The Race of Champions!!!

When I was first invited to take part in the Racing the Planet Namib Race : The Race of Champions I was not keen. The organisation was inviting back all the winners of previous 4 Deserts races to this one event so that there would be some good healthy competition and reunions of sorts. I won the Atacama Crossing back in 2010, which is some considerable time ago, and when I actually received the invite, it was when I wasn't running or exercising at all, as I was trying to sort my fractures and RED-S. The organisers assured me that it would be fine to take part on a purely walking basis (though I wasn't sure if my ego would allow that) and my friend Diana (a tent mate from the Atacama who had won 2 Racing the Planet events herself) persuaded me that it would be a good chance to catchup, as we hadn't seen each other in years.

What was to come...

Although I was back running again when the event came around, I knew that I was not nearly as fit or as fast as I had been in the past. My weekly mileage was half of what is used to be, and I have worked at remaining heavier (and therefore slower) as my health is more important than my speed. I did manage 2 specific "training runs" in that I ran from my house to a local forest, did a loop and ran home again (about 16 miles in total) wears a backpack on 2 occasions. This probably had the opposite of the desired effect on my confidence as these runs were rather slow and were punctuated by a few breaks along the way. Still, as I'd agreed to go all the way out there, I was going to run as much as I felt able, and hoped that might still be enough to finish about 5th in the ladies' field.

I've described my nightmare trip out there (and all the issues with last minute kit and food finding), and you can read reports on line in other places, so I'll just try to mention a few things that stood out on individual days.

Pre-race

My tent - the SS Charles Elliot

Having chased the rest of the race down (at breakneck speeds on the dirt roads up the Namib coast), I got to camp shortly before dark. I then had to do a speedy kitcheck - and have my food supply for the week calorie counted. Luckily there were already people disposing of food that they had brought so I managed to swop a few heavy cereal bars for a couple of lighter dehydrated meals. Diana had decided against coming so this meant that I didn't actually know anyone else running (as it turns out, there was actually a guy from Scotland who came over and reminded me that we'd met at a party in Edinburgh some years before). Di and I were meant to be in a tent with 5 guys, but luckily they were extremely friendly and made me welcome.

My prerace meal wasn't exactly textbook, consisting of food I'd scavenged from the airlines and airport lounges on my way there, but it tasted fine and I was so tired that I hardly noticed my lack of thermorest when I lay down to sleep.

Day 1 (officially 43k but my watch measured it as nearer 49k.....which was an indication of how the distances would pan out for most of the week so I started to ignore it)

And they're of....

All on my own....

It was rather chilly and misty at the start but we knew we'd soon warm up so I started as I meaned to continue, in shorts and tshirt (though I didn't throw away my extra "free" BA tshirt until the last minute). Some eager beavers raced off but I started (as usual) near the back of the field. Initially I ran and chatted with Simon (one of my tentmates) but then he dropped back and I caught up to Mark (another tentmate) and so we passed a few kms together. I didn't feel that I was running very fast or well, but gradually reeled people in over the course of the day.

Chasing down those ahead

Green bibs=former race "champions"

I was about 23rd at the first checkpoint, but just before the 3rd one, I passed Claire (also from GB) who completely shocked me by telling me that she had been the leading lady. The last section seemed rather long and hot, but others were obviously struggling more than me (maybe their fast starts caught up with them) as I passed a few more guys and finished in 6th position overall, first in my tent.

Upgrading from green to yellow!

I know that I don't drink very much when running, but a total of 500ml over the whole day was definitely not enough (especially as I'd been carrying way more than that all the way) and I had a slight headache for most of the afternoon and evening (though the sleep deprivation of the previous few days probably also played a part in that).

It was fun to sit around camp and chat by the fire pits in the late afternoon/evening but everyone ate their dinner early (I had some very heavy cheese sandwiches that night as I thought eating those first would lighten my load rather more than the lightweight dehydrated meal packets) and turned in soon after it got dark.

Day 2 (a slightly shortened route as we were thankfully rerouted to avoid some lions under a bridge we were due to cross)

Morning running along the beach

Another cool and chilly start, but my tentmates and I had wandered down to the sea the night before and spotted the marker flags that told us we'd be running up the beach first thing, so we knew it would be relatively hard work and so we'd warm up.

Some of the "scenery" of the day

Claire had been quite upset and weepy on the startline and asked me if we could run together, but then (maybe due to my usual slow start) she disappeared off into the distance as soon as we were under way. The stretch on the beach was in relatively soft sand, so a couple of fellow runners and I opted for a slightly longer route nearer the sea, as this meant we had slightly harder sand to run on. I think I passed quite a lot of people by doing this, but it's a moot point as to whether it was due to terrain/route choice (as we only had about a short distance on the beach), or if I'd just warmed up and got into my stride.

Not loving the mudflats - neither
the wet nor the dry ones!

From the beach we headed across mudflats, which I really didn't like. It looked like a nice firm surface to run on, but the mud was slightly wet and so stuck like glue to the soles of your shoes and they got heavier and heavier with each step (my tentmates later told me that it was much easier a bit further back in the field as those going ahead had cleared the way of loose mud). I ended up running this section with a Rich (a Brit living in Hong Kong) who'd finished ahead of me on the first day. Chatting away made the time fly and we ended up staying together for a couple of checkpoints (though I confess to having to work rather hard as we crossed dry rutted mud flats later as his stride length seems to navigate the unstable footing much more easily than my baby steps).

Camp looked a bit like a scene from Star Wars

It seemed to me as if people started to flag again from about checkpoint 3 as suddenly Rich was no longer with me and I could now see a couple of men running together away in the distance ahead of me. Rich later told me that it seemed to him that I actually sped up I the latter stages and I certainly opened up a gap without realising it, so that I managed a bit of a sit down and drink on the finish before getting up to take my turn on the "welcome drum" for when he came in.

Not a bad location though

That camp ringed by dunes and was beautiful in the setting sun, and we all enjoyed watching some jackals roaming around nearby in the evening light (thankfully no lions though). The soft sand was also a lot comfier for me to lie on (my hips were definitely objecting to the lack of sleeping mat).




Day 3 - one to put you off beach holidays!



This day did seem like and endless run along beaches, though it was probably to be expected as the event had been advertised with the slogan (run along the famous Skeleton Coast).....but 23k of beach was nearly the end of me!

Morning concentration from my tentmates

Lovely...more beaches

I spent the first stretch of beach running with Jamie so the miles ticked by as we chatted away. The run itself was part endurance and part sprint training. As the easiest sand to run on was just at the water's edge but we had to keep doing sprints up the beach to avoid getting our feet soaked by the waves. There wasn't much to see as the usual cool morning sea mist was ever present and the actual "skeletons" were rather disappointing. There are meant to be many shipwrecks along the coast and so the skeletons of the boats eerily remain in the sand, but we actually only saw 1 mast....and more natural skeletons (as we were entering seal territory). The seals were quite fun as they really didn't seem to object to you running really close to their colonies....but o the smell wasn't exactly Chanel No 5!

Back on my own again - was my chat that bad?

It was nice to leave the beach for some harder packed terrain but the route soon headed back to the sea. I ran alone for most of the day but could see a couple of figures a long way ahead. Initially three guys had been running together but one had dropped off the pace. I caught up to him just as we hit the last long beach strength, but then was really surprised to see him arriving at CP3 just ahead of me........from a different direction, as he'd avoided the whole beach and found a dirt road/track to run along. The marshals at the CP asked me to confirm that he'd not been ahead of me on the beach as he was very likely to get a time penalty for course cutting.

Well - I had some company!

I don't think that he had any qualms about course cutting as the next section zigzagged backwards and forwards across rocky outcrops and climbs, and rather than following the little flags to the left and the right, he appeared to just spot the guys ahead and make a beeline for them.

I stopped for a comfort break and lost him from sight, and so there was no temptation to do the same thing - hence I was a good girl and followed the route (though the flags weren't that easy to spot in the light and the wind).


The description of the last section was "cross an open windy plain (nb it is usually a headwind)" seemed a bit of overkill as the first plain was relatively short.....but then I hit the real one. It was endless, and gradually climbed for the whole distance. It was featureless and unforgiving with the wind whipping gravel and other particles into your face. I could still see the two runners on the horizon, and I would desperately hope they'd drop out of sight as that would surely signal the end of the plain but they just stayed there forever. I caught up to Santiago (again) and this time he remained behind me (he must have really wanted to stay ahead to make him go off route earlier, but then again it must have been disheartening for him as it was the third consecutive day that I'd caught him between CP3 and the finish.


There were some marshals after about 8k or so of the plain, but I was rather disappointed when they weren't sure how far away camp was....I hoped they'd say "just over that rise" but their answers varied from " a few kms" to "5k". Luckily is was just a couple of K, so I managed to push on (the figures in front grew bigger and formed into proper runners) and almost fell down the last sand bank into camp (not sunbathing weather for the rest of the afternoon but then tents provided nice shelter from the wind).



Day 4 - the long day (and the hottest day)



I definitely struggled on Day 4...in fact I almost lost the will to live partway through the day!

Trying to keep my hands warm whilst
listening to the day's runbrief

The day started (as usual) cool and relatively misty. Initially I was running along chatting happily to Ben (British living in Hong Kong) and Rod (from Sydney) but soon Ben dropped back and it was just the two of us. We then caught up to Jamie who'd started off strongly and had a brief chat before moseying on. I knew that Rod was quicker than me as he'd been ahead on every day so far (one of the pair that I'd seen away in the distance at the end of every day) but he seemed happy to take it easy....even waiting at one of the checkpoints whilst I nipped behind a vehicle for a comfort break (there's not much shelter to hide behind in the middle of the Namib desert).

A rose between two thorns (sorry Rod and Ben!)

I found it harder and harder going at the day progressed and the heat increased and the breeze dwindled to nothing, but he stuck with me and encouraged me to run when I could but take the walk breaks I wanted (to be fair I wanted to walk a lot more than run). The checkpoint staff were all making sure that we were carrying at least 2 litres of water every time we left them, but I admit to pouring a good deal of this over my head to try to cool off. I knew that my face was becoming more and more red as Rod kept asking me if I wanted some sunscreen. I'm not usually much of a coke drinker but we were each given a cold can at one of the checkpoints - and it was one of the best things that I'd tasted in a long time....though I was worried that we would then get a time penalty for "outside assistance"!!

It certainly looks like I'm just
trailing along behind Rod

I was really bothered about the fact that I'd been completely slowing Rod down so when he asked me if I was ready to leave one of the checkpoints in the second half of the day, I told him that I needed a longer sit down and to go on without me. The marshals then told me that Claire was approaching and so basically got me out of there on my way. I could see Rod's silhouette off in the distance, but whenever I started to try to ruin, I felt like I was going to be sick. I could not get my core temperature down, no matter how much I drunk/poured over my head - and that always makes me feel really nauseated. It was so bad that I could not even stand having my rucksack waist strap done up, so I resolved to just take it steadily and keep walking onwards, ever onwards.

I was ready to cheer on and support anyone who passed me, as I couldn't be bothered to think about being competitive...I decided that I'd rather take it really slowly and finish than push a bit faster and risk a DNF (after all, with these events, there are no prizes...just a finisher's medal...or nothing for a DNF).

Ditched again

Even when Rich appeared behind me and told me that Claire was chasing me down, I did not feel inclined to push any more. I kept Rich company for a wee while but he found that he couldn't walk very fast so started running again. It wasn't too far to the next CP and as the sun was sinking lower on the horizon, I was starting to feel more human again...and actually managed to run into the CP, arriving just after Rich left it. There was a "rule of the park" which said that after 6pm, we were not allowed to be on our own and so must wait for the person behind us to buddy up. I clarified this info at the CP as it was now about 5pm and Claire was about 30mins behind me (the next person). I asked if they would take the time gap off my final total if I had to wait for her at the last CP, as otherwise it would negate the whole of the day's female race, but they said that they wouldn't, and it was "my problem" if I didn't get to the CP in time to continue alone.

The sun must be strong if I've actually
 got a cap on my head!

As much as I didn't feel competitive, this did spur me on as I decided that I either had to get to the CP before 6pm, or arrive with/ahead of Rich so that we could buddy up if we had to. As it happens Rich was flagging and I was feeling much better so I soon caught him up and then we continued at his pace to the final CP, arriving at about 5:50pm and so were good to go. I felt that Rod had really helped me get through the early and middle part of the day when I'd been suffering so it was only fair that I pay it forward and stick with Rich. It was now dusk and much cooler and so I felt like I could have probably run the whole of the last section, but we worked together joggign whenever possible but taking the odd walkbreak if necessary.....and putting the world to rights as we did so. I was counting down the distance as I really didn't fancy being stuck out there after dark, but suddenly the bright green finish gantry came into view - albeit still a couple of kms away.

Rich and I seem to be enjoying ourselves again

 Rich was just behind me and so I let my legs take me as they wished...and it seemed like they wished to pick it up as I ran the last mile or so at just over 7minute pace. I stopped just short of the line and turned round but Rich was nowhere to be seen. People were telling me to get on and cross the line and stop the clock but no way was I doing that on my own. I'd got there with the help of others and so I stood there like an idiot until Rich came into view. I think I expended the most energy I had all day screaming encouragement at him and we crossed the line together with hands held aloft (just before the 7pm sunset!).

As it turns out the first couple of guys had run together, then Rod and Christophe had also teamed up again as they faded slightly at the end of the day, so a friend looking at the results back in the UK sent me a message asking if we'd been taking part in a 3-legged race! I guess it did look rather like that, but events like this are all about teamwork and having fun, rather then being competitive! Unfortunately for me, it was then rather a lonely night, as although I was feeling good by the time I finished, I had a long wait until the rest of my tentmates arrived...the final ones coming in about 4am.....so I really felt for them!

Day 5 - the "rest" day

Foot/shoe maintenance

My tent chewing the fat round the fire

I totally understand the need for a rest day for some of the competitors, such as my middle-of-the-night-arriving tentmates, but I would really have liked to just get on and run again. A rest day gives you more of a chance to seize up, discover new injuries, and contemplate how much further you have to go. I'd got into a routine of when I got out of bed, when I had my lovely instant porridge, when I set off, when I got to camp and when I then ate and went to bed.

Camp visitors

Suddenly I had longer to lie on the hard ground, wander round camp without my camp slippers, contemplate my minging toenails (ok so I used the time to trephine one to relieve the pressure of a blister uunderneath), debate how to spread out my eating for the day and worry about whether I'd be too hot during the daytime (and so get dehydrated) or too cold at night. To be fair the day passed relatively quickly as we wandered round the campsite, chatted to various people, read emails and tried to spot animals. Nobody really wanted to wander far as we knew we still had 2 runs ahead of us. Ideally I would have had a mini tapestry to do to pass the time (but this was also lost in some airport somewhere as it had been in my hold baggage due to the needle required) but I didn't really miss it, as we so rarely get a whole day to just relax and chat with no pressures of everyday life.

Day 6 - "dune" day...another marathon distance+ effort
 

It took a while to settle into running again

After having enjoyed all those miles on the long day (well, I did but I'm not sure that he did so much!) it seemed natural for Rod and I to fall into step again, but this time we were also with Christophe (from Corsica). I honestly had no idea how these two guys had run together every day, as they couldn't really chat to each other. One spoke French and the other English, so I actually felt like I was earning my keep running with them, acting as a translator so they could find out more about each other, their families, their running and their future race plans. I joked that they could not afford to run off and leave me!

With the boys

Bless them for making me look petite

After the midpoint aid station (well......officially distance-wise if not time-wise) we had a 10k stretch that I was both looking forward to and dreading in equal measure. The whole length of it was along the ridge of a line of dunes, so although we would have amazing views off to each side, the running was exactly the easiest, especially as ther was a good 700m to climb over the length of the ridge. I knew that I wouldn't be able to keep up with the long legs of the guys so I bid them farewell, though I did manage to keep them in sight the whole way along. Some of the climbs were tough as the sand was loose and I had to dig my hands right into the slopes so avoid sliding back down again.....though a good portion of the ridge top itself was actually runnable.

The race leader making the sand look easy

I made it look  a lot less easy!

The problem was that I soon as I raised my eyes to look at the stunning views, I lost concentration on my foot placement and would find myself sinking into deeper sand which made my legs feel much too heavy for any running. Yet again, the distance wasn't exactly accurate, as every time I thought I must be climbing the final rise (based on distance recorded by my GPS) I saw the guys climbing up again ahead of me. Finally I reached the flags marking the end of the climbing, and turned 90° to my right to descend to the checkpoint. I could imagine most runners loving this steep run descent and flinging themselves down it with gay abandon, but I was too conscious of my "delicate" bones to risk this (the waiting marshals must have thought that I looked like a bit of an idiot mincing my way down to them).

 

The endless stretch of dunes

Descending down into the checkpoint

The "rule" was still that all water at checkpoints was for drinking only, but Bev (chief marshal) took pity on me and poured a small amount over my hands - this was vital for me, else I wouldn't have eaten any food in this last section as my hands were completely covered in claggy sand. It seemed as if I emptied half of the dunes out of my shoes, but  at least it made my feet feel slightly lighter.

The last section of the day crossed salt flats and some 4WD tracks in the sand (I tried running along them but the slight rises of soft sand made it hard to settle into a decent pace). We had been told that we would get to run along a runway, but in fact it was just a flatter section of rough ground with some stones marking lines along the edges. Rich had been chasing me all the way along the dunes as he'd loved that section, and as he caught up to me then, we debated pretending to be aeroplanes on the runway, but decided we really didn't have the energy to spare.

The run then went towards the coast away from the dunes

Some marshals made sure we crossed the lone dirt road safely (I'm not entirely sure how necessary they were as the total traffic must've been about 1 vehicle per day) but unfortunately couldn't tell us how far the final stretch along the beach was. We saw some odd ruins and some empty abandoned buildings off in the distance and hoped this meant that we were into the final few kilometres. It was now Rich's turn to start flagging, and my job to keep him going. The final day was just a short run, so he really needed to get to camp as he'd finished the last bit of his "running food", but just as I was starting to worry, the green gantry came into sight......and we crossed the line holding hands arms aloft again. Teamwork really does make it so much more fun.

 

With the S Africans...and the whisky!

I didn't feel too good that afternoon in camp - I couldn't stop shaking - so I admit that I didn't sit outside and welcome all my tentmates in. Instead I selfishly ate some food and curled up in my sleeping bag for a couple of hours. I did feel a bit better later on, so was able to help some of my later tentmates with their packs, their food, their injuries......and enjoy the bread roll and piece of fruit that some locals kindly brought to camp for each of us (wow - they tasted good).....and some whisky round the fire later (with the South African runners - respect to them for having kept it for the last night)!

Day 7 - the final push
 

Teamwork makes the Dreamwork!

In many of these multiday events, the last day is just "for fun" but our last stage was being timed and so did count. It was only a short stage and so it was unlikely that positions would change, especially not at the sharp end of the field hence Christophe, Rod and I naturally fell into step again.

We'd run so much of the week together

Well, that's what they said...but I felt like I was having to put a decent amount of effort in to keep pace and maintain my translator skills. We discussed whether anyone wanted to finish alone for a "finish photo" but all agreed that we'd like to end the run together. We dibbed at the final checkpoint to stop the clock and then hung back for a few minutes so that the guy in front could have his glory shot to himself. We ran over the last dune and into the finish together - linked hands aheld aloft (as the phrase goes "Teamwork makes the Dreamwork!")....and by this time Rich had joined us, though he clearly had done enough hand-holding during the week.

A happy me for surviving the week

Not quite the promised pizza!!!

Then it was time for a very welcome beer or two (but unfortunately a chilli rather than the long-awaited and talked about pizza) while we gradually welcomed everyone home across the line. All my tent made it to the finish so we had to have a big sweaty, dirty group hug...before we all boarded the buses for a nice long (several hours) ride back to civilisation and showers (buy the time my bag actually arrived the hot water had run out, but to be honest I didn't care...any running water was good enough for me to wash in!).

Runners and crew at the Finis :-)

Another amazing week despite the inauspicious start....and some great news friendships forged - bring on the next adventure!!

O the glamour!!!

People sometimes think that I live a very exotic and glamourous lifestyle jetting off to run races round the world but I can assure you that is it usually about as far away from that as possible. I now work as a locum GP and so do not get either sickpay or annual leave, so I work hard to enable myself to take the breaks to travel and run. For example, I have just done 2x 6 week blocks of 40-50 hour weeks in order to be able to take the time to visit New Zealand for "Motatapu" and Namibia for "The Namib Race - The Race of Champions".

I was really looking forward to going to Namibia and switching off entirely as we were due to be out in the desert for 7 days and therefore would have no phones or internet...bliss....but first let me tell you about my relaxing stress-free journey out there....

I worked up to the last minute, ie lunchtime Thursday, and then got a lift to the station in Dumfries. 3 trains and a bus ride later, I made it to Glasgow airport...nice and early as it happens, 2-3 hours before my flight. All seemed fine until the time that we were due to board  - and the dreaded word "DELAYED" appeared on the board. Nobody had much information except that the delay was going to be several hours as the plane had been forced to return to Heathrow due to a problem and so they would need to find another plane to send up. This meant that everyone would miss their ongoing connections and so there was a lot of unhappiness in the air (not least from me as I was worried that I'd not make it to the race in time, and another couple who were heading to South Africa for their wedding and would probably now arrive after the ceremony was due to take place). There was little point in me getting upset with the local BA staff so I accepted their re scheduling of my onward flight to Jo'burg (though it appeared there were no morning flights out of LHR so I'd have to wait there the whole of the next day, though they said that the London BA staff would sort accommodation on my arrival there) and the £5 voucher for food (a sandwich cost £5:25 at the cafe next door and the man serving made us make up the extra with our own cash!!).

By the time I finally got off the plane in London (at 23:30.....my Jo'burg flight had left about 90 minutes prior to this) things had become even more complicated. BA officials were meeting people off the plane with details of rebooked flights and accommodation, but my name was not on their list. They said that Glasgow shouldn't have rebooked me and that I needed to go to the desk in the airport to find out about a hotel. Said desk was closed for the night so the staff member I then asked, told me to pick up my bag and go into the main airport to the helpdesk.

The fun and games started when my bag didn't appear (and neither did that of an Israeli girl who couldn't speak English....as side story to me trying to help her was that I nearly ended up with her bag a few days later as it was then labelled to me instead of going with her to Tel Aviv) - by the time I'd filed a report it was about 12:30 am, and then when I finally made it upstairs to the help desk they had no accommodation for me. There was a room booked for someone else who'd missed his connection but from what the BA staff were saying he had been rolling around on the floor drunk so I suggested the best solution was to give me his room and he could sleep it off in the cells....as he'd now disappeared somewhere, they gave me the room and so I staggered off in some drowsy stupor to find the hotel.

The hotel in Namibia where I should have been staying!!

After a brief sleep in the lovely white "luggage replacement" t-shirt that BA had given me (which was actually wider than it was long), I made the most of the huge buffet breakfast that was available. I decided that I should return to the airport to check I had actually been properly rebooked and to further the search for my missing bags. As it turns out, although I had been rebooked onto a BA flight instead of a Virgin one, there was actually another one leaving 90mins earlier so they kindly moved me to that one. It didn't look like it would make much difference at the far end though, as they told me that there was only one flight per day going from Jo'burg to Walvis Bay in Namibia. Good news on the luggage front though, as my case was apparently "definitely" in the transit holding bay ready to travel on with me.
 



Fleur and Nicki - my saviours!

I contacted the race to say that I would be arriving, but unfortunately it wouldn't be until 12:45 at Walvis Bay and we were all due to leave Swakopmund (about half an hour's drive away) for the desert at 1pm (and the "compulsory" briefing was at 8am). They said that they were "happy for me to join the race late" but that no vehicles could wait and so I would have to make my own way up to the Skeleton Coast and that it would cost me about $300-400. I was not overly impressed with this, as I was already at a massive disadvantage to the others who would have had a good night's sleep in a hotel and a leisurely checkin and briefing.....whereas I would have spent 2 nights travelling and hence not getting any rest. They were not prepared to compromise on this and it seemed that there was little I could do, but Nicki and Fleur (the MDs of CurraNZ - an amazing supplement I take) came to rescue me from a Heathrow meltdown and took me out for a lovely lunch with wine and giggles.
 

Although upgrades were not possible, BA kindly gave me Heathrow lounge access for the final hour before I flew and marked something on their computer system to allow me to sue the lounge at Jo'burg (as I was going to be stuck there for 5 hours waiting on "the first flight to Walvis Bay"). Unfortunately, Jo'burg lounge was having none of this and so wouldn't let me in, despite it having also been marked on my boarding pass. My luggage had also not appeared at Jo'burg - and I had been made to go out through customs into SA and then back through customs into the airport again, so by the time I got to the lounge and came up against the "not my job, not my problem" staff, I was exhausted and upset. As I was in tears, a lovely lady asked to take me into the lounge as her guest, but she was refused by the same jobsworth staff as I "was not on the same flight as her", and then she was told off further for bringing me out a coffee and a croissant!!. The staff told me not to be upset as my case was "definitely in transit to Walvis Bay" and there was little I could do but believe them (although I didn't really).

Made it to the Skeleton Coast

My sister had contacted an old friend from her year out in Namibia in 1992, who put me in touch with Kirsty, a lovely ultrarunner who lives in Swakopmund. Kirsty and her husband came to pick me up in Walvis Bay and were going to help me get up the coast to join the race. Unfortunately...surprise surprise....I got to Walvis but my bag didn't! We spent ages filling out yet more lost luggage reports and then Kirsty rang the race to say that we were on our way but explained the further delay. She was told that I should "not bother turning up if I didn't have all of the compulsory kit". Yet more angst for me as although I had most of my running gear in my hand luggage, some things had to go into the hold due to "sharps", eg a penknife/multitool and my blister repair kit, some due to space (eg my inflatable sleeping mat, camp slippers, down jacket etc) and some due to their dodgy nature (dehydrated meals/powders).

Liquid gold....

Kirsty and her husband took me on a frantic shopping tour, but some things are just not possible to purchase last minute. I managed to get a new penknife and make up a first aid/blister repair kit but a sleeping mat was beyond possibility and Namibia doesn't "do" dehydrated meals - at least not in Walvis Bay or Swakopmund. I had to make up the required 14,000 minimum calories somehow, and the only way for me to do this was with excessive packets of instant porridge, sweets and heavy cereal bars - not ideal. We then sprinted up the coast as fast as the dirt roads would allow, fuelled by a few ciders (well not the driver) and made it to camp before dusk. I arrived, met my tent mates and scavenged any extra food/kit and then actually passed kit check. It was a relief to get into my sleeping bag that night and despite not having a mat, exhaustion meant that the tent floor didn't seem that uncomfortable!

Not exactly the glamorous lifestyle of the international jetsetting runner!!!



With my tentmates for the week - finally!

NB The way back wasn't much better as the passport scanner broke in Jo'burg airport so I spent about 2 hours in a queue to have my passport manually read (meaning I also missed my connection...but then again, most people were in the same situation), and had a halfhour nosebleed on the flight to London, followed by a prolonged one lasting the whole of the flight up to Glasgow (and was wheelchaired off the plane) - it was almost a relief to go back to work for a rest!!!

 

And just to add insult to injury - my insurance wouldn't cover it as they said that the long delay/layover wasn't at my "departure airport" which they would have covered, and that because I got my bag back the evening before I flew home, it didn't count as "lost luggage"!!

Arran Day 2

Day 2 route

The mountains of Day 2

Day 2 was set to be longer and tougher and so started an hour earlier, but it wasn't exactly that cosy and snug tucked up in my sleeping bag in my car anyway. It seemed a lot colder then the previous day so I opted for capris instead of shorts and put on an extra thermal longsleeve layer (it turns out that the race organisers has posted "on their social media pages" about the deterioration in the weather and that they would be doing more kit checks during the event.....but how anyone was to know that is beyond me!) before forcefeeding myself way more breakfast than I felt capable of consuming let alone enjoying (but I knew it would take a long time to get between Pit Stops).

Another chilly start

Along the beach...

After another compulsory briefing that we couldn't actually hear, we were off, but this time going in the opposite direction through the start gantry. We ran across grass, along some little trails and then popped out onto a sandy beach. I started slightly further forward than on the Saturday but there were still many that hared off straight away. I worked my way past many of them (including several ladies) and found myself running alone by the time I got onto the sand (well...if you can really call what I was doing "running" as the soft sand seemed to sap any leg strength I hadn't lost the day before). Thankfully the beach section wasn't too long and I soon found myself on a lovely runnable trail heading up Glen Rosa.

The Glen Rosa trail

I had a few brief chats to a couple of guys I'd met the previous day, but a longer conversation nearly became my downfall. I'd first spoken to Nathan on the ferry over to the island, and then again on Day 1 before he disappeared off up the rocky beach. As we chatted about the previous day, we ran over a little footbridge and blithely followed the guys in front down the trail to the left, picking up some speed as it started to descend. It did seem rather odd to be heading back down towards Brodick rather than further north into the hills, but I didn't really think much about it....until people started shouting at us all. They were heading up the other side of the valley towards the bridge (where we'd been earlier). It turns out that we'd all missed a small routemarker that indicated we had to turn right after the bridge and leave the circular Glen Rosa hiking trail. All of us had run a good half mile in the wrong direction - what idiots!! - so everyone about turned and started back up the valley. Several of the men powered back up to rejoin the race route, but I tried not to worry about it, as we still had an awfully long way to go and I didn't want to exhaust myself correcting that error. Unfortunately, it meant that by the time I was back on course, I was way back down the field again, and as the path was very narrow, it was nigh on impossible to pass people a lot of the time, so I was rather at the mercy of other people's pace.

Chasing back up the trail again

Easy does it, and by the time I reached the head of the valley and was climbing up to the South Ridge of Cir Mhor, I'd passed umpteen men and 6 ladies (again!). I now had no idea how many more were further ahead of me, but I decided to just take the rest of the day as it came. The climbing had definitely warmed me up so I'd long removed and packed away my waterproof jacket, buff and gloves. People were stopping on the ridge to add more layers as the wind was bitingly cold, but I preferred to keep moving - as I was worried that everything would blow away if I started unpacking my kit. Someone commented on how "strong" I was not to have put my waterproof back on, but my plan was to do so once I was over that lump and in some shelter. The problem was that once I was out of the wind, it was not only warmer but easier to run and so I still didn't put anything else on.
 

Up round the corries

Beautiful views...if a little chilly!

I did get rather cold running round the edge of the corrie towards Caisteal Abhail and so I fished out my gloves and buff as I climbed but I was then too cold to be bothered with my waterproof. The right side of my face was freezing as the wind blasted it (I heard later that the windchill was -7 up there) but I pushed on over the highest point knowing it would be better on the other side (though I made a mental note to have my waterproof ready for when we had to summit Goatfell on the return journey). A short run down a spur lulled you into a false sense of security as the route markers then suddenly disappeared off onto a steep, trackless, rocky, heathery slope. This was more the terrain that I'd expected for this part of Arran and somehow I managed to descend without anyone passing me (and I even caught a man up!!!) until I hit the rocky trail along the valley at the bottom.
 

The route looking towards the north of Arran

Running down into Lochranza

The first Pit Stop of the day was just as you came into Lochranza - initially I thought it was actually in the distillery, but actually it was a shelter set up in the carpark. Many of the guys seemed to be stopping here for a proper feed and a rest, but I just grabbed a flapjack bar, some water and carried on. A man I'd run down into Lochranza with had done the event in 2018 and told me that this next section had seemed interminable to him, so I pushed on as there was some nice tarmac to trot down (Ok, so the end of the road came all too soon) and then a decent coastal trail round the "Cock of Arran" - the most northerly point of the island. I passed a lone marshal who uttered those lovely words "it's a headwind all the way!" and advised me to keep hugging the coast. The former made my heartsink as the wind would gust so strongly that it sometimes stopped me dead in my tracks and I really wasn't so keen to run 8 miles into it, and the latter was rather obvious as I was pinned between rocks and sea to my left, and steep slopes to my right.

Nathan had stayed longer at PS1 than me and so soon passed me, but apart from him, the two men I passed and a couple of walkers, I saw no one else along the whole stretch. Most of it was runnable (wind notwithstanding) but there were also some rocky scrambles up and down and round the coast (it reminded me slightly of the Lofoten race I'd done in Norway). Nathan clearly wasn't loving this bit either as I caught him back up again and he later said that having me in front of him just kept him going. Finally, the path turned onto a gravel road and I knew it couldn't be too far to Pit Stop 2.

Heading up Glen Sannox

PS2 had some Red Bull reps (the first ones I'd seen all weekend despite them sponsoring the event) hanging around and so I gratefully downed a can, ate some jaffa cakes, and unpacked my bag for the compulsory kit check (we had to show full body cover, hat and gloves before being allowed back up into the mountains towards GoatFell). I waited for Nathan and we headed off together (saying that suffering was easier when you were doing it with someone else), with the exit from the PS being marked by a chilly wade across the river (luckily no mishaps so we just got wet feet/legs). From there we headed inland up Glen Sannox towards the GoatFell range. Nathan was much more sure of his footing and so moved away from me, catching up to the guy ahead of him, but they were only just ahead of me as we climbed up out of the valley to the back of Cir Mhor again.

Stuart's pic :-)

"Some" scrambling was necessary

We had a "mountain support crew" to help with any dramas before we reached the ridge, but rather than helping me up the chimney, Stuart just took photos as we exchanged banter about who was buying the beers later. To be fair, even with my constantly worsening fear of heights/dropoff/technical terrain, it wasn't bad. On reaching the top, I got my waterproof out ready to use a windbreak, but just tied it round my waist for the time being as I knew I had more climbing to come. There was an option to take the "low route" from here and descend down to Brodick via Glen Rosa without having to go along the Goatfell Ridge, but as I'd gotten that far, it was all or nothing for me! Let's just say that ridge took a while as there were a lot of false summits, scrambles, rocks etc. A few points had marshals/mountain crew with ropes to help us, but the three of us managed to make good headway and finally reached the 874m trig point. I knew that there was no way I could even try to keep with the lads as we descended, but I did want to "run" down as much as I could.

Wearing almost all my compulsory kit

A dramatic ridge "run"

Yippee - the Goat Fell trig

Unsurprisingly (there were several miles of descent on a rocky path) I was passed, but only by one man, which gave me the confidence to keep going. I was really surprised to find myself passing a couple of runners as I came out of the woods at the bottom of Glen Rosa, but it turns out that they had dropped out of the event and were just returning to the finish. A final sting in the tail was that we did not just run into the finish in Brodick but were sent back the way we'd started.....along the energy-sapping sandy beach (there was definitely even less strength in my legs now and I was sorely tempted to sit down on the sand and strop!!), the little paths and the grass of the start area, but then we doubled back again and crossed the road into the finish field, where my age was again revealed to anyone who'd missed it the previous day!

All in all, over the 2 days I'd covered 63miles, climbed (and descended) 11300feet caught up with old friends, made new ones, but mainly had a great time exploring an island I really didn't know very well. I'd finished 6th overall in a faster time than the fastest lady on each day the previous year, but although I can kind of understand there being no prizes, it did seem weird that finishers got the same medals as those that DNF'd. It was a great weekend experience but not one I'd really recommend unless you've got money to burn. The entry fee alone is one of the highest of any event I've done - and then you still have to get there (petrol and ferry) and pay for accommodation, food and drink. At registration we did get a t-shirt and a plastic bottle of water, but at the finish there was nothing except taps to refill this plastic bottle, and a teacup's worth of chilli to eat. It probably would have been worth my while going back to the aid stations as they were clearly the way to get the most out of the event!

Arran Day 1

After hauling myself round the Blyth 10K, I suddenly realised that I had not actually done any runs of significant distance, and certainly not on consecutive days, for rather a long time. This made me rather anxious about upcoming trips, and so when I spotted the 2-day Ultra Tour of Arran was the next weekend, I made a spur of the moment decision to enter. It wasn't exactly the cheapest of events, especially if you added in the cost of driving there and taking the ferry over/back, so I decided to save on accommodation fees and just sleep in my car!!!

I drove up to Ardrossan straight after work on Friday and luckily made the last ferry of the day, so arrived at registration about 9:45pm (it closed at 10pm) in time to get my number, my tracker, have my kit checked, catch up with a few old friends who happened to be part of the race crew, and then settle down for the night in the back of my car.

Day 1 route

Saturday dawned clear and bright...if rather cold. Everyone huddled together for the 8:15 briefing trying to keep warm. Although it was suggested that I was "brave" to be wearing shorts, I was also wearing my hat, gloves and waterproof out of my compulsory kit :-)  I didn't know how I would feel over the course of the weekend (especially having only finished my antibiotics that morning) so I decided to set off midpack. Unfortunately, I soon realised that this was not quite the pace for me, as people started to walk up even the slightest inclines. Once we had jogged along the prom and past the Brodick ferry terminal the path widened into a country lane, so I managed to ease my way past several people and start running at a more comfortable pace.

Lovely to look at - less lovely
to run along

Day 1 covered the southern half of Arran with us initially visiting Lamlash and Whiting Bay on the eastern coast, then Kildonan to the south and returning further inland. The first section of the course was nothing out of the ordinary with me moving up the field as we climbed uphill, and then seeing several men run past me on a rougher descent down into Lamlash. I caught a few back up for a chat on the flat but then we hit my least favourite section of the day.....the rough beach, where all the uneven stones were also covered in slippery seaweed. I felt like I was crawling along it, as the instability of my foot placement caused unpleasant niggles in my right shin (that pesky stressfracture again!!) whereas all the guys seemed able to fly over the terrain by "trusting" in their feet! Having slightly shorter legs than some of them didn't help, though I pitied some of the smaller ladies in the field. Although this "beach" section was about 3 miles long, we were constantly on and off the beach - with the "off beach" stretches were on boardwalk. This boardwalk was great to run along, despite the steps of varying size and length, but (possibly due to erosion) it required a good clamber off the rocks onto each section of it. Whilst on the beach, I tried to look ahead and focus on foot placement, but this meant I kept crashing into overhead dangling branches...honestly, you couldn't win! I was probably the happiest person on the course when the route climbed steeply up and over into Whiting Bay!!

Looking over at Holy Island

As I ran through Whiting Bay, it was nice to get some support from locals out walking.....and funny to hear their suggestions I'd have a suntan by the end of the day (admittedly, I'd stripped off to my vest, shorts and backpack by now as the sun was out, but the wind meant it wasn't really that warm!) as they were in thick jackets! As I hadn't had any of my food and drink, I didn't have any need to visit the Pit Stop but a marshal directed me up a steep slope off the road towards the village hall. I presumed it was to get my number checked or cross some timing point, but there was nothing obvious and as soon as I ran up the steps into the hall I was looking for the way out. Having found the exit, I wasn't sure which way to go - up the hill behind the hall was a dead end so I went back and shouted to the marshal down on the main road asking for directions. I then found out that I had to rejoin the road she'd waved me off.....and that some of the others had been allowed to continue straight on without detouring up to the Pit Stop. This was only "slightly" annoying as I now had no clue how many people had run past as there was no one obviously on the course in front of me.



A lovely climb out of Whiting Bay



You'll couldn't fault the views!

I really enjoyed the climb out of Whiting Bay - lots of tight switchbacks on a narrow dirt trail with no one to see in front or behind. I was slightly worried about taking the wrong route when some dubious signage could have indicated I should either stop climbing and head into the woods, or just carry on up. I chose the latter and was then relieved to see another sign near the top of a grassy knoll (along with some surprised tourists). A tiny descent and the climb continued, but this time along a forestry road so I could see the guys I was reeling in (and passing :-) ). I managed to stay away from those I'd passed on the downhill this time, and even overtook another guy on a very short road section. The last section down to the very south coast of the island was rougher underfoot but I managed to maintain some pace here and was soon trotting along the flat to Pit Stop 2.

The mossy part of the bog
rather than the muddy part

This Pit Stop was at the side of the road, and I wanted to go it to get a flapjack bar, but it also gave me a chance to say Hi to the Rat Race head honcho Jim Mee, whom I hadn't seen for years (I used to be a doctor for their events), as he was helping out there. As soon as I headed away from the coast, I hit a really steep road climb, which was almost impossible to run, never mind whilst eating a flapjack bar - it was such a relief to turn off it into the woods again. I caught up to a young lad (Martin) running his first ultra and the next couple of miles ticked by as we chatted about all sorts of things sports and exercise related (though I doubted he knew I was old enough to be his mother....scary thought!!). We had just turned onto a nice runnable trail and were easing into a good pace, when we suddenly spotted a flag indicating we needed to head off into some rough boggy ground. I was definitely less sure of my footing from that point so Martin soon disappeared off into the trees as I floundered around in wet moss, mud and roots.

A doll "drowning" in the Bog

A voodoo collection?

I had heard about the “Bog of Doom” and so was pleasantly surprised to find a more or less “runnable” couple of miles on trackless ground along the side of a loch and through woods as long as you didn’t mind wet feet and a bit of slip sliding away. Just as I was secretly celebrating I hit the real stuff....and when I say real, I mean shin deep mud, the kind that sucks you down and tries to hold you prisoner. In fact, it did nearly hold me prisoner at one point, or rather it held my shoe prisoner while my foot (and the rest of me) tried to escape! At least I didn’t lose the shoe completely as I still had 10miles to go, but the grass I tried to clean my hands on was just as unforgiving....that mud was staying with me! To make it more amusing there were collections of bones and flags dotted around, and dolls buried up to their waists in the mud....and even some eerie music coming out from behind trees. This almost caused me to miss a piece of tape marking the direction to go, as I found myself being drawn towards the music!!!!

"Nearly" at the road

 

Eventually I came across a marshal who reassured me that I’d almost made it and was nearly out to a forestry road. He lied.....or at least significantly distorted the meaning of the word “nearly”, but when I did eventually get there, I ran past (yes uphill again) a family out for a Saturday stroll and got a few funny looks!

The trail into PS3

Up and down I went, on forestry road and single track trails by streams and through woodlands (these shady ones were the best as the sun was rather hot once you were sheltered from the wind) and eventually I came into Pit Stop 3. I was really surprised to be greeted at the first lady as a previous marshal had told me there were “7 ahead of you” and I’d presumed they meant females rather than just runners in general.

I knew that I was now on the final stretch so enjoyed trying to turn my legs over a little bit on the country roads that led into the back of Lamlash again, but then I was greeted with an endless steep hot climb up a hillside. Just when you’re looking the most hot and bothered you can be, a photographer looms ahead of you, by at least he had the decency to let me know that even the leading men had walked up that incline! From there it was a relatively straightforward run down to the finish, though I doubted my navigation again (a helpful passerby told me I was just over a mile from the finish when I still had 2.5miles to go) especially when I found myself on a dead end residential street.

Crossing the line in Brodick

A cut through at the end of the street led me to the top of the finish field and from there it was a lovely run down over the grass to the finish gantry. It turned out that I was 6th overall by the finish announcer seemed more impressed with my age (I don’t think there was anyone in Brodick that didn’t hear how old I am) than my gender!!!

I washed myself with a paddle in the stream and then went to the local supermarket to start refuelling for day 2.....though luckily a lovely couple took pity on me and let me use the bath in their B&B when they heard that I was sleeping in my car.....bliss!!

Lessons in Humility

My parents have always been very supportive of me, but my mother recently told me that she was very impressed with how I'd accepted my injury/health problems and just got on with life. I don't think I've done anything special, as there's not much I can do except accept it. Yes, I get despondent at times, especially when I see others running times I used to run and events I used to run, and it can get me down, but stropping and crying over it won't exactly achieve much. I just have to accept who I am now and where I am now, and alter my priorities/ambitions accordingly.

The British Masters Medals

I do still shy away from races, but do realise that it's only me that is bothered by my times, and so I should just get over myself and get on with it. It was the British Masters 10k championships at the weekend - I had been told by friends that it was going to be part of the Port of Blyth 10k months ago, but I just couldn't bring myself to enter. When I was finally talked into it (I realised that masters running is much "bigger than me" and I should do my bit to encourage participation), entry had closed as the race was full. I joined the waiting list, but soon moved up and was allowed to enter.

I hadn't run a 10k since 2017 and thought that my times then (around the 37+ minute mark) were disappointing, yet now I'd be "happy" to run under 41 minutes. The week prior to the race I developed what I called "manflu" (basically a head cold combined with achy joints) but it soon morphed into sinusitis and laryngitis, so I felt pretty unwell (that's an understatement......I felt like I couldn't breathe at all one night as I kept developing a film across my throat) and eventually caved in and started antibiotics (so then you could add antibiotic-associated gut rot into the equation). I certainly had enough excuses to run badly!

"Perfect" race weather

I went to Blyth anyway, as I really needed to catch up (all things 50k selection/management) with one of the organisers, and was asked if I would be prepared to hand out the Masters medals. I felt rather honoured, and as I wasn't going to have to say anything (I had approximately no voice) I agreed (not that I'm that good at smiling and having my photo taken either). Rather than just hang around for several hours until the presentation, I decided that I might as well register and run, as the out and back nature of the course meant that if I felt really rubbish I could just stop and walk back.
I adjusted my target from a lofty sub-41 to a sub-45minute run, but nearly stuffed this up too as I had to make a mercy dash into a local hotel to use the bathroom just before the start. On finally joining the start field, I recognised a clubmate and was just saying to her that I thought I should move a bit further forward when we noticed that people were already running....oops! We were so in the thick of the crowds that we couldn't move faster than a walk as we crossed the start timing mats. This led me into a panic first mile where I probably ran way too fast, weaving round people and moving up the field. It did, however, get the adrenaline flowing and I continued at a similar pace for the next mile as I didn't want to slip back down the field again.

Clearly loving it....not!

The outward course involved running along a road, then on pavements beside the main road, until we turned down to the seafront and ran along the prom. At the end of the prom we wound through dunes (on a tarmac path, though I did have to stray off it on occasions to pass people) and then turned onto a short grassy section. This finished with a couple of metres of steep uphill onto the main road. That's where the interest in the course ended as the route back was almost along the footpath along the (very straight) main road until we turned the corner into the Port area where we'd started. I passed a couple of ladies but managed to croak out that they shouldn't worry about me as I was about to fade bigtime.

Presenting Aly with her Masters Gold medal

Even though it was only a 10k, I had to break it down into smaller sections of a mile or half a mile to make me keep going. By the end I couldn't believe runners ahead were still continuing straight and hadn't turned down into the port, so my mental sections must've got down to about 400m lengths. Although a lady with a "50" on her back passed me in the final stretch I hadn't seen any near me with a "40" on (though I knew Aly Dixon would win the race easily and she had recently entered my age group). It was nice to see some familiar faces and hear them shout out as I ran down the finish funnel. I couldn't believe the clock when I saw it and so managed a slight sprint as it saw the second ticking up ...57....58....59...but I did it. My clock time was 38.59, way faster than I thought I could run, and my chip time lowered this by 12s due to my stuff up at the start, so I actually recorded a faster time than the ladies finishing just in front of me! (As an extra bonus - kudos to the race organisers - they provided some womens' t-shirts in a size 8!!)

 

The hard-earned half-
marathon wristband

A happy parkrunning family :-)

Yes, not that long ago I would have been upset with the time, but now I was just so happy to have run way faster than my expectations. Maybe I should reset the clock and have post-REDs PBs. In reality, I am getting so much more out of running than my own performances these days, whether it be managing British ultra teams, doing parkruns with my parents, introducing a friend's daughter to junior parkrun and watching her come to love it and so work towards her half marathon wristband, helping injured friends by setting them crosstraining sessions, organising track sessions for the local running club (and making them do drills), and helping others train for marathons (whether a first timer or a runner who has underperformed at the distance in the past) - I can still live my love of running through others! Onwards and upwards!