Highland Fling 2018

The Highland Fling is one of Scotland's finest ultra marathons. It follows the first section of the West Highland Way from Milngavie (pronounced 'mull guy', kind of) to Tyndrum. The terrain varies between fast forestry tracks, smooth undulating trail, technical loch-side scrambling and stony single track. It also boasts the slickest organisation, with insanely smart attention to detail, that I've ever come across at a race.

After an 18 month long struggle with injuries, I was finally getting in some consistent training and at the end of last year signed up for three ultras: the D33, the Highland Fling and the West Highland Way. My training was going really well for the Fling and I even survived some short races donning my club vest for the Scottish Road Relays and then the English Road Relays. Short races off ultra training really hurt! Unfortunately, I brought a cold back from the latter two weeks before the Fling. Either that cold got worse or I picked up another on the week before the race.

Our family had had some really terrible news the previous week. It had brought into focus just how fragile life can be and I wanted to do what my cousin Virginia said: "enjoy running while you can, you don't know what's around the next corner". So I decided that as long as the head cold didn't go to my chest I would run, but perhaps not race.

Race day

I got up at 4.30 am for porridge and coffee. I had already measured out 50g of Tailwind into each of my 500ml flasks so just had to add water and put them back in their zip lock bags for each check point. I was starting with 750ml and carrying an additional Tailwind stick pack.

I walked to the station at 5.25 am and dropped off my drop bags before heading to the start.

The race was started by ultra legend Jez Bragg and we were off! I settled into an easy pace, keeping it easy on the inclines too. The route quickly leaves suburbia and heads into the countryside, it was quiet and peaceful. A few brief conversations drifted through the ebb and flow of runners. The mist slowly lifted off water and fields like the curtain in a theatre giving us glimpses of the countryside to come.

Before Drymen, and with plenty of warning, we had a kit check (mobile phone and foil blanket). This went really smoothly, I was stopped for perhaps 5 seconds, then on to the Drymen checkpoint where I refilled my bottle, adding Tailwind, and then headed on to the long climb to Conic Hill. At 8 am the forest animals were still busy about their morning routines, not expecting to be disturbed, so there was plenty to see and hear. Two red squirrels ran in front of me, one after the other, and a cuckoo sounded in the trees.

I wasn't feeling as fresh as I'd hoped, but I also wasn't feeling as bad as I was earlier in the week, so remained undecided about whether it was a race day or not. Out of the forest and onto the shoulder of Conic Hill I enjoyed the light breeze. On my recce on Easter Monday this section was into a strong, icy headwind.

I kept it easy descending Conic and was quickly into Balmaha where a check point marshall was holding my drop bag ready. I picked up another bottle of Tailwind and carried on. By now I knew I had a choice to make. My legs had felt pretty wooden on Conic and I was feeling the effects of my cold, my options were: try and race, possibly at the expense of my short term health, and have a miserable day; or ease off, treat it as a recce for the West Highland Way and enjoy every precious second. I picked option two and, although disappointed, I'm certain I made the right call.

Balmaha to Rowardennan is fairly straightforward running on good trail. At Rowardennan I picked up another bottle of Tailwind, this time a half-and-half mix of berry and raspberry (caffeinated). After Rowardennan we followed some fun, fast single track before taking the high road where the West Highland Way splits. We dropped back down to the loch side and more technical terrain, and some fabulous, snaky single-track to Inversnaid, where I picked up another bottle of Tailwind.

After Inversnaid there was less of the snaky and more of he technical, with some light scrambling. I was really careful on this section and every time I heard someone behind me I asked if they wanted to pass. I find it quite disconcerting when there's the sound of rocks scattering right behind me! On a less technical section a couple of men had caught up behind me so I picked up my pace a fraction. At a river I used the small stones to cross, and then slipped. I thumped down into the river on my hip, grazing and bruising my knee and giving myself a soaking. One of the guys immediately stretched out a hand and pulled me to my feet. I said thanks, turned around and ran head first into an overhanging branch. I was a bit surprised. I assured the guys I was okay as I didn't want them stopping their races when I wasn't badly hurt. I carried on but eased right back while I took stock. My hip was sore and my knee hurt with every footfall but I wasn't dizzy or changing my running style so I picked up again - I was (fall aside) having a great time but I didn't want to be out there all day... After leaving the loch we were back on smooth trail over rolling hills until Beinglas.

At Beinglas I got my knee washed and dressed, partly because it was still bleeding, but mostly because I knew coo poo alley was ahead and wanted it covered in case I fell in! I enjoyed a cup of Coke and picked up two bottles of Tailwind and some emergency veggie Colin the Caterpillars. This section of the West Highland Way isn't my favourite but it was a million times better than on my recce day when it snowed in my face and the ground was deep with icy slush. It was a very slow jog up to coo poo alley, which was even slower as it was lose-your-shoe-never-find-it-again deep. There is no reason for the cows to poo there, but they do, possibly exclusively. I'm 99% sure they watch and laugh. I had put my headphones on for the climb and I'm also 99% sure that I was the only person on the West Highland Way that day, up to my shins in Highland Coo poo listening to Noam Chomsky (a sample on the first (and still best) number one single of this millennium).

Around the next bend I came across 'Bogle Basecamp', a surprise support point managed by Graham Kelly and others (his photo). It was one of the pleasures of not being in race mode that I happily stopped for a minute for some Coke and atmosphere.

Throughout the day the vast majority of the walkers on the West Highland Way went out of their way to give us space (I thanked them profusely) and many had realised we had our names on our numbers. All the "well done Sophie"s, or "not far now Sophie"s over that last section were really uplifting. Having our names on our numbers was one of the many little things in the Fling that make the day so special. As I said, insanely smart attention to detail.

The final descent was painful, both knee and hip reminding me they were bruised with every step. The road crossing at the bottom was superbly marshalled. Anyone who had gathered speed on the downhill would have been caught by a wall of hi-vis marshals. I was only held for a couple of cars, then sent on my way. By now my body had decided that it didn't work anymore and certainly didn't know how to run. I jogged and hobbled my way along, walking the inclines (until walkers urged me to run!). Coming in to Tyndrum I could hear the bagpipes and people at the finish. I was suddenly completely overwhelmed with a torrent of mixed emotions. I was proud to have finished, happy to have had a good day, disappointed that I hadn't been able to race and then desperately sad for Virginia who deserves a different lot, but then proud that I had run, while I can.

As I hit the red carpet my legs sensed the finish line and suddenly remembered how to run again (I'll remember that next time they claim they've forgotten). I cried all the way down the finish, landing in the arms of a slightly bewildered Debbie.

It was long, it was painful, it was glorious and I can't wait to do it again!

A huge thank you to John, Noanie and all the superb marshals!