100

I've wanted to run 100 miles for ages. Ever since learning about ultra running it’s something I've fancied, and today was the day.
 
The challenge was the St Oswald's Ultra - along the St Oswald's way in Northumberland. Starting on Lindisfarne, following the coast and then cutting inland along the river Coquet to Rothbury, over the hills and finishing in Chollerford. It looks something like this..

However you look at it - its a long way

 
I'd trained well - not extensively, my longest run was in the high 30's but I was running well and I felt ready.
 
The race started at 7am so it was an early start.

Getting to the start was a challenge. Lindisfarne is only accessible when the tide is right, so I'd planned to drive to Berwick and then take a taxi to avoid getting my car stuck on the Island later on. This was a great plan until the taxi I'd booked failed to show (Woody's taxis are well worth avoiding if you ever need a taxi in Berwick). So in the end I drove myself down there and was at the start much later than I intended. I scrabbled together the car park money, and left a nice note to explain that I was in the race and would be back when I was  done, but the no-overnight parking sign was playing on my mind.

As a consequence of all the stress, the start felt rushed and chaotic to me. I think I knew even then it would only ever be a footnote in the day and did a great job of putting everything that had happened out of my mind it would have been all too easy to let these worries sap my strength, there was nothing I could do. What would be would be.

I got all my stuff together. I was running in shorts and a t shirt and wearing Hoka Rapa Nui trial shoes. I had a backpack containing food and all the mandatory race kit (map, compass, waterproofs, headtorch etc) and two bottles of water.  The sun was rising over Lindisfarne castle as we assembled by the abbey for the start.

Sunrise at the start

I felt hurried but hopefully ready. And then we were off I walked across the line and away.

I was very conscious of the danger of going off too fast. The race had 50k and 100k options too, so there would be lots of faster people doing shorter races. There was a real danger of accidentally going off too fast trying to keep up. So I was perturbed when my watch beeped for the first time showing 6:20. Surely, even with all the adrenaline, I hadn't just run a six minute mile? It was only when this happened the second time I realised that the watch I had borrowed from Julie was set in km.

I arbitrarily decided that 6.20 per km was the perfect pace for me and tried to stick to it until the first checkpoint. I work in miles normally and had no idea what the actually was in real money. I think it was helpful I never worked this out, I just ran what felt right.

Lindisfarne was nice, but there was quite a lot of traffic on the road - most was race generated so quite understanding of the runners, who were still quite bunched but it felt busy. I tried not to go too fast and just concentrated on staying consistent. Coming over the causeway and onto the mainland (3miles) was nice, the first landmark. We were then on a narrow path. Someone stepped aside to let me pass, a much appreciated gesture, but I'm not sure how relevant it was with 90+ miles still to go.

After giving a couple of fellow 100 milers my tips on preventing testicular chafing in 100 mile races (unicorn tears are the only sure fire option) we continued. I ate a quarter of a peanut butter sandwich while walking the first hill and feeling like I was properly into the race.

Reaching Fenwick (5.5 miles) was good. I'd recced from here - it was all known ground until mile 95. There is a big hill after Fenwick so I walked that and then on through the woods. There were still plenty of people around but I was happy getting on with it in my own little world.

A slight sprint was required at the right turn after Kyloe woods to reacquaint a runner with the correct route - she had music on and didn't hear my shout. I hoped the sudden spike in my heart rate hadn't compromised my race, but I was pleased to have done a good turn for someone else, that was race karma in the bank.

There was a nice downhill section here where I reached the dizzy heights of my only sub 10 minute mile of the race. Not that I knew,  I was still working in kilometres. We passed through Belford (12 miles / 2hr 15) and then passed an aid station which I ran straight past still having masses of water and being happy eating sandwich and cereal bar.

Then came what must be the least scenic part of the race. We were expertly marshalled across the A1 and the East Coast main line and then went past some giant silos before going through some fields and past a windmill, before reaching a steep climb through the woods. I got chatting to someone here about the importance of pacing as we walked up the hill. He emphasised how we were doing the right thing taking it steady. We picked up another runner and pushed on before my desire to take fuller advantage of the downhills saw me up the pace and edge away.

The approach to Bamburgh is cruel. You can see the town less than a mile along the road, but the route takes you 2.5 miles round the coast. Having had my hopes of being nearly there crushed when I recced, I knew what to expect and  even managed to find the path round the golf course that had totally eluded me last time.

Bamburgh is a spectacular place it was great to run past the amazing castle and along to the checkpoint in the car park.

Bamburgh castle - not sure about the face

I was expecting more than there was, but I didn't actually need anything, so I got a water top up and pushed on. At this point I had done about 20 miles in 3h 30. This felt fine. If I'd had a plan this would have been about on plan. I purposefully didn't have a plan as I didn't want to give myself a stick to beat myself with if I fell behind it. What would be would be.

A quick text to Julie to update on progress and onwards. Julie was doing a sterling job, updating the wider world while managing the normal weekend routine of swimming lessons etc.

The run towards Seahouses was fairly uneventful. I stopped at the toilets, slathered various bits of myself in vaseline and splashed my face with cold water. This was a great pick me up, and one I repeated wherever I could. You really end up feeling pretty hot and grimy from the running and anything to keep yourself feeling clean and cool is to be welcomed.

We've been on holiday to Seahouses, so the bit through the harbour felt like home ground, although I did nearly suffer the indignity of being overtaken by a mobility scooter walking up the hill. The route then went round to the golf course. Golfers are a funny bunch, over the day we went over a lot of golf courses, some of them were really supportive with words of encouragement, and some looked at you as if you were some sort of  inexplicable phantom, who had randomly appeared on the course. The chaps at Seahouses were in the former camp, they happily let me run through and helpfully pointed out the right route, correcting another error I'd made on my recce and avoiding the wade through ankle deep rotting seaweed I'd endured last time.

The route then goes along the unspectacular but runnable road to Beadnell (25 miles, 4h 30) and then through some dunes. We crossed a river where a couple of runners were debating the way. There were two paths, one over the top of the dunes and one round the back of them. I really didn't remember running over any dunes when I recceed so I said I was pretty confident of the other path and ran on. I clearly didn't appear too convincing - they got their maps out to check. The seeds of doubt having been sowed I was pleased to see a St Oswald’s way-marker half a mile along the path.

The route then runs through a car park. I remember speeding up here as I formed a totally irrational belief that a passing walker was going to take advantage of my enfeebled state from so much running and mug me. Why I thought this I have no idea. I had little of value and I'm sure he was just a guy out for a walk, but the mind does funny things. I pushed on rapidly.

Descending into Low Newton by the sea I took one hula hoop from the aid station, quickly stopped at the toilets and pushed on through the holiday homes and golf course. The route then hits the second major castle at Dunstanburgh. This one looks like it has seen better days but the ruin on the cliff looks spectacular, and seemed to have a steady stream of tourists, one of whom did a great job of holding open a gate for me. These little things make a real difference.

Dunstanburgh castle

The route then runs into Craster (33 miles 6h15). Coming into the village I somehow got chatting with the guy who had just finished 3rd in the 50k and was second last year in the 100 miles. He was telling me to walk the climb steadily after Rothbury - which sounded like sound advice, and the likely limit of my abilities anyway.

The 50k finishes here in the beer garden of the Jolly fisherman which looked spectacular in the sunshine overlooking the sea. It looked like heaven, there were loads of 50k competitors sitting in the sun, wearing medals and satisfied expressions of a job well done, drinking pints and tucking into a pub lunch. There was little for me here. The guy manning the aid station promised me great stuff to come and told me to get going. Looking back wistfully and sadly I walked out, but it took a while to get over being kicked out of paradise and get going again.

Walking along the path, I was passed by a fellow runner who asked if I had finished, which shows how businesslike I must have looked. She looked at my number and remarked I was a long way from finished and ran on. But she was always in sight up ahead.

I took a while to get going, I ate some food and walked, and then Julie's garmin died having done a serviceable 6h 30 stint so I had to stop to fire up my watch. My plan was that this would work all the way to the finish by using the usb charger I had in my bag at the checkpoints. This nearly worked.

There were a good number of big groups of walkers along this section. You do wonder how they feel about all these runners cluttering up the path, but they were very good at shouting "runner" and moving out of the way, even when I wasn't bothered or really running.

Eventually I reached Boulmer (37 miles 7h). Here, I gave into temptation and had some coke. Far earlier than I had planned as I was intending to save this for a boost later, but I wanted some. As it turned out it was fine as I was on the coffees later anyway and didn't fancy coke. Another set of public toilets were visited - the route is well supplied - and I pushed on towards Alnmouth with the runner who'd passed me earlier and another chap who joined us. It was nice to chat after a while alone.

We hit the beach before Alnmouth at an unlucky time, the tide was in, meaning a walk along the uneven pebbles as opposed to a glorious run on golden sands. I dropped back from the other two as we went through another golf club and along to Alnmouth (40 miles 7h 50). A quick stop for coke and for the only time I tried some of the ubiquitous aid station banana - it was OK but I only wanted one bite, I would have loved orange or almost any refreshing fruit but banana didn't appeal.

My very first recce run started from Alnmouth so I knew the way out, which was good as it's a little confusing. What I hadn't appreciated running it on fresh legs was what a slog the uphill section away from the town is. Plus the route twists and turns around the estuary so even after you've run a couple of miles you are still very close to the village it feels like you're working hard for not a lot of reward.  Someone passed me and offered some encouraging words about how I'd pick up. Which were prophetic as I cruised straight back past as soon as the course turned downhill.

That was the last I saw of anyone until Warkworth. The course had the now typical mixture of caravan park, golf course and dunes. I then emerged onto the road and was delighted with the short distance to Warkworth. I'd remembered this being longer and was pleased to be wrong.

In Warkworth, we were directed into the aid station in the café. This was nice.  There were really helpful people who made me a coffee and got me coke and my drop bag. Although I'd eaten steadily (a mix of peanut butter sandwich, cereal bar and salted nuts) I still had masses of food in my backpack, so I didn't really need any of the food. I ate my mullerrice, this went down really well, and left everything else. I had no need of my spare socks so I left them. I also had the note my eldest son had written for me to help when things got tough. I read this and had a quick cry, but I took the words to heart. I'd intended to have this in my next drop bag so I don't know how it got here, but I was glad it did.

Motivational note

I had a quick chat with a guy in an UTMB top, remarking this must be easy in comparison. He replied that he'd only done the CCC (UTMB is a stupidly hard race, CCC is it's still stupidly hard little brother).  I christened him Monsieur CCC until I found out later he was called Wiktor.

Leaving Warkworth I ran past another spectacular castle, stopped to throw some cold water on my face and re Vaseline myself at the castle toilets and headed out of town.

Big smile at Warkworth castle

I'd recced this and knew the route was pretty unspectacular.  I felt very alone after the buzz of the aid station. There was a last glimpse of the sea as I headed up into the hills. It had been a fairly constant presence all day and living further up the North Sea coast I felt it connected me with home, so it was sad to see it go.

I've no idea how,  but I found a good rhythm here. The course was slightly uphill for a good few miles and I'm glad I mentally classified this as runnable or it would have taken a while.  There was a real sense of the day turning to evening and of the race entering a new phase. The appearance of reflective route markers indicated the organisers expected some people to be doing this in the dark.

I saw then one of the support teams who I’d been seeing a few times. They belonged to Karen who I'd run with on the way to Alnmouth (and who would go on to be second lady in the 100k). They were always great at giving me some encouragement.  I designated them my adopted race family. They seemed pleased with this honour, well they did in my head, at any rate they didn't moan. I asked who was ahead more out of loneliness than competitiveness. They said a lady had gone through 5 mins before.  

I ran on some more staying steady and keeping moving. We went under the east coast main line. Like the sea earlier this provided a connection with home as the East coast main line passes through where I live. This was nice.

After a bit I saw a runner in front who I assumed was the lady I'd been told about before. She was in the 100k and was walking, seeming to be having a bit of a low. I slowed down for a quick chat and then carried on.

I remembered Felton being nearer to the railway than it was and was getting a little frustrated that I hadn't got to the river yet. As I seemed to be on my own, I treated myself to a quick rendition of Lionel Ritchie's hello - I'd been shown this video at a conference earlier in the week and was really struck by how much Lionel seemed to be doing the thing he loved on the big stage and really enjoying it. This was the ethos I was trying to bring to the race - doing something I loved,  doing it well and enjoying it.

The river came in the end and I ran alongside to Felton.  I could see two runners in the distance but I wasn't really catching up.

The aid station in Felton (53 miles 10h 45) was outside a pub. There were a few people to chat to. I asked what the distance was and was told 38 miles, then 45 miles, before 51 was agreed on, having expressed my displeasure at the first two answers. It's actually 53 so when I texted Julie to tell her I was now at mile 51 and had had a really good section she thought I was being sarcastic as in her mind I’d  taken 90 mins for 4 miles. The soup here was tomato.  I think the best on the course. It went down nicely with a roll and settled on the walk up the hill. I passed a cafe that l think my friend Chris needs to buy, and had a nice chat with my adopted race family - I was trying to persuade them to continue to support me all the way to the 100 mile finish after their runner finished at 100k. They didn't seem too up for it.

Crossing the river at Felton

 

Chris Fox - this café is made for you

The route then runs though some woods and under the A1. Like the railway, this also goes through my home town. I blew a goodnight kiss to one of the cars hoping they would carry it North to my wife and kids. And also hoping they wouldn't notice and wonder why some running weirdo was blowing them a kiss.

It was just after this I caught up to Ronnie. We ran together for a while which was great after being on my own for a while and helped keep the pace up. We ran past a fearsome looking, although fairly placid bull, followed by a sign usefully warning us about the bull we had just run past. Ronnie lived locally and had recced the last two sections twice in the dark. This sounded awesome. If  I could stick with him till the end, he seemed like an ideal companion for the later sections, and his chat was good. However, as so often happens,  a woman got in the way.

The runner I'd passed between Warkworth and Felton who I'd thought was struggling, seemed to have got her second (and third and fourth) wind and caught us up. Without consciously intending to, I upped my pace slightly to stay with her and then turned round and found Ronnie had vanished and so had my dreams of being expertly shepherded though the last sections by someone with impeccable local knowledge.

I couldn't keep up with my new companion, she was running very strongly on the way to winning the 100k ladies race. So after a morale boosting cheer from my adopted race family, I made it to the Anglers Arms (58 miles 12 hours) alone. This was the last I saw of my adopted race family which was a shame as they had made a difference to my race and I'd appreciated the banter. If you ever read this thank you.

Coming into the Anglers Arms I was hot on the heels of the same two guys I'd followed into Felton. I caught up to them soon after the aid station. They had stopped to consider a confusing bit of the route where the path seemed to go through a gate which didn't open. I was pretty confident the route was through the gate and more by luck than judgement I got it open and we went on.

This was how I made the acquaintance of Wiktor and Michael. Wiktor was the guy in the UTMB top who had been at Warkworth. We ran on together for a while. Michael was running the race to get his final UTMB qualifying points and to be honest all the UTMB chat was intimidating me a bit (for the uninitiated UTMB is a 100+ mile race around Mont Blanc) I wasn't sure I was good enough to run with these guys.

At the same time the pace seemed fine, when we were flat. In common with most of the running population they were faster than me at walking up hills.  I sometimes had to put in a few steps of jog to keep up.

But we made good progress and  it was nice to be running with people again, especially through the psychologically difficult point where it got dark and we had to put our head torches on. Michael and Wiktor initiated me into their surefire way to avoid problems with cows in the dark - by turning off our torches. I have to say we had no issues with cows, but the risks of walking through nettles, mud and other unpleasant things were increased. I wasn't quite sure I believed, but I went with the flow.

Its quite a long way to Rothbury, certainly longer than the six miles we'd been told at the Anglers arms, but we kept moving. I think the fact I had recced this section was useful, although some bits seemed to take ages to come.

Eventually we hit the old railway line I'd so spectacularly missed when I recceed and knew we were on the home stretch. Sensing the checkpoint we pushed on. I found myself having to work harder than I really wanted to in order to stay with the two of them. This was OK for the last couple of miles into Rothbury, but wasn't something I wanted for the section out of Rothbury -  I sensed I'd have a hard time keeping up on the walk up the hill and decided I'd let them go after the checkpoint. But for now I followed and held on. Michael's calf with its hot pink strip of kinosieology tape and tattoo being the only things I could see in the dark, these became firmly emblazoned in my mind.

Rothbury is down in the valley, so it appeared quite suddenly. The checkpoint was in a café just over the bridge and looked hugely inviting.

It was great to get to Rothbury. There was a real buzz to the aid station and lots of people around wanting to help. I had some soup, leek and potato,  also very nice though perhaps not hitting the highs of the tomato earlier. A very kind lady who was waiting for her husband got this for me.  Talking to her really brought home what a hard job waiting was, not knowing what was going on. A point that was emphasised a second later when Julie called me. I'd texted her to say I was at the 100k finish safely.  She had misinterpreted this as thinking I was at the 100 mile Finish, and correctly reasoned that the only way I could be there in 13 h 30 was if I'd quit and been driven there. Once we'd straightened out where I was and that I was still very much in the race, it was great to hear her voice and reassure her that I was going well.

In the dark at Rothbury

I charged my watch,  ate a muller rice and left everything else from my drop bag excepts gels which I restocked. I'd been consistently eating little and often and was carrying plenty enough food for my current consumption. Especially with the promise of more soup at Kirkwhelpington. This was a bit of a mistake, I could have used my spare socks and more flapjack later.

Then came a chance chain of events that had a profound positive impact on my race. As I stood up to leave someone asked if I'd had everything I wanted and mentioned coffee. No one had previously mentioned coffee so I said actually I'd have a quick one before I left. While waiting for this I got chatting to another of the aid station volunteers and asked if he had any tips for tackling the next and trickiest section of the course. He said I should buddy up with someone and nodded towards another runner who was just getting ready to leave.

This seemed sensible to me,  so I asked the guy if he wanted to head out together. He seemed a bit reluctant to saddle himself with me, which I think I would have been in his position but we agreed to walk up the hill together and see how we went with a view to at least getting through the forest together. 

And so Peter and I teamed up.

Having been reluctant to walk up the hill with Michael and Wiktor, it immediately struck me that Peter also fell firmly into the category of people who can walk up steep hills faster than me. Having just persuaded him to let me tag along I was very conscious of not wanting to slow him down so followed up the hill at a good pace.

We chatted and exchanged running histories. I was a bit scared by Peters 19 hour West Highland Way pedigree, he assured me it was a while ago. We seemed to have similar goals and a similar pace when we ran so all seemed good.

We walked up the hill, ran down to the car park and then walked up the next hill. In the dark you could see the lights of Rothbury below.  It  gave a real sense of how much we had ascended. 

The paths on the top were quite runnable and,  as long as you dodged the rocks, soft underfoot and quite nice to run on. We'd both recced this section and were finding the route well with reassurance from the gps on my watch.

It was very apparent that Peter's head torch was stronger than mine. I felt more comfortable with him in front but was very conscious I should do my share. I tried to, but the split was unequal.

There was a point where we passed what appeared to be a very remote house who's occupants were all sat round a bonfire.  Their cheery shouts were a welcome break in the isolation.

For much of the time, we could see a light in front of us. It was waving about like a hand torch rather than a headlamp and we couldn't work this out,  as we couldn't see this was a sensible way to equip yourself.

Eventually we caught Dave, who had a head torch and a hand torch for his map and we ran on together.

At some point it became apparent we had gone wrong as the path vanished. Both Peter and I had recceed this and remembered there was a clear path the whole way. In the dark it was tricky to work out quite where we should be headed and the map wasn't too clear.

We debated a bit about what we should do. We all seemed to have slightly different views about which way to go. Luckily at that point we saw two head torches off to the left and shouted to ask if they were on the path - they were so we jogged over and joined them. Our saviours were Michael and Wiktor, who I'd assumed had already left Rothbury, but had in fact stayed longer.

The five of us ran together over the highest point of the course and into the feared forest section. A lot of the forest is fine and on good tracks, but some of the route is amongst the trees and more intricate. The first section is it like this. The markers seemed ambiguous, the first marker indicating a route to the right and then two more indicating a parallel route to the left, but with no obvious connection between the two. We fought to the left and were rewarded with a good path, which I think I missed on my recce.

Being in a big group was good here, lots of eyes to spot the route and lots of psychological support. When the route went through the trees there were a lot of roots to trip over, rocks to kick and dips to fall into. We seemed to find most of them between the five of us and there was a near constant stream of shouts of "root" "dip" and various swear words. But we kept up a good momentum and on the wider forest roads made good progress. The route was pretty well marked.

Peter had earlier expressed a desire for some moonlight - the harvest moon was due that night but the night had started cloudy. As we ran through the forest the sky began to clear and he got his wish, this was nice but meant the temperature fell too. I was wearing two tops, a long sleeved one I'd put on at Rothbury over the t-shirt I'd worn from the start. I still felt fine, especially when we were running, but you could feel the temperature falling.

At some point Michael and Wiktor moved away from us and Peter, Dave and I carried on. We spent a lot of time anticipating the end of the forest and eventually we were right. There is a really long runnable downhill as you exit the forest and we pushed down this last mile. Dave was getting cold and starting to drop off the back as we ran down. He had a support crew and arranged for them to meet him with more clothes at the edge of the forest, where there was also an aid station.

The guys manning it must have drawn the short straw when they were handing out assignments. This one was remote and cold. But the welcome was excellent. I had a cup of tea here, wanting something warm but worried about taking too much caffeine in case I came crashing down at some point. We had a sit down and gathered our strength for the next leg.

The next bit was pretty grim. The route went along the road through a field and then along a horrible muddy section next to some trees. I don't think any of us enjoyed this. I remembered not enjoying it on the recce too. No one else had recced this far so I felt a bit more responsibility for finding the right route, the gps on my watch was useful and the markers were good. Eventually we turned left into a proper quagmire, through a gate and the worst of the mud was behind us.

We ran on through farmland chatting away. The guys at the aid station had mistakenly filled us up with sports drink not water. Dave had no other fluids and was a bit concerned. I still had a bottle of water and shared this. I had barely noticed the other bottle didn't taste right and didn't let it worry me, my stomach continued to feel pretty good and I was eating a little something at the first sign of hunger.

We settled into a routine here. Peter mostly led, Dave and I mostly followed. I occasionally interjected observations of what I remember of the route from my recce sometimes these were even right, I occasionally said "the GPS says that way" and occasionally "are you OK Dave?". We told each other that we were doing well and were going to make it. I for one truly believed this, I think we all did. We were somewhere in the 70+ miles and I was feeling fine considering how far we'd gone, I was happy to be with people and we were working well together. We were walking sometimes, but at same time where things were runnable one of us was ready to suggest a run, and I don't think there was a single occasion where we didn't then run. Race wise this was definitely close to best case scenario territory, I wasn't at all focussed on time now and had let the thought “sub 24” gently and harmlessly drift away.

Just before Kirkwhelpington there is a field of cows. I remembered this from my recce where the beasts all gracefully stampeded down hill like wildebeest crossing the Serengeti. There had been some chat about these cows at the aid station so we approached with some trepidation. In defiance of the Michael/Wiktor protocol we kept our torches on. The were cows on all sides, but seemed content to let us pass. There was a marker in the corner of the field but it was by a barbed wire fence and it didn't seem right to climb it. We hunted for a couple of minutes before finding a gate in the opposite corner and headed into Kirkwhelpington (80 miles 19 hours).

The aid station in the village hall was a welcome oasis of warmth. It felt like there was a lot to do here so I got on with it. I charged my watch, emptied and refilled both bottles, changed the batteries in my torch. washed my face, slathered myself in Vaseline. Drank a soup and coffee, texted Julie to keep her informed. I told her I was running with good people, and she texted straight back to say this made her feel a lot better, I immediately wondered why I hadn't seen fit to mention this before, it would have eased her anxiety. It was nearly 2am and it didn't seem she was getting much sleep. I put my jacket on over my two tops as it was cold. I was now wearing everything I had, hopefully it wouldn't get colder.

Kirkwhelpington aid station

It felt really cold when we walked out. This was the last shelter until the end so it was sad to leave. I turned on my head torch and it didn't work. I told the guys to go on and I'd go and sort it and catch up. They refused and waited, in my head this was the moment that really cemented us as a team who were going to the end together. I just had a battery in the wrong way. It was soon fixed and we were off on the last leg.

There was a long walk up the hill after Krikwhelpington. I felt full of energy at this point babbling away to Dave and Peter as we plodded steadily upwards. We weren't running anything remotely uphill now and there were some questions about extended bits of flat - not that there were many. We were still quite disciplined where it was runnable, one of us would suggest running and we would.

The route followed the roads at first and then over the hill and down to a farm. The farmer had refused permission for the race to pass his land so there was a diversion here. Having missed the race briefing I didn't know this - thankfully the others had been present. The diversion went along the road, it was well marked with yellow arrows but nothing reflective so we were constantly on edge trying to make sure we missed nothing. After a while we realised that we were just following the road all the way to Little Bavington and relaxed a bit. The steady road running was probably easier than what we were missing.

We passed another runner here. He was standing in the road, we asked if he was OK and he said yes. However 5 minutes later the official race car came by and asked if we were OK and then carried on past. I hoped he wasn't pulling out - we certainly never saw him again.

There was a long stretch of road along to Hallington where we made steady progress. Dave's dad and girlfriend were meeting us regularly which was nice. I was joking with Dave that every time he called to request something else his girlfriend's expectations were going up. I think we settled on flowers, chocolate and champagne as reasonable recompense for a night driving round rural Northumberland. Dave’s support crew were good to all three of us and we were grateful for their help.

I thought I'd got the route straight in my head - the road went to Great Whittington where there was an aid station and then on to the Hadrian's wall path. Somewhere on the long road I realised this was wrong and there was another fell to climb. This was a bit depressing, but there was nothing to be done. Dave said he was starting to fall asleep as we ran along, you could see why - it was a long straight tarmac road and he was following, little thinking was needed and it was monotonous. We put him on the front as we reached the end of the road and began the ascent. This seemed to wake him up a bit.

I struggled up the hill, I'd just had a gel and it took a few minutes to settle so I felt a little queasy, this was quite a steep uphill and I consistently found keeping up when walking up hill a challenge. This was the nearest I ever got to having to dig really deep and it wasn't too bad. Once it levelled out I was fine again.

At the top of the hill a succession of fields present a navigational challenge. At one point we were in a field criss-crossed with paths and no clear idea of which one to follow. We made a choice that seemed a reasonable compromise between the map, the GPS and the well trodden paths and set off. We were lucky we'd not gone far before we saw a reflector off to the right, adjusted our course and found the gate. Looking subsequently at strava, a number of people went a bit wrong here.

We hit the road and it was a mile down to the aid station (90 miles 22 hours), where some more dedicated helpers were standing round in the cold in order to make us coffee. It was much appreciated. My watch was nearly out of battery so I put it on to charge. We needed the GPS more than me being bothered about tracking the run. I ate some flapjack and sat on the cold stone wall. This was not the most luxurious aid station but with such a short distance remaining we should be getting on with it. The watch hit 20% and we were off.

I'd been dreading the next session. This took ages when I recced it and I got lost and had issues with cows. I'd spent ages telling Peter and Dave how bad it was too. The route goes to the right of a field past an old windmill. When I'd recced, the path was indistinct and overgrown it  was better today. Then there is a diversion, when I recced this it took ages to work out, but we seemed to flow through easily. It wasn't actually long before we could hear the road, certainly less than the 5 miles they'd said at the aid station. Someone may have said "is that the bit you were making such a fuss about?" They would have been right. The moon was setting now and it was a spectacular orange colour, well worth staying up all night for.

Hitting the road and the Hadrian's wall path was a great moment, this was the home stretch. There are a lot of fields cows and stiles. We progressed.  The sun was now rising behind us, flooding the world with amazing colour. We'd run from sunrise to sunrise and it's certainly the first time I've ever experienced the full cycle of the day and night with such awareness and intensity, mostly this amazing stuff goes on without you really noticing. At one point we got to a steep muddy bank we had to descend. My first reaction was I can’t do it, it looked too steep. Peter headed down and  said it wasn't too bad so I followed,  grateful for his taking the initiative.

One of the lingering questions of the run was about to be answered. What was the pub near the finish called. This had been bugging a part of my brain all day. I knew it was an E word. It turned out to be the Errington arms. (94.5 miles 23h40)

A quick pit stop outside the pub. Dave’s dad gave me a digestive biscuit and I charged my watch. This was lucky as it had just run out of juice and stopped itself.  I restarted it and we headed on up the hill behind the pub.

We walked up the hill. I now had my watch charging on the go with the charger in my hand and the wires round my wrist.  I didn't know if this would work but it would be nice to have the full route tracked,  plus the gps of the route was useful and reassuring. I let it get to 20% then removed the ridiculous and cumbersome wire feeling a bit ashamed I couldn't just let go and run.

We continued. The route went through some woods.  Peter picked up the pace. I was struggling to hold on here. We crossed the road. A long time ago someone told me this was a promising sign. We ran down a hill and saw Kaleel the photographer, which resulted in this stunning image.

Sunrise - Photo credit - the amazing Kaleel Zibe

 

The sun was coming up and we were above the clouds in the valleys on either side, it was amazing. Kaleel told us five miles. We chose not to believe him. We knew it must be less than 3 to Chollerford.   We knew we had to go to Heavenfield and that was all we knew. It was the bits we didn't know - like where the hell was Heavenfield,  that were frustrating us. The St Oswald's tea room seemed promising but no dice, or tea.

Finally we came to a gate marked Heavenfield (98 miles 24h 40). This  looked promising. For some reason, I was looking for a stone cross.  My brain wasn't ready to accept the giant wooden one in the corner of the field as what we were looking for. This was in spite of it being a) a cross and b) in the right field. Peter said with finality this was it - he'd seen it on the website. So we reached the end of the St Oswald's way. Now to get to Chollerford and the race finish. We went on.

As we ran through the field I thought I had my first proper hallucination when I thought I saw my mum. However it turned out to actually be my mum. She had walked up from the finish to find us. She said there were two downhill miles to the end.  This info seemed to give us the kick up the ass we needed to get it done and we set off. I kind of wanted to stay and talk to my mum but I wasn't leaving the group now so I ran. My mum followed,  keeping up comfortably.

We turned left off the main road. I had no idea where we were,  so didn't realise what an illogical detour this was. Peter did,  and was more disappointed by it. Nonetheless, 3 downhill roads, and we were done. My mum came in for a bit of stick (mostly from me) when the second road was uphill. It wasn't much but we felt it. Then came a sign Chollerford 1/4. This was very welcome.

My mum had been keeping up nicely. With all due respect, the fact that my mum, who is in her 60's and hasn't run a step since she last did the mum’s race when we were at school,  was keeping up gives you some idea of the pace. To add insult to injury as we neared the line she ran on ahead to take a picture at the finish.

100 m to go - a final sprint

 

We ran down the hill, walked a bit,  and the ran over the bridge and into the George hotel car park, and we were done.

There was no euphoric sense of elation as I crossed the line. It was more a quiet sense of satisfaction and achievement. That said,  it was nice to stop although it all seemed a bit sudden and overwhelming. We shook hands. This didn't seem quite enough, so we had a group hug and then headed into the hotel that served as race hq.

At the finish

 

I had a cup of tea. There was beer, but at 8.30am  it didn't seem right somehow. I had a shower, which didn't hurt as much as I'd feared and limped down to breakfast. I had the full English without eggs. I was offered 3 types of eggs ( poached, fried or scrambled) but I couldn't really cope with choosing so had none. And then onwards to recovery.

 

Looking wrecked in race HQ

One of the reasons I wanted to do this was to push myself beyond the limits. To learn more about myself, maybe even to come back a different person having mastered the challenges and explored the places within myself.

I don't think this happened, the emotional roller coaster I was expecting never came.  It was really hard but I don't think I had to dig too deep and I don't think I found  anything I didn't already know I had within myself.

The race was mostly characterised by a calm acceptance of what was involved and a quiet and unshakable confidence that I was equal to it and that I would succeed. Elements of vanity around 24 hours, and doing it on my own fell by the way side, but I always knew I'd see the end. And when I did,  it was an expected conclusion with a quiet sense of achievement.

Ironically, having expected to learn about myself, the lesson I really learned was about others. The thing that made it 'easy' was running with others, Peter and Dave especially, but everyone else I met too. We all wanted the same goal and in working together to achieve it we were more than the sum of our parts. He fact that people who have never met before can come together to achieve so much is the real thing I learned.

To close I must thank everyone who helped make the race the experience it was for me. The organisers, and marshals, always excellent and friendly. My fellow runners especially Peter and Dave, Michael and Wiktor. All the supporters out on the course, always happy to help and cheer anyone, especially Dave’s team, and my adopted race family. My mum who was a massive help at the finish. Julie, who helped not just on the day, but has been supportive over all the years leading up to this. And everyone who has sponsored me. Running for charity has been a new thing for me and I've really enjoyed the positive aspect that giving something back has brought. As things stand over £2000 has been raised and I'm very proud. So thank you all. 

I was running to raise money for bloodwise who do great and important work fighting leukaemia. I have been genuinely amazed by the level of support I have already received, and am very grateful to everyone who has donated.  If  you haven't sponsored me yet and would like to, there's still time to do it here.  I'd really appreciate it. And you are safe in the knowledge I've already done the race.

 

Strava

Results

 

 

 

A blog about the London Marathon

The first requirement to run in London is to be lucky. I was lucky I got in through the ballot.

I was also lucky I managed to wangle free train travel down and had an Auntie to stay with, and auntie who had run the marathon herself - 3 times. As a result I was well looked after by Anne and her running club the Orion Harriers. Thanks Anne for everything.

We got to the start in plenty of time, upside, no stress, downside freezing. The Orion Harriers looked after me, and the setup was good, there was tea and coffee, lots of toilets, running heaven.

With about half and hour to go I put my bag in the lorry and was left with just a primark hoody which I was going to ditch when the gun went off.


Ready to go

I fund my way to pen 3 and waited. And then we were off.

On TV this looks amazing, the mass of runners pouring over the start line, almost looking like one giant organism with a mass of colours. The reality is a bit different, you can see about 30 people around you and you're trying desperately not to come a cropper on all of the bin bags people have worn to the start and carelessly discarded. Getting injured before even starting would be a bugger.

It's busy at the start but we're running reasonably well, the mass of people settles into something around 8 minute miling. I hadn't known what to expect, but this isn't too bad. Its a bit slower than I want but I can work with it. I try to pick my way forward when I can, but without being a dick about it. The immediate issue is that I have two 3.30 pacers in front of me, surrounded by a mass of people looking to run at 3.30 pace, squeezing past takes a couple of miles and some judicious use of the pavements but after a couple of miles I'm running reasonably freely and at my own pace.

The plan is to run 3:15 by running 7.20ish for each mile. Because of the start I'm a couple of minutes down on this. I settle into a 7:20 pace, but my missing 2 minutes is nagging at the back of my head.

In the next few miles the following things occur.

• We pass a preacher - I feel he may meet with more success in gaining converts at mile 25 rather than mile 5.
• Some people are playing drums under an underpass - This sounds awesome.
• Lots of people cheer -  this is good.
• I pass a panda and a gorilla - the crowd are giving them a lot of love.
• I pass a Penicuik Harriers runner and say hi -  I did once run their 10k race.
• Kris from my work gives me a cheer - this is a real boost.
• The miles slip quietly by.
• I run past some bagpipes - I feel I'd better applaud as I'm running for a Scottish club.
• We run past a big ship.
• I have a bit of a low point, worry about how early it is to be having a low point, eat a haribo and feel better.

My nutritional strategy for the race is to eat a haribo occasionally. This strategy is designed to stop me feeling sick rather than deliver optimum nutrition for the ordeal ahead. Even with this one simple job to do it largely fails.

Running over Tower bridge (mile 12 and a bit) is great. It feels like the first bit is over and the race is getting going. I'm feeling good at this point. Although I fail to notice the tower of London.

In the next few miles the following things occur

• I pass the leaders of the mens race going the other way - they are about 8 miles ahead and making it look easy.
• I see my Auntie - great to have someone out there cheering for you.
• Many miles pass in a blur.
• I see someone from Long Eaton running club and tell them to say hi to my friend Al - they look confused.
• I fail to spot Theresa from my running club.
• Generally I run well, perhaps I eat a haribo.

My goal was to get to mile 20 and push on from there - I felt I'd been on pace all the way, but there was the annoying 2 minutes from the start to make up. I got to mile 20 and wasn't feeling bad.

In the next few miles the following things occur

• I decide that my next goal is to run back to where Anne is (mile 22) and try to look reasonably together when I'm there - this I largely achieve.

Mile 22

• I pass someone from Musselburgh who is walking, I offer encouragement and feel smug I'm not walking - I get payback for this thought when he cruises past me in the later stages.
• I run through a shower - this is refreshing.
• I run through a tunnel - not unlike the Monaco GP.
• I feel a bit sick.
• The smoke from all of the trendy wood fired pizza sellers make me feel sicker.
• I desperately try to suck the energy from the crowd by making eye contact with people and looking at them imploringly, they smile and I feel better.
• I start to struggle.
• I struggle more.
• I realise I've slowed down.
• I try to run faster.
• I fail.
• I manage to see the tower of London at the second attempt.
• I get very pissed off I can't see big ben - surely it should be in sight by now.
• I wish the noisy and enthusiastic crowd would just piss off and let me suffer in peace.
• I realise I'm near the end.
• I accept I can't go any faster.
• I try really, really hard to savour the last bit while trying to remember not to stop running.
• I cross the line (3:26:15).
• I cry a lot.
• I hobble.
• I really need a hug.
• I find my Auntie and she obliges, while looking a bit concerned about the state I'm in.
• I feel better and eat an apple.
• I feel better still, tackle the underground, traverse London, have a shower, eat some cheese on toast, traverse London again, travel 400 miles on a train, and finally make it home. One of my busier and more memorable days.

What this all means

This may sound a bit negative, it isn't. I had a great time. I went for an ambitious target and failed, partly because I don't think I fully believed, partly because it was busy at the start, partly nutrition maybe and partly just 'cos that's how it went on the day. But I still ran a PB and took part in one of the most iconic races in the work. And to quibble about times is to kind of miss the point.

Running the London marathon is such and intense and powerful experience the running is almost a second order issue. So many people coming together to play their part in such a massive communal experience is amazing. It's not even just the runners, crowds and volunteers but the people watching at home. When I run some races I don't think everyone really gets it, but everyone gets London and every time I ran over a timing mat it gave me a boost to think that someone was watching my progress.

Looking rough on the tube afterwards

Even on the tube afterwards people were asking you about the race and chatting, I'm lead to believe this isn't normal for London, but the event so takes over the city it brings a real sense of community to a massive group of people.

In the end many, many people assign a lot of meaning to London and that's what makes it special. I didn't assign enough meaning to my goals for the race and that's why I didn't quite hit them. But an amazing thing to do and something I'd recommend to anyone.

Ochil 2000s

The Ochill 2000s goes over the 10 2000ft peaks in the Ochil hills, which are near Stirling There is no fixed route so you can pick your own as long as you go over the hills in order. Ian from the running club talked me into this one. 18 miles and 5000 ft of ascent across some hills I’d never seen or heard of. What could go wrong? People a work were full of grim pronouncements about how boggy the terrain was. Just to add some extra excitement apparently I was almost certain to break my leg, or look like the worst kind of amateur running it in road shoes. But as road shoes are all I have the die was cast, and in fell running terms I am the worst kind of amateur.

Registration is at Stirling University, this went smoothly, Ian questioned a lot of people about the line to take of Blairdennon hill, then we had a sandwich and waited for the bus to the start.

The race starts from a car park in Glendevon. The bus takes about three quarters of on hour, then you get to hang around in the car park for half an hour or so waiting for the start. It was a nice day so this was fine. Ian took the opportunity to question everyone else about the line to take of Blairdennon hill. I listened but without having seen the ground I couldn't really visualise what to do.

Team Dunbar at the start

Having adequately disturbed the tranquillity of the people camping in the car park we were off. It starts off up a nice forest track, ascending but runnable. Then it gets very muddy on the final stretch up out of the forest to the deer fence - my first bit of walking for the day certainly not the last. I try to position myself somewhere in the middle of the pack, and concentrate on not going to fast but trying to make the most of the runnable terrain.

Emerging from the forest the first of the tops come into view. It looks suitably impressive. A long and straight path going a long way up. But at the same time there is a path and a wall to follow and it doesn't look stupidly steep. I slog up thinking this isn't too bad, sometimes I walk, sometimes I run, sometimes I pass people more rarely they pass me, sometimes it’s the same people.

 

This sets a pattern for the day, whenever the ground is OK and level, slightly up or slightly down I pass people. Whenever it involves proper fell running skills people pass me.

Over the top of Innerdownie and the views over the Forth are spectacular. It doesn't feel like we come down much, but the next top seems a decent amount higher. The rain starts, it doesn't look like anything serious, I vaguely wonder about putting on my waterproof, but struggle to imagine a level of rain that would actually make me stop and get it out of my pack.

 

Over the deer fence with its giant steps and along to Whitewisp and then Tarmangie hill in fairly quick succession. So far my navigation strategy has been to follow someone else. This falls down a bit when we come off Tarmangie, when we reach a fence and the guy in front of me stops and asks the way. The best I can manage is a shrug, but thankfully we are saved when someone in a quartered top who clearly knows what he is doing comes along and confidently hops the fence and heads of downhill.

As I said I've never really done anything like this and I was a bit taken aback by what happened next. Previously we had been following a path, now everyone just heads down hill. I'm surprised by the pace of the guy in front of me and try to keep up. I'm more unnerved when what seems like half the race comes pouring past me bouncing down the hill like kangaroos. I try to keep up, all my doubts about shoes are now confirmed and I'm feeling like this is going to be a long race, but at the same time even though I'm holding back I'm still loving the feeling of half running half falling down the hill and soon just placing the next foot correctly absorbs all of my thoughts.

The climb up Kings Seat is steep, everyone walks pretty much from the start, drinking and eating sweeties.  I have a gel. The rain is coming down and this is bit of a grim slog. It’s about 12 minutes walking up the hill until the path levels out at the top, then it’s a short run along to the control (you have to dib in orienteering style at the top of each hill, the organisers will claim this is for safety and to stop cheating, but I think someone in the organising committee just has a thing for speadsheets). Back along and I'm feeling really cold in just my vest in the rain, I start to believe I might have to put my waterproof on after all. I'm starting to feel like a fish out of water and regretting the shoes and my lack of experience. There is a short out and back and I'm surprised to see the number of people behind me, this makes me feel a bit better I must be doing something OK. Down another steep slope, but this one is rougher and no one seems to be going quite as fast.

I can’t really remember the climb up to Andrew Gannel Hill so it can’t have been too good or too bad. I think this is where I was chatting to someone about the Highland Fling. The rain had started to come back here, so I decide to put my phone safely out of the way in my pack in a waterproof bag. This would have been an excellent idea except for the fact that I think this is what caused me to lose my map, I noticed a few minutes later it wasn’t there. Cue panic, its especially annoying as I know there is another copy of the map in my rucksack at the finish which I actively took out thinking nah I’m not going to need two of these. I instantly regret the fact that I’ve been following people rather than navigating and if I’m being absolutely honest, I’ve lost count of how many hills I’ve done or what the next one is.

Coming off Andrew Gannel is very runnable and I’m feeling quite good here. I can see people heading up to Ben Cleuth, but the route heads off to the left toward the Law. This is again quite runnable there is a path, but in the wet conditions there isn’t that much advantage to following it and I talk a few shortcuts – just like a proper fell runner.

 

Up to The Law over the fence and back down the other side and up to Ben Cleuth this seemed fairly painless. It’s an OK run along to Ben Buck I’m feeling good along here and the run along to Ben Ever is probably the high point of the race for me. The follow like a sheep navigation strategy has been working well so far and to be honest it’s given me a good kick up the arse not to lose sight of the guy in front. I’m running well, too well, I pass the guy in front, and have to run even harder to make up the ground to the guy in front of him.
 

The chap in the fling buff I’d been speaking to earlier had said the race starts at Ben Ever and he was right. Up to this point this had been an enjoyable and challenging day out. I’d done 11.2 miles in just over 2 hours, was feeling good. The published length of the race is 18 miles so I felt I’d broken the back of it. 9 of the 11 summits had been done.
 

I headed off towards Blairdennon. There was no path but you could see where the hill was so I headed in roughly a straight line. It we here I lost my falling head over heels in a somersault, fell running virginity. It felt like it should look impressive but I’ll bet it was anything but. I’ve no idea if the guy behind has noticed or cared, but I give him an “I meant to do that honest” kind of wave and carried on. I was about 5 minutes later I noticed that the fall had cost me one of my shiny new water bottles. I toyed with going back but to be honest I didn’t think I could identify where on the featureless slope I’d tumbled and reckoned you could look for months and not find anything. Suitably cross I carried on along the top of a steep slope which I annoying started to drift down and found myself running across the slope. It was very uncomfortable with my wet feet slipping to the slide of my shoes and in the end I gave up with it and took the line of least resistance down the slope to a substantial track, knowing I’d have to make the height back later.
 

One of the things people had talked about in the run up to the race was peat hags. Now I have a geography degree and am expected to know about stuff like this, but I had no idea what they were on about. So not wanting to look stupid I kept my mouth shut. This next section fully answered all of my peat hag questions. So for anyone else who needs to know a peat hag is terrain which is half calf deep bog, interspersed with more solid higher ground. This promise of solid ground sounds good, but it isn’t because when you are in the bog it is waist high and a pain to climb onto, and when you are on the solid ground it is a decent drop to the bog which tends to exacerbate the sinking.
 

This went on for about two thirds of a mile. It felt like longer. I kept glancing enviously at the guy I’d waved at after my fall, he looked like he knew what he was doing, he was sure to have a better line, I just needed to work my way over to the right then it would be fine. Then he went head over heels so I accepted there was no magic line and got on with it.
 

After a while I reached a gate and then there was a decent path up to the summit. Where another hardy marshal had pitched a tent on what had to be to most remote marshalling point of the course. Clearly a man who had drawn the short straw at the marshals briefing. This next section was the bit everyone had been getting excited about pre race, I asked the marshal if the best line was down to the left, he replied that there was no best line, so I took this as a ringing endorsement of my line and went down to the left of the fence.

There was a steep down and a steep up, and the ground at the bottom was pretty ropey. I was getting worried as I had no map and couldn’t see anyone in front of me. Then as I crested the slope I saw a train of people heading towards me who had clearly contoured round further to the left. The man leading was wearing a purple vest, this meant he was from the local Ochil running club and could be expected to know where to go. He had a big white beard, like a thinner purple vested Santa bringing me the gift of a route off the hills. I shamelessly latched on and followed him.
 

I fell over a few times the Ochil guy seemed to drift over the ground and gradually edged away from me. By now I had my bearings and could see the final hill. The Ochil runner didn’t seem to be heading for the hill but heading west. Dark thoughts entered my head, my earlier complete trust was replaced with thoughts like, what if he’s just out for a run, maybe he thinks it’s funny to run around the hills in a club vest on race day and lead unsuspecting novices astray. More pertinently I’m struggling to keep up over the tough ground and worry I could lose him, so I decide on a more direct route straight down towards Dumyat.
 

It’s at this point I first turn my ankle (ow) and then put my leg into a narrow knee deep ditch. The latter was scary it was knee high and very narrow. I think the only think that saved me from doing some serious damage was the sedate pace I was going at, I could easily have broken a leg.

 

Further down I can see three people emerging from the left. I ask them all if they know where they’re going, they all say no. Still being lost with company sure beats being lost on your own. We run on together across a deep ditch which requires a slight jump. I’m just heading away when there is cry from the guy behind, we hold back, he says it’s just cramp and we should go on. I do but I feel kind of bad about leaving him in a ditch. I hope he’s not still there.
 

We’re in fields now it’s all looking a bit more civilised - well apart from the menacing highland cows - but this section has taken ages, and the sub 4 hours finish I thought was in the bag on top of Ben Ever is looking shakier. This next hill Dumyat, although the smallest (and not a proper 2000) looks like a brute.
 

I run the more gentle early sections but after that it is some of the toughest walking of the day on very tired legs. It’s just a case of getting on with it and eventually the top comes. I ask how far to the finish, “two miles downhill". There is 25 minutes left to get under 4 hours, this should be easy - it isn't.
 

The path off the hill is fine, after so long in the hill seeing only other runners, the general public reappear here and look slightly bemused / scared as we all run down the hill. There are a good few of us in close proximity, but I’m racing the clock, not any of them.
 

The route to the finish goes through some woods. The course is marked here with red and white tape. Some of the forest paths are rough with some steeps muddy slopes, my hopes of an easy run down to the finish fade.
 

We start to see bits of the university then a lady from Dundee comes past running really hard. Confronted with the reality of how fast she is able to run at this stage I pick up the pace and follow. I’m glad I did as there are two tricky turns that I would have missed left to my own devices. Both were marked by after such a long effort it’s hard to keep your wits about you, but you need to pay attention though this last bit. We are both chasing sub 4, there really isn’t long to go, and then it all starts to look familiar and there is the finish. 3:56:35 and I’m pretty pleased.

A quick cup of tea and a cake and my work is done.
 

Thanks to everyone who organised and made the race possible. Especially the marshals on the hilltops. A great job.

My route through the hills

In the 'cuik - Penicuik 10k

After the Fling I started looking for ways to really challenge myself next time out. Running takes you to lots of places you would never otherwise visit, hence my trip to Penicuik.

Now this local 10k might not sound like too much of a challenge however that overlooks 3 important factors.

• The weather (more on this later)
• My hangover (I'd had a rare night out with Julie the previous night, beer wine and whisky were involved)
• The fried breakfast I'd had a couple of hours before the start (egg, beans, mushrooms, toast, bacon, tomato and haggis - but I was taking this race seriously and didn't have a sausage.) 

As my in laws were in town I was less needed at home so on the spur of the moment I decided to run. 

The weather as I set off was intermittently rainy but it seemed to have cleared up when I arrived at registration at the local high school. The locals were welcoming and let me enter the race in exchange for all the pound coins I'd accumulated on my night out. 

I got changed and hung about waiting for the start. I got chatting to a couple of people from my work, and a couple of other people who had done the fling (I was proudly rocking my fling buff). Someone congratulated me on my performance at Edinburgh to North Berwick. This would have been very gratifying if I had run Edinburgh to North Berwick, or been capable of the kind of time that would have been worthy of congratulations.

I went for a warm up and then arrived at the start, by now the sun was blazing down, and with all the water evaporating off the road it was feeling quite humid, my mouth felt dry on the start line which wasn't good. I started about a third of the way back, not wanting to get dragged along too fast but still thinking I'd do pretty well. The race went through the town and then down a sharp hill, which got everyone speeding along.

And then  came the hill. I'd been warned that there was a hill, one of the locals described it as a grind. This was being kind - it felt steep and never ending and made me long for the fling where I could have walked without shame. I tried not to lose places and by and large succeeded but any hopes of a pb were gone. Even when it finished the road kept going up. Not steeply or constantly but always up. The sun was baking down and I was feeling tired and rough.

And then about half way round it started to rain, properly rain. At first this was brilliant, I had been feeling hot and uncomfortable, the rain refreshed and cooled me washing away all the hangover and meat sweats. The guy behind had been slowly catching me for a couple of k and as soon as the rain came I pulled away from him again as we went past and abandoned borstal.

The rain continued to fall biblically, there was some hail, rivers started to form at the side of the road, but I was cooler and then road started to go down. I was gradually pulling back the person in front and felt like I was flying. I was wet to the bone very quickly and to be honest I could have done without the hail, but I plugged on down the hill past a very pretty bit of the course.

The marshalls were doing a great job of sounding cheery in the rain, but it was a better day to be running than standing around, and their support was much appreciated.

I caught and passed the guy in front. We made our way back into town, there was a very cruel sharp uphill just before the finish to destroy any downhill rhythm you might have built up, and then on to the finish.

The organisers had cleverly arranged an archery competition next to the finish to discourage you from slowing down in case you get hit. Clearly the lady who flew past me on the finishing straight was very scared from the speed she was going, it wasn't even worth trying to sprint. I was happy to see the line in a shade under 43 mins.  I stood in a tent and ate my banana but it wasn't a day for lingering at the finish.

At the finish. Photo Bob Marshall

I went back and put dry clothes onto my wet body and headed home, having enjoyed my time in the 'cuik. This is a well organised and friendly race and recommended for the unique microclimate.

Hoka Highland Fling

Let’s get one thing very clear straight off the bat –the Fling is brilliant. Impeccably organised, brilliantly marshalled and supported, beautiful, challenging, friendly, reasonably priced and generally full of awesome. I could not recommend this race highly enough and thank you to everyone involved. And although it’s a long way, anyone with the desire is capable of doing this. I’m a pretty ordinary guy and I did it.

Without wanting to bore you with full details training had gone well. A marathon pb in the borders marathon, a couple of 30 mile runs in the Lammermuir hills and improving 5 and 10k times were good. A strong performance in the shambolic St Andrews half (a kind of anti-fling in terms of the organisation) 2 weeks before race day had me feeling good, and a tune up at Burnley parkrun the weekend before was probably both risky and unnecessary but there you go.

Logistics had meant I spent no time on the course so it was all a surprise to me. It seemed pretty straightforward and as a precaution I had programmed the route onto my Ambit together with the helpful notes that appear on the maps on the fling website. But I was fairly sure I’d be middle of the pack and be able to follow someone most of the time.

For food I made 4 drops bags. Although these may look like biryani, jalfrezi, rogan josh and bhuna, they actually all contained 2 gels, 2 jaffa cakes, sesame snaps, Bombay mix, a babybel and some haribo. Cp3 had apple juice and cp4 full fat coke.

I spent the night before staying with friends (Julie and Ian) in Carluke which is vaguely near the start line.  Their support was invaluable as Julie kindly got up at 4 to drive me to the start and came back to pick me up later. I can’t say I slept well with being in a strange bed and pre race nerves but I always tell myself that the night before doesn’t matter, this is true as long as I can believe it.

Pre race hydration

The forcast was for rain and plenty of it. I was unsure what to wear. I had bought a montane minimus jacket the week previously, it’s a golden rule of ultra running not to wear something you hadn’t trained with, but it didn’t look like there was much choice. I had a bottle belt with a small pouch to fit the mandatory kit (phone and foil blanket) and not much else so if the jacket was coming I was wearing it, as I had no way carry it. I had road shoes (brooks ghost 6) not having any trail shoes this was an easy choice, but I still spent the weeks running up to the race worrying, especially with the forecast rain. As it turned out they were fine. I had a long sleeved top, Dunbar club vest and socks by Primark, and a Dunbar buff.

Registering was a doddle. I even managed to swap my foil blanket for a smaller one. This is the kind of marginal gain you need to look for as a top class runner like myself. I met Neil and Lee from Dunbar who were running the relay and race respectively and some guys from Haddington who were full of useful advice.

Soon it was time for the briefing, and then we went to line up. I was feeling ready to go.

The start

Ready to go

I started a long way back. I didn’t want to get sucked along too fast for the early stages. It was pretty busy along the trails at the start, and I felt sorry for clubmate Lee who was trying to pick his way through after missing the start being in the toilet.

Much of the early section blurs into one. There was someone playing a violin which was nice, and I was surprised at how small the hills had to be in order for everyone to walk, but I wasn’t arguing with the wisdom of the herd and happily walked too. There were two big hills on the horizon (Slackdhu and Dungoyne) I was concerned we would have to go over these. Thankfully not. The route went through a section with a lot of gates and everyone bunched up so I just fell in with the group. As we came onto the road the two guys in front of me were talking and I couldn’t help overhear one say to the other “most of these people have gone off way too fast”. At first I thought he had a bit of a cheek, but then realised he was probably right and slowed down and let the big group go and felt much happier. Whoever you were thanks for this unintended pacing advice.

At Drymen - photo Stuart Macfarlane

The water station at Drymen came pretty soon, it was nice to hear a cheery “Come on Dunbar” from the Haddington relay teams. Even with my lack of knowledge of the route I knew there was a big hill coming next. Thankfully the mist obscured it so I couldn’t see the full extent of Conic hill. In some ways this was good I just took one step at a time, in others it was bad because every time it levelled out I kept thinking “is that it – that wasn’t too bad” Only to be confronted with more uphill. I walked pretty much all of the uphill, chatting with Paddy from Haddington, a veteran of many Flings.

It was pretty obvious when we got to the top as the mist began to lift and the view of Loch Lomond began to emerge this felt like quite a special moment – I’d never seen the Loch previously and had yet to realise what a beautiful place it is. Remembering the advice from one of the Haddington guys at the start I took it steady on the descent. You really do lose a lot of height very quickly and it would be very easy to damage your quads, or slip and take a tumble. And it’s too early in the race for that. I can’t have looked too serious as I stopped to take a photo and the pro photographer asked me if I was in the race or not.

Loch Lomond emerges from the mist

At the end of the steep descent there’s a really nice section through the forest and down to the first checkpoint at Balmaha. I was here in 3 hours 26. I had no plan and no idea I was just happy to be here. It felt like the first bit was out of the way and now the race proper was getting started physically and mentally I felt fine and up for the challenge.

Looking back I went faster through this early section than I did later. Partly this is just because the section is so much more runnable and coupled with the freshness of the legs there is a need to make hay while the sun shines. At the same time I felt I’d run within myself and resisted the urge to go too fast. One learning would be that I didn’t have enough food for this section. I had one cereal bar and two gels I could have done with more – this was the only time in the race I felt worried about food.

At the checkpoint I ate my Bombay mix and babybel and jaffa cakes. All went down pretty well. I took haribo and gels with me and off I went. I stopped for about 5 mins. Part of this was because in my zeal to make my drop bags waterproof, I had sealed them tighter then fort knox and they took a bit of getting into.

Now all I had to run the length of Scotland’s largest loch, and then a bit more and it was job done. All I was doing was focussing on getting to Rowardennan.

The bit along the loch has three checkpoints. The one at Balmaha that I was just leaving, the one at Rowardennan that I was aiming for, and one at Inversnaid.

Much of the route between these is indistinguishable in my memory from the other bits. I ran on, sometimes next to the road sometimes on good tracks and sometimes on very poor tracks and at one point on a sandy beach. The race had thinned out, but there are always people around, I remember chatting to a few people. Especially the two guys with the 11 hour plan, it was nice to know that I was on some kind of plan, even if it was someone else’s. I’d heard a lot about how hard the hard bits of the lochside were, the bits beyond Inversnaid, where the path was a knarled, twisted mass of rocks, tree roots, misery and broken dreams. However no one had prepared me for how hard the easier bits were.

Somewhere on the Lochside - photo Stuart Macfarlane

There are a lot of nasty climbs in this section and I confirmed the sneaking suspicion I’d had on conic hill that everyone was better at walking than I was. I lost lots of places on the long endless climb out of Rowardennan. If I come back, top of the training list will be some hill walking as this was one area it was immediately apparent I could improve. This was probably the lowest point of the race for me, I felt like it was never ending and was taking a lot of effort for little reward. But sometimes I got chatting to people and as ever this distraction really helps.

Also whoever maintains the paths had had a canny idea in advance of the fling. Instead of resurfacing the paths, lets just dump piles of stones along the route and hope that 600 passing runners will compact them into a path. This plan didn’t seem to be working and the piles of stones were a pain.

The actual bad bit after Inversnaid was everything people say it is. Difficult to run on, slippy, muddy and requiring a certain amount of scrambling. Again I was slow – I never practice this kind of thing, and found myself frequently letting people pass, but at the same time the slow pace allows time to regroup which was nice.

A nice runnable section

The whole section along the lochside feels like a dream, the checkpoints are all jumbled in my head. At one (Inversnaid) there was John Kynaston, whose voice is very familiar from his excellent West Highland Way podcasts. I didn’t want any of my food at this point so I popped it all on the swap shop table for discarded and unwanted drop bag contents and scavenged myself a mullerrice. This was another golden rule of ultra running broken, as I don’t think I’d ever eaten a mullerrice before, let alone while running. But my body (perhaps unsurprisingly) seemed to want something carb heavy, I didn’t have a spoon though so had to drink it. I also had apple juice here which was awesome and something I’d really looked forward to, but it left a really nasty aftertaste that took a while to fade.

I really can’t remember much about what I ate at Rowardennan perhaps just cheese, maybe jaffa cakes too.

After leaving the loch the path went up and got muddier, I fell in with a big group here which got me moving quite well for a while and I was trying to hang on until the final checkpoint at Beinglas. But in the end I had to let them go it was just too fast. The checkpoint never seemed to come and we were giving up all our hard earned height. In the end I caught the guy in front to ask if he knew where the checkpoint was. He said it was just round the corner and 30 seconds later there we were.

Neil from my running club was here after running the first leg of the relay and it was nice to see a friendly face. I also had coke to look forward to here. It doesn’t seem to matter how long I leave the bottle open for in advance of the race to defizz it, it never works. Still the fizziness didn’t bother me too much and the drink tasted like nectar. I forced down a sesame snap here which was an effort. These were the only thinks I liked during the Clyde Stride but they were not working here. I grabbed some haribo and sensing there was nothing to be gained by hanging around I was off. I had 3 hours 20 to make the 13 miles to the finish in under 12 and I sensed it could be done.

Leaving Beinglas I was fairly sanguine about what was in store. It was a long hard uphill slog to the finish, another 13 miles. Just a half marathon. I quickly started to run after the checkpoint my mind somehow tricking my tired legs into running, I walked the uphills, still getting passed by people but ran OK on the downs and the flats. It kept starting to rain, as I’d had my jacket annoyingly tied round my waist all day I never missed an opportunity for it to justify its existence so kept putting it on. Only for it to stop raining, this inverse rain dance served myself and the other runners well in keeping us dry.

It was at this point I slipped on the steps up to a bridge incurring my only real injury of the day as I scraped my shin.

The path wound on, through a small tunnel under the railway line where I had to crouch to fit through and up a steep hill. Then levelled out onto an undulating stony path with some spectacular views, ruined only by the occasional festering pit of cow shit, ankle deep in places. Apparently the farmer does this on purpose to revenge himself on the world for the miserable existence he must have in this idyllic corner of Scotland, maybe someone stole his coke in a previous fling, or is fed up of tescos screwing him on milk prices, or he could just be grumpy. Still it couldn’t be fully avoided, and I was glad I didn’t try after seeing a guy at the finish who had injured himself trying to go around the steep bank. My boss (another cheery soul) made the valid point that this just proves its real, and isn’t the kind of thing you can do in a golf cart, which I suppose is right, but doesn’t help my still uncleaned shoes, or my poor thrown away primark socks.

On into the forest. This was probably my favourite bit I knew I was going to do it (I’d kind of always known but could now let myself believe it) and I knew I was going under 12 hours. So I was running well. This section is the nearest I’ve ever experienced to the runners high, everything felt good. I had to reign myself in not to try and run the uphills. I moved through the field passing a few people and leaving behind the guy in the blue jacket who had been close by since Beinglas. I put on some music, I don’t know if this helped to distract me, I think my brain was pleased to have something else to think about.

On the last descent to the road two guys came flying past me at impressive speed. I told them how impressed I was and tried to hold on but couldn’t. Imagine my surprise when we hit the flat and I reeled them back in and passed them - I was feeling good. People were telling me I was nearly there. I started to believe them and my strength and good feeling began to ebb away. My strong running was still 11m/m pace and 'nearly there' was still around 3 miles, over half an hours running to go.

I kept asking everyone how far to go. I got quite conflicting answers, so I carried on. I thought about whether I’d try to defend my position if anyone came. I decided not to minutes later when I heard someone come up behind me running strongly. I just stepped off the path and let her go. Just as I came into By the Way I passed a lady in a white top who I’d seen a few times since before Beinglas. She seemed in a bad way, I offered to walk in with her to ensure she was OK. I was half disappointed when she insisted I should go on, the valid excuse to walk would have been welcome. I left her my water and ran on, luckily I almost immediately met a marshall so I was confident she would be looked after.

You could really sense the end now. People were around with that look of satisfaction that only comes from finishing the race, then there was the sound of the piper. Not always the most welcome sound to my untrained English ear, but very welcome this time. Round the corner and onto the red carpet and the flags, great support and the great thing is there is no one else around – for a moment in what is a hugely collaborative event it’s all about me and I’m hugely grateful to all the people giving up their time to make it special. I manage a ‘sprint’ and cross the line. Done 11:32 mins.

Happy at the finish - photo Stuart Macfarlane

A medal is put round my neck, and I’m given a great goody bag before being asked lager or ale. Well I think lager is the way to go after a long hard day on the trials.

I catch up with a few people at the finish. Clubmate Lee is there having got in in 10:50, and it’s nice to see people you recognise from the trail come in.

The soup is delicious. I try to watch the prize giving but I’m getting cold so I go off for a shower. I can’t pretend I didn’t scream like a little girl when the water hit the chafed bits of me. I’ve never chafed too badly before so this was a shock. But it was great to be clean and the pain ensured I stayed on my feet for the next few hours.

It was great to stand for a few hours and clap people in. Neil brought me a glass of wine which went down well, and I had a baked potato which didn’t, and then Lee gave me whisky, which did. The finish of an ultra is always an inspiring place to be.

Team Dunbar

Then on the bus and back. My wife had a good laugh at everyone trying to climb down the steps as we got off in Milngavie, apparently we looked non too graceful.

A few days later I feel fine. I have two black toenails but no other ill effects, but I can’t quite shake the feeling of the race – it’s something that stays with you.

Borders marathon - ever wanted to be a horse

Not just any horse but the kind of ultra horse that does not do 1 or 2 but 23.5 laps of the racecourse. Well that's what this was about, expect I was a lot slower, missed out all the jumps and didn't have to carry anyone on my back.

Apparently I only run inaugural marathons, this was number 3 and all of them have been run for the first time. This was a low key 23.5 laps of the Kelso racecourse service road. Every bit as glamorous as it sounds - London this wasn't, but this came with a number of advantages.

For one, after one lap I had the course nailed, no nasty surprises, no worrying about getting lost, sure there was a danger of mental disintegration from treading the same ground, but at least it was ground I'd be familiar with.

For two there was no real need to carry anything. Water was available every lap, never being more than a mile from the finish I didn't take a phone figuring that in an emergency I could probably make it back. I took 3 gels, but to be honest if I'd thought properly I could have left these by the track at the start and picked them up as and when.

For three, you got to see more of the other runners, there weren't too many, but some were faster than me, some slower, so I was passing people and being passed with some regularity. There was also a relay, I thought this would be really fast (relative to me) but again some we're faster, some were slower. This was nice as you got to see everyone in the race.

After registration in the golf club, and a great briefing "if you see any horses stop for them, they're not going to stop for you" (for the record I saw no horses on track) we set off in the cold morning air and we're piped to the start, which was a nice touch. I got chatting to a few people, all of whom were ultra runners which gave me some comfort this was a good idea given this was really just a long run with a bit of spice in my Highland Fling training.

And then we were off, without intending to I started about 1/3 of the way back, was amazed at how fast some of the fast guys and gals go, but went off at a pace that felt comfortable.

Last time out at the marathon in York, I wanted 3:30 and when off at 3:30 pace, only to slow down later on and crumble once 3:30 began to slip away. As I wasn't taking this race as seriously, I'd ummed and ahhed about what to do. I was tempted to go off very comfortably, and trust that increased stamina from my good work so far this year would help me hold on better. But when push came to shove there only seemed on antidote to starting too fast, last time, start even faster this time.

So I did. 7:30 pace for the first eight and sub 8:00 all the way to mile 19!

One of the things about a lapped race is that it makes it hard to put your thoughts into a sensible narrative. I ran the first lap and quickly realised there were two main straights. One was uphill and into the wind - there is always a wind wherever I go - one was downhill with a following wind - loved this bit. And a finish section where some great volunteers would shout "runner 41" and count the laps and offer encouragement. It really threw me he fist time they shouted "come on Jamie" I was thinking how do they know my name do I know them, before realising they simply had the competitor list, and this was before the accretion of laps had addled my brain.

The downhill bit - we were spared the jumps

The finish

We had to do 23.5 laps so the start and finish were at the opposite ends of the course, and for most of the early and mid part of the race the laps were taking around 8:30.

The race progressed, some people ran impressively fast, some people ran with a slow and dogged determination, I passed some, some passed me. I think it took 4 laps to get lapped by the leaders. I took a gel at lap 8 and another at pat 16 and some additional water at lap 14. That was all, after feeling very sick at York I was trying to give my stomach less to do.

I didn't count the laps, I pressed the lap button on my watch everytime I passed the start until lap 22 when the race director drove down in his golf buggy and nicked the start marker. I was a bit miffed and had to guess where the lap started from then on. I tried to follow people along the windy section, this rarely worked, I seemed stronger in this bit than others and managed to loose time in the downhill bit.

I'm talking about this hill like it was a hill, it wasn't, although the uphill bit started off as the gently incline it was, by 10 miles it felt like Ben Nevis and by 25 like Annapurna.

After 20 miles it got tough, I slowed, I felt sick, but I kept going far better than I did in York. It wasn't until I was out there doing it I realised exactly how disappointed I was with my York performance, and the memory of this was a good motivator.

I wanted 3:30 and for a while I pushed for it. "3:30 you can do was a two lap mantra". I felt empty, I daren't chance another gel, as I already felt sick, I tried so water at about 22 miles. It made me feel sick so I poured it over my head. Thankfully I twigged before it went over my head on the next lap when I got powerade by mistake.

I slowed more but I began to realise that 3:30 was there to be had. I adjusted to this, mentally I discovered I was willing to suffer for sub 3:30, however I was not willing to suffer extra for 3:25, or 3:27 and once I was sure that 9 minute miles would get me in, this was all I seemed capable of. The course emptied out a bit, my lap counters began to count me down and it all felt harder, but I kept on going and eventually the end came in a touch over 3:29. I was delighted.

All in all a brilliantly simple race, the laps didn't bother me I just kind of tuned out and I had plenty of time with my thoughts.

I was pleased to deliver the kind of performance I knew I could there were a few rough points by I kept going far better than before. I Enjoyed my post run banana and the distinctive horseshoe medal.

Still windy

Welcome to my blog, where I pretend I'm going to comment intelligently on running, but actually I just bitch and moan about how windy it is when I want to go on a long run. After all it's not like I live on the Scottish coast or anything, and I'd never do anything as daft as running to a windfarm. I'm just a victim of bad luck.

It was very windy today, I'm no meterologist, but I think getting on for 8 or 9 on the Beaufort scale if I recall my high school geography correctly.

My made up training plan said I needed to run 18 miles today, so rather than argue with this arbitrary state of affairs I set off into the wind. 18 miles was meant to be easy after 24 last weekend, but the wind and the hills added some spice. It was straight into the wind and uphill for the first few miles and it was hard work. At least I was expecting it, and knew what I was up against straight away, this helped me get to a point of quick acceptance, which is crucial in dealing with the wind, you've never going to win, you're always going to find it slower and harder than normal and the faster you can accept this the better. So I accepted and I ran slowly uphill into the wind.

I was trying a new route today in order to try and give me more elevation as I think I need to be better going uphill ahead of the highland fling. As I gained altitude and got more exposed it all began to get trickier. At about mile 7 it all came to a head. I was climbing the steepest hill of the day right into the teeth of the wind. What started off as a slow and determined plod, gradually became a slow and determined walk, then a slow walk, then a backwards walk as I was struggling to breathe, and then a I think I'll stop and take a few photos they'd look awesome on my blog.

To be fair I was at this point approaching a windfarm, which I assume someone has situated in a place likely to attract a lot of wind. I was in a good place mentally, I accepted I'd get there eventually and this was the case. I thought descending into the headwind would be easier, but not really. It tore at my clothes and made me weave across the track like a drunk

Then joy of joy's I changed direction. Suddenly I was running uphill with a following wind and being blown along so fast I could barely keep control. At some points it was very muddy but there was no opportunity to pick a route, the wind just said "on, on, on" and I got muddy, in some cases I had to jump small puddles, the wind pushed me to jumps that I think would be in with a medal chance in the Olympics. All this was going uphill, when I made it to the Elmscleugh road and started going down with a following wind and a tarmac road I really flew, 6.20 pace with very little effort, and before I knew it I was back in something approximating civilisation with the back of the run well and truly broken. Truly the wind is a mixed blessing.

I plodded on home for my 18 miles fairly pleased to have held it all together. I'm running a marathon next weekend around Kelso racecourse which should be a good test of where I'm at. I'm looking forward to trying a few different things in a small low key marathon so should be fun, but not sure how I'll cope mentally with the laps.

The wind

It's windy today. To be honest I live by the Scottish Coast, it's windy most days

So after 3 hard weeks, this was meant to be an easy week in my Highland Fling training. It hasn't gone that well for being easy. I've run less distance, but then I accidentally set a 10k personal  best (42:36 if you're the kind of person who is wondering) during my run the the club on Tuesday. And then was fairly close to a 5k best at the club handicap on Thursday. So much for lowering the intensity. That said it's nice to be running well, and it was great not to come last in the 5k handicap, which has been my fate the last three times.

So today was the day to get my easy week back on track. A nice easy 10 or so miles, nice and steady, come back feeling good. I decided to run to the power station and back - yes this is every bit as glamorous as it sounds, there is a cement factory and a landfill site and everything. But it's nice and flat.

The beautiful Scottish coast

I was kind of concious of the tail wind on the way out, and when I found myself being briefly pushed along a 7m/mile pace I kind of knew it was going to be a problem. But the trip home was horrendous. It was so hard to run. Sometimes the wind was head on, and I ended up going so slowly, sometimes it was from the side and I still ended up going slowly but with sore knees from my feet landing funny as they were blown out of kilter. Sometimes it rained and it was like running through angry bees.

Pace on the way out was just over 8m/mile on average, on the way back it was just under 9.5m/mile, and more worryingly my mental state just crumbled from nice and positive to really negative and fed up my anger and frustration at the wind opened the door for all sorts of self doubt. Sure didn't feel easy.

At least next week is supposed to be a hard week.

Recovering and returning

So after the Yorkshire marathon I took some time off to recover. Perhaps too much I was certainly out of action for longer than most of the people I know, but I wanted a rest and there didn’t seem any particular need to rush it. I took two weeks completely off, and didn’t run again until the Friday of the third week where I did 1.3 miles at 10 minute miles. It was another eight days before I ran again and I gradually started to build up the distance with a few short runs, before going to the club interval session for the first time almost 4 weeks after the race.

I think this all did me good. I felt like I’d done a lot of running and needed a rest so it was good to take some time off.

To get back into shape I decided to do the Marcothon, where you run every day in December for at least 3 miles or 25 minutes. I was keen to get to January in good shape to do some serious training for the fling so this seemed a great way of easing back in.

It was all going so well too. I made it to day 21 before I was forced to stop having done something unpleasant to my back while bending down to read the joke on a yoghurt to one of my children. This was extra maddening as I had a cold and had dragged myself around the night before in the rain just to keep the sequence going, and the joke wasn’t even that good. It was better in a week or so but the Marcothon spell was broken. That said I think it achieved the goal of getting back into shape.

The club offered a few interesting runs during December that are worthy of note. There was the festive half marathon. I’d intended to turn up dressed as santa and amble round, but sadly my santa suit didn’t arrive so I had to turn up dressed like a runner and actually run. I did this quite well for me, and were it not for a small navigational faux pas this would have been a comfortable PB. I was running nicely when the people who were close behind me suddenly vanished, I didn’t think too much of this at the time. It was 10 minutes later when I found myself running towards one of them down the road I realised something had gone awry. Sadly it was me, and I ended up running 13.05 miles in 1h37.  But the fact that I had sustained a sub 7.30 pace for pretty much a half marathon felt like a bit of a step forwards and I was pleased.

The was also the festive intervals treasure hunt, which was great fun, where my local knowledge rather than my speed meant I finished second, ahead of some much better runners who I’d never beat in a straight race.

And on Hogmanay the Black Bun run. A 1.3 mile dash starting and finishing at a pub. Not the kind of thing I’m supposed to be good at, so I was pleased with 9:48 and 8^th place, and also pleased to be the last in the pub.

So now I need to start getting more seriously ready for the fling. I’m up to 15 miles for my long run, and will take this up steadily over the coming weeks introducing some elements of back to back. My aim is to build to a longest session of 20 + 30 back to back. Logistically getting over to run on the route is proving a challenge so I’ll be training in the Lammermuirs and hoping this is similar enough.