pre-scriptum:
I don’t expect the logistics to be of interest to you. But at least I know
where to find them if TripIt fails!
Right then – short one, this one. I
hope.
Got a race on Saturday. Therein lies a
cue that some runners will pick up on regarding the type of race. Most races
take place on Sundays… still affording tramps like us the time to recover
enough to put in a shift the following day…
…whereas Saturday’s (not ‘Sunday’s’) is
one of those where the word ‘race’ is totally inappropriate, but still gets
used through lack of alternatives. Few runners enter any competition over any
distance to win, but can at least enjoy a race against themselves and against
time. But on ‘races’ like Saturday’s, even time is of relatively little interest…
it’s all about finishing…
Yup, it’s one of them Ultra things!
It’s the Highland
Fling,
to be accurate. Or the Hoka
Highland Fling Ultramarathon, to pay the sponsors their dues. It’s
a 53-mi run along the lower half of the West Highland Way.
Good old Wikipedia
tells us that “the route is commonly walked in seven to eight days,
although many fitter and more experienced walkers do it in five or six”. Well,
just as well we’re only doing 53 of the 96 miles then, because unless we’re at
least 40.9mi in eleven and a half hours we won’t be allowed to continue!
Now, you won’t be getting a day-by-day
account of the week building up to it, as I recently wrote
for Manchester. And that’s not out of superstition:
quite simply, that was a marathon. I was fine-tuning pace, keeping a close eye
on each and every mile split, contemplating implications and permutations of
every additional second per mile. Saturday’s all about getting round. Whereas
for a marathon a minute either way is a big deal, come Tyndrum I won’t be
fussed about how many hours it’s taken us. As long as we get to Tyndrum!
From a running perspective, I do
genuinely believe Ultras to be simpler affairs. Not ‘easier’ as such, nor ‘less
painful’, rather ‘simpler’ on the brain. What the day itself lacks in
complexity, however, it more than makes up for in the packing stakes…
especially with regards to food!
What food do you need for a marathon?
Some carb-heavy food for carbloading, maybe a pre-race energy bar, something
sweet (ShotBloks, jelly babies… whatever!)… maybe some gels… and you’re about
sorted! Critically, you can run a decent marathon with just something like
ShotBloks on you and rehydrating at the official stations. I know that because
that’s how I’ve run my two 3:31’ maras. Whereas figuring out what food to pack
for an ultra…
…let’s put it this way: I expect to set
off on Saturday morning (at half past blinkin’ six!) with granola, flapjack,
chocolate and energy bars and the ubiquitous ShotBloks. Oh, and water. I
equally plan to have drop-bags containing cold pizza, pork pies and bananas waiting
for me at the designated stops in Balmaha (20mi in), Rowardennan (27),
Inversnaid (34) and Beinglas (41). And defizzed Coke for the final
half-marathon… Whatever you’ve learnt about in-race nutrition for marathons
goes out of the window in the land of Ultras! If you glanced in our fridge
right now you’d think we were planning one mightily unhealthy party!
I signed up for the Fling on October 6,
2013, having run Chester
Marathon only a few hours prior… not on the spur of a moment but because
entries only opened that day! Mike had labelled it as a “natural step up” for
me after we’d run the High
Peak Challenge (40mi) together and the challenge appealed to me. There were
the usual despairing groans amongst my nearest and dearest, although these have
turned to something akin to jealousy over recent days as I’ve shared with them
some pictures from Mike
and Trevor’s
blogs and allowed them to take in some of the scenery we should be able to
enjoy. Aye, because the route runs “through the scenic Loch Lomond &
Trossachs National Park to the Scottish Highland village of Tyndrum”. Then they
remember the “running 53 miles” bit and any jealousy swiftly disappears…
…but if you are going to run 53 miles,
why not along the West Highland Way? My sole experiences of Scotland to date
are a day-trip to Montrose with a flying visit (!) to an offshore oil rig and a
night in Glasgow for a Joe D’Urso gig. I
really should get up there more often, but a) it’s a long way and b) it’s too
tempting to stop halfway, not least on the Plymouth-Edinburgh train that stops
in Sheffield… Just as well there’s crazy stuff like The Fling, eh?
Right, let’s get this out of the way:
is it sane to run a 53-mile race three weeks after a mid-run epileptic seizure?
Firstly: is it sane to run a 53-mi race
regardless? Quite possibly not. Then you can skip the next couple of paragraphs.
Look: all joking aside, I’m a
responsible human being. I love my running but it comes after my family. When
the paramedic looked at me in
the ambulance in Manchester and asked me if I had any other races planned,
he was only asking me a question I had anticipated. I said all along I was
lucid quickly… and I had already decided that, should the conversation arise,
I’d listen to his advice and most likely follow it. The fact that his response
was “I see no reason why you shouldn’t run that” just made it all the easier to
do so.
It is also worth qualifying that I’m
not disappearing into the Scottish wilderness alone. That could only too easily
result in a new myth, say that of The Balmaha Hairy Git ( the ‘Balmahairy’?):
and, quite frankly, Scottish tourism is doing well enough out of ‘Nessie’.
Mythology aside, it would be daft. Not just in terms of being alone in the
event of any injury or illness, in themselves no small details: but daft for
the strain that spending such a long amount of time in isolation whilst
expanding energy would put on any mind, and daft because…
…well, why would you?
Why would you spend hours on end in
beautiful scenery in total isolation when you could share that experience with
kindred spirits? And that’s just for the good bits. There will be less
beautiful bits, as well as a lot of painful bits where, for all the pre-race
excitement, carrying on will not seem the most appealing (or sensible) option.
Bits when a helping hand and a boosting word will go a long way. And,
hopefully, so will we.
It’s Thursday. I fly up tomorrow,
leaving home around 11:00. Meeting Bumblebee
and Bear (you’ve read “Fat
Man To Green Man”, right?) at Bristol Airport: have never met them, but it
doesn’t feel that way. 12:45 departure, 14:00 arrival – with, hopefully, my
checked-in bag having been on the safe flight. Will check in at the Milngavie
Premier Inn, relax, read a little, meet Marco (a Bologna native now living
in Glasgow) (one of those “pre-running friends” of mine!) around 15:30 and, at
some point around 6pm, head to The
Burnbrae for registration, a bite or two – and, most importantly, to meet
up with my fellow runners, be they folk I know and have run with before, folk
whom I’ve never met but whose Twitter handle I know or… well, other folk. Then
bed because…
…race o’clock is 6:00 (!) on Saturday,
with the promise of the fish and chips Mike’s been going on about for months at
The Real Food Café my
reward. Aye, it’s really just one, long chippierun at the end of the day…
right?
There’ll be eating, there’ll be dancing…
there’ll be a “traditional Ceilidh at the Village
Hall”. How can you beat that of a Saturday night? I bet I’ll sleep well
after that… once Sarah and Mike have kindly detoured to drop me off at the Crianlarich Hotel. Then, assuming I
can get up in the morning, I might just nip out for a streaksaver before
catching the bus to Glasgow Airport at 12:28 from “Crianlarich Layby near
toilets” – providing it’s not late (ETA 13:42) and I don’t miss my flight (ETD
14:45) I’ll be home around 5pm.
Yup. It’s going to be a whirlwind…
…and it’s going to change my life.
Because I suspect running 53 miles isn’t something you forget that quickly; and
I’ll be sharing that with people like Mike, Andrew and Martin, having run the High Peak 40 with
Mike and (for the most part) Martin, Chester Marathon 2013 (for the most part)
with Andrew and Manchester Marathon 2014 (for the most part) with Mike. I’ve
never seen any of those guys outside of races. But I tell you this: I know I
can count on them. They’ve got my back. And I’ve got theirs. We take care of our own. As does our fabulous support crew of Martin and
Mike’s other halves, Sue and Sarah, who give up their weekend so that tramps
like us can live out our dreams a tad more easily than in full ‘unsupported’
mode. It really means a lot – thank you!
Running as a solo pursuit? Not a team
sport?
Hey, you know at what time of day I
run. Sometimes in winter I’m the only person out there, let alone the only
runner. I’ve run up the
Alps at 4am, I’ve (twice now) celebrated New Year by going out for a run at
00:01. But that’s in the name of convenience. Even I prefer running in a pack.
Sharing the experience, knowing someone will help me and hoping I’ll be able to
help if needed. It’s a beautiful feeling, one that gives running such a far
more complete feeling than those on the outside think we get by just putting
one foot in front of the other. And I can but dream as to how that will work
over 53 miles.
As I said, just a short one…
…whatever happens from this point on, I
suspect I’ll be committing some thoughts and emotions to the screen in due
course. Now that could be a long one. And with pictures, hopefully…
…because this is going to be epic. Heck,
this might be the time that Karen truly ‘gets’ why people I see so rarely are
now amongst my closest and most dependable friends. I think the penny’s started
to drop – but another 53 miles should seal it…
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