West Highland Way Race Report (finally!)

Distance: 95 miles
Ascent / descent: (approx.) +/- 15,000’
Time: 21:30:36
Position: 24/132

Better late than never is certainly an expression which applies here. Yes, it’s been a while since the 21st of June when I finished the WHWR, 3rd time or bust as Mike Mason said to me in an email (3rd time lucky it was Mike – all the best to you in your 3rd time or bust endeavour with the UTMB, I’ll be thinking of you). But lots has passed since the race.

I got what I thought initially was food poisoning the Monday night immediately after the race. I woke up at 2am with a serious chill, a rather fluid bowel movement and lots of aches. It turned into a real stinker of a cold the next day and lasted the week of my post-race holiday. I felt rubbish but that’s what you get for running 95 miles I guess.

Then a week at work sorting things out to make myself ready to go to Barcelona for a conference where I won a biannual research excellence prize. Winning a prize awarded by your international peers is a really good feeling – that a bunch of folk spread across the world have, unprompted, thought to put you forward makes the prize something quite special. Combined with winning a WHWR goblet after 3 years of hard training and dreaming, I could almost sit back and just drink beer for the rest of the year … well almost … there’s the Vasque Ultra Champs to place in (2 more ultras to go) and the OMM to run with Marco in October. I’d also like to get even faster at the half marathon – towards 1:25 would be good. I’ll just have to fit the beer in around the edges.

Barcelona was a great city to visit by the way, I’d recommend it for a city break. You don’t need an umbrella in your suitcase ‘just in case’ if visiting it in July however (how British am I, carrying an umbrella to Barcelona … turning into my Dad more quickly with every passing day … or maybe the urge to carry an umbrella is something which comes with becoming a new dad?). Also, if you do decide to visit Barcelona in July, be prepared to sweat a lot if you go out running at 5pm.

Anyhoo, on with the race report before I waffle a mini version of War and Peace.

Before the race

On the 15th June I drove up with my family to stay with my folks in Cumbernauld for a few days before heading to Callander where we’d base ourselves. Callander is a great wee place – easy access to decent hills and a superb real ale shop. What more could you ask for? We arrived and my right glute muscle was seriously achey from sitting in the car driving for 8 hours odd. Bugger thought I – this doesn’t look good. I tried to self massage and then went to see a sports therapist called Gillian at the Space Clinic in Edinburgh. She was recommended and did a great job doing a final strip out of my legs and working on my glute problem – so I’d happily recommend her if anyone has an injury that needs seeing to.

I ran my final pre-race trail run on Wednesday 18th along the shores of Loch Venacher and the forest tracks above it, nervously thinking about my glute, the cause of my 81 mile DNF in 2007. I ran a little longer than planned (8.4 miles with 590’ of ascent) but felt comfortable albeit far too aware of my glute. Whilst I ran I pictured myself running the stretch alongside Loch Lomond, visualising easy, enjoyable running in great scenery then switched to thinking about running over the Rannoch Moor – I’ll do it this time, I will. I might even do it well. I read on John K’s blog that Ian B gave him some advice to aim high and I reckon this is sound – if you don’t try to stretch yourself you’ll never succeed. My 2 previous attempts at the distance are evidence of my following this line of thought and I was determined not to be defeated this time. The first DNF was really just a result of naivety and a lack of training, the second was injury bad luck and a chronic misfiring problem in my right glute med. There would be no third DNF, or so I hoped.

Pre-race at Milngavie

My parents were my support crew till Bridge of Orchy and so we all drove to Milngavie, having hugged my wife Kirstin goodbye. She felt a little mixed about not being there I think, having supported on my previous 2 attempts, but (as Marco and Debs will find out soon – congratulations guys!) childcare called (it always does, but it ain’t so bad).

We arrived and got a decent parking space. I went up to be weighed in and was slightly taken aback by the severity of the weight gain warning – ‘any gain and you’ll be pulled immediately’ – I hoped I’d be OK. I spoke briefly to Ian B, Tim D, John K and Mike Mason in the church then Tom L and Silke before I returned to the car with my support crew t-shirts as presents for my parents. My Dad, slightly odd fellow that he can be at times, put his on over his shirt in a look best described as lumpy creasey.

I was talking to Ian B, Tim, Allybea and Tim’s wife when Dave W, the subversive runner turned up. It was great to finally meet him at last – his blog is a funny read (my mum reads it and finds it hilarious) – and he was a nice fella in the flesh too.

The briefing went well with Dario elevated above us all commanding the room and suddenly there seemed to be no time left. Quick quick I finished my lubing, did a wee and made my way to the start line. Some hellos to Tom, Davie B and others then an attempt at focussing, which is always difficult. 3rd time or bust, 3rd time or bust … and we were off, padding through the tunnel, up the stairs and along the street in amidst cheers and flashing cameras. 3rd time or bust …

Milngavie to Drymen – or the section that doesn’t really feel like the WHW

We entered Mugdock Park, navigationally tricky if you’ve never been there in the dark before, and a real opportunity for ‘group think’ mistake where the leader goes wrong and lots follow. Nothing like that happened and I padded along, chatting to Marco and then Jens Lukas, who seemed like a very nice fellow indeed. He told me about the psychology of running around a track for hours on end and said he tends to focus on a few objects like a notable bush or tree, or sign, and use them to mark progress and break up the tedium of running around a track.

Soon I was more or less running on my own as we passed Carbeth Huts with night’s chill getting chillier. I met up with Phil Mestecky again – he works for publishers Elsevier whom I have used for journal papers and book chapters – we ran together for bit during the early stages of the Fling and had a good natter about the ins and outs of publishing academic output. He eventually ran a cracking sub-20 hour time, almost sub-19!

The running was pretty uneventful and a little faster than planned but not excessively so. The night got chillier and chillier due to the lack of cloud but also got lighter much earlier than in previous years. Tim D was running well and we chatted as we ran along the road section near Drymen.

I emerged at Drymen, ran up the slope and shouted ‘McIntosh’ in an apparently very formal manner according to my folks. Both were standing there and I quickly restocked with water before shooting off. Both seemed well, not suffering from a lack of sleep, which I was concerned about for them. My mum’s a pensioner! (and will be reading this ha ha). First checkpoint down …

Drymen to Balmaha – or the section where I fell over

I ran with Tim for a bit as we started up the gentle slope towards the forest then gradually I peeled away and hooked in at the back of three runners including Kate Jenkins and Paul Scholte. We all ran in silence with me wondering where Ian B and John K were. I switched my head torch off half way through the woods and as chatted a little to Paul as we neared the end of the woods. He told me about the 7 day adventure race championship he competed in last year – 10 hours sleep over 7 days with the final day including an ascent of curved ridge on the Buachaille then a traverse of the Aonach Eagach. Crikey I thought – I’m running slightly out of my league here (it turned out I came in 4 mins behind Paul and met him a few more times over the race).

He started to peel away as we descended through the half light over the rocky moorland trail down to the bridge that marks the start of the ascent up Conic when doosh, my toe stubbed a large rock and I went skiting to the floor. Luckily I didn’t hit too hard and seemed to hit and slide rather than wallop. Paul asked if I was OK and I said yes, getting to my feet and running on, but thinking bugger, if I’ve bruised anything I might stiffen up and have problems finishing. Bust began to look more likely!

The ascent of and descent from Conic Hill was enjoyable running and uneventful. My mum and dad were waiting at Balmaha, not having had any sleep but looking quite perky. I quickly drank, restocked and ran on, nodding hello to John K’s wife as I neared the exit to the car park.

Balmaha to Rowardennan – or the section where I ran with Mr McEwan and marvelled at the landscape

I started this section alone but caught up with Murdo McEwan whom I passed as we ran along the shores of Loch Lomond – he was restocking from support crew I think. The water was perfectly still and clouds hung gingerly over the hills, teasing me with the odd partial view. I ran on and Murdo approached. I said ‘you’ll be Murdo’ and he said ‘yes, you’ll be Brian. I don’t speak much’. Undeterred I chatted on a little bit longer then noticed Neal approaching from behind. We ran in behind Murdo for a fair few miles, Neal talking about feeling a bit lethargic already due to having started at 1am. Starting a race at that time does mean you run with a cotton wool head for pretty much the whole thing – having had 8-9 months of bringing up a baby means this is normal operation for me! Neal was a little worried about how tired he felt and whether it would prevent him finishing. He needn’t have worried with an almost sub-21 hour finish – I guess the sight of me in my underpants at Auchtertyre must have spurred him on. Or maybe it was my promise to run with him, in my underpants.

Neal peeled away a bit and Murdo and I trotted along mostly together having enjoyed the most glorious views of Ben Lomond standing out from the clouds, its’ lower flanks draped in cloud in the crisp, clear, morning air. Fantastic, absolutely fantastic. Rowardennan was upon us very quickly and so I embarked upon eating my first and only BLT sandwich of the day. Chewy just doesn’t even begin to describe it as the midges homed in. 5 minutes later or so I was off, saying hello to Allybea and Silke as I left.

Rowardennan to Bein Glas Farm – or the section where I wish I had worn swimming goggles

The midges were quite dense at the start and just seemed to get denser until the track took us high enough for a brief respite before heading back to loch level. I ran for much of this section with Colin Hutt whom I’d met at the High Peak 40 in 2007 – a real friendly chap and a good runner. I was pleased to be running with him and afterwards at the prize giving he said he thought I was running very strong over this section, helping him along. It was the other way about for me! Anyway I chatted away and came to the conclusion that Dario should include swimming goggles as mandatory kit for this section to stop midges getting into the eyes. They did this every time I was about to run over something a bit technical. And not just one midge at a time – loads! They were everywhere, on my forehead like a car windscreen, in my chest hair, in my eyes … gaaahh!

Just before Inversnaid I caught and passed Paul Scholte then made a very quick stop at the hotel. Colin and Paul passed me as they didn’t stop but I caught them up again and the three of us helped each other keep the tempo up as we ran along the slightly awkward section to Bein Glas. The section went by quite quickly and either I caught up with Neal or he caught up with me (can’t remember which) but we ran in to Bein Glas together and he ran on as he was too early for his support crew. I stopped to eat rice pudding, drink coffee and be eaten alive by midges in a attack the ferocity of which I have only witnessed a few times before. I was very very glad to be on the move again but my folks still (!) hadn’t had any sleep. I wondered how long they’d keep it together for.

My fall hadn’t materialised into anything so I reckoned I would be OK for the rest of the course.

Bein Glas to Auchtertyre – or the section when John K eventually caught up with me

Ah, the dreaded cow pat and boulder section. The heat had began to build as I headed towards Derrydarroch and I was sweating quite a lot. This could be a hot one I thought. I kept plodding on.

My strategy for the race, like most other ultras I run (this race being number 10), is to start at a reasonable, but not excessive pace to cover as much ground as quickly as possible then to slow down. I find my performance degrades more as a function of distance than of starting speed, having tried a few different approaches. Instead I have opted for a longer term improvement strategy. With every ultra I can run longer at the same starting pace so my plan for getting better results is simply to wait for year-on-year improvement rather than to reduce my starting speed to something slower which I can then maintain.

I caught up with Neal just after Derrydarroch as he was having his feet repaired. I peeled away and kept my lead until towards the end of the forest section above Crianlarich. He caught up with me feeling quite tired but still running well saying that John K was just behind. Aha! I thought it’d happen at some point. John K then caught up and passed on the news that Ian B had dropped out at Rowardennan. I was pretty gobsmacked and hoped he was OK health wise. We all three ran down the hill towards Auchtertyre together then John gradually began to peel away, shutting all the gates behind him rather than holding them open for us. ;-)

Neal and I ran in Auchtertyre together where I was weighed and told I was 100g heavier – aaagh I thought. I was allowed to run on but they said I’d be checked by the race doc at Kinlochleven. I stopped for 5-10 mins to eat rice pudding, drink coffee and pose for photos in my underpants for Neal’s family (see his blog for more!). My wife and daughter had arrived by this time, and seeing little Eilidh was real lift to my spirits. Not that they were flagging, I was quite enjoying myself.

Auchtertyre to Bridge of Orchy – or the section where I thought a lot about coca cola

Neal ran out of Auchtertyre before me to escape my gloriously white thighs. I ran after him and eventually caught him about a mile north of Tyndrum with one of his support runners. We all padded on together and I enjoyed the banter. For some reason I really began to think about coca cola which Neal offered me a can of when we reached BoO. I declined, not knowing what it’d do to my guts. This section is mentally quite draining as the track stretches on in front of you but otherwise was uneventful. I ran into Paul Scholte again as I reached BoO, he was suffering from sore quads and calfs – the hard terrain having punished his legs.

My mum and dad still (!) hadn’t had any sleep but luckily I had a change of support crew here, which I hoped would mean they would go to sleep in the cabin we’d hired for the night at Onich ( I later learned my mum conked out – tiredness made her quiet – but my dad went a bit manic, refusing to sleep until my mum gave him a stern talking to – funny how lack of sleep can have completely opposite effects). My wee brother and his girlfriend Caroline took over.

Bridge of Orchy to Kingshouse – or the section where I encountered a seemingly endless sequence of middle aged American couples with fedora hats

I creaked my way up the hill from BoO and at the top I met the first group of American tourists out walking. They shouted encouragement and I asked for some spare legs but thought nothing of it. I passed some more at the bottom of the hill who were similarly encouraging and still thought nothing of it. I ran on and reached the metalled road sloping up onto Rannoch Moor. At the top of it was the first of the seemingly endless sequence of similarly clothed couples. The man was wearing a fedora hat and I said hello as I passed. They said hello back and wished me well. Nice folk I thought.

Sheesht it was becoming very very hot as I ran on to the Moor. I passed some Scouts who all said hello then I came across the 2nd couple of Americans, the man again wearing a fedora like hat. Odd I thought then very fired up as they hollered encouragement in a very American, but very rousing manner. Wow, that was great I thought. I ran on and had to tip half of one of my water bottles over my head to cool down – it was boiling and I was worried about over hydrating so didn’t want to drink loads.

I could see Neal about a half a mile to a mile in front of me and began trying to chase after him. I passed two more sets of couples and was wondering why they were (a) wearing fedora hats and (b) so cheery. I liked the cheeriness and didn’t mind the fedoras but they sheer number of these seemingly identical couples did strike me as a little odd. Oh well, could be worse, or stranger and I plodded on. It was here my rocks looking like dogs or sheep hallucinations started – not with all rocks, just with some – a trick out the corner of the eye.

I almost caught Neal by the time we reached Kingshouse but not quite. I was cheered by the sight and sound of Ian B cheering here (thanks Ian) and glad he was OK. I ate another tin of rice pudding (a godsend nutritionally) but almost had a gastric disaster when I poured ½ a litre of citrusy smoothie down after the rice pudding. My stomach spasmed and I very very nearly threw it all up in an involuntary retch.

I plodded out of Kingshouse along the miserable stretch of trail to the foot of the Devils Staircase trying to keep the contents of my stomach down. It was quite difficult.

Kingshouse to Kinlochleven – or the stretch where I couldn’t keep up with Neal the downhill racer

I caught Neal at the foot of the Devil’s staircase where he was having his feet repaired again. I started the plod up the staircase and was caught by Neal and his support runners (he seemed to have a small army of them at his disposal) about half way up. We plodded together then descended the other side together till we reached the proper track where Neal still had the ability to run fast downhill in his legs. My knees just wouldn’t take it so I plodded on, picking up the pace a little when I reached the bottom.

Peter Duggan was manning the weigh in station and I was very glad to hear I’d dropped around 2kg – waahoo my kidneys were functioning – no over hydration for me no sirree. I chatted to Neal briefly then went to restock, relube my feet and say hello to my final stage support runner Ian who had just spent the previous 2 weeks on a camping and hiking tour of the highlands, sharing a tent with his 1 year 3 month old son – a truly crazy thing to do.

Getting started again was very hard here and I walked most of the way to the start of the incline to the Lairig Mor.

Kinlochleven to Fort William - or the stretch which stretched on

I sweated and chatted and plodded my way up to the Lairig Mor then started running again in little spits and starts that gradually joined together into longer running episodes. I was walking all slopes however.

The rock-dog-sheep hallucinations were still there but only infrequently and I felt overall pretty good. It was here that I knew I was going to make it, and probably sub-22, my gold standard time for the race (sub-24 being silver and completion bronze). The rain began to spit at our backs and I spared a thought for those behind who were almost certainly going to get pretty wet.
We eventually got to Lundavra after an interminably long plod over very rocky tracks. Paul Scholte passed me, his legs having recovered since BoO. I restocked, refuelled, took on board some wet wipes for the almost certain visit to the bushes (my support runner had suffered my increasingly severe wind for several miles and gently suggested this might be a good idea).

Exiting Lundavra was a good feeling – pretty much nothing could go wrong now. We plodded on with me trying to run as much as possible but only managing run, walk, run, walk. Ian patiently waited for me during my ‘pitstop’ then we eventually winded our way to the forest track descent to Fort Bill. We nervously took the diversion and despite the protestations of my knees managed to get down to flat ground. The trees were waving in the breeze and playing havoc with me visually – I saw a few tiny dancing midgets which upon reinspection turned out to be waving branches. Amusingly odd. Unlike the bloody forest track then road into Fort Bill. Talk about unending trudgery! I grumped the last few miles, swearing about how Fort Bill had clearly been moved back the way a bit then I was in the town. Time for a little ramping up I thought and so I semi-sprinted in to the leisure centre to finish in 21:30:36, 24th position with a broad smile on my face as I saw my wife Kirstin had come to shout me in.

The Quaich was offered but I declined and instead stood, getting my breath and taking in what I had just done. I felt like I could have turned emotional (and had thought I would possibly cry) but instead I just thought ‘er right, that’s that then’. I can’t explain it.

Post- race

3rd time lucky and a very very good feeling – 3 years of dreaming and training – I have done it, run the West Highland Way Race. I must admit I still haven’t been overwhelmed emotionally although I thought I would be. I am just quietly very satisfied and happy with what I have managed to achieve.

Well done to all who made it this year, particularly those who I know (Marco, Debs, John K, Davie Bell, Neal, Phil Robertson, Tim Downie, Hugh Kerr, Murdo McEwan, George Reid, Colin Hutt, Paul Scholte). Hats off to Debs M-C who ran 10 weeks pregnant, to John K for an absolutely storming sub-20 run and to Marco for hobbling in with a very decent time despite a bad injury. My thoughts go to those who had to pull out for one reason or another – Tom L (you’ll do it no bother next year), Dave W and of course Ian B.

I must give my thanks to my support crew for giving up their time to help me achieve my dreams of running a long way – my mum (Satyavajri), my dad (Gordon), my wee brother (Neil) and his girlfriend (Caroline). I must also say thanks to my support runner Ian McDougall for getting me through the final 14 miles and being patient whilst I waffled inanely.

I must also give my sincere thanks to Dario for organising such a superb event and for letting me enter for a 3rd year, after 2 DNFs - thanks for having faith and giving me a chance. And thanks to all the marshals and helpers - you make this event possible.

But perhaps above all I must thank my wife Kirstin for not minding me spending many nights and weekend hours running, even after the birth of our daughter. This race is as much yours as it is mine.

My thoughts have now turned to either a Bob Graham Round in 2009 or perhaps the Ultra Tour de Mont Blanc. Or perhaps I should just re-enter the WHWR … maybe I could get sub-20 … it’s very addictive you know … :-)