West Highland Way Race 2018
Relatively new to ultra running, I hadn't planned to move up to longer ultras so soon, but these things happen. The plan was to run the Fling, which covered the first 53 miles and then recce the second half. The Fling ended up being more recce than race as I went down with a cold. I then recced the second half of the route over two days, during a heat wave:
West Highland Way recce - Rannoch Moor from Sophie Mullins on Vimeo.
For the full West Highland Way I had two race plans. One was the Perfect Day Plan; the plan we would follow if everything went to plan. The other was simple: finish, preferably under 20 hours.
We registered early and then went back to the AirBnB to rest. I couldn't sleep but lay with my eyes closed listening to an audiobook. I got up at 11 pm and got the last few things together. Just after midnight we headed back to the station. I was feeling excited more than anything - and a bit tired after a week of broken sleep.
West Highland Way race start 2018 from Sophie Mullins on Vimeo.
There was a moving tribute to Scottish ultra legend Don Ritchie and then Ian counted us down and we were off. Milngavie high street was lined with people trying to cheer quietly and sending us on our way. Then we had turned off onto trails: darkness and chatter between runners. After a while I was joined by fellow Fife AC athlete Morgan Windram Geddes and we ran together. I knew Morgan was super experienced at long ultras so I followed her lead hiking the steeper climbs, even though I felt good.
The first chance to see our crews came at Drymen. It was impossible to tell who was who in the dark as we were running at a wall of head torches. I nearly missed mine but grabbed a bottle and carried on. Morgan took a little longer but caught back up fairly soon. We ran together through the woods and on to Conic Hill. The view of the Loch in the moonlight with the sun beginning to rise was beautiful. I struggled a bit descending Conic in the low light. The trail emerged from the stillness into Balmaha where there was a huge crowd of crews. Fortunately Jez grabbed me as I couldn't find my crew in the crowd! Morgan and I excited the checkpoint together. When we got into the woods I opened a small gap and tried to stretch it because I needed a pee stop. Morgan passed when I stopped and disappeared up the trail. Approaching Rowardennan I saw the first of several headless marshals. The midges were terrible so everyone was wearing dense midge nets with hats and hoodies pulled up. I took my Tailwind while slapping at midges and set off. After Rowardennan we took the low road along the loch side. The trail is fairly technical with lots of rocks and roots. I was feeling quite sleepy by now and regretting not taking on some caffeine. Just ahead there was a nice line of rocks marking the edge of the trail by the loch side.
Bang! I lay face down on the nice line of rocks, taking stock. My shin hurt. A lot. My knee, toe, hand and ribs hurt too. My soft flask had burst. I staggered to my feet and tried to put weight on both feet. My shin hurt. I looked down at the massive swelling on my shin. It definitely didn't look good. Was this it? Had I really just ended my race with a stupid fall at mile 30? I tried walking on it. A runner came through and asked if I was okay. "Yes, I'm fine". I touched my ribs and tried a few deep breaths. Hurty but not broken. My left knee was bleeding but not badly. I started walking, then jogging.
I saw a herd of black goats bathing in the loch. I could see them really clearly until I got right next to them and realised I was saying "good morning" to bits of wood.
At Inversnaid a medic had a look at my leg. I said my knee was fine until Fort William (by then the layer of fibrin should have covered it and the blood has clotted) but I was worried about my shin. The doctor asked a few questions, put pressure on the shin, pushed the foot back and confirmed that it was unlikely to be a boney injury. He suggested a light compression bandage, the right size of which he didn't have on him (when I registered and was weighed I was told I was the lightest entry they'd ever had and only just made it onto their weight loss/gain tables). My crew had first aid kits and included a sports therapist in Jez so I said I'd be fine until Beinglas.
I waited until I knew my crew would be there, not wanting to wake them if they'd managed to sleep (they hadn't). I rang Mum and said that the run was still on but the race was over. So no more formula 1 pit stops, just get me to the end. I asked for Jez to be ready with light compression bandages.
Then I hit the deck again, just a normal trail fall (grazed and swollen right knee, scraped arm) but it worried me. I wasn't lifting my left foot properly because the pain in my shin was so intense when I flexed the toes up. Consequently I was repeatedly stubbing the toe, stumbling and - now - falling. How was I going to make it to Fort William? It was going to be a very long day. I had already dropped 8 places between the fall and Beinglas and runners kept passing me. As the blood had snaked around the back of my leg most of them asked if I was okay.
At Beinglas Jez got to work on my leg while Mum and Dad tried to feed and water me. Jez secured the compression bandage with kinesio tape which was inspired because it meant the bandage was really secure but also stretched enough.
Heading out the checkpoint as the stiffness wore off so did the pain in my shin. It was like night and day, I could run again! I was beside myself with happiness as I ran up the trail, trotting up much of the final steep climb. I rang my crew to warn them I was incoming as they certainly wouldn't be expecting me. I beat my own Beinglas to Kirkton Farm PR by 9 minutes (set on a much shorter run!) and ran into Auchtertyre grinning. In my delight at being able to run again I hadn't been too focused on drinking. My two bottles of Tailwind were half full. I swapped one of the them for a full one and glugged some Coke. Minutes later I threw up the Coke on the side of the road. Lesson learned to use caffeinated Tailwind instead... The lost bottle from the fall at mile 30 combined with the failure to drink after Beinglas meant the inevitable bonk was coming. From Tyndrum to Bridge of Orchy I felt awful. Nicola Adams Hendry caught me and asked if I was okay. "Yes". I tried to run with her but my body was right on the edge. She was cruising and I was certain she would move up the field. At Bridge of Orchy I sat down and was fed porridge by my crew. I managed 3 spoonfuls. I requested stronger Tailwind for Victoria Bridge and was given a 1/4 hummus sandwich to eat on the climb out of BoO. I was delighted to see Bob who proceeded to take photos of my war wounds, while laughing. Bob was convinced I'd be back again next year but I said no as I apparently can't get from Balmaha to Inversnaid without throwing myself on the rocks (every time!). Yes, I have already changed my mind (but first I'm getting prescription running glasses...).
I hiked up Jelly Baby Hill and declined a Jelly Baby (they're not vegan, *sad face emoji*) but enjoyed the rendition of Chariots of Fire. I had asked my crew to meet me at Victoria Bridge to break up the long stretch from BoO to Glencoe. I grabbed a bottle of stronger Tailwind and carried on. I was feeling much better and moving fairly well. I passed lots of walkers and was passing runners when a runner flowed by like a gazelle. Startled I said "well done" before realising it was Marco Consani out for a run, not in the race (if he'd been racing he would have been long gone!). He told me I looked the best of everyone he had passed which lifted my spirits considerably. I then spent ten minutes wondering if his relatives had come to Scotland from Northern Italy. There were two waves of migration, my own ancestors came across from Barga in the first. I spent the next ten minutes wondering if Marco had told everyone they looked the best.
The light was dancing on the water across from Rannoch Moor and the mountainsides were impossibly green, and folded like velvet. It was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. For a while it absorbed my pain. I felt the deepest sense of happiness, that I was there despite the fall, but more because I once thought running had been taken from me forever and it had broken my heart. To be there on that trail, in one of the most iconic ultra marathons, with my friends and family meant everything.
Passing another group of hikers I suddenly spotted Morgan in the middle of them. It is perhaps a phenomenon unique to longer ultras that when overtaking a competitor whose race appears to be over your first thoughts are for them and not your own position. Morgan had run at least 65 miles and I really felt for her. The hikers confirmed they were looking after her and Morgan said Lee was coming to get her.
I hate the little climb up to Glencoe Mountain Resort checkpoint, mostly because it's a (tiny!) out and back away from the West Highland Way. I had resolved to run it not hike it. You can't let your crew see you hike into a checkpoint! Arriving, I couldn't see my crew so went to the dibber. Still no crew. I called out for them and got shouted at by a handsome Jack Russell Terrier. Eventually I found Mum at the car. I had, apparently, run too fast! Mum phoned Dad and Jez who ran back to the car. Jez told me I had to take a long sleeve top, gloves and windproof jacket up Devil's Staircase. I said didn't want to. It wasn't up for debate though. So, more Tailwind and I would get extra clothes at the foot of Devil's Staircase.
I trotted off down the road, triple checked the road crossing and trotted on. Turning north west into the headwind made that section hard work but I knew my crew had binoculars so kept trotting on... At the foot of the Devil's Staircase I got my jacket, top and gloves. I'm a proper weirdo: I had been looking forward to this climb all day. I love it, it was packed with hikers and I said "hello!" exuberantly to them as I passed, with their heavy packs and boots it looked hard work. Walkers descending kept offering first aid and then looking shocked when I said, thanks but my knees would be fine until Fort William! I hiked and jogged to the top then tried to urge my legs to run. I kicked a few rocks and cried out in pain. By now I strongly suspected that my big toe was no longer entirely in possession of its nail. Transitioning from hike/jog to run was becoming increasingly difficult but my legs were still, eventually, responding. I love that section of trail before the hellish descent into Kinlochleven.
The drop to Kinlochleven is just steep enough to make your quads howl like babies on an aeroplane. I took my mind off the quad pain by kicking rocks with my possibly-toenail-less big toe. Then I saw Bob taking photos, which was a much better distraction than kicking rocks. He told me it was only 15 minutes down to the checkpoint. I think he might have been lying but I had begun to lose track of time. It was a good lie anyway. 15 minutes is okay I thought, 15 minutes to Mum, Dad and Jez.
I ran into the checkpoint and got on the scales. 45. I hugged Sarah, the race director of the first ultra I ran. Then I sat down while my crew tended to their by now slightly spacey runner who was mostly just smiling and not actually concentrating. Fortunately my exhausted crew were focused: I was given my Garmin as my Suunto battery was getting low and a charged iPod shuffle. I also packed my Petzl E-lite because even though I had several hours of daylight I had never run this far, hadn't been eating enough and at 27g it's far smarter to take it just in case. Same was true of gloves and my windproof jacket. I mentioned how sore my toe was but refused a shoe and sock change. I was by now certain that my toe was Not Good and frankly didn't want to know how bad. I walked out of the checkpoint - the first time I hadn't run out all day. My legs had really stiffened up. When I rejoined the road I started to shuffle and then finally run/jog. The hike up through the woods was a relief and I joined or was joined by (can't remember!) Neal. We chatted all the way to the top then forced our tired legs to start running again. I had started my Garmin at the checkpoint, before the Suunto died so I would know how far it was to Lundavra. I thought it was 6.5 miles, Neal was sure it was 7.5. He was right. The stoney road didn't feel so long with company though, although we occasionally drifted apart and then back together. When we were apart I was enjoying Nirvana, Radiohead and the Manics on my iPod, to keep my spirits up.
I didn't stop where Jeff Smith (Wilderness Response) had set up a table with fizzy drinks in the middle of nowhere. I wasn't 100% sure he wasn't a hallucination and I had Tailwind.
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| With my new trail pal, Neal. |
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| Coming into Lundavra (pic: Debbie Martin Consani) |
I turned off the road and saw the finish arch. Adrian clocked me in, then my crew piled in. We had made it! The plan had been to head off to eat before showering but Sean, the race medic, suggested I shower there and then he could look at my injuries. This was a great idea because after the shower I suddenly went from totally hyper to about to pass out. After lying down for a few minutes I reverted to hyper and poor Sean had to treat me while I babbled away. The hematoma had gone right down thanks to the compression bandage, the cuts to my knees weren't deep but the toe nail was pretty gross. We are so lucky in Scotland to have such a great team of medics at our ultras. They do their utmost to get everyone to the finish, and fix you when you get there with zero fuss or drama.
The prize giving ceremony at the West Highland Way is an incredible experience. Every single runner is presented with an engraved crystal goblet. This absolutely sums up the ethos and atmosphere of this race. It is so friendly and we all have the upmost respect for each others' efforts. I had a tear in my eye when my friend Wilson collected his as he has been through an awful couple of weeks and must have had a very emotional race. What an absolute champ he is! Almost every runner - and their crews - came to the prize giving so it was quite spectacular. It just feels so right for everyone to celebrate together with the other runners and also with their crew. Being part of the West Highland Way race is a privilege.
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| Super crew! |
As this was the longest race I'd ever done, by over 30 miles, I decided to raise sponsorship for Lumos, the charity that helps keep children out of orphanages by supporting families to keep them or take them back. You can help by sponsoring.
95 miles
15,000 ft
55 mins in checkpoints (including bandaging!)
19 hr 41 mins
2,480 cals consumed (mostly Tailwind)
85% grinning like an idiot
3rd lady, 19th person
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