Running To Extremes
Timothy Downie
It's one o'clock in the morning and I'm running down Milngavie High Street. It's the 21st of June, the longest day of the year and I'm not a late night reveller, I'm actually running in the company of 126 other like minded people (although some would say insane) all wearing head torches and all hoping to run the 95 miles to Fort William in under 35 hours. My goal this year is to join the band of runners who can claim to have run the full distance in under 24 hours.
The darkness quickly swallows us up as we head out of the town like a conga line of fireflies. We make our way up the path through Mugdock wood and past Craigallian loch towards Carbeth. The moon is nearly full and the sky is clear. It may be June but the air is cooling fast and a low mist hangs hauntingly over the lake. I want to stop for a moment to enjoy the breathtaking beauty that surrounds me but the urge to keep moving ever closer to Fort William is just too strong. I concentrate on watching my footing as a bad stumble early in the race could cost me my time goal or even the chance of finishing at all.
There's some quiet conversation going on between the runners but the night seems to swallow up the noise as we progress up the path to Drymen. I look forward to meeting my wife at Balmaha where she's dozing in a car laden with drinks and snacks.
The path out of Drymen takes us over Conic hill and the sky is lightening quickly. It doesn't bring much warmth though and I can see patches of ice in some of the puddles near the top of the hill. The views from the top over Loch Lomond are stunning but I've no time to relax and enjoy them, the descent of Conic hill is too perilous to let my mind wander.
I reach Balmaha feeling good and surprise my wife by arriving ahead of schedule. I know I've been running too fast but the rush of adrenaline has carried me along with the race leaders. From Balmaha, it's a long long way up the side of Loch Lomond, along some of the worst footpath that the West Highland Way has to offer. My spirits sink and my legs grow heavy along this stretch as the midges start to bite and the enormity of the distance ahead starts to prey on my mind. I may have run 30 miles now but that still leaves another 65. I wish now that I had topped up my insect repellent back at Rowardennan but it's too late for that now and I won't see my wife again for another 3 hours. I pull my buff over my ears and silently curse my stupidity.
Following my next rendezvous, I carry on up Glen Falloch towards the checkpoint at Auchtertyre, a couple of miles before Tyndrum. By now, I'm more than half way and feeling confident of finishing, and probably within 24 hours.
My confidence doesn't last long though and my legs feel dead as I head out of Tyndrum towards Bridge of Orchy and Rannoch Moor. I plod on, knowing that if I have to, I'll walk the rest of the way. Somehow, perhaps with the encouragement of the many walkers along this stretch, I find the strength to keep jogging more than I'm walking, which is as much as I can hope for at this stage. By the time I reach Kings House where I meet my support runner, everything is hurting and I feel like sitting down and crying. I just want the pain to go away so badly.
The climb up the Devil's Staircase seems to take an eternity and once over the top, things don't improve. I now hurt and feel as weak as a kitten and it takes nearly 30 minutes before I recover enough to start running again. The descent to Kinlochleven just goes on and on, each step jarring my tired bones.
Kinlochleven comes and goes however and then it another big climb up on to the Lairigmor, a bleak valley hemmed in by the surrounding hills. My right knee starts to protest on the climb, slowing my progress even more. My dream of a sub 24-hour time seems to be receding by the minute but when we reach the top, a howling wind shoves us from behind and lifts my spirits and my tired body along the valley.
Suddenly, my goal seems attainable and new energy seems to flow through my legs and I gradually catch up and pass other runners in the valley. At the last checkpoint there is a welcoming bonfire but I realise that there is just enough time, if I keep running to perhaps squeeze in under 23 hours.
I set off with my support runner, the fatigue of the previous miles all but forgotten and even the pain a distance memory. By now it's getting dark again and as the path enters the forests for the last time. After 3 miles, the path finally comes out in to Glen Nevis and suddenly I find myself racing another runner to Fort William.
He leads, then I lead, then he takes the lead again as we hit the road into Fort William. By now, I realise that I've bare minutes left if I want to attain my goal of finishing within 23 hours and I dig in to my last reserves, sprinting through outskirts of the town, past the sign at the end of the West Highland Way on towards the Lochaber Leisure Centre which is where the race ends. I burst through the doors, stopping my watch as I do so. It's 11:58 and 52 seconds. A sub-23 hour time and it's still Saturday!
Good enough for 43rd position in Scotland's greatest ultra distance race and I'm a very happy man!
