and offered a stunning early view of Loch Lomond, it's many islands and the surrounding hills. Passing a few runners we carefully made the brisk descent down to the Balmaha car park and checkpoint number one.

A queue had formed to sign in with the marshal and for the first time today I was aware that the dreaded midges were biting me. As soon as possible I hurriedly progressed over to where Gus and Jean had parked the car. I perused my 2003 WHW race menu and it said, "rice pudding and tuna piece at Balmaha". That'll do for me. Stick to the blueprint. More water and sports drink then out along the road for the Lochside jog to Rowardennan.

I had begun to feel bloated prior to arriving at Balmaha and as I left, I felt even worse. I jog walked through the woods steadily realising that I was now unable to keep pace with my friends and began drifting off the back. It's a long race I thought and tried to move forward as best as I could with an exploded airbag slowly deflating in my stomach. I met up with Craig Liddle and Richard Shaw also from Fife and we chatted about how things were going. I began to compare how I felt this year with last year and I wasn't too optimistic. I had breathing problems and felt light headed, nauseous and the stomach pain and discomfort had increased. They say prepare for the low points of the race. Well I was certainly having one here. I carried on trying to convince myself I had felt just as bad last year. It will pass, just keep moving, even slowly. Surprisingly I soon began to see Derek, Dave and Jez a short distance in front and managed to catch them up. Together we headed along the road past the Hotel and arrived at the Rowardennan support point. Still feeling unwell, I immediately headed into the 'tourist comfort hut' as per last year and gave thanks that there was a vacancy!

I exited in time to see Dave and Jez accompanied by Jocelyn head off along the landrover track. Gus and Jean quickly sorted me out with more fluids and food and I left to catch up. Luckily I arrived just as they were heading into the grounds of the Youth Hostel. "Wrong way guys!" I shouted, and they've both completed the race before. Jez has twice! Derek soon caught us up after swallowing a serious quantity of home made soup. Gradually feeling more functional I chanced a look at my splits' chart and was reassured that my target schedule was still on.

The Way continues along the Lochside high road before narrowing considerably into a path. We occasionally passed other runners including the moustached look alike118 duo. We shared turns at the front along the muddy approach to Inversnaid checkpoint. A startled backpack laden lady walker kindly made way for us. Unfortunately she overbalanced and fell onto her back on the grass banking. "Are you OK?" we called passing by. "Yes", thankfully came the eventual reply.

The Invernsaid Hotel, official checkpoint number two is a rather unexpected sight to emerge through the rhododendron bushes. I registered myself in with the ladies from the Strathven Striders and the Trossachs rescue team is on hand with my lucozade sport and jam piece, which I had deposited, at the start. More water and a free banana, courtesy of the sponsor and I walk off munching my snack reflecting on last years' mega midge problem here. And on the subject of highland wildlife, where do all those large black slugs go in winter? This thought was to crop up periodically throughout the day as I tried to avoid squashing them all over the trail.

Having now covered over 34 miles our individual aches and niggles had begun. This section from here to the end of the Loch is narrow, muddy, rocky and undulating and I like it. It's a veritable obstacle course focussing the attention and helping pass the miles to Ardleish. I like the up, down, slow, quick, walk, run, jump, step, hobble, slip, trip and duck bits and with the extra addition of two recently fallen trees to clamber through. I intensely concentrate trying not to fall when suddenly I am startled by a moving rock. Calm down, it's only one of the local mountain goats spooked by my appearance. We emerge from the trees at the loch end clearing. I find myself at the front with Dave. The others are slightly further behind. I slowly walk on, continuing to take on fuel. I then notice the tree branch I'd painfully smacked my forehead into while running through a swollen river during a wet, freezing training run in March. Ouch…that was quite an eventful day!

Up through the trees and on to Doune bothy where that same March day, contemplating how far I was from my car at Balmaha, I'd scribbled a painful, grumpy account of the first half of that long cold training run before heading back. I now reminded myself that ultra runs are fun and got on with jogging down the hill past the bothy. Looking back, I realised I was now on my own.

I passed a few runners as I made decent time through Beinglas farm, then up Glen Falloch and onto Derry Darroch the third checkpoint. My ankles had begun to feel sore but I received a great psychological lift when amongst the crowd I spotted Jane Mcintyre and Henry Cooper who had come to support me. I spoke to Brian Landels and Graeme Bairden who were here to help Dave, Jez, Craig and Richard. I registered with the race marshals and ate a banana then covered the short distance to my support stop at the tunnel in about 10 minutes, almost smacking my head into the rail tunnel steel roof girder as I intently studied my splits' chart! "Duck Bob", whew just in time! Gus and Jean were a welcome sight and now assisted by Jane, Henry and Charlie Anderson who had arrived to help. This is definitely an event to share with others, a right social occasion. The team was together and I felt generally more optimistic. I called to Deirdrie, Neil and Jocelyn that the guys were just behind and I made my only trainer change. I thought my laces were maybe too tight from the start and had caused nerve pain on the front of my ankles. Just have to go with it now. Another look at the menu, a rice pudding and a tuna piece. Unfortunately, being over zealous with the salt application on the tuna for scientific reasons, I had to swiftly chuck this unpalatable sandwich to the birds and head for halfway distance.

Higher I climbed, surveying the stunning views from the old military road towards the mountains of An Caisteal up to Cruach Ardain and over to the dominant twin peaks of Ben More and Stob Binnein. What a wonderful sight and so far the predicted horrible weather hadn't materialised, thankfully. However, many miles had still to be covered so I pressed on past Bogle Glen and up to the viewpoint overlooking Crianlarich. The tortuously steep roller coaster descent through the pine trees towards Ewich caused my knees to protest. I unavoidably continued to compare how I was this year to last and had to admit, I now felt more pain at this stage and with 45 miles still to go.

Emerging to cross the A82 road towards Kirkton farm, I met and had a short conversation with Adrian Stott before he pulled out a few hundred metres on me and promptly disappeared past the historical ruins of St Fillan's Priory. This is not one of my favourite sections possibly because it's part road, flat and open and a bit of a directional detour! I'm glad when I again cross the A82 and head for Tyndrum.

Up past Dalrigh but with no time to look for Robert the Bruce's sword in the lochan, I now see Brian running the opposite way to support Richard. I arrive at Tyndrum, checkpoint number four, make my presence known to the marshals, say hello to my support team, grab a jam piece and a banana and continue to walk on up the hill. I make sure I smile for some photos so in years to come it all looks great fun! Jean and Jane are now keeping me company and we make our way further up the trail towards Bridge of Orchy. I look back at the view and see Adrian leaving the checkpoint now behind me.

The wind had risen and was blowing into my face just as you'd expect. We ran down the hill past Auch and I was tempted to cunningly block the wind with Jean and Jane but no, that would be unfair assistance so we all continued to run in line abreast. I was increasingly aware that my ankles and knees were suffering much more at this early stage. This gave me cause for concern but the full on conversation from the girls was an entertaining and welcome distraction. As we neared the railway station the sound of the wind was overlapped by the intermittent exhaust noise of powerful motorcycles revving through the gears, accelerating along the nearby A82. A reminder to me that prior to my late entry into the world of ultra running I was more used to covering long distances by this much faster and easier method.

Down past the houses and there's Henry waving his arms trying to stop the traffic and help me cross the road. What a guy! I hope the cars are paying attention to him as I charge across then down to checkpoint number five. There at the bridge is Gus with his camera. I keep jogging, try to look fresh and smile. That's another section completed and in the bag. More water and sports drink and the compulsory space blanket into my backpack. I was already carrying full water proof body cover as required. Another rice pudding, jam piece and off I went with Jane, climbing up the Mam Carraigh path. The rain had now begun to drizzle down in patches and my hands were cooling rapidly even with gloves on.

The top of Mam Carraigh is another elevated part of the Way offering a superb view over the Black Mount hills and Rannoch Moor but with no time to stare we plunged down the rocky path and out onto the road at the Inveroran Hotel. Gus joined us here as we made our way through the Caledonian Challenge charity walkers coming in the opposite direction. This can be frustrating and requires full use of that compulsory piece of WHW race kit….…the sense of humour.

The stile beyond Victoria Bridge is crossed and we make our way up onto the famous Rannoch Moor. Jane tirelessly offers greetings with a smile attempting to plough a direct route through the hundreds of oncoming charity walkers. By now the wind is blowing stronger and unsurprisingly it's still into my face. The showers continue and my core temperature is starting to fall. Ba cottage ruins and bridge are passed. I deliberate whether to put my jacket on. I see a runner ahead amongst all the walkers and decide to carry on as I am. We exchange a few words and I overtake him and his support runner on an incline. I then stop for the umpteenth leak of the day behind the first big boulder I've seen in ages. What a relief, for an instant I almost feel warm sheltered from the wind. I contemplate how much race time could be saved wearing incontinence running gear all day but then how does one avoid the inevitable disadvantages? The runner now passes me as if freshly invigorated and he's off down the hill in the direction of Blackrock cottage. I pause for a moment to survey Kings House and on towards the devils staircase and then shift my focus up a gear into the terminator mode. Checkpoint number six is coming up.

Another crazy dash across the busy A85 and down the old tarmac road to the Kings House Hotel. My backpack fluid is hurriedly replenished, I grab a banana and another jam piece in minimal time but my hands are now so cold I have difficulty getting the cling film off my sandwich! Even worse, I can't put on any of the other four spare pairs of thicker gloves that I brought as my fingers are too frozen. Can you believe it? Luckily Charlie offers his windstopper gloves. They're a couple of sizes bigger and I get them over my fingers with ease. I check out with the marshals and stride onwards with Gus. Jane takes a breather. As I leave the car park I noticed the runner who just passed me is still there. I was primarily trying to finish and beat my last years' time and had no idea what race position I currently held. I walked along the road wondering whether to ask, then beginning to jog, decided I didn't want to know.

Along the Way to Altnafeadh we pass the last of the charity walkers. Gus tries to alert them to our presence. Many are talking about important issues on their mobile phones and one guy has a big sound system strapped to his backpack giving it large volume as you do in the Highlands…. Cheers mate, you made me laugh at this crucial stage.

Gus parted company at Altnafeadh. Jean, the Beacon calendar July babe, now joined me alone for the climb up the Devil's staircase sadly wearing more than just her surfboard. Doing my best impersonation of the Duracell bunny, the climbing version, I reach the summit cairn at a reasonable pace. We turned momentarily to admire Buachaille Etive Mor, the surrounding hills behind us and the walkers now descending who had greeted us with an encouraging, "Well done ladies!" Jean and I laughed loudly. The rain showers continued to sweep in and I was feeling very cold. We had an hour's descent ahead of us so I finally decided to put my jacket on.

Over and down the boulder-strewn path we bounded. Right foot, left foot, trying to select the best placements wherever possible. The pain in both my ankles and knees was getting quite severe causing me to wince and land awkwardly with each step. I knew it was slowing my rate of descent but in a race of this distance you have to be very lucky not to have your fair share of problems to overcome. I looked over to the Mamores panorama and reminded myself I was thankfully fortunate to be healthy enough to have a go at this budget touring. We now overtook another couple of runners as we further pounded our quads down the steep rough vehicle track and out into the streets of Kinlochleven. Passing the first row of houses I saw Jane and Henry come to escort us to where Charlie and Gus had parked the car at checkpoint number seven, the final one.

A cup of hot tea was thrust into my hand as I continued to walk straight through looking at my splits' schedule and trying to ignore the enticing aroma wafting from the chip shop. Another sandwich in the other hand and an acknowledgement to the marshals as I went on by. Number 42 had left the building…err…checkpoint. Fourteen miles to go and it's 6:45pm. "Remember the head torches please" I shout. Better to play safe even though darkness was still a long way off. Gus, Jean and I began the steep climb out of Kinlochleven and it wasn't long before my breathing became laboured and I felt really tired.

"Am I going as well as last year?"
"Yes" came the encouraging answer.
"I sure don't feel as if I am".
"You are".
"Why am I not catching anyone then?"
There was a long silence followed by "You're doing great".
Probably just another race low point I thought but kept wasting my energy asking daft questions anyway until I received this surprising answer, "because you're in sixth place".
Wow! "Are you sure?"
"Yes".
Having no real idea what position I held until now I was very surprised and delighted.
"How far are the others behind, can you see anyone up front?"
I snapped out of my low trough and was determined if possible to hold my position. Negotiating the loose boulder surface and crossing the burns of the Lairigmor as purposefully as possible with my deteriorating ankles and knees, I kept enquiring if anyone was visible behind me? "No", came the reply but it was almost impossible to accurately see and I worried that a busload of my fellow competitors would charge past me at any minute.

Now into the trees on the approach to Lundavra and we are met by a couple of big four wheel drive vehicles possibly on a late school run or heading for an unknown supermarket destination. With no desire to unnecessarily interrupt my basic forward motion I kept moving on the edge of the track and was almost knocked over. I had to settle for a light soaking as they drove through some rather large puddles. Maybe it was an organised ploy to slow my progress. Jane and Jean had voiced their disappointment that they couldn't use their brand new head torches as I was probably going to finish before it was dark!

I arrived at our last arranged support. Six miles to go and it's still clear daylight. I say hello to Charlie and Henry. Jane joins us for the final leg to the finish. I give my thanks but decline the offer of a cup of tea and just bash on through as best I can on the undulating path, motivated further by all the fantastic company I have. I was "running" well here, just walking the uphill bits and some extra bits I had designated as uphill bits. I was however, getting accused of having phantom toilet stops just to get a rest! Honest guys, I was still genuinely taking a leak. On that subject, I find out later that Molly Jean's excitable spaniel had a little accident travelling round from Kinlochleven in the car and peed on Jane's knee. Oops… and Henry and Charlie the fireman had set fire to the banking at Lundavra with the stove making tea! Such is the obvious excitement in a day in the life of a WHW runner support team!

It's still light as we enter that final lost forest of dehydrated imaginings. Tonight, thankfully, there are no goblins, gnomes or giant toads jumping about the trail to distract us. But it was still all up, down, up, down, round, through and under the dark pine trees negotiating the seemingly endless winding path which eventually emerges with Big Ben Nevis to be seen across the Glen under cloud cover. This is the beginning of the end feeling. I still maintain my position at the front in order to have a clear view of what I am about to trip over. Gravity assisted, we are soon jogging down the wide forest track interrupted only by my need to periodically hit the brakes. I hear some humorous remarks coming from behind about new head torches. "Just wear them anyway", and "Haven't you kept the box?" I shout back thoroughly enjoying the banter even though my knees and ankle pains are now pushing me to the limits of my endurance. Nearing the road we are met by Charlie, Molly and Henry with the camera. Together in the fading evening light we jog along the road towards Fort William on a mission. I again give my thanks to the Glen Nevis Wishing Stone for a successful day and notice that a twenty one hour finish time has probably just slipped beyond my reach now.

It's an absolute delight when I see the thirty miles per hour sign on the edge of town. One last effort up the final small incline in the routes' total 11,624 feet of ascent and along past the houses, across the roundabout road and down towards the finish in the Lochaber Leisure centre. A last determined run across the car park and through the open door. With my head pumping, I dizzily slump onto the reception counter and I've made it.
It's been 21 hours, 7 minutes and 10 seconds since I left Milngavie, 95 miles away. I am in 6th position overall and the 1st placed veteran over forty. I have taken 1 hour 32 mins off my last years' time.

Everything now begins to blur in the heat of the Centre. The leg pain finally overcomes my determination and I have difficulty walking back outside for some fresh air and photographs. The pavement kerbside seems enormous and I try to tackle it side on. I thank Gus, Jean, Henry, Jane, Charlie and Molly for their superb enthusiastic support, the companionship and friendship. I thank them all for being an essential part of this intense experience and adventure. I phone my wife Gail to tell her I've survived and thank her for her encouragement and tolerance during the months of training.

Immersed in my thoughts, I slowly take a few very painful steps away from the centre and try to absorb the content of my Saturday, the 19th of June 2004. An absolute epic.

Well done to first timers Derek, Russell, Craig and Phyllis and to Dave, Jez, Richard and Fiona for all your successful, excellent finishes. Many thanks to Dario, all the Marshals, the race organisation, the helpers, support crews and fellow runners who together make this the fantastic event that it is and an extraordinary special day in my life.

Bob Allison,
December 2004

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Steele

The West Highland Way Race 2007

One by one my eyes opened to find myself in an alien environment, people in white rushing up and down the corridor, the strong smell of antiseptic, distant chattering voices and a tube disappearing into my right arm, it took me a moment to gather my senses and then realise I was in the intensive care unit of Fort William hospital.

‘Ill pay for your entry into this years West Highland Way race for your birthday if you want” I jumped at the chance, 96 miles from the Glasgow suburbs to Fort William, as well as a fantastic route to be undertaken, good training for my Tour Du Mont Blanc race in August, brilliant!! A chance to tick another Ultrarunning challenge off my list.
The train journey to Glasgow was eventful itself with storms, delays, squaddies and an impossibility in actually getting my head down for an hour or two. My plan had been to sleep on the train to compensate for not getting much sleep the night before and an early start at work. Eight hours later I was at Milngavie waiting to meet Mike Mason (one of the regulations of the WHW race is you must have your own support crew, to meet you at checkpoints, feed and water you etc,) but my driver had cancelled at the last minute and Mike saved the day, so I was now sharing Mikes Support crew ‘Ernie’ and later support runner ‘John’. Ernie knew the rigours of Ultrarunning after recently competing in the 145 mile Grand Union Canal Race (Birmingham to London) in a little over 38 hours.
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We all crowded into the Train Station car park at 1.00 Saturday morning waiting in nervous anticipation for the large task which lay ahead of us 96miles to be completed in under 35 hours (Jezz Bragg completed the race in 2006 in a record time of 15 hours 44 minutes) The atmosphere was electric, and then we where off. Our gameplan was to start off slowly for the first 20 miles or so, to warm up both mentally and physically, that plan went to the dogs!! After a few miles into the race through pitch black woods we took a wrong turning and realised this quite a while later. Seeing a light on in the distance we decided to go and knock some farmer up and ask him directions, Mike knocked on the door and eventually a slightly shocked cross eyed man answered the door in his pyjamas (I suppose being woken at 2.00 in the morning by 2 English men dressed in running tights and weird head torches is enough to shock anyone) as the man opened the door I slipped back and hid behind Mike to avoid any kind of verbal onslaught or the barrel of a shotgun (ger off my land, in a Scottish not Cornish way!) but the man gave us directions and we were on our way. ‘Why was that guy in pyjamas at 21.00hrs, bit early to go to bed” then it dawned on Mike, he had read his watch wrong it was 2.10 (Ultras do funny things to your common sense, mind you if you had any you wouldn’t be doing them in the first place!) We had set off at 1.00 so how could it be 21.00, and also it was close to the longest day so at 21.00 it would be light, wouldn’t it?? I will hold this one over Mike for years!) Our little diversion off the track had cost us an hour and a half in time and an extra 6 miles!! So we needed to up the pace if we wanted to reach the first checkpoint before it closed. Along the way we met up with Alex the rear sweeper (runner who collects ways and strays from the back of the group) Alex ran with us all the way to Conic Hill before joining another runner who we passed on the ascent. Mike set a hard pace, which every now and again topped 7.30 minute milling, a suicidal pace for the start of a 96-mile race but imperative to stop us being timed out at the first checkpoint. I felt sick and dizzy, repeatedly ducking behind bushes to have diarrhoea. Eventually we reached Rowardennan (20 miles) 1 minute before the checkpoint would close. The checkpoint was a large car park with 3 or 4 race marshals covered up in midge nets. Ernie, Mike’s and my support driver had food and drink ready for us, which we consumed in seconds, while the midges ate us! Minutes later we where on our way as we still had a serious amount of time to make up before we could contemplate taking it a bit slower.

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Alex once again joined us for the next few miles as the guy who he had joined on Conic Hill had dropped out. The pace altered between a decent running pace and speed walking the ascents. Our aim was to catch other runners up and gradually pass them, which would help motivate us to continue. Eventually we managed to pass a few of people before the second checkpoint.
On arriving at the next checkpoint Mike headed straight for an al fresco massage, and a 6ft Arnold Schwarzenegger masseur went to work on his hamstrings, not a pretty sight, Mike with his running tights down! And then the rain came down. Leaving the checkpoint wasn’t too hard as I was starting to feel cold, several minutes later we had upped the pace and had started to make good time. Mike stopped for a no. 2, so I decided to see how far I could get before Mike would catch me up, my pace quickened and I felt great, even running the ascents, by the time I arrived at Auchentyre checkpoint I had passed a Dozen
runners or so.
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Ernie was waiting for us at Auchentyre checkpoint, with food, and a Thermarest to collapse on. I relaxed on the Thermarest as Mike arrived, I refuelled, changed my socks, inspected the remains of my feet and chilled out a bit too long, as I watched most of the people I had passed, leave the Checkpoint.
The next section seemed to drag on forever, I fell well behind Mike and started to feel very low, ‘Mike send you message t” I looked to the side of me to see who had disturbed my ‘sorry for myself slumber’ two Oriental girls where sat on the ground giggling “He say, hurry up!” I feigned a smile, the prat!! I swore, and then ran to catch Mike up.

BRIDGE OF ORCHY CHECKPOINT
At last we were approaching the next checkpoint, I speeded up knowing refreshments and 10 minutes off our feet was coming up. At Bridge of Orchy we would be meeting our support runner John, who would be accompanying us for the next 30+ miles to Fort William. We reached the car but Mike didn’t stop “Ernie we are going to continue over this hill and will meet you at the other side and John you may as well join him, save you having to climb this hill too” for a second I thought he meant me! I to waved goodbye to the refreshments and carried on up the bloody hill. We eventually arrived on Rannoch Moor were Mike dropped back yet again for another no 2 and was spotted with his pants down by a poor lady runner. The descent down to Kingshouse started to really hurt the soles of my feet leaving me looking for softer ground to run on. Eventually I came upon tarmac and for once was very pleased to see it. Kinghouse loomed and I pushed myself to catch Mike up, he just laughed and sprinted the couple of hundred metres to Kingshouse, I followed

KINGHOUSE CHECKPOINT
Ernie was there waiting to feed us, my right foot was a mess covered in Blisters but my left foot was the worst, it was twice its normal size, very hot and painful, I fixed a couple of blisters using compeed (not a good idea in this instance, as when I tried to remove the compeed it took most of the skin around my foot off with it!!) Ernie taped my hot air balloon of a left foot up and I set off towards Kinlochleven leaving Mike on a longer break, knowing my pace would just be a little more than a shuffle with the intense pain in my feet and I would slow Mike down.
Night had fallen and I began to see small lights ascending upwards towards Devils staircase, the lights were runner’s head torches. Climbing Devils Staircase was much less painful on my feet then descending into Kinlochleven, walking on the balls of my feet gave my heels some restbite and I began to pick the pace up and passed half a dozen runners. The descent was another matter, the journey downhill into Kinlochleven seemed to last forever and things began to become very painful, the pain in my feet escalated with the lose rock underfoot and the hallucinations began, developed through sleep deprivation. I chatted nonsense to non-existent people (more then I usually do) and dodged non-existent Ravens trying to peck at my eyes!
“Have you seen a big guy with a Para tattoo on his arm?” was this another trick of the mind? No, thank god it’s Mike! “I’m here Mike” Mike and John had caught up with two other runners who were 12 feet or so behind me, they had answered yes. How on earth Mike had expected them to have noticed what tattoo I had on my arm in the pitch black while wearing a long sleeved top and a Paclite jacket I don’t know but amazingly they had replied ‘yes he is in front of us” and who was I to argue! I was glad of the company, someone to keep me awake. The intense pain in my feet slowed my pace down to a very slow jog and once again I fell behind Mike, John stayed with me, the path was full of loose rocks and the effort to pick my feet up over them was too much and resulted with me catching my swollen toes painfully on the rocks with ever step. Minutes later I was on the verge of collapsing my feet broken, my quads trashed and John had to support me as I stumbled on. I just pushed on, one step at a time muttering and crying out in pain every time my toes caught a stone. My whole world was spinning, my body was pleading to quit, but my mind just kept pushing on. I just about made out a voice, it was a race marshal searching for a man who had apparently collapsed on the side of the path, someone in a worse state than me. Even on a reasonably warm summer night the risk of hypothermia can still be strong high up in the Scottish Highlands, lack of sleep, low body fat levels (er not in my case unfortunately) perspiration soaked clothes and the body on the brink of physical and mental exhaustion whittles the chances of survival down for any fully equipped walker never mind an exhausted underdressed (t-shirt and shorts/tights) runner. After one or two detours we arrived on the deserted streets of Kinlochleven, followed by a short stagger to the next checkpoint, luckily this checkpoint is based in the local medical centre. John shuffled me into the aid centre and helped me sit down in a chair in what looked to be a consultation room. The whole world seemed to spin around and a huge dose of nausea engulfed me, John vanished off to find a race marshal, a few minutes later he returned with a nurse. The nurse helped me onto the bed, took my blood pressure and pulse, my pulse was sky high, she asked me a few questions to check my mental state. I just wanted to sleep but everyone seemed to want to wake me.
Mike wished me well and departed for the last stage of the race.
The race doctor arrived and executed further tests and asked me if I wanted to sleep for 4 /5 hours and then continue with the race, without hesitation I answered “yes”. My mind had wanted me to continue but my body wanted to quit, Just a few hours undisturbed sleep was all I wanted and then the chance of receiving that goblet! Ernie and Dario (the race organiser) disagreed with my decision stating it was too dangerous (with hindsight they were 100% correct) I would of never made the final stage in the condition I was amongst Britain’s highest mountains. Ernie decided to take me back to their Hotel in Fort William, so I could shower and try to sleep it off. I didn’t care where I was, just as long as I could get some uninterrupted sleep. I got up slowly off the bed and within a minute I was back on the bed after my legs had given away and my whole world had gone black. The doctor decided it was time I visited the local hospitals intensive care unit.

FORT WILLIAM
On arriving at Fort William’s hospital I was helped out from the car onto a bed and wheeled inside to be greeted by two lovely female Doctors who fitted me with an IV drip and then proceeded to run tests on me. ‘You are extremely dehydrated and have very low levels of potassium in your body (Hypokalemia). Your kidneys are being poisoned by the high levels of muscle wastage which your body is trying to get rid off.’ Great!! Even though I had drunk 12 litres of water, took electrolyte capsules it hadn’t been enough. The diarrhoea I had suffered at the start of the race had robbed me of my potassium stores. Through not consuming anywhere near the amount of calories I needed for my energy expenditure, I had bonked (sometimes referred to as ‘hitting the wall’) the process of the body using fat/muscle stores as energy when all glycogen stores have run out. Leaving you feeling very weak and your legs feeling wasted. Bonking for so long (he he) had caused a catabolic effect of my body using my muscles as fuel, the side effect being muscle wastage is toxic to the kidneys, so for 75% of the race I had run on bankrupt energy stores.
I was moved out of Intensive care and placed in a ward where I promptly fell asleep and what felt like seconds later woken up by ‘Please, please help me, please, please help me I need to get out of here, please help me!” the noise was coming from an old lady in the next room to me, I guess suffering from senile dementia (either that or I was in big trouble) ‘they wont let me go, please help me, please help me”
The ward Doctor came to see me, and informed me that I would be stopping in over night for observations, I had other ideas, my coach to Glasgow would be leaving at 14.00 hours and I was going to be on it. A couple of hours later after having a shower and something to eat, I pulled the Iv drip out of my arm and set off on foot across Fort William to find the WHW award ceremony to see Mike receive his finishers Goblet. On leaving Hospital I received some strange looks, trying to cross a busy road in my socks (Ernie had taken my trainers away with him, I think maybe to stop me from continuing the race from Kinlochleven.

So I will return in 2008 to finish this race, but without sidetracking into Fort Williams very fine Hospital. As in the great words of Schwarzenegger
I’LL BE BACK!!!!!

Jonathan Steele

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Kay

THE WAY RACE 2004

The start 1a.m.
I may look cool but I'm a bag of nerves

I'm sitting here looking at a blank page, where do I start. It's hard to put into words how I feel about the West Highland Way Race, at the prize giving, it was said that it becomes a bit of your heart, I would agree with that. It is a race that is just about you, and you alone, to finish is what it is all about and the pride to stand up and receive your glass at the end. Mind you, some just can't stand, others can only shuffle, and a few look like they haven't run the race. Pride, is what it's all about

I'm 62 years old, I've run the race for the last 9 nine years and I'm going for my tenth in a row, it's late Friday night I haven't slept all day and I'm standing in the car park at Milngavie station waiting to start at one o'clock on Saturday morning, I must be aff my heid.
Dario, the race organizer, and West Highland Way fanatic gives the usual briefing (wish it was brief), and then it's into the tunnel for the start.
Everyone is laughing, talking and smiling, they'll soon get the smile wiped off their faces, and by the end there won't be too many talking either.
Head torches on and the word GO is all it takes to send eighty odd, and I mean odd people in to a frantic frenzy of running. Out of the tunnel and up the steps, the race has begun.
Mugdock wood in the dark packed with runners on a narrow track is a real fun way to start off, trying not to bump into each other or trip up is the best you can hope for. It's not easy to pass people so you just have to go with the flow. The path does a sharp right turn up a hill (that's where we all went wrong two years ago, and guess what! Some of them did it again, it adds an extra mile on, and no, I didn't go wrong). I have a few Jelly babies as I will throughout the race A few miles on and as the runners are thinning out the track goes sharp left down a short road then sharp right and I suddenly came face to face with runners coming towards me, they had gone straight on and ended up in the sewage works, what fun. It's still dark and now and I'm more or less on my own, I can see people ahead but I'm not gaining on them. I'm out of the woods now and the ground opens up more and is rougher under foot, I caught up with a German, whose dream was to run this race. You could tell by his voice how much it meant to him. That was the first time I fell, I went down heavily on my left side and my elbow dug into my ribs, my shoulder and ribs hurt like hell, but all you can do is pick yourself up dust yourself down and carry on. Drymen at 12 miles is the first place I meet my backup crew, Anne, Jill, Simon and my driver Iain, they make sure I'm fed and watered and send me on my way. It's getting light by now so I don't need my torch any more. Up into Garadhban forest and at about 18 miles on open but rocky ground, I fell again, on my right side this time my right knee slammed into a rock so I don't know which side hurts more I'm not very good at staying upright. Conic hill is the first real test it's about 1200 feet and very steep, I have to walk up most of it, going down is worse, as it is steeper and very difficult to keep my feet as I head for the first checkpoint at Balmaha car park at the side of Loch Lomond. 20 miles in 3 hours 43 minutes doing O.K. My crew make sure I'm all right, and I'm on my way down to the loch side, legs are a bit sore but hopefully they will ease off, and after a few hundred yards the first of many climbs they're not long but quite steep, most of the track wide enough for only one person and as I pass some walkers they all move aside and clap as I go past looking at me as if I was mad, but it's being mad the stops me going insane. The rest of this section is part on road and part in woods it twists and turns in all directions. My legs are beginning to feel a bit heavy and I'm getting a little tired it's quite cold and the wind is right in my face as I come onto the road again for the last time on this section. Rowardennen. My crew are waiting for me with a cup of tea and a sausage sandwich, which I'm going to have to share with a few thousand midges, as soon as I stopped they came at me with a vengeance and within minutes my legs had so many spots, if my crew had found a pen they were going to play join the dots. Five minutes and I was off again leaving the midges behind. The track is wide here but there are some very long climbs past Ben Lomond and at about 32 miles it's down to a single person track, over very rough terrain all rocks and roots, then out of the trees I see the hotel, a very steep climb over a bridge and down a long flight of steps that make my legs really ache. What fool put a long flight of steps there!
Inversnaid
34 miles, 6 hours 51 minutes. Stopped long enough for a wee chat, some water and a banana and I'm off again. The tracks not to bad at this stage but it soon narrows to single track and very rough again and at Rob Roy's cave there are steps going almost vertically down, I have to go very carefully, I don't fancy falling down on those rocks. Then the smell hit me, a very strong stench as if something was dead, it was a goat, not dead, just smelly, and standing at the side of the path looking at me. Only another goat could like that aroma. It took one look at me and stood its ground. I didn't fancy getting butted so I made my way round some trees and back onto the track. Coward or what? By now I've run out of water and have to find a decent stream to get more, they tell you not to do that, but, needs must. I'm out of the woods and passing our old checkpoint at Beinglas farm, then on to a wide track for the three miles to the next stop.
Derrydaroch , 44 miles, 9 hours 22 minutes feeling fine, sore, tired, but fine
Now! My crew are not going to like this, but for the very first time ever they got it wrong I was supposed to get a jammy piece, but all I got was a truffle. Talk about let down! I was looking forward to my piece, and what did I get ?? a truffle. Enough said
About a mile further on, the track crosses the main road and my jammy piece was waiting for me, so I'll let them off with a slapped hand and a ticking off. The track goes up a long hill round the back of Crianlarich then a few sharp hills before a long descent to the main road at Mountgreen,
I get more water from my crew and head across the road and into farmland. The running is easier here mainly flat on a wide farm road past the ruin of St Fillans priory, past a farm then back across the main road and along a track to the next stop
Tyndrum 52 miles 11hours 37 minutes Food stop
I leave Tyndrum up a long hill my legs are screaming in pain to start with, but they ease off as I get to the top and I can start to run again this part of the run is mainly down hill and is on good track. It's still cold and the wind is quite strong now and straight into my face as it will be for the rest of the race. It's only seven miles to the next stop and this section goes past without incident.
Bridge of Orchy, 13 hours 11 minutes. 59 miles.
The bad news is it's raining now, the good news is it's got rid of the midgies. Short break then its onward and upwards, and it is upwards. A long climb over the top of Mam Carraigh and a long decant to Inverornon Hotel, could do with a pint but I'd better give it a miss. My crew are waiting for me at Victoria Bridge at the start of Rannoch Moor, it's raining steadily now but just a heavy drizzle. Refill my water bottle the I'm on my way
Over the stile and it's a long slow climb up Rannoch Moor the scenery is fantastic looking across to the Black Mount and Beinn Chaorach and by the time I'm about half way up the moor I'm passing first of the Highland Challenge walkers coming the other way, most nod, some smile, and some clap and say "well done". At least one of the words was right, and it wasn't well. As I come round a bend and over a rise I can see Kingshouse, but it's three miles away and it's a very long three miles. Down past Blackrock cottage and over the main road again then down the track and into Kingshouse
16 hours 16 minutes for 72 miles, doing well.

Leaving Kingshouse my legs don't work I have to walk for a bit until they ease off. I go up the road till I come to a stile then it's on to rough ground heading along the base of Beinn a Chrulaiste and back onto the main road at Altnafeadh. Now the race begins. The Devils staircase is in front of me and it looks higher than I remember, I'm breathing heavy, ache all over, every joint is sore, heart pounding, my muscles are screaming at me and I'm tired as I slog upwards, but apart from that I'm fine. Over the top, feeling good now as I head downhill zigzagging towards the pump station then steeply downhill to Kinlochleven.
19 hours 58 minutes. 81 miles
That's not a smile it's a grimace

Because of the weather conditions and the threat of snow, Yes, I said snow; (it's summer in Scotland what else would you expect!) my backup runner was asked by the checkpoint to run the last stage with me, so Simon the fool was volunteered by the ladies, and believing it was only ten miles said he'd run with me. There's one born every minute! So it's straight up the 800 feet onto Mamore moor. Simon keeps talking to me as we make our way towards the ruined cottage at Lairigmor, it's nice to have company. We can see a car ahead of us, it's not the usual thing to see up here, and away up on the mountain to our right is a man making his way along a ridge. It's getting late and starting to get dark as we pass a Landrover and behind it a man walking a dog, it turns out the man up the hill lost his dog in the morning up on the high ridge and the other man, a walker, found a dog. Alls well that ends well, as they say. I'm very tired by now and I'm being passed by some of the other runners, I just have to keep going. The lights of Fort William are a welcoming sight as we make our way down the forest track to the Brave Heart car park then on to the main road, and into the Lochaber leisure center to check in my number.
Finished
22hours 57 ½ minutes 95 miles I'm knackered

All I want now is a cup of tea and a wee sleep

Sunday Breakfast
I can't believe that I have run this race for 10 consecutive years, that's 950 miles. When I did it the first time, I thought I would only do it once, no one is stupid enough to do it twice, are they? How wrong I was.

Prize giving
I was in 19th place. Quite happy with that
And I'm one of only three to have completed ten races
One word sums up this race

PRIDE

My thanks as usual go to my backup crew, who have been with me for most of the ten years I have been running this race, they are simply the best.
Anne Christie
Jill Foggie
Simon Hunter
Iain Murray

Thank you all again, for without your help and support I could not run this race. It is a team effort, and I am a very proud part of that team.

Alan Kay

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Liddle

Midsummer's Nite, Day, Nite Murder 2004!

You're a B****y nutter!

Your Aff yir heid

I always knew you weren't the sharpest chisel in the box.

I had only mentioned to workmates I was running in a race.
Albeit the West Highland Way Race.

Where do you sleep overnight?
You don't it's a non stop race.

When do you stop for lunch and dinner?
You don't!

Who carries your water and food?
I do.

You're 39, you are too old.

And so it went on.

Told you he was a b****y nutter!

It all began in October 2003, I had just completed my first ever race, the Loch Ness Marathon. And I was wondering what to do next when I came across the West Highland Way Race Org website.

After reading the race tales I thought I could maybe do this .What a challenge!

The application was away before I could change my mind.

Then the phone call came from Dario.
"Hello Craig I was just checking on the calibre of loony whose application I have just received".
"Anyone who wishes to run in this race can't be of sane mind".

It didn't help when I had put on the application that I was a fun runner.
I think Dario thought I was going to turn up in a Chicken costume.

But I was accepted and the training began in earnest.

Milngavie 18/06/04- Time 23.20
Arrived at Milngavie station with my dad Eddie and my father-in law Jim.
We parked in a corner of the car park which was already becoming a hive of activity sporting some very impressive looking runners.
I met my friend Richard and his back up team,Geraldine,Denise,Linda and Kirstin at registration, signed death disclaimer, picked up goodie bag(running t-hirt,midgie net and bottle of beer.)
I also picked up my backup team t-shirts and fleeces for the dads, which was the least I could do for depriving them of two days sleep.
I met Dario and introduced myself. And also met Bob Allison and Derek Jablonski., two fellow runners from Fife who also encouraged and introduced me to the joys of the WHW.
In fact it was Bob's race tales which got me interested in the WHW race to begin with.

Although mid summer it was very cold and I was supposed to be running in shorts but changed to dry fit leggings which incidentally stayed on all through the race due to it being so cool.

Last check of camel back ,two bladders ,1with sis energy drink and 1with water ,WHW map,compeed ,loo paper, energy bar ,chocolate, gel and Mobile phone.

At 00.40 the back up teams and runners got their race brief from Dario.
1.00and we're off .torches on, lights oot as Richard and I headed into the darkness with 86 other runners.
We were just getting into a nice jog when up went a shout ahead of us, some of the front runners had went the wrong way, thankfully quickly corrected. Shortly after we came to a small climb through woods and suddenly everybody starts walking. I knew we had to walk all hills but didn't expect it to happen as early in race as this.
Walk the hills right from the start was the advice, thankfully Richard and I stuck to that.cunning plan...

We seemed to be attached to same set of runners through the woods and out onto moor.
At this point I had a stumble on my right ankle, slight niggle but nothing more.

The field started to spread out slightly but still had runners in vision behind and in front

First stop Drymen- 12 miles

Bit peckish as I arrived but the dads soon had me fed and watered and on my way.
Fill up of camelback 750ml water and 500ml energy drink, quick banana on pitta bread and left walking still nibbling on some digestives.
We were soon back into jog as we headed through the woods towards Balmaha.

Balmaha-20miles
Coming over Conic Hill it was starting to get light and we got a fantastic view over Balmaha.
Running down to check point, and I mean running, Richard goes at some speed on the downhill's and hey!! You have got to keep up.
Again I was met by the Dads who were looking very awake for it being so early in the morning.
Dad in law was in charge of the camelback and my dad was in charge of grub.
This time I had a rice pudding, tuna sanny and bit of 'clootie dumpling' from Richard's daughter Denise, superb.
Left carrying energy bar and banana.

On this stretch we were passed by Bob Allison and Derek.Jablonski.
Exchanged greetings as we jogged.

Rowerdennan - 27 miles,
Changed my socks at the car park and Vaselined the feet
While the midgies ate me, I ate mair grub. Richard can't believe how much I'm throwing down throat.
Reckons he wouldn't like to keep me for a week.
Plenty of water sis and again banana in pouch...

This is a long stretch to Derry Darroch before we will meet support again.

There were some cracking views running along the Loch side and en-route we bump into Jim Drummond and his friend ,makes my attempt seem futile compared to his 12 completions. Some character and still so enthusiastic.
Headed off before Jim made me too nervous and after completing part of the Loch assault course arrived at Inversnaid to be told Wim was already 2 hours ahead. We'll catch him yet!
Spoke to marshals for short while and thanked them for being there. Filled bladder with water. Also picked up parcel with boiled potatoes rolled in salt, tip from Derek and another energy bar and gel along with ½ litre of sis, thanked TSART and headed off.
Although Richard had slagged me for eating too much he did try and enjoy the potatoes.

We also shared energy bar, and succumbed to rule on WHW t-shirt about eating food off ground as we had just dropped the energy bar.

Richard and I had both had our ups and down on this next stretch but we managed to get each other through with the banter.

As we approached Derry Darroch, 3 of Richards friends appeared Jock, Eric and Brian.
This brought a spring back into the step as Jock was nominated to be the first back up to run with us.
I was now starting to look forward to meeting my wife Karin who was to be my first back up at Auchtertyre farm, 2 miles from Tyndrum
My friend and work colleague Bob had kindly agreed to take his caravan to the farm and then move it on up Fort William.
Met my friends Johnnie and Stuart and also my Brother in law John about half a mile from caravan. Plenty of abuse from them and carried on to meet Karin, Caroline, the dads and Bob.
Richard and I parted company here and wished each other all the best, we were over half way, I was sure we were both going to make it. Running with somebody definately makes it easier through the rough times.
At the caravan I did a full change apart from Nike leggings. I think they were actually stuck to me by now.
Cup a soup consumed and soon on my way with Karin.
The two dads were sneakily stuffing their faces with bacon rolls from the farm shop. If only I had known.

Tyndrum-53miles

A non stop log in and out as we passed through the Tyndrum checkpoint and headed towards Bridge of Orchy.

Karin knew exactly what to say as we headed towards Bridge of Orchy, held my hand at the right times and yattered away also. She was absolute fab .Karin had also put in training time for this race and I was extremely proud of her especially as she says and I quote" running wasn't really her thing".

Bridge Of Orchy-60miles
I arrived in at Bridge of Orchy feeling really good and was now looking forward to the trip over the moor with Caroline and Stuart.
Our friend Caroline is one of the fitness instructors at the Millennium gym and she has turned me from an unfit chap into a lean mean running machine.!!!!All within a year and a half.
Shows what you can achieve even at 39, with little or no running experience and a bit of hard work.
The trip over Rannoch was very busy with the Caledonian challenge heading towards us.
But there was a bit of laugh and good feeling between both although we all tried to fight for the small patch of grass that keeps you off the cobbled stones .anything to give the legs some respite.

At this stage there were a few lows, and I was starting to get a bit of pain at my right ankle.
I think the hard surface was starting to take its toll.
Caroline and Stuart were like two mother hens at this point, have you ate something have you drunk something …nag, nag, nag.

Only kidding, they were fantastic and making sure I was fed and watered as concentration sometimes lapsed and remembering to keep up the liquid intake was very important.

I really enjoyed the trip over the moor and the last downhill into Kingshouse we were really motoring and also over took two WHW runners which gave me a boost. Although that was to be short-lived.

Kingshouse-72miles
The parking was a bit strained and my back up team ended up on the main road. A quick snack and a farewell to Karin, Stuart and Caroline, I headed off with John and Johnnie.

At this stage we didn't seem to have many runners in front or behind, although after climbing the devils staircase. I'm sure I spotted Richard and his crew at the far end of the hill. As we climbed the staircase we had a bit of a laugh remembering when John, my dad and Stuart had walked the way 7 years previous and my dads quote 'there are no hills on the WHW. At this point my mate Tony had my dad by the lapels and I quote`'Eddie what the F***s this thing called the Devils staircase then' as we looked towards the sky.
No hills, tell my legs that.

On the way down off of the staircase we bumped into Kim Masson who had passed me on the way up as though I was standing still.
Her toe had exploded .Not only do back up teams help their runner they also help other runners as John promptly went to her rescue and applied care and attention to her toes , although he made the mistake of asking what 'one' and promptly pressed it and Kim hit the roof "oops I suppose it was that one". I carried on as I was in a bit of pain with my ankle but John and Kim soon caught up and Kim promptly over took and headed into the sunset.

'I was feeling cack 'should have got John to tie her feet together, instead of helping, the competitive edge came out.
Joking…

Kinlochleven-81 miles

Down hill section was horrendous and I was really feeling it when I arrived in Kinlochleven.
Although the Marshal said I looked fresh, my leg was really hurting.
I then bumped into Richards back up team again who had just come out the chippie, perfect! After grabbing a handful of chips I headed off to meet the dads.
A last change of shoes and socks, some grub and we quickly moved on.
Up the hill and onto the section of the Mamores .We were heading onto last stretch before Fort William.
At this point we got up a bit of speed and a reasonable jog.
Although at the time John and Johnnie were pushing away from me.
I noticed John kept checking his watch and didn't twig till later the b****rs were pushing me for 24 hrs as it was still within our grasp.
Mind you all I could think of was the sh**ts are away ahead with my food.
Dangling a bar of chocolate in front of you a few yards away is cruel.
We made Lundavra road end quite quickly with only 6 ½ miles to go.
The Way was in my grasp.
Darkness had started to creep in and as I exchange greetings with the dads I kept going as stopping now would surely be the end.

Then it happened, somebody turned the lights out, not only outside but in my body.
If this was the wall it was a big one!!
I had had my torch light on and before long my eyes were crossing, I was staggering as though I was drunk, and to make matters worse `somebody had built deer fences to climb over that must have been 50 feet high, well that's what it felt like.
John had me by the loop at the back of my rucksack to make sure I didn't fall over the fence and both Johnny and John kept me going through this last section. Johnnie finding the way, rock here, step there, toad there, giant pink elephant here.
It was murder!
We suddenly came across steep steps with a sheer drop into a waterfall on one side, how I am I going get down this, sandwich was the order of the day, the boys were amazing there was no way I could move between them never mind fall!.
During that last section I had taken a gel, dates, dried fruit and a tuna sanny and I think eventually it took hold as I seemed to kick out of the drunken stage as quickly as I got into it. We arrived on the path into Fort William with 1 ½ miles to go although still walking.
Just before 2 o'clock in the morning we passed fellow supports who clapped us as we passed, a total surreal feeling at that time in the morning.
We hit the streetlights and decided to jog the rest.
At that point my wife Karin, both dads , Bob my mate from work and Storm the dog jogged with me as we reached the leisure centre ,I was absolutely done , my wife reckoned I looked spaced out as I jogged into the centre.
"Number 60 mate" fantastic it was done, you are 26th and have completed it in at time of 24 hrs and 51 mins.
Words cannot express my feelings; it is very difficult to comprehend what I had undertaken, along with all my support without which it wouldn't have been possible.
Congratulations all round .What a team! Also £1500 in the bank for two local schools. We had done it!

A team photo was taken outside just as another runner came in 3 mins behind me. Well done!!

After the shower we headed to the caravan park. It took me ½ an hour to reach the caravan. From the parked car. Cruelty locking the site gates when you have just run 95 miles.

At the presentation the next day I caught up with the other runners I had met and knew.
I also spoke to Wim and his wife and I am amazed at how everybody gets treated the same first or last, and how friendly everybody is, there are no prema-donna's in this place.
My wife Karin turned to me at the presentation and said" you are going to do this again".
How do women know what men are thinking." too right I am, 24hrs is still to be had".
I would like to thank all the organisers of the race, which made it a fantastic event.
Also the "two dads" who were absolutely brilliant, every time I met them they cheered me up and they had an absolute ball. They also said that they were available for hire next year now they are an experienced back up team.

Thanks to Bob, John, Johnnie, Stuart, Caroline and especially my wife Karin and my two children Erin and Kyle who had to put up with my training schedule." I'm just going out for a 6 hour run".

Also thanks to Richard Shaw who made the run so bearable and also to Derek Jablonski and Bob Allison who without their advice and encouragement it would not have been possible.
Great times the three of you.

And finally

Although it took me a week to walk again as tendons in my right foot were damaged during the last part of the race.

I will do it again! Maybe not next year but soon.

Craig Liddle

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Shaw

West Highland Way Race

19 June 2004

Richard is running the West Highland Way Race. Linda, Denise, Kirsten and I are his back-up team. Eric, Brian and Jock are his back-up runners.

We arrived at Milngavie at around 11pm. Richard checked in and got his number (22) and a goody bag. There are around 88 runners in total.

The weather forecast is not good for the next 24 hours – wintry showers and northerly winds which is not great for the runners. Let’s hope it’s not too bad.

We got our pep talk from Dario and the race will begin at 1am. Richard is feeling very nervous but he is in peak condition and has trained well for this race. His back-up team are feeling nervous too. It is very exciting being a part of all of this. Richard is running the first part of the race with Craig who is a mate from Milton of Balgonie.

Milngavie – 1:00am
The race begins and all the runners are away. We can only hope they all make it to the finish.

Drymen – 3:05am
Richard and Craig are ahead of time. Denise is keeping record of their time and they are doing well – 12 miles done. Richard is having a little trouble with his leg. It has been giving him bother lately so here’s hoping he can run the stiffness off.

Balmaha – 4:43am
Both Richard and Craig are looking good – no more bother with Richard’s leg so far. The back-up crew are in good spirits too. We are making sure he has plenty to eat and drink and replenishing his bumbag with drinks and goodies. Richard loves the clootie dumpling that Denise has made for him. Craig’s back-up team are very helpful to us, as we don’t know the route too well.

Rowardennan – 6:29am
Richard is still well within his time and still in good shape although his knees are a bit painful. He has taken some painkillers and he is battling on. The midges are thick here. Linda and I have the nets on now. The weather isn’t too bad so far but it is very cold and a bit windy. The scenery is lovely here but the next part of the race is very tough.

Inverarnan – 11:06am
Richard is in a lot of pain now. His legs are sore and he has got a few blisters on his toes and feet. His mood is still fine and optimistic. Jock has arrived and is running the next part of the race with him, as is Craig. Things are still going to plan. Craig’s dad and father-in-law are very organised with meals for Craig. Linda and I will be better organised if Richard decides to run this race again. It’s great to have Eric, Brian and Jock here now as back-up support for Richard. I am amazed at what these runners put themselves through – Thank god the weather is holding out.

Tyndrum – 1:05pm
Richard is looking very tired now but he is still on schedule for his finishing time. The weather has changed. It is quite windy and it is also raining now. Linda and I are putting Vaseline on Richard’s feet. He says it is like a Ferrari pit-stop what with the way we set into motion each time he arrives at the checkpoints. I feel very emotional but I don’t want him to see. Eric is running with him now.

Bridge of Orchy – 2:04pm
Richard is doing extremely well. He has run for 60 miles now and is still having a bit of pain in his knees. Linda is running the next part of the race with him and Jock. The weather is still very changeable. The organisers have issued all the runners with a survival bag to cross the Rannoch Moors, which is quite a bleak place.

Kingshouse – 5:40pm
Richard is doing fantastic. His time has picked up again and he has become more positive. He has completed 73 miles and has only 23 miles left to go. Linda has run the last 13 miles with him and Jock. The weather is very cold and wet. He is eating and drinking a bit more. We are all feeling much happier seeing him in a more positive mood. His poor feet are still a sorry sight.

Kinlochleven – 8:13pm
Richard is still ahead of his time but he really is feeling the pressure now. I am quite worried about whether he has the strength to keep going. He is in a very low frame of mind about himself and we are all trying to encourage him in the best way we can. Every part of his body is sore now and the weather is so cold and wet. It is hard to see him like this. The final stretch is 15 gruellingly hard miles uphill and it will take a lot out of him. Eric is doing the final part with him. They are such good mates and I feel happy knowing that he is there to help him. Richard has put his whole heart and soul into this race and we are all so proud of him and feel very privileged to be apart of this.

Fort William – 12:06

Richard finishes the race in his record time of 23 hours and 6 minutes; he finished the race in 21st position. He is a very strong and courageous man. That was a nightmare 96 miles but he did it. Everyone in his back-up team is so emotional and I for one feel very honoured that he asked me to be apart of this wonderful achievement for him. I just want to say Richard that you are a very special man and I will remember this weekend forever and I am very proud of you. The only task left now is for the whole team to assemble for a group photograph.

By Geraldine

Back-up team member.

A tribute to my uncle Richard who was sponsoring me on my trip to help underprivileged children in Sri Lanka

I was told to have a good night sleep on Thursday night because I wouldn’t get any sleep until Sunday. Well that was true for uncle Richard but not for me because I slept at every chance I got. I admire the effort and determination that uncle Richard had to finish the race. I could see just how exhausted he was at the checkpoint before the finish. I am truly grateful to him for running the race for me to raise money for my gap year. Without that money I wouldn’t be able to pay the rest of my vaccinations or buy the rest of my equipment which is essential for me to participate in this once in a life time opportunity. All the pain and tiredness he suffered, the bleeding toes and lack of food, he went through all that for me. I’m truly grateful and can’t thank him enough. Thank you uncle Richard.

By Kirsten.

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Mason

Mike Mason – 2006 West Highland Way race report

Birth right regained………..

Pre-Race
To be successful in endurance events you need a number of things. Fitness, mobility, superb Vo2 max, a heart rate trained and honed to that of a Cheetah, high pain threshold, innate skills. If you have none of these, or only some in very limited quantities, then you need to focus on an overriding goal….and let nothing get in the way. For me, that was the 83 seconds that separated me on the all time finishers list for my 2004 race time of 29hrs 03 23 and that of the guy one place higher – Dario Melaragni the WHW Race Director and my nemesis.

After the 2004 race I swore I would never do it again. I had changed my mind even before the prize giving ceremony. But when the all time list was published it was the final straw.

So increased training ensued for the build up to 2005 event. Thanks to overtraining I managed to crock my calves (compartment syndrome). But many hours, and hundreds of pounds of physio helped get me ready for the race. My ability to regain my birthright was on its way. Unfortunately, my lack of overall race fitness plus unprecedented weather conditions (high humidity) meant that I was at least 2 hours off my 2004 time. So it was fortunate for me that due to a 'little light drizzle' the race was abandoned. Well, ok – vicious lightning and torrential rain was the actual fact. 7 people being hospitalised, 2 suffering renal failure were actually airlifted by helicopter to hospital and spent a week in Intensive care. But I digress…The bottom line was that my support runner Simeon Bennett and I were pulled from the race at Lundavra, less than 10 miles from the finish. Loaded into the back of a van with some other runners, a wet dog and a burning midge candle – the ignominy……

Back to 2006 and getting ready for this years race. Decided at end of November 2005 to join a running club. And luckily for me chose the Benfleet Running club – local to home in Essex. After falling over a Benfleet runner – Ernie Jewson – in Hockley Woods (that's another story), I started attending the 2 sessions a week at the Club – quality and long distance. This paid dividends. They pushed me to do the things I hated – fartlek, intervals, hill repeats etc and I am eternally grateful to them.

Decided to run for Charity again (Cancer Research) and to do 5 Big races ilo 3 Big Races in 2005. The 2 biggest in 2006 would be the WHW Race followed by the Mont Blanc Ultra. Simeon Bennett my support runner foolishly agreed to come back again and roped in his mate Max Bloomfield. My wife, Gill, selflessly agreed to come back again after a break from last years race. I received my race number – 21 (my age) – well I can still remember it with Ginkgo Biloba…..just! J

A lesson learned from previous years was to travel up from Essex on the Friday morning and rest for some hours in a hotel before the race. After 2 years of getting lost driving out of Glasgow to Milngavie for the race start I came up with the stunning plan to stay in the Premier Lodge in Milngavie, minutes from the start.

We arrived in Glasgow about 16.00hrs after leaving home at 06.00hrs and had the obligatory tour around the Tiso Outdoor centre in Glasgow. This was followed also by the now obligatory condemned mans meal of fish and chips before retiring to bed for 4 hours of troubled sleep.

Got up at 20.30 hrs and spent the next period of time faffing about mixing electrolyte for my camelback, finding gels, bottles, head torches batteries, gear etc. All previously nicely packed for ease of access only to as usual be gremlin like mixed up all over the place. (At this stage believed Dario had hired a Voodoo practitioner to mess up my mind). Gill managed to get my contact lenses fitted in record time – my flickering eye lids have a life of their own.

For the technical minded:
§ Ron Hill long sleeve running top
§ Ron Hill XC running trousers
§ Activskin tights from the US (yes ones you don't want to carted off to hospital wearing)
§ Montrail Hurricane XCR shoes (change to Montrail Hardrocks later)
§ Thorlo socks
§ Joe Dana trail gaiters
§ Hine running gloves
§ 2 litre Camelbak
§ Myo XP Head torch (excellent purchase)
§ MP3 player loaded with appropriate music to cheer en route (Joy Division/Funeral marches/AC-DC for the bad bits (they were on for most of the race in a continuous loop)!

Strategy:
§ Stay off solids (lasted until the marmite roll at Kingshouse)
§ Perpeteum electrolyte in camelback
§ GU gels (25gm carb) 1xhour
§ Succeed lactate buffer pills (1xhour)
§ Hand held runners water bottle
§ Scott Jurek approach to hydration – 2 sips/10 minutes (brilliant - I think this lasted all of 20 minutes)!
§ Complan – with water at checkpoints (250mg carb)
§ Minimal checkpoint loitering
§ Be pleasant to my support crew
§ Beat Dario's time……

Race
Arrived at the race start at about midnight. Usual formalities – get the dreaded wrist band. Banter with Dario that this is the year I retain my birthright. He comments – 'For God sake's Mike...can't you get over it….?' Well, no I can't actually. Get weighed in for the hydration study I am taking part in. Meet up with Brian McIntosh who we had been exchanging e-mails with. Meet Chris Upson.here to gloat. Next time we meet it should be in Mont Blanc in August. Meet up with Soeren Hahn. My plan is to run as much of the race as I can with Soeren, as being a lazy runner I need to be pulled around a bit. Unfortunately, it was not Soeren's plan. We met last year on the Slovenian Alpine Marathon – it's a mountain marathon in…………..Slovenia. God, it was hell and taught me a major lesson – train harder and whimper less audibly……

Milngavie – Balmaha – (20 miles) arrive – 04.30 hrs split 03.30 hrs
01.00hrs head torch on. Race starts – we leave the underpass……………..
Had been following the 10 day weather forecast and expected cool and showers. The night was actually fairly warm, although still wore gloves and woolly hat. Ran with Soeren at gentle pace about 12 minutes/mile. Had expected the ground to be very muddy as previous years, hence the Montrail XCR's. But it was actually firm even on the run into Conic Hill. Strong climb of Conic and very fast descent. With hindsight probably a bit too aggressive as my quads began to sing from then on. 10 minute checkpoint stop – changed to Helly Hansen Versa long sleeved top. Changed socks and switched to Montrail Hardrocks. Replenished fuel and off. No timing checkpoint here this year – Dario has deliberately prevented me from seeing a decent time in print….. another example of his mind games.

Balmaha to Rowardennan – arrive 06.26hrs split 1:56 and then Inversnaid – (34 miles) arrive – 07.30hrs split 1.04 hrs
I really hate this bit. The long run around the side of Loch Lomond. Rocks, tree roots – an inexorable grind. Still feeling good. Rosie Bell joins us for a brief canter. She says that she has been walking every hill from the start. Same strategy as us, but by now my definition of a hill is anything over about 0.005% gradient…. Now switching to run/walk. The cadence throws poor old Soeren out a bit and I release him from his vow of staying together (we had agreed to leave who ever started faltering at any stage) he runs off into the distance. Later I am joined briefly by Ian Rae. I hear a voice from behind me in the middle of nowhere 'Are you Mike Mason?' Yes I splutter. Ian advises that he recognised me from my Montrail Hardrocks and gaiters. We had been exchanging e-mails and on my advice he had also bought a pair, but the gaiters would come later when his wife had recovered from finding out about his recent purchase. He told me later that he had paid about £40 for a pair. I said that is less than half price! To which he retorted that when he had opened the box there was only one shoe in it! Oh how we laughed! On reaching Inversnaid, a lovely hotel which appears almost totally inaccessible from civilisation, my plans for a really good time had evaporated. Just drink a few cups of water and leave…..whimpering.

Inversnaid to Derrydarroch – (44 miles) arrive – 11.32 hrs split 4:02
I think I hate this bit even more than the last bit! This is a real pig. Loch Lomond never appears to get smaller. I pass Rob Roy's cave again and don't stop to view it. Finally arrive at Beinglass farm and the wigwams. Stop here for a refuel and pick up MP3. Not feeling too good. My quads and hamstrings ache like hell, and I begin to worry that my left calf is showing signs of Compartment syndrome again. Agree to meet again at Derrydarroch farm a few miles on. I am really struggling now. For the first time ever I am rationalising how to quit. At the Farm my support crew have my chair out and some mushroom soup. I sit in the chair and tell them my thoughts. Although they listen they don't hear me. 'Quit – I want to quit….' They suggest I rest, re-fuel, take pain-killers. As I fester I move in the chair and one of the arm rests shears in half almost sending me tumbling. I leap up and turn the air blue with a stream of obscenities…………..even the midges put their 6 legs over their ears and leave me alone. I look around and a group of about 5 people some wearing midge hats are looking at me with strange expressions (if any of you are reading this - my apologies). However, this is the wake up call I need. Obviously Dario has managed to weaken the chair handle in some way…. So 30 minutes after entering the checkpoint I am off again and managing to jog.

Derrydaroch – Tyndrum – (53 miles) arrive – 14.31 hrs split 2:58
The usual crouch under the Sheep creep tunnel and on …..Feeling a lot better now – it’s amazing what 400mg of Ibuprofen can do. I meet a guy en route and offer him a few drags of Perpeteum from my camelback and move on. The descent to St Fillian's priory really hurts my quads but still manage to do some down hill jogging. Arrive at the Green Welly stop at Tyndrum. Meet Soeren who has been resting for about an hour. He is again experiencing sickness and an inability to want to eat or drink.

I cheerfully point out 'well that's what you get for leaving me in the middle of nowhere……' A typical Mason remark but unfortunately the pained look on his face and that of his support crew – Kees and Anita – shows me that English (Mason) humour doesn't translate well at this stage of the race….or as my wife mentions …at any flaming time! Soeren leaves as Gill changes my socks and bodyglides my festering feet. A couple of blisters and hotspots sorted with some Compeed plasters. Dump my camelback and bumbag and just take hand held bottle and a few gels.

Tyndrum – Bridge of Orchy – (59 miles) arrive – 16.02 hrs split 1:31
My favourite bit of the race – it is relatively short and much downhill. Jogging the route, pass a couple of guys – cheers me up! Arrive at checkpoint. Soeren is in the support car struggling to take nourishment. I suggest he joins me at the Inveroran hotel, just over a small hill. Gill has complan ready. Take a short break and leave actually jogging up the hill – feeling much better. Run the downhill section to the hotel but not at the break neck pace of last year’s race. At the hotel I wait for Soeren. Change socks and after Soerens rest we set off for Rannoch moor.

Bridge of Orchy – Kingshouse – (72 miles) – arrive – 20.15 hrs split 4:13
How much better this stage is for my support crew, without me moaning about the Caledonian Challengers (corporate charity walk in opposite direction to us). Walkers with poles who will not give way to tired runners. They did the walk last weekend and unless there are any 'stragglers' it will be quiet…and it was. Rannoch moor never seemed so eerie…Max stays behind to assist Soeren. I go on with Simeon (he of homing pigeon skills). At Kingshouse, Gill has soup waiting.

Kingshouse – Kinlochleven – (80 miles) – arrive – 23.15 hrs split 3:00
In 2004 I bonked badly at the Devils staircase. This year I powered up the hill like a bounding gazelle…..oops well ok - I climbed it steadily and felt better then ever before. Even managed to run down the steep descent from the top for a short distance – quads hurting. Simeon and Max help me get into a yomping cadence of fast hike on the flat routes and we begin to claw back time. By now Max has developed some thigh chafing. He is walking with a pronounced cowboy gait. He thanks me for letting me use my bodyglide on his upper body, but he forgot to use on inside of his legs. I cheer him up by pointing out that the last use of my Bodyglide was between my bum cheeks! He feels depressed on hearing this and his chafing pains worsen. Simeon is beginning to get a sore foot. As people have noticed I begin to cheer and feel better by taking vicarious pleasure in others pain and misfortune. All my support crew have to tell me is that they are in pain or so and so looked bad and I am galvanised….Last year the one cheery point of the torrential rain was on the last section when Simeon's Sealskin socks sprang a leak – excellent! Don't see any hallucinations this year and pass a burst joint on one of the Kinlochleven hydro pipes which is showering water into the air. More soup and a lovely marmite bread roll awaits. Hear the bad news - Soeren has had to pull out before the Devils staircase – gastric emptying problems again….

Kinlochleven – Fort William (95 miles) – arrive 04:57:26 – position 49 (spooky - my age)! overall time 27:57:26
The last long stage. In 2004 I bonked on the long climb out of Kinlochleven. But this time I manage it well. We are now yomping again. Want to jog but my body won't let me. Until we come out of the forest though. Then the downhill approach to the Leisure centre starts. I see 3 runners ahead walking. Damn – one of them is Ian Rae and he is wearing his Montrails. By now I am checking my watch. It looks like if I can get some pace on I will beat Dario's time. I leave Simeon and Max and tear past Ian and his group. He later tells me that all he heard me saying was a mumble of 'Dario…..seconds…and other assorted expletives...' I popped another Ibuprofen and ran on.

After what seemed like a couple of miles I came to a sign – unfortunately it didn't say Leisure centre. But what was this – 'Visitor Centre….?' I flew down a path into the woods. 10 minutes later I began the ascent back to where the sign was. I went then towards Ft William and came out on a road. Stupidly I turned right….damn the flaming Visitor centre again. My watch was ticking away the seconds, I was really beginning to panic. Obviously Dario had done something to the signs. But I couldn’t afford to stop running as I would never get going again. I ran back to where I had exited on to the road to see a runner streak out and turn left away from me. it was Ian Rae ….

No alternative now, I had to follow him and hope that he at least knew where he was going, And to ensure I didn't lose him, I had to run fast, very fast. Now picture this – early hours of morning, no cars on road and 2 runners chasing each other. I was gaining… but not enough. Ian passed his wife Angela, who took a photo of him and said as I passed - - 'are you racing each other?' I could only mumble and dribble saliva. The Leisure centre came in view. I followed Ian in and had my wrist band cut off. I then realised the time. I had thought I was 3 minutes better than the time I needed….it was actually one hour and 3 minutes better.

Ian and I sat on the bench outside the centre and reflected on the race…laughing loudly. If only I hadn't suggested he bought the Hardrocks to which he retorted 'yes but think of how much faster I would have been if I had bought your gaiters as well….' Our laughter woke Gill up in the parked car where she had been sleeping and she came over. 'Where are Simeon and Max?' I left them a few miles back….sorry. The end of yet another WHW race.

Post-race
I reflected on my lessons learned. In 2004 they had been:

Lessons learned - 2004
1. Train harder – including more hill work
2. Carry less gear – for most stages a fluid bottle will suffice as long as good support stops arranged
3. Travelling up from Essex on Thursday to rest Friday good idea – better if you don't walk around Glasgow too much on the Friday!
4. Spend less time at the checkpoints – my fault for not telling my support team to kick me out
5. Better to run with someone/others so you can tow behind or lead them at times. Perhaps I should mention this to Duncan Clark! (my 2004 running partner who had also left me in the middle of nowhere – perhaps they are trying to tell me something)
6. Ensure appropriate fuelling so that you don't bonk
7. Do other 50/100 milers during year
8. Nothing can replace a good support crew and mine were great
9. The pace chart developed by Richard Moorby based on runner averages from previous races was spot on – allowing support crew to be ready and for me to check pace
10. When it hurts it is really doing you some good (ok I made that one up so I could get to a number 10)

Lessons learned in 2006
1. As per 2004
2. more downhill training
3. focus on an objective – no matter how pathetic – it works

Talked to Dario at the prize giving just to point out that my birthright had been restored. His comment makes me smile …'Mike I told the timekeeper that if you made it in 29hrs 03 seconds again this year to record you as 23hrs 09….I can't put up with your moaning for another year….' Brilliant!

Swore I would take a rest in 2007 and be back in 2008. But then the all time list comes out and I am below Ian Rae… …' Ian – you now owe me …wait for it…..11 seconds.'

Special thanks to my support crew – Gill, Simeon and Max. To Soeren, Anita and Kees and to all the others for whom I made life hell in the build up, during and after the race. To Dario and all those involved with the race organisation ….And to Jezz Bragg for breaking the race record and putting into perspective the enormity of what he achieved.

Mike Mason

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Beattie

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Downie

West Highland Way race report 2005

or

I don’t believe in miracles but…

For those not familiar with the West Highland Way , it’s probably Scotland ’s best known long distance footpath. It extends from Milngavie (confusingly pronounced “mullguy”) on the edge of Glasgow to Fort William , 95 miles away with over 11,000 feet of ascent, fickle weather and glorious scenery. In 1985 two runners challenged each other to run the route in an attempt to improve on the solo record, and thus a race was born….

Twenty years later I found myself experiencing the kind of thrill that I imagine elite athletes must feel as they enter an Olympic stadium as I waited along with 88 other competitors and their support crews to start this year’s West Highland Way race. We were gathered in the car park of Milngavie train station in a slightly surreal atmosphere for the 1 a.m. start knowing that we all were soon to find out if months of training were going to pay off. Yes, I was nervous but after months of anticipation, I was desperately keen to get started.

My training had been exceedingly shaky what with one problem or another ever since the London marathon when I tore a calf muscle. I missed all the long (30+ mile) training runs that I had originally hoped to do and instead had to settle for a combination of hard shore runs and cycling in the weeks prior to the race. My longest run pre-race was only 27 miles. In these last few weeks in the run up to the race, I had become nihilistic and lethargic. There seemed little I could do to improve my chances of completing the full 95 miles and my training almost ground to a complete halt.

Despite all that, I still believed that I could do this race. I’m not sure where this confidence came from to be honest. Having done the Devil of the Highlands race last year (the 43 mile Tyndrum to Fort William stretch) and having trained over most of the rest of the route at one time or another, I convinced myself that it was just a matter of stitching together all these runs. How hard could that be? (Never underestimate the power of positive self-delusion). The one thing that I knew for certain was that I didn’t know that I couldn’t do it. Bizarre logic I know but I think it’s mental tricks like this that get one through ultra races,

After a pep talk from the race organiser we donned our head torches and shuffled to the start line. On the stroke of 1 am we were off racing through the underpass that leads from the station under the main road through Milngavie. It was then up through the pedestrianised shopping centre. It must have been a very odd sight for any onlookers, 88 runner with camelbaks and head-torches galloping down the high street.

For the time of night it was astonishingly warm (18 C) and incredibly humid. Even before the start we were sweating heavily and I knew that getting hydration right was going to be incredibly important. The first stretch to Drymen (12 miles) I usually ran in about 2 hours in training. Given the distance ahead of me, I tried hard to rein myself back and was happy to arrive in Drymen 2 hours 20 later. Much of the first section of the West Highland Way is on good smooth paths or on road and a small head torch gave sufficient illumination. By now it was after 3 am and as we headed towards Conic hill, the sky brightened to the point where we could dispense with our head torches. This was one of the sections unknown to me prior to the race but fortunately it held no untoward surprises.

As I descended Conic hill I was amazed to meet a couple of walkers on the hill (at about 4:30 am ) until I realised they were part of a media company who were trying to film the event. They didn’t look like they were particularly enjoying climbing at that time of the morning!

I reached Balmaha almost exactly on schedule (well, what passed for a sort of schedule anyway) feeling really good. The first 20 miles had been easy and doing the same sort of distance 4 times over again didn’t seem quite so impossible. I met up with my wife who plied me with coffee and rice pudding and topped up my camelbak with some more flat coke. I’ve found that almost any flavour will pall after several hours but the sugar and caffeine were very welcome.

Brimming with misplaced confidence, I left Balmaha after just 10 minutes and headed off up towards Rowardennan. Two miles up the road I was suddenly smitten with severe pain behind my left knee. It was so severe I could only jog 50 yards at a time (at most) before the pain worsened to the point of reducing me to a shambling walk. I tried stretching and massage but nothing seemed to make any difference. What was worse, I could only run on flat stretches, certainly not any uphill bits and only just on the gentlest of downhill bits. Unfortunately, most of the route is up or down, not flat. The next 5 miles to Rowardennan were very tedious and depressing. Running into trouble just 22 miles into a 95 mile race is not what you want to happen and I seriously wondered about DNFing.[i] I prayed that it was just cramp that that I could get through it. I pointed avoided thinking that there could be anything more serious going on in my knee.

By the time I got to Rowardenan, I had discovered that I could make slightly faster progress by galloping, thrusting hard with my right leg and hopping along on my left keeping my knee as straight as possible. It probably sounds stupid (and it undoubtedly looked stupid) but it was progress! I wasn’t about to neglect any form of locomotion that kept me going in the right direction.

After a longer break with more coffee, food and stretching at Rowardennan, I headed gingerly up the trail again, hoping that the brief rest might have improved things somewhat. Within a few steps I realised that this wasn’t the case and I had a very long stretch ahead of me (about 17 miles) before I would meet my back up crew again. Not only was it long, it has some of the worst footing of the whole trail on this section.

I hopped, walked, shambled and galloped for the next 7 miles until I reached Inversnaid where there was a water station. Now I don’t know what they put in their water there but a miracle happened. After gulping down a couple of cups of water (I was getting very fed up with flat coke by now) I eased myself tentatively back into galloping/shambling/walking mode, I kept waiting for the pain to force me to walk, but it didn’t. I was actually running again! Hallelujah!

Not only that, I had passed 3 runners who had been loitering at Inversnaid and passed two more runners almost straight away. With spirits soaring, I found myself gradually catching more as I worked my way up to Derrydarroch, the next checkpoint.

My knee wasn’t perfect by any means but after what had gone before, it was a million times better. I exchanged a few phone calls with my wife to assure her that I hadn’t died and that I was making slow progress and eventually we met up for more food and drink.

Then it was time for the climb over the hill bypassing Crianlarich and on to Tyndrum. As ever in these events, it was a case of “running when you could, walking when you can’t” but ever so gradually my running was taking the major share. By the time I reached Tyndrum (52 miles) I was running easily if slowly and feeling great. I had now been ‘running’ for 13 hours. I knew that I had run the rest of the route in 8 and a half hours last year. How hard could it be to do the remaining 43 miles in 11 hours?

Very.

What I was conveniently forgetting was that last year, I had run this section all in daylight (and fair weather). As I was to find out, darkness and the West Highland Way ’s famed fickle weather could make things dramatically different. I made great progress over the next stage from Tyndrum to Bridge of Orchy , admittedly one of the easier stages and was still feeling good and going well after that. About 5 miles past Bridge of Orchy as I made a transition from walking back to running, I was struck with the agonising pain in my knee again. This time, I could scarcely walk, let alone walk quickly and I had the bleak expanse of Rannoch Moor to look forward to. Gritting my teeth and making the best progress I could, I was reduced to an even slower shamble than before.

Desperately trying to work out if there was anything I could do that might help, I began to get paranoid about my flat coke and became convinced that it could be the cause of my “cramp”. I was desperately clinging to this diagnosis in an effort to avoid facing up to the idea that there could be anything more seriously amiss with my knee. I emptied my camelbak and refilled it from a nearby peaty stream, hoping that there were no dead sheep upstream. I tried ringing my support crew to let them know what was happening but there was no reception.

After what felt like an eternity, Kingshouse hove into view at the head of Glen Coe. My anxious crew fed and watered me once more and this time I gulped down 800 mg of ibuprofen. Probably (if fact, almost certainly) not advisable, but having got so far I was in no mood to drop out, not just because I had sponsors (although that was a factor) but mostly because I had always refused to entertain the idea of not completing the race. I also put on some warmer clothes as it seemed unlikely that I would be doing much running for the rest of the race.

I now had just two major stretches ahead of me, Kingshouse to Kinlochleven (7 miles) and Kinlochleven to Fort William (14 miles) and having got so far I was determined to finish this race off. My support runner joined me for these stages. (One of the preconditions for running this race it that one must have a back up team that has a runner capable of accompanying you on these last sections. Before the race it had seemed an unnecessary bit of nannying, now I was glad of it)

The ibuprofen seemed to have worked another miracle on my knee and after some very tentative trials, I found I could run again! I couldn’t enjoy it for long though as the terrain quickly becomes unrunnable. It was the long slog up the Devil’s Staircase after that followed by the even longer knee and quad crippling decent to Kinlochleven. It is without doubt the “sting” in the Devil’s tail. The trail drops right down to sea level at this point and the descent feels like it goes on forever. As I crossed a small stream using the stepping stones, I stumbled and fell sustaining what I thought was a simple shin scrape. The post-race soft tissue infection and bone pain that I suffered suggested it was rather more than that but fortunately it didn’t bother me at the time. Three cheers for endorphines!

Despite all this, once we reached the bottom, we jogged comfortably into KLL to meet my long-suffering wife once again. During the descent I had developed a craving for a choc-ice, something that we had neglected to add to our collection of “might be needed en-route” food hamper. This was where the mobile phone really came into its own, and my wife was waiting with choc-ices at the ready when we arrived. Bliss!

By now it was about 11 p.m. and all thoughts of finishing in 24 hours (my original target) were long forgotten. It was still light enough to do the climb out of KLL without head torches though and there were patches of blue sky visible between the clouds. We knew it would be fully dark long before we got near Ben Nevis but we were hopeful that we might see it in moonlight. More fool us!

The 8-mile stretch over the Lairig to our last rendezvous with my wife was not a happy time. I was now beginning to feel very stretched and ‘thin’. There just wasn’t much left in me. To add to the fun, it started to rain, not just a refreshing cooling drizzle, but in torrents, accompanied by thunder and lightning. In the dim light of our head torches, our confidence in our navigating started to waiver and all around us, we could hear but not see great angry torrents of water cascading off the hillsides. Not just down the hillsides either, many parts of the path were now underwater.

I knew that one couldn’t really get lost on this stretch of the route but when you can only see a few feet in any direction, you’re miles from anywhere and there’s no phone reception, doubts start to creep in. We felt like we had been walking forever. The path was just too rough to run in the dark and I was now beginning to shiver gently but uncontrollably. My jacket and everything on me was soaked through. Seeing the light of torches at Lundavra was one of the most welcoming things I’d seen in a very long time and we dived into the car for yet more coffee and a complete change of clothes. Just before we arrived at Lundavra we’d met a marshal who warned us that we would get our feet wet because of flooding ahead. We couldn’t help but laugh as she wasn’t to know that we’d been wading streams for miles already. We donned every waterproof item we could find and headed off to finish the last 6 miles.

Over the next 3 miles the paths rises and falls infuriatingly as it passes through stygian forest, the sky only lit by the occasion flash of lightning. At long last Ben Nevis came into view and I keenly anticipated hitting the forest road. Unfortunately, it was a false dawn, recent tree felling had given us a premature glimpse of the mountain and we still had another mile to go. When we did reach the forest road, I stopped to empty the gravel and sand out of my shoes. My feet were feeling ‘raw’ and the prospect of running the last 3 miles on a harder flatter surface with stones in my shoes didn’t appeal.

No sooner had we set off than we were caught by another runner. 92 miles into a 95-mile race is not a good time to be passed and as we upped our walking speed but he was slowly pulling away from us. This couldn’t happen! Of course in the big scheme of things it wasn’t important but at that moment, it suddenly became the most important thing in the world.

The track slopes gently (but quad jarringly) down Glen Nevis all the way to Fort William but all the walking had spared my quads and we broke into a run and passed the runner. We ran until we were well out of sight reckoning that we wouldn’t need to run all the way, just break his spirit. Not something I’m proud of trying to do but I did not want to be passed!

After walking a short way though, his head-torch came back into view and we realised that he was gaining on us once more. There was nothing for it but to carry on running and that’s what we did all the way to the finish. Where the energy came from I don’t know but after so many miles of stumbling around in the dark it felt great to run again.

As we reached the sign that marks the end of the West Highland Way I realised that in all my pre-race planning, I had assumed that the finish line would be obvious. After 4 o’clock in the morning and after 95 miles of running, I couldn’t find it! There was no marshal or sign to direct runners to the finish line and Fort William was treated to an enraged and infuriated runner shouting “Where’s the fecking finish line!” to nobody in particular. I was terrified that this other runner would slip by my if I took a wrong turning. I plumped for what seemed to be the likeliest route and fortunately found myself heading in the right direction. Minutes later I saw the Lochaber Leisure Centre that was the finish line and sprinted the last 100m to the door to the astonishment of the few onlookers there. Don’t ask me why, it just seemed a good idea at the time.

Having given my number and surrendered my mortuary tag on my wrist, that was it. Full stop. Period. After 27 hours and 19 minutes of running, walking, hopping and shambling, it was over.

I’d tried to phone my wife to let her know of my imminent arrival but she had managed to find the one spot in the car with zero reception and was soundly (and deservedly) asleep when I finished. After establishing that I wasn’t going to be showered in champagne and that there didn’t seem to be anything happening at the sports centre, we wandered back out to the car park to rouse my wife and find our way to our accommodation. We staggered in at about 4:30 am and after a much needed shower, collapsed into bed for a few brief hours sleep.

We were up and out by about 10:30 the next morning to hobble around the streets of Fort William in search of an artery clogging fry up which we quickly found and devoured. It was then off to the prize giving in a nearby hotel where we discovered that for only the second time in the race’s history, the organisers had been forced to stop the race for some of the later runners because of the extreme weather. There had been snow and hail at the top of the Devil’s Staircase and flash floods in the valley leading to Lundavra. Out of 88 starters, only 48 of us had made it all the way to the finish line. I was 35th in a time of 27 hours and 19 minutes.

The West Highland Way in a single push is a fantastic challenge and I am extremely pleased and delighted to have done it at the first attempt. A tiny bit disappointed not to have gone under 24 hours but given what I had to overcome to achieve 27 hours, I’m more than happy. It is, to be honest, a terrible waste of some fantastic scenery. You’re either too tired or it’s too dark to appreciate it properly but don’t let that put you off. It’s a great race and the organisation is fantastic. Surely a must for every ultra runner.

Oh, before I forget, one more miracle. I didn’t get a single midge bite.

Tim

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Walker

ALL IN A DAY’S WORK!!

Oh dearie dear! It’s almost 1.00 am and here I am at Milngavie Train Station AGAIN! I thought I’d said “never again” – but that was way back in 2002 and my memory had fooled me into thinking it wasn’t so bad. I unstuck my tongue from the roof of my mouth and chatted to other runners as we were led (like lambs and you know what happens to them!) to the tunnel. I couldn’t blame the chittering on the cold as it was positively balmy and I am wearing only shorts, tee-shirt and vest which are a bit of a novelty for Scotland in the small hours.

We’re off up the steps, past the shops and into the woods, head torch on, with so many runners I didn’t need to switch on my second torch. There was even a marshall to point the way and prevent dumplings from making the race longer than it is. There wasn’t much talking going on – everyone concentrating on their wee pool of light. I started taking sips of my ginger beer almost immediately as it was so warm, almost tropical, with crickets and birds chirruping away I half expected to hear David Attenborough speaking in hushed tones doing a voiceover –

“Here we are in the Campsie Fells of Scotland witnessing the annual migration of the ultra distance runner, there are a variety of breeds and colours – look those two there with the vibrant green and orange plumage are Carnegie Harriers, note the anxious expressions, there’s a long way to go and some will not make it to Fort William.”

 Two hours later with Drymen approaching I got the mobile out to let the troops know of my imminent arrival – ring ring – ring ring – ring ring – no answer! I arrived at Drymen with Russell and Fiona waiting with a fresh bottle and food which I grabbed whilst muttering that it would be useful if they had the phone switched on. I later found out that Fiona’s phone was switched on but was sitting on the dashboard!

Up and over Conic Hill, dodging round the camera crew, I pussy footed my way down and into Balmaha, the first checkpoint, another bottle change, rice crispie bar and coffee to go. Another slick handover. It had been daylight for an hour or so but I still hadn’t settled, Fiona told me that I would on the next section, well I did a bit but I was still looking for my groove. The next checkpoint was Rowardennan at 27 miles, I tried phoning but again without success, this time the problem was the trees and I couldn’t get a signal. I had decided to take advantage of the proper bogs at Rowardennan and was heading towards them, I couldn’t see my team (déjà vu 1998), but then heard a horn beeping – I’d run straight past them – apparently they were having a bit of a snooze! At least I didn’t need to bang on the vehicle to wake them up. I had a change of socks and shoes with Fiona doing the foot thing whilst I ate some rice pudding and more coffee. They had decided that I hadn’t eaten enough so sent me on my way with a flapjack. I also changed from bumbag to backpack with a two litre bladder as your team doesn’t go into Inversnaid and it’s a long time before you see them again.

I usually enjoy the challenge of the Loch Lomond section but this year it was very clammy and humid and I was wary of the wet boulders being slippery. At Inversnaid I picked up my bottle of water (with 8 grains of salt in it) rice crispie bar and half a banana from the Search and Rescue Team and chuntered on. I still wasn’t feeling smooth and was becoming increasingly aware of iron rings around my thighs. I scooted through the checkpoint at Derrydarroch and onto the Tunnel at the A82 where Russell and Fiona were waiting for me. I was sookin’ like mad on the fuel pipe to finish my ginger beer before changing back to the bumbag when Fiona insisted on a smile for the camera – but I reckon I was keeping well hydrated by the number of “bush breaks” required. I liked the shoes I had on but my feet were wet so changed socks, ate more rice pudding and a flapjack to go.

The humid conditions were getting to me I had a bit of a headache, the flapjack made me feel a bit sick and the iron rings on my thighs had tightened a notch. I laughed when a bloke said I looked as fresh as a daisy – I obviously looked better than I felt.

The next checkpoint, Tyndrum, is a major milestone as it marks 53 miles which is a “good” halfway, also I was looking forward to getting some hot soup, a ham roll and company. (And guys I didn’t say anything at the time but I like two slices of ham in my roll!). Fiona and Val ran with me to Bridge of Orchy and with the hot food and company I managed to perk up a bit. We had been advised of a wheelchair event happening, I was expecting something like Tanni Grey-Thompson in a 4x4 type but what we got was the blue rinse brigade in trundley battery operated things!

The next stop was Bridge of Orchy and the midges weren’t too bad this year. Lynne and Gail joined me for the section over Rannoch Moor. At last I began to feel good and picked up the pace and was moving really well. Playing chicken with the Caley Challenge walkers gave me a rush of adrenalin and they mostly moved out of my way with the exception of one guy in a blue shirt (oops sorry) as I charged along picking the best ground. I really enjoyed this section, it just whizzed by, one of those runner’s highs you hear about.

I had worked out a rough timetable for a sub 24 hour and was a wee bit adrift at Tyndrum but after zipping along Rannoch Moor I thought that it might just be back on. I had the usual ravioli and more coffee and brought out my boots – that are now tatty and battered but I’m reluctant to change a winning formula. Val joined me again and was now set for the run into Fort William . I had given her full rights to the pointy stick, told her to throw her ‘Miss Sensible’ hat out the window and get me to Fort William . I remember Fiona talking about Val’s walker dodging technique last year and now having seen it first hand I’m impressed, she “morphs” in a 6’10” “don’t mess with me dudette”, all I had to do was tuck in behind and follow in her wake. Russell joined us at the foot of the Devil’s Staircase and showed off his fresh legs as he scampered along the path. Val pointed out the scenic views as we reached the top. I have to admit that this year I hadn’t really been taking in the splendour of our surroundings and it was nice to be given a little reminder.

I was not looking forward to the descent into Kinlochleven – basically because it hurts and it did. My thick cosy socks were a bit too tight on my fat feet so I decided to change them at the next stop. Fiona continued to do a marvelous job as “foot man”, I had another ham roll and this time a cup of oxo and whilst I sat on my wee seat being tended to I gave an interview to a young man with a camera who complained about being tired!

As it was still daylight I was anxious to push on to get as far as possible along the Lairig Mor before dark fell. The path stretches out forever in a long ribbon in front of you so I didn’t look and focused on the few feet in front. I had occasional glances to see if I could see the trees but knew I wouldn’t – why do I do that??? I marched on, my feet hurt but I told myself that my legs were good and it’s your legs that do all work, Val prompting me to the best ground, when to run, when to walk. At last Val said “look – there’s the trees”. Yeehaaa! And it’s still light-ish! I knew that it was going to be really very black dark in the spooky woods (it’s dark there on a sunny afternoon!) but to get to the trees still in light gave me a great boost.

Richie, his minder, Val and I pushed on into the twilight. We reached Lundavra where I was pleased to see the troops, someone asked if I wanted coffee. Yes, good idea, in fact Val was carrying a flask of coffee which I had forgotten about so said I’ll have some but I wasn’t stopping they’d have to catch up with me. I heard some mutterings but I just let them get on with it, there was no way I was going to stop or slow down now – I might not get moving again. I was totally focused on only one thing – which was “full steam ahead to Fort William ”. Fiona also joined us at this point – great – another torch would definitely come in handy. I was again impressed with Val’s knowledge of the path in the inky blackness with only a head torch, her hand torch was pointing backwards at my feet.

Eventually we reached the stile which marks the end of the woods and the start of the track down into Fort William – another thigh crunching descent. Fiona and Val insisted that it was runnable, so run we did. I focused on the light from my torch a few feet ahead and like a carrot on a stick I tried to reach it and whilst Fiona and Val chatted away quite the thing I concentrated on my breathing. I was trying to keep an eye out for the Braveheart car park but missed it, we were on the road, the final straight and the last mile – Fort William here I come. I dodged a bloke bent double throwing up whilst his minders stood by patiently, put my torch away and headed for the roundabout. I verbally “tagged” the signpost at the Edinburgh Woolly mill which marks the finish of the Way but not the finish of the race, I have to continue on to the Lochaber Leisure Centre, batter through the doors, wake up the man at the desk and tell him my number. I can see the Leisure Centre, suddenly my emotions gang up in my throat which makes breathing a bit awkward, across the car park, through the doors – “NUMBER 2 HAS FINISHED!!” (The chap didn’t need waking up he heard me coming).

A very nice lady came to cut off my wrist band which would have been used to identify my bones had they been found in a ditch! My time – 23 hours 19 minutes and 4 seconds – ooyah booyah and absolutely fandoublydan bloody brilliant!! I knew I was on for a sub 24 hours but looking at the numbers on my watch my brain didn’t register by how much it just kept telling me to move forward and move forward NOW!

After a wee rest, a chat with Richie confirming that we’d never do it again, a shower, it was now time to snuggle into the blankets and sleeping bags in the car for a few hours kip. I looked through the doors and the rain was just chucking down, Russell very kindly brought the car to the door so that I could hobble in without getting wet. As I cocooned myself on the back seat I was aware of the rain battering down on the roof and felt sorry for the poor souls still out there. Sadly we heard later that due to heavy rain, flash flooding and hailstones on the Devil’s Staircase the race had been stopped for safety reasons. All those reaching Kinghouse or the checkpoints after Kingshouse at the time the race was stopped would be deemed finishers but would not be given a time.

This is very much a team event and without my troops I would never have reached Fort William so it is with huge gratitude and thanks to Russell for doing most of the driving, I’m glad you enjoyed your skip over the Devil, to Fiona (the things she did to my feet go above and beyond the call of duty), to Val for putting up with me for 30-odd miles and to Lynne and Gail (our newest member of the WHW family) for a great section along Rannoch Moor.

Now this “never again” thing, I do have a tiny wee problem in that I now have five crystal goblets – and you need six for a set don’t you??

Pauline Walker

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Gray

West Highland Way Race 2005

Report:

In the final week of the build up to the race I was a nervous wreck, not about the task I was about to undertake (covering 95 miles in 35 hours or less), but because I was absolutely petrified I would get ill in the final few days before the run!!!!!. However, thankfully this did not happen and Friday rolled around with me injury and illness free – all was going to be well (or so I thought!).

I had a really good feeling about the race: it was the 21 st anniversary of the run and the 21 st features very strongly in my life; all my training runs had gone really well and I was blessed with good weather for all of them (someone ‘up above’ was watching out for me) and I had no doubt this would continue for the duration of the race; going into the Sunday (19 th) would mean I would be running and finishing on Father’s Day (I took this to be a good omen as I was running this race in memory of my Dad). So, all in all, I was well up for the run!

We picked up the hired car at Prestwick Airport at 4pm , not quite the station wagon we thought we were going to get!! Instead a Renault Scenic, which was a bit tight on boot space for all the equipment we had. You would think we were travelling across the world the amount of gear we had, but it was necessary to be prepared for all eventualities.

We set off for Milngavie just after 10pm on a warm and very muggy night (about 15 ° C) and arrived just after 11pm . What a sight greeted us as we turned the corner into the car park – cars, vans and the odd motor-home or two scattered around and people sitting out on chairs having picnics! After securing a parking space I headed over into the train station waiting room to register. A wrist tag, resembling something you might have to wear in hospital (did the organisers know something I didn’t!?) was placed around my right wrist. I was asked if it was loose enough and I said I thought so, and then the marshal asked me if I puffed?!? I said I didn’t puff unless I was running up hills!! – but then I realised he was talking about whether my arms and wrists would puff up over the duration of the race, as he didn’t want the band to get too tight!! Doh!!! I was handed a small bum bag with my special race top in it and picked up the clothes I had ordered for my fantastic back up team – Julie and Robbie in the car, and Ian and Charlotte with me on foot from Kingshouse.

I then met up with Michael, Alan and the rest of the camera crew who were filming the race this year. I introduced Michael to Julie and Robbie and then just wondered around chatting to people I knew. I was told to go and collect my bottle of beer supplied by the Bridge of Allan Brewery . I had to tell the chap my name and race number (34) and couldn’t understand why he took so long going through all the bottles of beer – surely I could just get the first one that came to hand? Only once I received it did I realise why he was taking so long to get me a beer – these ones had a special label with my name printed on them – what a fantastic touch.

Prior to the start of the race, I also had the chance to introduce myself to Dario (I had spoken to him on the phone several times but had never met him in person). He asked me how I was feeling and I responded that I felt remarkably calm and relaxed. To which he replied “well you shouldn’t be…… you should be sh*ting yourself by now!!!!” However, despite these words of ‘encouragement’ I was not deterred and was eager to get going. So many times on training runs I had wished I was doing the actual race and now here I was about to embark on probably the toughest physical and mental challenge of my life. With that in mind I headed to the station waiting room to get in the toilet queue again!!! However, as the queue was moving extremely slowly and Dario was running around saying the race briefing was about to start I really couldn’t wait and was forced to go to a nearby bush – sorry Milngavie!! Note to support teams – before the race starts could you let runners go to the toilet first, their need is probably greater than yours!

At 1 am sharp the race started – not the usual sprint to get into a good position, more like a shuffle through the underpass and along the pedestrian precinct to the official start of the WHW. Not sure what the locals who had been chucked out of the pubs thought about it all – must have been a bizarre sight!! Things got off well and I was running in a small group through Mugdock Park . It was very warm and I soon realised I had started with too many layers of clothes on. However, I did not want to stop so soon into the race to start taking layers off so I just kept going. I was surprised at how quickly the field stretched out. I thought we would be running as a group for quite some time. People came and went and I met up with several different runners on the first section from Milngavie to Drymen, one of them being my work colleague Tony. We ran the latter half of the first section together, and it was good to have some company during this early stage in the dark. On arrival at the bottom of the field before getting to the first meeting place at Drymen I switched on my flashing arm band so my support team would be able to spot me and lead me to the car. However, they weren’t even looking for me! But to be fair to them, they had a prime parking spot right by where the WHW passes, so there was no need for them to come looking for me. As soon as I got to the car there was a bright light attached to a camera in my face, and behind the camera – Michael. I was asked how things were going and replied that everything was going really well (I hadn’t anticipated any problems at this early stage in the race). It took me 2:28mins to reach Drymen, 2mins ahead of schedule J After a top up of water and an energy gel I was off again heading for Conic Hill. By now it was starting to get light so I discarded my head torch. I passed a couple of guys on the way up through the forest (or what is left of it after all the tree felling) and headed over to start the climb up Conic Hill. I hadn’t been looking forward to this section – not so much for the uphill part, but for the descent down the other side, which I knew would play havoc with my knees. Just as I was coming over the top of the hill I was met by Michael who had climbed up from Balmaha – nutter!! I tried to put a bit of a run on for the cameras on the level part but as soon as I hit the descent I was down to a walk to protect my knees.

I arrived at the first official check point in Balmaha car park after 4:16mins, in a position of 75 th. I had sent a text to my support team to get some food ready for me – jam buttie and rice pudding (at 5.20am !!). I got a change of t-shirt, socks and shoes here. However, I struggled to eat the food prepared, I managed about ¾ of the sandwich and nothing else. Although I didn’t know it yet, this was to be a recurring theme for the duration of my run. Whilst in the car park, Michael arrived back, he must have descended almost as quickly as me. He was looking in pretty good shape – which is more than can be said for his jeans, which were muddy and torn to shreds at the bottom (of the legs)!! The descent into Balmaha had taken its toll on my left knee and my IT (illiotibial) band was starting to aggravate my knee joint. I knew from this point onwards that I would be in pain for the rest of the race, but, from previous training runs, I knew I could tolerate the pain and it wouldn’t stop me from continuing.

I left Balmaha for the long run up Loch Lomondside – the first section from Balmaha to Rowardennan is only about 7.5 miles but seems twice as long. I was still managing to run most of it, but was now starting to feel quite sick. This section took me longer than I had planned (2:15mins instead of 1:50mins). I was now concerned about making the next official check point at Inversnaid within the allotted time (9 hours max). I was met at Rowardennan by my brother (Robbie) and put in a bit of a run for him (his comment at the check point at Balmaha had been ‘are you actually going to run some of this race – every time I see you, you are walking!’). I only stopped briefly to fill up on water and chucked a couple of bagels in my camel pack, then I was off again. Most of the section from Rowardennan to Inversnaid is ‘runable’ and I managed to keep going quite well along this section. However, once you get off the fire track things become a bit more tricky and involve scrambling over rocks at times. I was so glad to see Inversnaid come into view as I knew that I had made it within the time slot and could relax a bit. Michael was there to greet me with some very attractive head gear (loved the green midge net Mike!) and camera in tow!!!!!!! He had come up Loch Lomondside on a small speed boat and was going to get the boat back over to Inveruglas to meet up with Julie and Robbie again. After a brief stop to fill up with water I was ready for the off again. However, first port of call was the toilet – at which time I had to point out to Michael that I was heading to the toilet and not setting off on my run so there was no need to film this bit!. It had taken me 8:38mins to get to Inversnaid (I had a whole 22mins to spare!! – bit tight) and was now in 69 th position.

The section from Inversnaid to Beinglas farm was horrendous to say the least. It was really not possible to run much of it at all and was quite treacherous in places. I passed a few walkers on this section, who were kind enough to let me pass (they reckoned I was faster than them but I wasn’t so sure). Knee really starting to hurt now, and feeling of nausea still present. It was a long slow slog to Beinglas farm. When I saw Robbie he asked if I had stopped for a picnic along the way!!!!!!!!!!! I had another change of clothes at this stage. Earlier I had tried to text the support team to tell then what food I would like brought over to the farm from the car park at Inverarnan hotel. However, because of poor reception along this stretch of the way, they never received my text. Julie did a good job of guessing what I might want to eat and basically put one of everything in the bag. In fact, throughout the whole time Julie was fantastic – she always made sure I got what I wanted, even if it did take her a while to find some things (although I won’t mention the chewing gum situation!!!!). However, again I found I could not really eat anything – I was hungry but the thought of eating made me feel sick. I managed a Frutini and that was it. I am not sure why I felt so sick the whole time – I had practiced eating on all my long training runs and it had never been a problem before. Usually I could scoff my way through a packet of jaffa cakes, bagels, sweets, gels, fruit and crumpets and feel none the worse for it. Perhaps it was the heat and humidity? Despite not being able to eat much I made sure I forced some gels down and took on loads and loads of water, I did not want to become dehydrated as that would probably have been the end of me. My camel pack weighted a tonne (slight exaggeration) but I wanted to make sure I had enough water to last me between the sections. Previous experience had taught me not to drink from streams, but I won’t go into detail here!!!

The next official check point was at Derrydarroch Farm, and I got there in 12:21mins (cut off time 13 hours!!) and had dropped a few positions down to 71 st. In training runs I had made it to this point in 11:30mins so I knew things weren’t going as well as they could have been. I stopped for a brief chat with a race marshal then headed off on the long stretch to Tyndrum.

Most of this section is quite good going but a steep descent down to St Fillans further aggravated my knee. At one stage I was walking down the hill backwards, which was quite a relief for my aching knees but I kept losing my balance and realised I was more likely to fall and injure myself so started walking down forwards again. I met Alan, from Central club on the descent and he walked with me for a bit of the way. It was nice to have some company for a while as it took my mind off of how miserable I was feeling. I was really starting to struggle now, even on the flat sections and seemed to be walking more than I was running. I think the lack of food was starting to take its toll. However, I realised that I needed to take on board some energy to stop me from becoming hypoglycaemic, so I forced the gels down to keep me going.

I was so relieved to get to Tyndrum, as usual Robbie had walked out a bit to meet me (with Michael in tow) which was a brilliant sight for me to see. He constantly offered me words of encouragement and kept me informed of my time and progress. I was concerned that I had slowed down quite a bit and asked him when I had to get to Bridge of Orchy by? – 7pm was the answer!!!!!!, it was now 4.15pm . Plenty of time you may think, but I had been considering having a substantial break at Tyndrum before heading off again – this was no longer an option for me. I lay on the ground at the back of the car and put my feet up in the boot while Robbie sprayed my legs with Ralgex Ice and I ate an ice lolly!! I managed to have a chat with Mum on the mobile, she was on her way up to Kingshouse with one of my support runners, Charlotte. I could tell by now that all concerned were getting a bit worried about the lack of food I was having. They kept telling me I needed to eat something and, as an Exercise Physiologist, I knew this myself. However, it is one thing knowing what to do and another trying to do it when you feel so ill.

I set off again from Tyndrum (now in 67 th position and having been on the go for over 15 hours). Once I climbed out of Tyndrum I was able to start running again – although I liken it to an ‘old man shuffle’ whereby I was simply putting one foot in front of the other at a slightly quicker pace than walking. Hardly very economical or energy efficient but at least I covered the ground slightly faster than if I were walking. By now I was starting to meet walkers coming in the other direction who were doing the Caledonian Challenge. Despite what I had been told about the walkers, the majority of them were very pleasant and gave me plenty of encouragement to keep going. As I started to descend down to Bridge of Orchy station I saw 2 ladies heading up towards me. ‘They are not very well equipped for the Caledonian Challenge’ I thought to myself. It was only when they got closer that I realised it was my Mum and Charlotte who had walked out to meet me!!!! Really must start wearing my glasses more often!

I reached Bridge of Orchy in 17:26mins in a position of 65 th, but by now was well behind my schedule. Charlotte gave me a handful or Arnica to help with the sore legs, but apart from that I had nothing to eat at this checkpoint either. I was keen to just keep going and so pressed on to Kingshouse. By now the walkers were coming thick and fast. I am afraid to say that, despite seeing me coming in the opposite direction, some made no attempt to get out of my way and continued to walk 2, 3 or 4 abreast.

I was now down to walking all the time, I did try to put in a few jogs but really felt that I could cover the ground just as quickly walking and would expend less energy. Just after Victoria Bridge I had to stop for a call of nature (or ‘doing a Paula’ as it is now known). This was not easy considering the number of walkers coming the other way and the lack of ample tree cover. However, in times of desperation, needs must and I dove off the path and tried to hide behind a couple of trees. Big mistake, as the total midge population of Victoria Bridge were also hiding in the trees!!!!!!!! I have never P’d so quickly in all my life!.

I carried on at my briskish walking pace – still feeling sick and starting to doubt whether I would make it or not as I still has the dreaded section down into Kinlochleven to contend with. However, I tried to put those thoughts out of my mind and told myself just to concentrate on making it to Kingshouse. With about 6 miles to go I saw a chap running towards me who I thought I recognised – it was Ian, one of my support runners. He had heard that I was struggling a bit and had come out to meet me. It was really good to have some company now and he did a brilliant job of keeping me going both mentally and physically. I had also sent a text to my Mum to ask her to walk out to meet me with the ‘Skin so Soft’ as the midges were really bad and I had forgotten to reapply the repellent at Bridge of Orchy . However, before Mum could get to us, the midges were driving Ian and I mad, so we accosted a couple of walkers and asked if they had any repellent we could use. They did and thanks guys, you saved us from going insane!

Eventually we met Mum heading out to meet us and also Ian’s sister and brother-in-law – quite a party!!!!!!!! At Kingshouse I afforded myself a sit down of about 30mins and a change of clothes in to some leggings as it was now starting to get a bit cooler. I stuck a hat and a waterproof in my pack, just in case and then we were ready for the off. I had now been on the go for 21:27mins and was in 63 rd position. I was quite apprehensive about heading off into the night again, but was now in the capable hands of Ian and Charlotte so knew that nothing untoward would happen to me. We passed quite a few ‘runners’ just after Kingshouse, some of whom were in quite a bad way and we wondered whether they would make it to Kinlochleven in time.

The Devil’s Staircase was tough going as I had no energy left in my legs. However, the climb didn’t go on for too long and soon we were at the summit and heading back down into Kinlochleven. A shower of rain started so we all stopped to put on our waterproofs. It was just a shower we kept saying and, at first that was all it was. It soon went off, but was quickly followed by a heavier shower and thunder and lightning. I remember saying to Ian and Charlotte in a sarcastic way ‘could the rain get any heavier?!’ and the answer to that one was a resounding YES!!!!!. The storm was heading our way, the thunder was getting louder and the lightning was getting closer. It was quite exhilarating and scary at the same time. At one point I was conscious that I was walking hunched over – not because of fatigue but because I didn’t want to be the highest point on the path!! Lightning strikes the highest point I’ve been told, and isn’t it the job of the support team to get me to the finish – even if they have to take few lightning bolts in the process?!

It was such a surreal experience walking in torrential rain, in the pitch black (except from when the lightning lit up the sky) and listening to Charlotte and Ian telling some of the most awful jokes I have ever heard (note to self – buy them a joke book before next year!). By now I had gone quite quiet and was happy just to listen to Ian and Charlotte ’s inane banter – however they thought that I kept falling asleep. As if! with all the thunder crashing around us. It became quite treacherous coming down the path, rocks were now really slippery and small rivers were starting to flow down the path. We had long given up trying to keep our feet dry by avoiding puddles – there were no puddles, just rivers!!! We did chat about whether the run would be cancelled because of the weather and I remember saying part of me hoped that it would but that a bigger part of me hoped that it wouldn’t (looking back now I know I didn’t really mean that I wanted the race to be stopped but at the time it seemed like a glimmer of hope – until you have experienced something as extreme as this you will not understand all the thoughts and feelings that go though your mind).

My knee was really painful by now, especially on the steeper down hill sections, and I lagged behind Ian and Charlotte on several occasions, However, every now and then they would turn around and I would be illuminated by their head torches as they made sure I was still with them (in body if not in mind!). I cannot express my thanks and appreciation to these two guys enough. Not only had they given up their weekend and, more importantly, their Saturday night, but they were walking through a thunder storm with me and were totally drenched. Thanks guys, I owe you big time. In fact, as a gesture of appreciation, I will let you guys support me next year when I do it all over again! J

We eventually arrive, drookit wet, in Kinlochleven at 3am . I had now been on the go for 26:04mins and knew that having made it this far I was going to finish. Robbie gave me the time briefs and told me I could afford to stop for an hour then head off at first light for Fort William . I virtually stripped off outside the car (hope that wasn’t all caught on camera!) and got into some dry clothes and had a lovely cup of hot tea. I distinctly remember saying to Michael that I was never going to do this again and that I wanted him to get me saying that on camera!!!

After a break we were just getting our packs ready for the final push in to Fort William – dry waterproofs, water, foil survival blankets (just in case). We were just about to step out the car when the heavens opened again with another torrential downpour so we decided to wait a few minutes. At that, a marshal came up and told us the race was stopping at Kinlochleven as it was now too dangerous to continue!!! When I heard this news I just felt numb – I did not feel relieved, happy, sad or anything really. It was a really gloomy drive from Kinlochleven to Fort William and nobody spoke at all. To have gotten so close to the end ……..

At Fort William I wanted to see Tony as I heard he had finished and I wanted to congratulate him. We made ourselves a cup of tea at the leisure centre then I met Tony. He was very sympathetic about my situation and then it all just hit me what had just happened. I burst into tears and cried on my Mum’s shoulder – I couldn’t believe I had been stopped with only 14 miles to go, especially as I knew I was capable of finishing. However, I should point out that I totally respect and understand the Race Oganiser’s decision, and had I been in charge I would have made the same decision. It was just really hard to take as I had been preparing for this day for 8 months!!! I was pretty inconsolable at this stage.

We headed to the hotel and after showers all round, 5 of us settled down for a couple of hours sleep. When I woke up I thought it had all been a dream and that I had really finished the race and I had to ask my Mum ‘had I really not finished?’ We decided to stay for the prize giving and it was good to meet up with people I had not seen since the start or very early on in the race.

My name was not on the finishing list so I assumed I was not getting a race memento (crystal goblet). I must admit, at times throughout the prize giving I really thought I was going to start crying again, not because I was not going to get a goblet, but because I had come so far only to be beaten by the weather.

Once all the people on the finishing list had received their goblets Dario announced that everyone who was stopped because of the weather but who had made it to Kingshouse or Kinlochleven were classified as finishers and would be receiving a goblet. When it came to me, Dario said some really nice things about me (thank you Dario). If I remember correctly it went something like how ‘he had no doubt I would have finished as I was really bright and coherent at every checkpoint’ (well that will be a first –me being bright and coherent!!).

Although I was deemed to have finished the race I didn’t feel that I had as I did not complete the full 95 miles. Even before the prize giving was over, Julie and I had decided that we would be back next year – I need to get closure on this one. Of course the weather could be just as bad or worse next year, I could get injured on the Way, or fall ill before the big day – but I have to give it a go, I have to beat it and put it to rest.

Now, 11/12 days after the event, I still feel a great sense of sadness and disappointment about the outcome of the weekend of 18 th/ 19 th June 2005 . However, life goes on and I have to take some positives away from the experience:

• I raised over £1850 in memory of my Dad and for the RNLI and the SSPCA
• I feel that I have a closer bond with my support team (all of them) which cannot be broken and which I will always cherish
• I feel a closeness to the wider ‘family’ of the WHW race and have made some new friends along the way
• I will be back, fitter, stronger and with more experience next year

BRING IT ON !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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Mestecky

West Highland Way Race

June 18 th 2005

Phil Tipping and I along with 88 runners with head-torches set off from Milngavie at 1am on Saturday 18 th June in very uncomfortable conditions - tropical temperatures of 18 oC and high humidity. Despite a very sedate pace we were soon sweating profusely and sucking furiously on our water tubes. We passed Drymen already significantly down on our race schedule which we’d written with a view to giving ourselves a shot at completing the race in 24 hours. I must admit to being a bit agitated about this as the early stages were meant to be the easiest of the race.

The combination of sleep deprivation ( 1am must be the very worst time to start a day-long endurance race), the heat and humidity and a dodgy stomach was having an effect. Getting up and down Conic Hill was a struggle and it was with some relief that we bowled into the 1 st checkpoint at Balmaha where Adrian was waiting for us with fresh clothes, soup and sandwiches.

Setting off on leg 2 we were starting to feel a bit bowelly having not had a chance to “go” since leaving Crieff at 10pm. This was one of my big worries about the race as there are types of “runs” that I really don’t like very much. However, I was still feeling confident but itching (yes, our friends the midgies were with us again) to get on past Loch Lomond and into the Highlands proper. Between Rowardennan and Inversnaid the track got progressively worse and our mph declined to less than 3. We both took the opportunity of a secluded part of the route to take a pit stop followed by a dose of immodium and from then on all worries on that front were dispelled.

Having reached Inversnaid we gratefully glugged the water provided by the checkpoint people and sat down to stuff some food down us. From Inversnaid, the path was still very tricky with lots of rocks and tree roots to negotiate. After 1½ miles we were both in unknown territory – neither of us had run more than 36 miles before. We were moving OK but, this was a tough section for both Phil and me. We kept up a decent pace for a few miles and then felt morale slipping away as the pace declined to a walk. We were much less than half way and already very sleepy and fatigued. We were also aware of the enormity of the task ahead and for a while it did not seem remotely possible that we’d make it. I was really looking forward to seeing Liz and Jim at Derrydaroch and to getting some decent food inside me.

When we arrived at Derrydaroch, immediately the situation improved. There waiting for us was Liz and Jim. They’d set up our two blue chairs next to each other and we could see and smell the wonderful pasta steaming away in the pot. Then Jim announced that we were to get foot massages! Phil had his while I changed my clothes and got outside a fair portion of the pasta. Then it was my turn. It’s difficult to explain why this was so good. I think part of it was that anyone prepared to handle my feet after 44 miles of muddy and dusty tracks was really prepared to do anything to support our attempt at this challenge. Part of it was the look of envy we got from other competitors and the fear in the eyes of other support teams who might be asked to follow suit. But mostly it was the pleasure, pain and tickling feeling that seemed to bring new life into me from the toes up.

Life was good again as we left Derrydaroch after a full 30 minute stop and headed towards Crianlarich. Phil and I were fairly eating up the ground and overtook several runners over the next couple of miles.

As we approached Tyndrum there was David Adams cheering us in enthusiastically. It was great to see him and to catch some of his infectious optimism. Again the blue chairs were there, the steaming food (soup this time) and Jim, ready with the massage cream. This space that Liz and Jim created began to feel like home to me. I looked forward to it and missed it when I was away. I felt secure and happy sitting there being so well looked after. I felt fully supported and fully confident that I would justify this support by finishing.

Also among those present was Simon who had come across from Crieff in his van. For some reason he didn’t stop laughing. He laughed at the state of us when we arrived. He laughed when Jim started in on the massage. He laughed at the sticking plaster I’d put on my back to prevent rubbing. He laughed particularly hard when it was time waddle off on the next leg as we tried to work the stiffness out our legs. It is amazing how it cheered me up to have such a happy bunch around me.

The next leg was an easy one, 6.5 miles on a fairly flat track. The clouds had broken by this stage and the sun was beating down on us which didn’t exactly help our physical or mental state. By the time we reached Bridge of Orchy nearly 60 miles into the run we were both very tired. Simon , Liz and Jim did their best to encourage us, but it was quite difficult to forget that we still had 35 miles left to go.

Leaving Bridge of Orchy , our plod up the hill was painfully slow. Finally we breasted the hill and began our descent. However, if anything our speed decreased going down the other side. We finally reached the road and climbed slowly out of Inveroran and up onto Rannoch Moor.

As we approached the descent towards the Kingshouse, Simon appeared running uphill and joined us for the run in to the checkpoint. It was an encouraging thought that there was only one more checkpoint after this one before the end!

We sat down and went through our usual routine, at least until it started raining quite heavily at which point Phil took refuge in the back of Simon ’s van and I sat in the cab upfront tending to a major blister that had appeared since Bridge-of-Orchy. By the sounds of it Liz, Jim and Simon had had a good time waiting for us at the Kingshouse. Two pints of Guinness for Simon , two beers for Jim and two glasses of wine for Liz plus a good slap-up meal helped them to pass the time. Definitely the high-point for the support team!

Phil seemed in good spirits and determined to finish. There were still 23 miles to go, but only one more stop before the finish. It really seemed do-able for us both.

We set off along the road swaggering from side-to-side, stiff and bow-legged like a couple of cowboys. Phil was tired and my knee had started to give me some serious discomfort. The pace was slow, but I wasn’t too bothered as we had the Devil’s Staircase to climb so it would be good not to be too knackered by the time we started on that. However, it proceeded to get slower and slower and runners started to come past us.

Phil finally called me to halt so he could sit down. He said he felt sick and after a moment or two proceeded to vomit huge volumes of yellow liquid mixed with all the food he consumed since Derrydaroch. This was bad news. He immediately felt better but now had no food inside him and still 21 miles to go. He took on some chocolate and said he felt a bit better so we set of again. After another hour we reached the foot of the Devil’s Staircase at the top of Glen Coe.

It had taken us two hours to go little more than 2 miles. To me the implication was obvious. If it had taken us two hours to do 2 fairly flat miles it would take us at least another 6 hours maybe more to get to Kinlochleven and then how long to do the last 14? Phil had no food inside him. It was getting late and we were about to enter the most inhospitable section of the course. If we set off up that hill we would be a case for the mountain rescue guys.

So I said to him, “ Do you think you’re up to this?” I could see the struggle going on inside him. A part of him must have been cursing me for asking the question. Initially he said, “Yes, I can.” So I asked him “How can we speed up then as we won’t make it at this pace and if you get worse when we’re up there then we’ll both be in trouble.” He thought about it for a while and finally agreed that he wasn’t going any further. This was a very tough decision but in the circumstances (and also with hindsight) it was the right one.

After arranging for Liz and Jim to come back for him, I left Phil and teamed up with another competitor and his support runner and set off up the Devil’s Staircase.

Tony was the runner and Brett his support runner. They set a fairly stiff pace going up the Staircase. Tony seemed in good form and Brett was bubbly and enthusiastic – after all, he hadn’t just run 75 miles. We reached the top and began the long slow descent towards Kinlochleven.

By now my left knee was very sore. The pain was spreading from the back of my knee up into my hamstring. Each step was difficult, but I felt totally committed – not just to finish the race but also to not be a burden to my new-found running companions. I was longing for this section to finish so I could get started on the final leg. It was already dark as we approached Kinlochleven past the Alcan works. The run-in to the checkpoint was longer than I expected, but eventually we arrived and I met up with Liz and Jim once more.

Kinlochleven may be picturesque, the people may be lovely and the town may be a shining example to the rest of Scotland . But to me at 11.45 on Saturday night having run 81 miles it was Hell on Earth. Never have I seen and been eaten by so many midges. Liz and Jim, and most other people out and about in Kinlochleven looked weird, like satanic priests, with their green midge-nets over their heads.

As I sat there trying to get a mouthful of soup without the midgey croutons, I felt that much of the excitement and enthusiasm had gone out of the whole enterprise with Phil fast asleep in the car and out of the race. I wanted to finish, get my race T-shirt and go home to bed.

Liz offered to help me stretch my leg before I set off again. I lay down on a towel on the road and Liz lifted my leg up. When I looked at it I saw it was almost black with a covering of midgies. By this stage I didn’t care too much and just wanted to get on with the final push for home.

It was warm and humid but there was a hint of a moon and no sign of rain so as I packed my bag for the last 14 mile stretch I weighed my waterproof clothes and decided it was too much excess baggage and tossed it carelessly aside. At 12.00 midnight I met up again with Brett and Tony. I said those wonderful words to Liz: “See you at the finish” and set off up the road.

My leg hurt a lot still. I think that Brett and Tony were a bit concerned that I might slow them down or even not be able to make it. So, as we started up the hill out of Midge City , I set the pace and pushed on hard. It really hurt. Each step was seriously painful and I had 14 miles to put up with it. I really hoped the pain would ease as I loosened up, but it didn’t. As we climbed we could see a couple of head torches ahead. We closed the gap and overtook them with scarcely a word. And on we went.

As we reached the long flat section we were going well and morale was good. I knew we would make it. The first signs of rain were most welcome as it was still very warm. Then the light drizzle turned into steady rain and then suddenly “whoosh” the heavens opened and the rain came down in sheets. Brett asked me if I had my waterproofs with me. I sheepishly admitted that I’d left mine at the last checkpoint and was relieved to hear that I wasn’t the only idiot as neither he nor Tony had brought theirs.

We were completely soaked and getting wet and very cold. We decided to run to keep warm. By now the sky was being illuminated by the regular flashes of a big electrical storm. The track was now ankle deep in water and the burns were in spate. And on we ran.

We kept it going for 40 minutes during which time we caught up with several pairs of runners. I have to admit that I was quite scared. The lightning was getting closer and more violent. I was only partially comforted when Brett mentioned he was taller than me by fully 2 inches and adopted a sort of stooped hobbling run in the hope that the bolt would find something higher than me (i.e. him) to strike. Tony kept telling me that the lightning wasn’t in the glen yet so there was no need to stop and adopt the strike-my-behind position that gives you a fighting chance of surviving a direct hit. Spurred on by fear and by cold we continued to make excellent progress and eventually emerged at an impromptu checkpoint which Tony’s support crew had also managed to find

By this time the rain had eased and the panic was over. We passed a few others in the woods before finally emerging to catch a vague hint of Ben Nevis through the mist and the lights of Fort William about 3 miles off.

As we descended the forestry road we briefly went by another couple of runners who were walking slowly down. No sooner had we done that than they broke into a run and re-took us. I don’t think we’d slowed at this point but had reached an attitude stoic determination to finish into which neither running nor competing with fellow WHW-ers featured.

The track seemed to go on for a long, long time. My leg, which had seemed to recover during the latter stages of our 40 minute run, began hurting worse than ever and I felt myself going quiet and introspective. Brett continued to talk enough for all three of us, I think this time it was about various types of birds, mainly Owls I seem to remember, when I saw the welcome sight of the road into Fort William .

As we turned onto the pavement I could see two figures in the mist that had a vaguely familiar look to them. As we got closer I could see it was Liz and Jim who had walked down to meet us.

What a wonderful feeling. We’d done it! Keep walking to the roundabout and then break into some sort of run to finish. The run was frankly pathetic. I was hobbling so much by this stage I was in danger of going in circles and Tony seemed very tired and quiet too.

It was great to get a cheer and a round of applause from those that were there, but it was a strangely low-key finish to such an epic journey. I went to the reception window and handed over my hospital tag insisting that Tony and I should be recorded as exactly equal times and position and then went over to sit down and be nursed by Jim and Liz once more.

After a few moments and a few sips of coffee I was able to look around and share congratulations with the other runners and officials that were milling about. I then tried to stand up to make my way to the shower.

The pain and stiffness in my left leg was unbelievable. It had moved from my knee to my calf. It had gone completely solid and unresponsive and was of no use to me whatsoever. Jim lent me his shoulder to lean on and helped me to the showers.

After I’d got changed I returned to the reception area just as Gus, a runner with whom we had run most of the Loch Lomond section, arrived in most dramatic style. Having survived 95 tough miles he slipped at the doorway of the leisure centre and crashed into the doors with an almighty bang. He was understandably shaken by the experience but was soon chatting and laughing again.

A woman runner who had finished just ahead of me briefly lost consciousness and began to have a fit right there in front of us and was eventually taken away by an ambulance crew. Other casualties of the day included one finisher coughing up blood and another runner being taken off the Devil’s Staircase following some sort of blackout or seizure.

These unfortunate incidents help to remind you how serious a challenge this is and how simply completing the course is an awesome accomplishment. I only wish that things had been different for Phil. As it turned out the organizers called a halt to the race in the midst of the bad weather after just 49 runners had made it through. In a way this vindicates my decision to abandon Phil at the Devil’s Staircase as, had I stayed with him, neither of us would have been able to finish. So will I run the race again? Yes. Maybe not next year, but I do need to do it again now that I know what it’s all about. I do need to break 24 hours, get a much higher finishing position and just really find out what I am capable of in this awesome event….

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DuBois

Rannoch Moor. The vast expanse of Britian's largest uninhabited wilderness surrounds me. I am all alone save for the peaks of the magnificent Scottish Highlands that can be seen in every direction. Its 4pm Saturday 24th June, I have been going since 1am this morning and am now walking, my legs rebelling against the brains command to run, my energy levels seem to have hit rock bottom despite forcing bananas, gels and sports drink down my throat. I stop and sit on a rock and contemplate the magnificent surroundings, at least I can enjoy that. It's more than 10km till the next checkpoint and after that another 45km to the finish. I recall the course map and remember that the biggest climbs are in the last 40km. It seems a long, long way away. Help is at least 2 hours walk away but while I can still walk I may as well do that so I get up wondering how I find myself in this state and start to put one foot in front of the other. I’m not sure I can make it to the finish. Should I give up? I remember Catherine asking when should she tell me to pull out “if I’m shivering uncontrollably don’t let me go on unless I warm up”. I have a fear of hypothermia. I am cold and have already stopped to put on all the clothes I have with me. Maybe by the time I reach the checkpoint I will be too cold to continue and then I won't be giving up. I reason that nobody will think any less of me if I give up, but deep down I know that’s not true, there’s one person that would be bitterly disappointed if I gave up - me. I decided to do this race to challenge myself both physically and mentally and giving up would seem like a failure. I decide to worry about that later and just keep moving, keep moving, keep moving…

At 1am, the gun goes off and I am away. It’s the start of a 95mile challenge to run from Milngavie on the outskirts of Glasgow to Fort William along the West Highland Way. A route that passes through some of the most magnificent scenery in Scotland. The pace feels comfortable as I settle in with the lead pack. I have no idea where I am going so I decide to stick with the pack until daylight (barely 2 hours away this far north). As we run people are already dropping off the pace and eventually I find myself alone with only two runners just out of sight ahead of me. I slow down and wait for some other runners. Lost in the dark this early on would not be the best of starts. It is quite surreal running through the forest in the dark with only a small headlamp to see. The only sound is the footsteps of the runners and the sloshing of water in water bottles. There is little conversation happening as we all try and find a comfortable pace and contemplate the long day ahead. After a couple of hours we start climbing the first hill and see pink clouds on the horizon indicating the sun won't be to far away. That will depend if this misty rain clears though.

The descent from Conic hill is challenging, steep, rocky, and slippery not like the smooth gravel slopes of Hampstead Heath that I had trained on. Still I don’t lose too much ground on the runner in front of me and it is light enough to see by now without the headlamp so I am happy running by myself. Not long after the descent lies the first checkpoint. I check my watch and am suprised to find I am 15mins ahead of schedule - it didn’t feel that fast. My approach startles my support crew into action and they frantically fill up bottles, relieve me of my torch and batteries, change socks ( I put one foot in a foot of mud earlier) and tend to any other needs I have. I set off again after probably only 2 minutes on the next leg. It wasn’t the slickest of stops and seemed a bit chaotic but I had what I needed and was on my way again.

My support crew without whom I would have no chance of finishing this race consisted of Catherine, Jan, Susie, Ken and Eckhardt. They had all generously volunteered to help me out and I was extremely grateful. Any early morning chaos in the first checkpoint was made up for in buckets with what they did for me later on.

The next section of the race was along the banks of Loch Lomond - the largest Loch in Scotland. It starts off well, myself and another runner passing time by chatting away as we run along some easy terrain and nice views of the Loch. This all changes very quickly. The path we are following becomes narrower and narrower until we both conced there is no path anymore. We are lost. We traipse through knee to waist deep foliage in the hope of regaining the path but to no avail. I keep thinking we will find the path soon and losing 10-15minutes in a race this long is no big drama. Besides I’m not really aiming for a certain time, merely to finish knowing I’d given it 110% would be enough whatever the time. Eventually we realise we aren’t going to stumble onto the path without checking a map and compass. Once done we hack our way back to the path in around 5 minutes or so. I think we spent maybe 40 minutes stumbling around, not great but no real disaster.

Checkpoint number two and another sock change (I put the same foot through another foot of mud, if I keep this up I’ll run out of socks very soon). The support team had everything ready this time and I am in and out in a flash. The path continues along Loch Lomond but calling it a path is very generous indeed. It twists and turns, over rocks, boulders, trees, with very few sections that you can actually run. Despite this it is very scenic with views along the loch the whole way. It is impossible to get into a rhythm so I run when I can and climb over obstacles as fast as I can when I can’t. Finally the “path” leaves the loch and resumes what you would recognise as a trail. It feels great to break out into a run for more than 50metres without having to stop and scramble over rocks. I notice my knees are a little sore as are my quads. They aren’t used to this kind of terrain. I remember reading somewhere that the legs get to a point where they can’t hurt anymore than they already are so you just deal with it and keep moving. I’m not that bad yet but there is still a long way to go. As I approach the next checkpoint I see Catherine waiting for me and we run the last few hundred metres together. It is a real boost whenever I reach a checkpoint and running in with her really gave me a lift. She asks how I am and I reply my legs are pretty sore but I don’t feel to bad. Since we were not even half way this sets Catherine thinking “if they are sore now how are you going to manage another 80km”. Fortunately she doesn’t tell me this. By now the support team have become highly organised, each person having a different role, one mixing my sports drink, another emptying my backpack of used gels and stocking up with new ones, someone else offering me extra food and clothing, stocking up on salt tablets, filling up my water supply, offering towels to wipe my face down etc etc. I feel like a formula 1 driver at a grand prix pitstop.

Off I set again. Next checkpoint is over halfway I tell myself and I am feeling ok despite my sore legs. I start climbing, it is impossible to run almost any of the climbs, so I try and keep the pace up striding out uphill as fast as I can. Finally the path starts to descend, although running downhill is now also very challenging. My quads are pretty sore and don’t like steep downhills, yet I manage to shuffle down the steep parts and run along the gentler slopes. Half way down I stumble over a rock and fall to the ground. I lie there contemplating the damage, my knee hurts but I’m pretty sure that’s just a bruised patella - it will hurt but shouldn’t affect my running, my ankle also hurts but I’m not sure what that is. I stand up to inspect the damage and test out the leg. No blood and nothing drastic pain wise so I continue on. Finally the path flattens out and I can get into a rhythm running. By now my body is telling me that running maybe isn’t such a good idea and maybe walking would be better. I try to ignore this for as long as possible but sometimes the brain's ability to override the body weakens and I start to walk. I remember reading that the key to ultramarathons is “run when you can and walk when you can’t” so I walk for maybe 10 seconds then commence running again for a few minutes. I see another couple of runners ahead that had recently passed me doing the same thing so I figured this must be pretty normal at this stage. Finally the town of Tyndrum comes into sight and I know that I am over halfway. Catherine and Eckhardt meet me once again and lead me into the checkpoint. “That was a real tough section” I tell Catherine. Not what a partner wants to hear at the half way mark of a race this long! I am sat down by the team and restocked with supplies and in what seems like 5 minutes I am off again. . She gives me a good luck kiss as we part and it comes as a great act of love and support. I’m sure I must smell by now! This thoughtful gesture keeps me positive for the next few hours.

Mercifully this section is relatively flat and I start running trying to get the legs moving again. They stiffen up after each stop and take 10minutes or so to get going. Thirty minutes later they are still stiff but I’m running so I try to ignore it and concentrate on moving forward. I stop every minute or two and walk for 10 seconds or so then continue. The 10 seconds is getting longer though but at least I can still run. Another runner passes me with a support runner beside him. I find my running pace is faster than them but I can't keep it up for very long and I can't run as slow as him so I run and walk and keep up with them eventually passing them again as I find some momentum. This is starting to get hard. My knees are sore and a sore tendon on top of my foot is making each step uncomfortable but I still feel ok within myself so I push these pains to one side and continue. Its over 60km to go but I know I’ve already done 90 so maybe 60km is do-able. The next checkpoint at Bridge of Orchy comes into view and I briefly contemplate not sitting down to avoid stiffening up but then temptation is too great and I gratefully accept the seat. Jan tells me there is only three checkpoints to go which almost brings me to tears - I can do three checkpoints which means I can finish this thing. I have a sneaking suspicion it is four and he confirms that unfortunately he has it wrong and it is four. Even so four is a small number which my brain can process - four more stages then I’ve done it. I fight back tears and completely ignore the number of kilometres involved in those four stages. By now my support team are a well oiled machine - I don’t have to ask for anything and I am even told what to expect terrain wise for the next leg.

I set off with Catherine up the hill out of Bridge of Orchy, it is great to chat with her. Eventually I kiss her goodbye thankful for her support and encouragement and continue alone, striding up the hill, running whenever the path flattens out. The views are becoming more and more grand as I continue further into the Scottish Highlands and this helps take my mind off the pain in my legs. My thoughts range from focussing on what I’m drinking and eating, to contemplating the magnificent scenery, wondering how I am ever going to finish this, to knowing I can finish this and hoping I can finish in time so all the support crew can get some sleep tonight, singing the Pearl Jam song that was on the cd player when we left home so long ago and glad that I didn’t hear some crap song that would stay in my head for hours and be impossible to dislodge. While my thoughts ranged like this I knew I was ok. I am enjoying the ever changing scenery and enjoying the challenge. If it was easy it wouldn’t be worth doing, the rewards for doing something like this only come by overcoming adversity so I didn’t mind it being hard and in some ways actually welcomed each mountain and the pains in my legs as just challenges to be overcome. The greater the challenge the greater the reward.

I finally reached the top of the climb and started descending. As I try to run some of the gentler slopes my legs rebelled and just seized up, not so much like a cramp but they felt like blocks of concrete and no ability to contract and relax. They hadn’t felt like this before and I was a little worried. Just keep going I say to myself maybe they will loosen up when I get to the bottom. With this sliver of hope I reach the bottom and try to resume running unfortunately with the same result, they don't work. Keep walking then if that’s all you can do I say to myself. I start to do some maths in my head and calculate that even if I walk I will still finish well before the cut off of 35 hours so I plod along. Some people pass me and their support runners ask if I am ok - “fine thank you, just can’t run anymore”. The path continues slowly but steadily uphill and continues on into the distance across Rannoch Moor. My thoughts are turning more and more negative and I find my energy levels getting low. The sun has disappeared and clouds and wind have picked up. Another hour passes and I look around and discover I am all alone, no-one in sight and I barely have the energy to keep walking. This is the lowest I have been ever in a race. I feel like a shell of my former self and have no idea if I can make it or not. I am approaching a ridge and I cling to the hope that on the other side of that ridge I will be able to see the next checkpoint at Kingshouse. Finally I come to the crest and my hopes are dashed when all I can see is another path continuing slowly uphill long into the distance to another ridge. I sit down for a minute trying to eat some food. I know something is not right when I can't force a whole banana down but I stand up and tell myself to just keep moving, keep moving, keep moving…

Finally I reach the next ridge and look down to see Kingshouse in the distance. The last hour has been a bit of a blur - I don’t really know what I have been thinking, my mind is shutting out any thought that is not - keep moving. I start the painful plod downhill hoping that the support team will send someone up to an intermediate checkpoint. They haven’t so far as I told them not to and I’m not really sure what they can do for me but just seeing a familiar face would help. I’m still very unsure if I can finish this or not but still can’t find a reason to pull out that would be satisfactory to me. Maybe I look that bad that someone will tell me I’m not fit to continue. It wouldn’t be my decision then so that would be ok. I keep walking wondering what to do, I really don’t want to suffer like this for the next 45km over the massive hills coming up. Ahead I see a familiar orange T-shirt of Jan then also pick up Catherine and Eckhardt walking towards me obviously concerned that I’m an hour behind schedule. I can barely look at Catherine, I know I look awful and I don’t want her to worry. She knows straight away that something's wrong and is very concerned. I walk down to the checkpoint with Jan who is nothing but positive whilst Eckhardt tries to convince Catherine I will be ok. Catherine knows how stubborn I am and is scared I will push myself too far.

Kingshouse takes ages to arrive at even with the company of the crew. Finally we arrive and I sit in the car to warm myself up and put on as many clothes as I have, force some more food down and drink as much coke as I can handle. Slowly the coke or the rice pudding or the nurofen starts to work and I feel a little more human. After 5 or ten minutes I decide that I may as well continue and gingerly step out of the car wearing a t-shirt, 2 long sleeve running tops, two thermals, goretex jacket, beanie and gloves and set off with Jan who is accompanying me to the next checkpoint at Kinlochleven. I tell him I can’t run but will try and walk as best as I can. My legs are very sore as we get going but after 10 minutes I somehow think to myself that I might be able to run. I try a 50m run along a flat section and to my surprise my legs are working again. It’s not pretty but its still a lot faster than walking. I walk a bit more then try running for a bit further, slowly the legs are responding. I continue on like this until we reach the Devil's Staircase, which as you can guess from the name is not conducive to running. I stride uphill with purpose and determination, feeling energy flow back into my body. I am actually starting to gain on a runner who passed me earlier. This fills me with even more confidence and I push harder catching and passing her before we reach the top. On the way down I am still unable to run the steep downhills, my legs just lock up but slight downhills, flats and gentle uphills are ok. I now look forward to sections where I can run again and am running for longer and longer stretches. Jan gives me encouraging words at all the right times and helps me push on. His support is invaluable and helps me to build on the positive energy I now feel.

I’m back! The feeling is wonderful. To conquer all those negative thoughts and push them aside when I was feeling so bad gives me an enormous sense of pride - I CAN do this - it will not beat me. I can't keep a smile off my face. I’m clenching my fists yelling “c’mon” Lleyton Hewitt style, in my mind. I don’t know how I turned it around but I think it’s primarily that I don’t know how to give up. It’s not in my nature to give up at anything and I think deep down I knew that I wasn’t going to give up during this no matter how hard it got and boy did it get hard. The support crew at Kingshouse got me out of my negative thinking and their belief that I could finish gave me back my belief, I don’t know what I would have done without them.

I’m now running on adrenaline, its almost 9pm I have been going for almost 20 hours and I feel unbelievable. Everything hurts, my foot is killing me, my calves are tight beyond belief and quads feel like concrete but none of that matters because I know I will finish. The last few kilometres into Kinlochleven takes forever, the village came into sight ages ago but the road has twisted and turned away from it at every chance possible. I want to keep running right into the village and show everyone that I’m back. Finally the checkpoint looms and as I run to the car they leap out surprised as I am an hour ahead of schedule and only 10 minutes down on the schedule for 24 hours. I have a grin ear to ear. Catherine can see in my eyes that I really am back and I think she is very relieved. I’m sure it has been a very hard day for her.
There is now only one more checkpoint and 22km to go. This sounds easy but both stages involve either large uphill or large downhill or both so I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. I was refuelled then headed off with Ken as my support runner. We run out of town then slowed to walk up another long steady climb. It was now 10pm at night and as we reached the top of the climb and headed along a long, long ridge the sun illuminating the adjoining mountains with a beautiful yellow colour. It is a stunning sight. Every time I start getting negative I stop for a second and look around and decide I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else than right here, right now!

I try and start running again but find I can run for less and less distance. My foot is really sore and is bothering me at every step, particularly anytime I am on unstable ground. This is not good since the path is strewn with rocks almost the whole way. I am reduced to a pathetic shuffle which eventually becomes slower than walking so walking it is. I know I can walk 15km no matter how bad I am and I don’t care about the time. All I want is to finish. The path continues for what seems like forever around the contours of the mountains until eventually I see a forest in the distance. I know that the next checkpoint is in a forest so reason that it can’t be too much further. We now descend in through the forest and am really struggling with my foot, it is hard to lift my toes and I start tripping over rocks causing me to stumble and force my poor legs to stop me falling which they complain very loudly about. I don’t think I am much company for Ken, continually complaing about these @#$%^ downhills strewn with rocks. After what seems like forever I hear a familiar call of “Andy” in a thick South African accent. Eckhardt has wandered up in the dark by himself to find us and I know the checkpoint can’t be far. I am very grateful to him for walking up to meet us. It was just another example of how great my support crew are, he waited who knows how long by himself to help me in the last few hundred metres.

The final checkpoint. It is now 11.30pm and after more coke, rice pudding and nurofen I set off again with Catherine for the last leg. It is a wonderful feeling setting off for the final 11km knowing nothing will stop me now and having Catherine by my side. We begin with a climb then gradually descend into the darkness of the forest. Catherine is fantastic, pointing out where all the rocks are on the path and even kicking others aside so I wont trip. When we get to a stile she pulls me up and over as I can barely manage it by myself. We cross many of these and every time she helps me up and over. I’m not much conversation but having her there beside me is an enormous help. She tells me that Eckhardt started telling Blair Witch Project stories before she left with me. Not the ideal thoughts to put into someone's head as they begin a 11km walk through a forest in the dark. The only scary occasion came as I hear her scream at me as I am just about to step on a frog. How she see’s it in the dark I have no idea. After a long uphill we reach a proper path that isn’t covered with rocks and begin what is hopefully the descent into Fort William. Walking along through the woods hand in hand with Catherine it feels like we are all alone in the world and that it doesn’t matter. I have everything I need in just her. I feel extremely content and happy and in some ways don’t want to reach the end of the forest because I know this feeling will be over.

However my foot and legs soon start overriding these thoughts and I’m sure Catherine is sick of me saying - “we must be there soon”. I’m now limping noticeably and starting to wish it was all over. The descent down to the road to Fort William takes forever and finally we reach it and head towards town. Before too long I hear “Andy” once again in a thick South African accent, Eckhardt has once again walked along to find us and walk into town with us. He has our camera and takes some photo’s as we walk along. We reach the sign telling this is the official end of the West Highland Way. “Which bastard decided that the end of this race is past the official end of the way” I say to myself, or did I say that out loud. It’s hard to tell now.

Around a corner and there it is- the Lochaber Lesuire Centre - the end. We walk through the carpark, then stop just before the finish, a big hug and a kiss from Catherine, Eckhardt taking photos, Susie is also there and gives me a hug, I walk past Ken and Jan asleep in the car, their job is done, and walk up the steps through the door to the final checkpoint. I hear the applause of others waiting for their runners, congratulating me on my effort. My race number is cut off my wrist and I am finished. 25 hours 45 minutes and in 37th position I am told. I have done it.

As I have written this I have been overcome with tears on several occasions. It was an amazing day that will stay with me forever. The hardest thing I have ever done, by a long way and the most rewarding. I am eternally grateful to my support crew who don’t realise how much they did for me, Jan, Ken, Eckhardt and Susie you were fantastic and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Catherine, what can I say, sorry to put you through so much, you were there for me in more ways than you will ever know and your tears and concern only helped me realise how much you love me. That gave me more strength than anything else could ever do.

Thankyou to everyone who donated money and offered me encouragement. Your words were fondly remembered and called upon during the race. Apologies also for my family, both the DuBois and the Mansons for putting you through a sleepless day and night worrying. Your love and support was also very much appreciated.

What's next you might ask? At the moment I can barely walk, have feet and calves twice their normal size and will lose most of the scraps of toenails I had before, so running is certainly not on the agenda for a while. Will I do it again. In a word - no. Was I glad I did it - absolutely

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Waterman

The West Highland Way Race

It’s past midnight and I’m standing in the car park of Milngavie train station about seven miles north of Glasgow on Saturday 24th June. My primary thought is ’What the hell am I doing here?’ It needn’t be said that my fellow runner, Jamie, is thinking the same. We have trained solidly for seven months; early morning runs in the dark and cold of winter; 18 mile journeys to work running along the congested A3 instead of on the train; and those weekend, day-long jaunts over the North Downs. Despite the fastidious training plan, I wonder whether it has been enough. I’m comfortable that I have a good fifty miles in me, but the latter half of the race is an unknown. My fear and trepidation is reflected in the faces of our four-man support team; all colleagues from the London Fire Brigade and London Ambulance Service. The race requires them to meet us at pre-designated checkpoints to provide food, water, first aid and encouragement. It also requires them to locate and rescue us in the event of our non-attendance at any rendezvous point. I am hoping that there will be no need to unpack the rescue stretcher or medical bag from our hired support vehicle before we have to return it on Monday.

The lithe, athletic bodies and well-worn endurance race gear that are abound here tell a story of experienced individuals aiming for sub-24 hour times. Me? I just want to finish. I have walked the West Highland Way three times previously. I know that I have about 15 miles of relatively flat, easy, path before I hit the slopes of Conic Hill; I know that there are 20-plus miles of dodging rocks and tree roots along the eastern shores of Loch Lomond; I know that, once past the Highland Boundary fault, I’m in the mountains with the remote and desolate Rannoch Moor to cross and the portentously named Devil’s Staircase to negotiate. Although the memories of my previous forays along the West Highland Way arm me well for this outing, I now have to complete the route in under 35 hours. A feat that has previously taken me 5 days.

It’s 01:00 and having strained to hear the briefing from the race organiser, Dario Melaragni, we are off. A hundred or so head-torches bobbing about in the darkness like a swarm of agitated fireflies. The initial stage of the race passes quickly as we settle into a steady run. The weather is remarkably warm and the going underfoot dry. I am desperate to avoid turning an ankle in the darkness or slipping into a pothole but I am on a narrow track with runners behind me breathing down my neck as we pass through the suburban streets and into the woods. I have lost Jamie already, he is somewhere behind me but I continue to run, afraid that to slow or stop will make me cold. I need not concern myself greatly with the darkness as it occupies just a few hours in this part of Scotland.

My friend and colleague, Dom Fearnley is running the race too. He is somewhere in front of me, and although it hasn’t been said, I know that there is a burning rivalry and he is determined to reach Fort Bill before me. Before I know it the sun is rising slowly as I begin the ascent of Conic Hill. I have climbed this hill, and larger, before, so it holds no fears for me. I am taken by the beauty of Loch Lomond in the misty half-light, millpond flat with its various islands extending north indicating my route. As I contour round the top of the hill I look to the peak. It is about 04:00 and someone is flying a kite! I mull this over as a roar down the other side toward the first checkpoint. I bound down the steps that have been cut into the descent that remind me of my many training runs on similar terrain around Box Hill in Surrey. Into the car park at Balmaha and my support crew are clad in midge nets offering tea and hot food. I accept some and suffer the onslaught of the Highland Midge. As I look across the car park I notice Dom hoisting his running sack onto his back and preparing to leave for the next checkpoint. Our eyes meet and we both know what that look says: ’You’re not beating me, Waterman.’ Jamie arrives some minutes later grumbling that he has experienced the hardest twenty miles of his life. I am slightly concerned, as I know what is to come. I can stand the midges no longer and leave Jamie to his food, hoping he will catch me up, but with my sights set firmly on catching Dom.

There are fewer runners around now as we spread out. I am concerned that a twinge I felt in my knee an hour or so ago is developing into an ache. At the marathon distance stage I pull into the second checkpoint with the intention of getting John, our team paramedic, to attend to my developing injury but he’s not there. I am informed that he is ten minutes away with the medical bag seeing to Jamie who has pulled out of the race. Damn, I have seventeen miles until I see my support crew again and I can’t afford the twenty minutes it will take my crew to retrieve John so I leave and continue running. I consider mistake number one: co-runners may have a joint support crew- the keyword I guess is ’co.’ I suppose this means that Jamie and I should have been physically together regardless of the complications. I dismiss this from my mind as my co-runner has pulled out so now the support crew has only to support me. I get concerned about my injury and the prospect of failure momentarily occurs to me but I quickly banish it from my mind. I will complete this race if it’s the last thing I do........and Dom is still ahead.

As Rowardennan becomes a memory I pass a group of beer-fuelled, unpleasant individuals who have been camping by the loch. They are shouting obscenities at a woman runner and me. I wish I had the time and energy to introduce them to the depths of the dark water but I continue on. I smile as I see my shaven headed support crew approach them to explain the error of their ways. The next seventeen miles are purgatory. I wonder if a knitting needle has found its way into my Ron Hill Tracksters and is now embedded in my knee. Neither my wife nor I knit so it must be my injury worsening. My pace has slowed terribly and descending hills results in excruciating pain either side of my patella. The going underfoot is worse than I remember too. I find myself scrambling over rocks, making very little headway and the aroma of garlic is becoming sickening as I tramp through the Ramsons that grow prolifically by the side of the Loch. I sing Bob Dylan songs to myself and focus on moving forward.

Eventually I arrive at checkpoint three. I have completed about forty-four miles and I’m getting near the half way point. I stop for about ten minutes and allow John to strap my knee up with Gaffer Tape while I eat some hot military rations. I get a telephone call on my mobile from an ex-Parachute Regiment friend back home who informs me he is drinking beer and watching the football. As I leave the checkpoint he texts me: ‘Guts and determination mate.’ I repeat this as a mantra as I head into the highlands. Feelings of tiredness plague me now, although the Ibuprofen John has given me soften the sharp edges of pain from my knee. I continue on in the knowledge that I need complete only seven more miles before I see my support crew again at a road crossing. I decide to film the first extract of a race diary on my mobile phone’s video camera. As I watch it back the person I see on the screen looks many years older than my 39. He also looks shockingly tired and the expletives I hear from his mouth render the film x-certificated. I continue on and as I arrive at the road crossing I am surprised to see John clad in running gear. He has been told that from the halfway stage it is within the rules to accompany ones runner, so I have a companion again and we set off for the next checkpoint at Tyndrum. Dom is well ahead now. He has left a message for me with my support crew: ‘Pain? It’s just weakness leaving the body.’

Tyndrum arrives and I am now struggling to make the cut-off times and am at the very back of the field. Getting slightly lost in the hills around Crianlarich did not help. We need to leave almost immediately to make it to Bridge of Orchy at fifty-three miles. As we climb out of Tyndrum we meet cheery, Australian race official and exchange banter with him as we progress toward the next checkpoint. It is Keith ‘Mad Dog’ Hughes, a very fine individual. The hulking Beinn Dorain looms above us as we contour round it following the West Highland rail line, and before we know it arrive at Bridge of Orchy. A swift food stop and a change of socks and we’re off again, climbing the hill toward Rannoch Moor. Suddenly, the pain diminishes in my knee and I am able to increase my speed. John encourages me and we achieve a fair pace. We begin to overtake other runners and my spirits lift. We pass our support crew at the next rendezvous point, the pub at Inveroran, they are drinking pints of beer and look surprised as we choose not to stop, the look on their faces is priceless. Rannoch Moor is notorious as a miserable part of the race; it is remote, featureless and exposed but John and I continue to overtake other runners. As we pass them John asks ’Are you OK?’ Invariably they respond negatively to which John replies ’Oh, we are!’ We are running well now and the wild moorland flashes by as we maintain our good pace. I think that Dom might well be within my grasp now.

As we complete the Moor stage and pull into the Kingshouse Hotel a runner who has removed his shoe greets us. His foot is purple and he seems in agony. I consider my own injury and realise it could be a great deal worse. I discover later that this was Mark Hamilton, who had broken his ankle in the early stages of the race! Darkness is approaching and I’m not looking forward to my second night of running but my spirits are high and I start to believe that I’ve got the finish in the bag. I won’t break any records but I’ll be awarded a finishers crystal goblet. Feelings of joy fill me and John and I trudge off into the night to tackle the Devil’s Staircase. As we are about to ascend, Keith the Aussie arrives in his car and gives me an elasticised knee support to wear. I am overwhelmed and thank him, then head up the zigzag path toward the summit of the Staircase. I have dreaded this part of the race and the going is as tough as I remember it but remarkably I feel as if I have energy to spare. We arrive at the summit, drink some isotonic sports drink and then head off, making good progress as we descend into Kinlochleven. We pass more runners who are now walking and we listen to them complain that it is too late in the race to be moving as fast as we are. We ignore them and arrive confidently at the medical clinic that doubles as the penultimate checkpoint. Some runners have taken the opportunity to rest here as the cut-off times are now particularly generous but John and I waste no time in heading for the final major climb of the race. I consider my performance thus far: the horrendous, painful part of the race removed me from the middle of the field and placed me at the back. Now I feel born again and I think a sub 30 hour time is on the cards.....but most importantly I need to catch Dom who is about an hour ahead.

My renaissance lasts until I hit the hill out of Kinlochleven. I’ve done about eighty miles and now I’m feeling it. My head is swimming and the pain in my knee has returned with a vengeance. I begin to hallucinate and see Iain, one of my support crew, on an exercise bike by the side of the track. If you knew Iain you’d realise how ridiculous that is. Later I see a van and a car parked side by side on the track. It can’t be, vehicles can’t tackle this terrain. I squeeze my eyes closed and then open them- yes, definitely a car and a van. I consider asking John if he can see them too but change my mind. As I do the two vehicles morph into the bushes that they really are. The sun is now up and the path seems to go on forever. It snakes away into the distance and boulders litter the ground in front of us. I accidentally kick one and the jarring effect sets off a firework of pain in my knee. This is definitely the worst stage of the race. I know the end is in sight but my body knows it too, it is beginning to protest at the lack of sleep and having to endure the injury that probably should have dictated my withdrawal fifty or so miles back. But we keep going. John has been magnificent; he accepted the role of support crew and agreed to run the final twenty-five miles with Jamie and I if needed. He ran a fifteen-mile training run in preparation and is now approaching his fiftieth mile. As I said- magnificent.

The final checkpoint appears at last and Fred, a long lost friend who left the London Fire Brigade to live in Scotland some time ago, greets us. He has driven from Dundee to support us and it’s good to see his cheery face. After a quick drink we set off to complete the final seven miles. Again, they seem to go on forever and a blister bursts on the ball of my foot about four miles from the finish. I waste time trying to tape it up with gaffer tape pulled from my knee but it doesn’t work so I just take the pain and crack on. The massive Ben Nevis heralds our arrival in Fort William and we find ourselves on an asphalt path, heading into the town. A few photographs of John and I by the ’You have completed the West Highland Way’ sign and I stagger into the Lochaber Leisure centre and the end of the race to be congratulated by Dario- 31 hours and twenty six minutes after I left Milngavie. The feelings of elation are surprisingly absent; I think I experienced them when I realised I had a finish in the bag. Dom has finished too. An hour before me. I’m just tired and sore. A shower and I’m in the car sleeping the sleep of the dead.

At around midday the support crew, Jamie and I go to the prize giving ceremony. It is an event not too be missed, compeered by Dario, who is full of comical comments. Dom looks at me across the crowd and smiles as he sips his pint of Guinness. I nod in acknowledgment. Yes, you beat me mate, well done. I leave the ceremony an hour or so later with my goblet and hobble to the hotel we have booked. I want to wander into town and have a drink in the Ben Nevis pub, but it is too far to drag my sorry self. My knee resembles a melon now and my lower leg is swollen and becoming an interesting, purplish hue. I get into the hotel and watch television and eat fish and chips. Probably the best fish and chips I’ve ever had.

The West Highland Way Race has been for me a life-defining episode. Definitely one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. So two weeks later, how do I feel? Well, still not elated. The injury appears to be healing well and I’ve caught up on my sleep. The finisher’s crystal goblet is in my cupboard alongside my son’s football medals. My complimentary West Highland Way Race sweat top has been worn often and the memories of the pain are disappearing fast. What’s left are the mental images of the outstanding scenery, the feeling of camaraderie among our team, and an excellent weekend in Scotland. But I think I can do it quicker. Not as quick as the winner, Jez Bragg from Solihull who achieved a new course record in an incredible fifteen hours and forty-four minutes, but definitely quicker. Yes, I think I’ll be back next year.....and so is Dom. Next year, mate, next year.

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Fearnley

West Highland Way Race 2006

Having just read Dave Waterman’s tale in which I feature heavily, I thought I had better try and write my own version. Apologies in advance for any clichés and flowery over the top prose (Dave take note please). Here goes…

My support crew and I arrived at about 7pm (way too early). Waiting is always the worst time for me and I’m sure I’m not alone in this, I just want to get on with things. I really dread the possible failure that hangs heavy over me as a black cloak of darkness descends. (Sorry had to be done). I feel like a spare prick at a wedding and that’s because I am. I am attempting to join a select group of individuals who have completed the West Highland Way Race.

I speak with Dave and Jamie about our race tactics. Our plan is to run the race as a team. Ten minutes into the race, I stop for a piss and Dave disappears into the night. We lost Jamie about 9 minutes ago. We see each other next at the presentation ceremony. So much for that plan.

Having read Dave’s race tale, it appears we are racing each other. Nothing could be further from my mind as I contemplate the small task of finishing 95 miles in the Highlands. This is totally unknown territory for me as far as running is concerned; I have leisurely walked it before. My longest training run has been about 42 miles.
I feel very strong for the first 20 miles, the only dodgy bit being the descent into Balmaha. My knees strongly object to going down steep hills.

It’s difficult to find my support crew at the first check-point as everyone looks the same in a midge net. I am greeted by my wife Samantha, my best mate Mick (Adj) Nelson and my training buddies Pickle (Staffy Bull Terrier) and Flash (Mad Collie). Having read previous race tales about support crews being worried sick about the mental and physical well-being of their runner, I am determined to always finish strongly at each check-point with a smile on my face. I save all the sobbing and self loathing for in between.

I get an update from Dave Waterman’s crew that my “Arch rival” is 15-20 minutes behind me. I contemplate painting a false tunnel on the side of Conic Hill in the true Wyle E. Coyote style, but then receive the joyous news that Waterman has hurt his knee. A cruel smile passes across my face which quickly develops into James Bond Baddie style laughter as I imagine Waterman’s face etched with pain as he takes painful step after painful step for the next 75 miles.

Ok, back to the serious stuff. The conditions are absolutely perfect as I make my way along Loch Lomond where upon I meet a bunch of old friends who are having a couple of beers. I tell them about Waterman and promise them all the Thunderbird wine they can drink if they manage to slow him up.

I am surprised to be met by my support team at the Inversnaid Hotel. They pass this off as an incredible feat that no other support crew has managed. I later find that it was the ‘fault’ of a local shopkeeper giving them wrong directions. They have their own dramas as they accrue penalty points on there licenses making their way to Derrydaroch farm and nearly running out of petrol. I really think the runners have the easier job sometimes.

I have my first crisis just after Derrydarroch farm. It is now quite hot and I feel very weak and giddy. I realise that I need electrolytes which I don’t have. A kindly fellow runner offers me some of his which saves my race as I instantly feel better and manage to come into the check-point at Tyndrum feeling good. I have the best ham sandwich of all time and move on. Tyndrum to the Bridge of Orchy is relatively straightforward and I believe a favourite stretch with many competitors.

Bridge of Orchy to Kingshouse is pretty long and bleak. I team up with a fellow runner and chat about all sorts. This is a great help and makes the time fly. We arrive quicker than expected at Kingshouse. I can’t find my support crew and assume that they’re in the pub (that’s where I’d be). A mass of coats comes to life in my support vehicle. I have caught them asleep, but they kick it into gear and make food, coffee etc. I am still feeling very strong but having walked the WHW before, I know that the hardest stretch is coming. I pair up with Bryan Sheard and Simon Pols. I am a natural chatter box, but Bryan and Simon seem to prefer to keep quiet and press on, it’s probably because I am boring the arse off them. The descent into Kinlochleven seems to take forever and I arrive at the Medical centre sing a Chumba Wumba song. Although I don’t yet realise it, the sleep deprivation is clearly starting to take its toll.

I know what’s coming next and am really feeling it climbing the hill from Kinlochleven to Glen Nevis. Bryan and Simon have become more introvert so I treat them to my own unique version of The Camptown Ladies over and over again. To my surprise they don’t join in. It’s light by the time we hit Lundavra. I feel not too bad at this point. The problem is that psychologically I’ve already finished. I’ve made this mistake before, but just can’t seem to stop myself. My support crew and Dave’s crew are also here as well as Fred who Dave has already mentioned.

The next 5 miles seem like fifty. The woods feel very claustrophobic and I’m not sure if I’m going the right way. I finally make it out of the woods and start the tortuous meandering descent to the road.

At the bottom I turn right and start heading in the wrong direction which I realise after about 10 minutes. Even though I have been to this area before, I am totally
Disorientated and call my support crew. Adj comes to my rescue and finishes the last mile with me. Adj later tells me that when he saw me at that point, I looked like a lost little boy, brilliant.

I see Dave at the presentation as I am enjoying a pint of Guiness while he sips somewhat effeminately on his usual lemonade. He reels of a list of excuses about finishing 1 hr and 14 min and 50 seconds behind me. Something about drunks, faulty signposts, a dodgy knee and very short legs, but I’ve stopped listening.

I speak to a fellow runner and am adamant that I will never do this again. He tells me that in a week’s time, I will be wondering how I can get my time down next year. I laugh out loud.

I collect my crystal goblet and personalised ale and can’t help thinking that a pair of goblets would look just great. See you on the 23rd Waterman.

Dom!!

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Jones

WEST HIGHLAND WAY RACE 2005

Is pain good or bad? Sergeant Rod assures me its good - it means I'm still moving, despite having done 75 miles in 22 hours. We're at the top of the Devil's Staircase, it's getting dark fast and I'm trying to find my spare torch so Sergeant Rod can scout ahead for the easiest path. My legs are in agony, I'm exhausted and can't see how I can get to Kinlochleven, never mind Fort William .

It was all so different 22 hours ago. Certainly, the torches were on, but I was fresh, raring to go, waiting at the entrance to the tunnel as the seconds ticked away on the Milngavie station clock. Maybe if I'd known what lay ahead I wouldn't have been so keen.

It was already warm - uncomfortably so for those of us first timers who were wearing reflective bibs over running gear. With back pack, bum bag with attachments and head torch I resembled a potholer getting ready to descend to the centre of the earth rather a well-honed athlete setting off on a 95-mile jaunt to the North of Scotland.

One o'clock and we're off! Through Milngavie town centre past the surprised late-night revellers then out onto serious running surface - dirt paths, mud and darkness. Torches on, jostling with a few over-excited runners, a bit of nervous banter and then settle down to a steady pace. It turns out my steady pace is too slow for most others, and before long I'm near the back of the pack. Still, I've got my own running plan and I'm sticking to it - 20 minutes run, 20 minutes walk - too fast now and I'll never finish. After half-an-hour I'm running alongside Geoff from Grimsby . He doesn't appear to have a torch! It's getting incredibly warm so I shed a layer and stow it in my backpack. We're joined by another slowcoach and I act as guide for a couple of miles - so inevitably we take a wrong turn (twice) and by the time we reach Dumgoyach there are definitely no others behind us or around us. The only comfort is the occasional flash of headtorches in the distance, suggesting we must be almost in the right direction. We're a bit slow (even for me) so I pick up the pace and leave the other two behind.

Navigating in the dark is definitely NOT my forte - and I get worse when the batteries in my headtorch give up and I can't see where I'm going! (So much for meticulous planning!) Luckily, I meet up with George Douglas from Helensburgh - a kindred spirit who I encounter at various points in the race and with whom I have a number of stimulating discussions - he provides light, new batteries are inserted and off I go again. I've reached the 11K mark and I've already had more unplanned diversions than I'd hoped for in the whole race! Past Beech Tree Inn - are those back-up teams already? - and some uninterrupted running for 30 minutes. I meet George again at Gartness and we jog/walk easily up the hills towards Drymen. We greet the dawn approaching the B858 ( 3:40a.m. ) and then I run ahead. This is George's 3 rd WHW race - 2003 ended at Tyndrum with collapsed knees; 2004 he had to pull out at the foot of the Devil's Staircase with the same problem. This year he's taking no chances, and a fast walk for most of the 95 miles is his plan.

Uneventful progress to and through Garadhban Forest - passing the American, Bobby Keoch, who is feeling rough - and on towards Conic Hill. The view of the Hill comes earlier than expected - through a wasteland of felled trees - but it is beautiful. Out comes my digital camera - a present requested with this race in mind - and the first of many photos is taken. Past a few runners and early-morning walkers and up the Hill - it's steep! Down the Hill is worse - slippery with dew, but what a view of the Loch ! - and I'm trying to make up time. My toes hurt (surely my shoes haven't shrunk?), my driver is waiting at Balmaha and I'm already 60 minutes behind schedule (too much chat!). Of course, the inevitable happens. Trying to keep to dryish patches I miss my footing and fall! What else can go wrong? Still, nothing damaged but pride (luckily no spectators bar the sheep) so "I pick myself up.." etc and sprint on. Another wrong trail, a look at the map, retrace steps, even steeper descent and then a sprint into the Car Park at Balmaha Visitor's Centre. From the look on Billy's face I can tell I'm a bit late and from the lack of cars I can tell I'm not one of the first runners! A quick look at my sore toes reveals long nails - I'd forgotten to trim them! Nail clippers were not one of the items on my list of needs, so they'll have to wait. Still, I'm feeling great, so a short stop for banana and drink replenishment, a change from slacks to shorts and off to Rowardennan.

Loch Lomond is fantastic! Flat as a millpond, the far shore eerily misty, birdsong filling the air - what more could you want at 5:30 on a beautiful morning - perhaps not the prospect of a further 75 miles without a rest, but then that's what I'm here for (that, and the photos). So I take more pictures and jog along the shore, and road and rocks and up hills and down. Rowardennan beckons, with another short break - and probably a ticking-off for being too slow - but meanwhile life is good. Rowardennan at 07:25 - 27 miles in nearly 6 and a half hours; I could've walked it quicker! Still, I'm reasonably fresh after the first marathon, and I never intended to break any records. A short break (no row - Billy's resigned to me being nowhere near my pre-race schedule estimates!) and off again - this time in the company of Lee Davies, a naval officer who did much of his training at sea, running round the decks of Her Majesty's ships. We talked a lot (surprise, surprise), and walked a lot - the terrain was tricky for the next 8 miles to Inversnaid, honestly - I've never seen such a rocky track described as a footpath, some of the boulders were taller than me! And, it was very warm. I also took a number of photos - surprise again - and had one phone call from my brother-in-law so it was perhaps only a small shock when Bobby Keoch came pounding past us and asked if we realised that the deadline for the next checkpoint was only half-an-hour away - and we still had a mile and a half to go! We hadn't, so we ran - and reached Inversnaid with 15 minutes to spare (09:45) - not surprisingly nearly last, but more surprisingly only numbers 73 and 74 - there were already more than a dozen retirals as much due to the humidity as anything else. The deadlines had also been extended due to the conditions. A welcome banana or two from the Trossachs search and rescue team, some water and off we go again. Lee decided to rest for longer so I was on my own with a mere 60 miles to go!

The next six miles were some of the trickiest yet. Little chance of running and a lot of chances for slipping and falling - so I didn,t. I also didn't make up any time. I was now about 2 hours behind my estimates, but I had past 2 or 3 runners, so I wasn't too concerned. More of a concern was a meeting with the search and rescue team looking for a runner in difficulty - they never found him, but he did turn up later at the next checkpoint and continued on to finish. I reached Cnap Mor at the end of Loch Lomond at about 11:30 . It was hot and humid, but I was looking forward to a rest and some lunch at Beinglas Farm. I phoned my colleagues in the Haematology lab. at Crosshouse Hospital as I was descending the hill and looked around for a few photo ops. Not looking where I was going, I slipped and went over on my right ankle! Disaster! Luckily no lasting damage, but a salutory lesson - don't mix your pleasures (or hobbies). So, camera away and hobble on to the next stop.

Beinglas Farm and lunch. Great! But, who's this? My support runner - Doctor Rod Pugh, veteran of 2 WHW races in under 24 hours - is there to greet me, 15 miles early. Billy had thought I needed a bit of encouragement so had collected him early from the station at Tyndrum and brought him here. Good, but first some rest. I changed my socks and running vest and sat down to have a sandwich. "What are you doing?" asks Sergeant Rod. "Having my lunch." I replied. "No you're not. Time for that later. You're too slow and we need to make up time. Have you been drinking enough?" "Probably not," I mumbled. "Drink that bottle of water and hurry up. By the way, what took you so long?" "I was talking to a few runners and taking a few photos." "What bit of RACE do you not understand?" bellowed the Sergeant. "You're not here to enjoy yourself! Give me that camera, you won't be needing it!" And off we went. So ended the fun bit and the serious business began. And my quads were starting to hurt!

The next 6 miles were sore, but, I must admit, reasonably enjoyable. Once the slight misunderstanding about racing and the meaning of life was out of the way, Sergeant Rod was his usual chatty self. He did take a few photos of me, which I suppose was a reasonable trade off. We also started to encounter the first of the participants in the Caledonian Challenge - on motorised buggies - but more of these later. We went through Derrydarroch checkpoint at 13:00 , ducked under the A82 and headed towards Crianlarich. 45 miles and still OK, not tired though hot and sweaty. Up the hill past Bogle Glen, over the hill and then ...... my legs!!! The downhill stretch back to the A82 layby where Billy was patiently waiting was agony! My quads were rebelling big time and my lack of sustenance was probably taking its toll. Poor Billy was having his first decent kip since Milngavie, but it lasted only 10 minutes before I arrived and he was on drink's duty again. I ran the next 3 miles to Tyndrum unaccompanied, but it was painful and very slow - though luckily not downhill.

Tyndrum at 16:00 . A rest, toilet stop - some strange looks from Green Wellie Stop customers - and bliss! A pair of nail clippers magically appeared so I could trim my bruised toe nails! Mind you, I had to do that myself, since neither Billy nor Sergeant Rod wanted to go anywhere near my feet! Bending my legs to perform this simple operation was agony and took 5 minutes or more. While I was engaged in this manicure, a member of the film crew appeared and I was interviewed about the necessity of having short toe nails when running and the likely damage I had done to my feet so far! Very edifying.

After a 20 minutes break, with sandwiches and banana, Rod and I said farewell to Billy and set off again, heading for Bridge of Orchy . The rest had worked wonders, and the pain was manageable (with the help of a few co-codamol!). The track was good, though the slope down to the railway underpass was tricky and sore. This was the least memorable part of the run, though possibly because the pain in my legs was growing and I was becoming very self-absorbed - also tired, hot, sweaty and hungry - though I wouldn't admit it! Approaching Bridge of Orchy , Rod ran ahead and left me to do the last 2 miles alone. I surprised myself with a fair pace, and almost sprinted down the last 100 yards to the main road, across and on to the welcoming checkpoint. Welcoming but packed and chaotic! 40 cars packed into a space for 20 makes for some interesting manoeuvering.

Another short stop, then on alone while my helpers headed for Inveroran Hotel. Sergeant Rod wanted a pint! I toiled slowly up to Mam Carraigh, past a number of bemused hikers, took a few photos (I had retrieved my camera) and slowly descended to the Hotel - an hour and 20 minutes for 2 miles! I was in trouble both from tiredness and from Sergeant Rod! I needed to speed up, he said, to get as many miles completed before it got dark. I promised to try, but I wasn't capable of much more than a steady trot!

Rannoch Moor beckoned - and so did the midges. The weather was still beautifully sunny and hot - and so totally unsuitable for this race - and the clouds of insects attacked us remorselessly. We borrowed some repellent spray from a couple of generous fellow runners and set off towards the Moor. It was beautiful! Not the bleak, inhospitable wasteland I had expected. The main problem was the walkers! Droves of unmoving, cellphone bearing, ski-stick wielding hikers three or more abreast taking up every inch of path and totally oblivious to the poor, exhausted runner going in the wrong direction! This was undoubtedly the worst part of the race so far. Dodging from side-to-side, trying to keep to reasonable running surface and desperately hoping I didn't trip over walkers, ski-sticks or stones, I was not enjoying myself. Rod was scouting ahead, regularly returning with encouraging shouts of , "only a few miles to the middle of the Moor" and "time for another 10 minutes run." Eventually we reached Ba Bridge (67 miles), then crawled towards Kingshouse Hotel, the last mile alone in a stumbling run (Rod had gone ahead for another well-earned pint!) Two-and -three quarter hours for 9 miles. It was now 21:15 , and I was weary! Not sleepy, but suffering from a mixture of hypoglycaemia and the effects of 20 hours on my feet in 20 degree heat and 80% humidity. The only positive was that the midges had little effect - my legs were dotted with red marks, but no itchiness!

10 minutes at Kingshouse then on again alone towards Altnafeagh and the dreaded Devil's Staircase. This section was the worst yet. Flat, but rocky and crisscrossed with little streams that required a minutes thought before I could attempt to stumble across. The last thing I wanted was a fall - I would never get up again! My quads were in agony and every step was a challenge. After a mile, I was passed by Pauline Harrop and partner - she was to be the last finisher in the race. She was moving quite freely - much to my envy! It took me an hour and a half to negotiate the track and Sergeant Rod was quite concerned when I finally reached Altnafeagh. It was getting dark, and there was little chance of us reaching Kinlochleven before nightfall. However, it was still dry and warm, so "no, we don't need any waterproofs. We'll get them at Kinlochleven." Fateful words indeed.

The Devil's Staircase did not live up to its name! This was actually quite easy - relatively speaking. Going uphill was definitely easier than the previous section, and the mile-and-a-half to the top was over in 20 minutes. Then came the worst time of my life! Obviously the Devil' Staircase is so named because it is the climb to Hell! And this is where my story began .....

The next two-and-a-half hours were the longest and worst of my life. My thighs shrieked with every step; I could only see for a yard or so in front of me where the spill of the torch lay; every step required a decision whether to step on or to avoid the rocks; streams crossed the path with what seemed like a two feet gap to be hurdled each time. And always Sergeant Rod: - "Only a few miles to go." "It gets easier a little further down." "Watch out for the big stream just in front." "Can you see the lights of Kinlochleven just down there?" "Only a few miles to go!!" ...... All I could think of was "Lord, please let this end!" and my only reply was a mumbled "I can't do this!"

Two phone calls lightened the proceedings at this point, one from Billy - "Hurry up, there's a party on down here, and you're missing the fun." The other from work colleagues - at a party in Kilmarnock . The problem was, I was having great difficulty fathoming how to work the phone - and I certainly couldn't formulate a coherent reply!

Midnight came and went - I was managing about 1 mile every 30 minutes, and was beginning to think that if I just lay down and rested for a bit, maybe I’d feel better in an hour or two. Then came one o'clock . We had reached some easier track and Rod had just told me we had about a mile and a half to Kinlochleven (again) when he saw a flash of light from somewhere behind us. "Must be another runner catching us up," he said. Then a much bigger flash lit up the whole of the region – a fantastic sight! "That's lightning. " he said. " Strange", I thought, "where's the thunder?" Then the monsoon! The heavens opened and we were caught. In the open, no waterproofs, only running vests and light tops. The temperatures plummeted and within minutes I was shivering. Strangely, though, I didn't feel much more miserable than I had been before. A strange vision of me being struck by lightning through my head torch kept recurring, and even this didn't really upset me - at least I would be warm.

We reached Kinlochleven at 01:20 soaked, freezing .... and lost. What with 2 inches of water covering the ground and a constant downpour, my guide took a wrong turn and we ended up in the Smelter works! Eventually we entered the main street from the wrong end, checked in with the race marshals and found Billy and the car. Hypothermia, hypoglycaemia and exhaustion – not a good combination with 15 miles to go! A slow change of clothes (thanks, Billy), a drink then, at last, I sat down - the first time in 24 and a half hours. The warmth was bliss; the shivering gradually stopped and I felt myself slowly drift off. “2 hours sleep before we go again,” said Rod. I didn’t reply. The next thing I knew was a knock on the car window - it was a marshal – 04:00 “The Race is abandoned for safety reasons due to torrential rain and flooding.”

Joy or despair? At that point I didn't think I could walk another step, but who knows. Rod reckoned I would have made it though Billy wouldn't have wanted me to continue. I was just glad to be warm!

We travelled to Fort William for the presentations and arrived in time to see the last finisher reach the Leisure Centre. She had reached Kinlochleven an hour or so before me, so was on her way out when the rain started. It sounded rough. George Douglas was stopped at Lundavra – only six miles to go. All told 48 finishers and 23 stopped for safety reasons.

The presentation was good, but a bit subdued. All those who had been stopped for safety reasons received their crystal goblet – a nice touch, but we know we didn’t complete the 95 miles. But, what an experience! Not quite life-changing, but there’s certainly nothing like it, and all future races will be anticlimactic.

Billy asked me whether I would do it again. It took me about 2 days to decide YES! – I have to finish.

Many thanks to Billy and Rod for guiding me through. Both have said they’ll help again, so roll on the 24 th June!

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