West Highland Way: 2009 Race - Kinlochleven to Fort William

I was led into the checkpoint, weighed and led out again, over to the community centre where they had some rest facilities, including a small kitchen and some crash mats on the floor.

I laid down on a crash mat, stretched out my legs, and relaxed in absolute bliss.

I was aware of Hendo talking to the others outside the main hall, but couldn’t hear what was being said. I knew they were talking about me, and wanted to know what they were saying, but had no energy to get up and walk over to them.

Then I heard someone come in and start clearing the tables next to me.

Then blackness…

I heard Siouxsie’s voice, gently telling me to wake up. Phew. As with most mornings recently, I’d had horrible dreams, and as with most mornings, I spent my first few waking minutes trying to recall them.

This time it was about having a horrible run on the WHW. Thank goodness I was awake now.

Then I saw Hendo. Hang on, this was like my dream. Just like my dream in fact. And in my dream I was lying on a hall floor. I looked around me, at the hall floor, and Hendo and Siouxsie, and suddenly felt terribly upset and confused.

Where was I? Had I died? Was this some kind of heaven or hell? What was happening?

I was gently informed that I hadn’t dreamt the run, that I’d been asleep for half an hour, and that I now had to get up in order to leave the checkpoint before it closed. I then had just 14 miles to cover to finish the race.

I still wasn’t convinced they were telling the truth, but didn’t have the energy to argue, so I got up, got ready, and had half a spoonful of the most disgusting soup ever. Then I was ready.

I was still mightily confused, and I saw Steve looking battered and asking for painkillers. Immediately panic set in. What was wrong with him? Had he hurt himself? Did he need to go to hospital? I was reassured that everything was fine, then I spied Santa, looking much less bouncy than usual, and it then was time for me to go over to the checkpoint and inform them I was leaving.

Waited by the side of the road for the crew, and two guys were waiting with me. Turns out these were the sweepers, and I was officially last.

Never mind, I didn’t care where I finished, as long as I finished. We had 7 hours to cover 14 miles. A ridiculously long amount of time, yet I wasn’t sure I would make it.

The route out of Kinlochleven starts with a long climb. Usually I dislike it, but today I felt ok. Although we’d only stopped for a short while, in my head we’d stopped for the night and today was a new day. I can’t say I felt full of energy, but the overwhelming exhaustion had subsided.

The sweepers were with us every step, and feeling crowded, Steve asked them how we could get rid of them. ‘Overtake someone’ was the response. And as we neared the top of the climb, and the moor opened out in front of us, we saw half a dozen other runners who had left Kinlochleven before us.

Game on.

A quickish march, and we had overtaken them. Said goodbye to the sweepers, and we were off.

The Lairig Mor amuses me, because I should love it, but I always find it really tough going. Maybe that’s inevitable as it’s so close to the end, and you have done so much to get there.

This time we dawdled along as quickly as a dawdle can be.

I was relaxed about the time, as I knew that if we kept going at the current pace we would have a couple of hours spare. What I wasn’t so confident of, was actually keeping going. My foot was really hurting, I still kept turning my ankle, and I knew it was only a matter of time before the effort and exhaustion caught up with me again.

Sure enough, as we neared the end of the Lairig Mor, I kept having to stop and close my eyes again.

I knew that the final checkpoint at Lundavra was just around the corner from the Lairig Mor, where the WHW turns right, but I’d forgotten how far down the track it was, and how bumpy the track was. Santa and Steve were convinced that this was going to be another mythical Kinlochleven, and that there actually was no such place as Lundavra.

But eventually there it was. And as the cars couldn’t come right up to the checkpoint, the brilliant Hendo and Siouxsie had brought chairs up so that we could rest awhile.

Resting at final checkpoint

Again I stayed here for too long, and most of the people who we’d overtaken that morning passed us by. I still didn’t care.

This was now our challenge, it was about me and my crew completing the race. It was nothing to do with bettering anyone else. Just finishing would be reward enough.

After leaving Lundavra, there was the final climb, before heading into the forest of Glen Nevis. I knew that would be the last sustained effort, as although the forest is very undulating, it’s short, steep climbs rather than a slog.

Into the forest, and both Santa and Steve were enchanted by it, as I had been the first time, it was over all too quickly, and we headed down onto the long descent to the road.

I’d forgotten how long this was, and it pretty much broke me this time. I’d seen the blond lady running down ahead of me, but I had no energy. I stumbled along, struggling to put one foot in front of the other, and frequently held onto Steve for a few seconds whilst I shut my eyes. As we got further down, the need for rest became more stronger, and I had to sit on some logs for a moment until the midgies started attacking.

This was perhaps the most frustrating part, at least for Santa and Steve – we were just two miles away from the finish, yet I kept stopping to rest. But I needed to – I was absolutely done in.

But even with the rests, we made it to the road in plenty of time to get to the finish before the cut off. That was all that mattered now – making the cut off and recording a completion.

The trudge along the road was actually better than usual, as we had some crew cars going past and cheering, as well as our own car waiting for us at the entrance to the Braveheart carpark.

Almost finished

‘1.1 miles to go’ Hendo cheerfully announced. Which was met not by smiles of relief, but groans, as we though it was only half a mile away. Yes, half a mile really does make a difference, even over 95 miles.

But as we ploughed on, the houses started to come into view, and the roundabout, and the ‘official’ end of the WHW, where Hendo was waiting for us, and then it was almost time to rest.