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 s