Preparation
Training went reasonably well with rest days on Monday & Friday and a long run on a Sunday, building from 20odd km up to 35km. In mid-July I skewed my numbers by running the Loch Ness 360 route over two consecutive days both over 60km. Other long run highlights included a tour of Glen Clova, Findhu Glen, North and South banks of the Forth estuary, Haute Route, Esk2Almond. Later on I started to get a tight left achilles in the morning and after runs. It felt similar to April 2020 but thankfully wasn't swollen, just very tender. It had to be overuse. For two weeks before raceday I put Voltarol and a tubigrip on it after runs though am doubtful of any benefit.
In Late July the race website was still looking pretty static and the linked Facebook page also still had no new activity on it. I emailed the organiser to check whether it was still happening for reassurance. It was.
In early August I was thinking about timings for getting to the race from home but realised there was nothing online to tell me this information. Also, there was nothing about water stations; how much water should I expect to carry? I emailed again and received a terse response. "Start is 7am.2 CP’s on the 55km".
A week to go and some GPX route files were published. Checking these with the route graphic shown on the website, I could see there was a big difference in the last 10km. Hmm what is going on here? More emailing.
The entrants list was published and finally could see it was going to be a small race with less than 50 runners.
As with all my longer runs, I printed out some A5 maps of the route and marked it in pink felt-pen and 10km stages. I could fit it onto two double-sided pieces of paper whch would mean only three switches during the race.
Gear
The weather over the British Isles was dominated for 10days prior to the race by a large area of high-pressure which kept the weather stable and warm. Daytime peak temperatures were reaching low 20s for Scotland. It had been rain free for many days. The mandatory kit list was pretty small, just an emergency blanket, whistle & torch.
I decided to wear my newish (90km) Brooks Cascadia shoes, shorts & t-shirt. I was going to wear scants underneath having experienced some grief after the LN360 in July. Nike hat for sure, buff in case of indoor activity. In my pack I would carry 1litre of water in bladder on my back, 2 x 500ml softflasks on front (with electrolyte). 4 gels and 4 bars. I also brought my compass, phone, debit card, midge net & repellent.
Raceday
A fitful sleep as usual for a Friday night. I was awake before my alarm and eating porridge at 04:45. Out the door by 04:58 and on the road. The drive up the M9 was quiet and I could see pockets of mist lying in hollows near the Forth. I listened to Thomas Schafernaker reading the Shipping Bulletin on Radio 4 at 05:20 and it almost sent me to sleep! The car pulled into the car park at the Distillery at 06:05.
There were a dozen or so other cars parked up with a few people milling about. Putting my buff on, I walked over to what looked like a registration area inside the visitor centre. 3rd in the queue I observed the resulting chaos as the race director realised all the runners' bib numbers were different to what was in the entrants list. This meant that all the drop-bags would be numbered incorrectly along with the GPS trackers and dibbers. A quick decision was made to adopt the entrant list number and scribble this on each bib.
Each runner was given a route map (OS screenshots in colour over 4 sides of A5 - sound familiar??) but were advised of a route change at Funtulich on the way from Lednock to Comrie. "Follow the marshall's instruction".
Back outside to sort out gear. I put suncream on legs & arms despite the sun only just rising and it being pretty cold for standing about in shorts & t-shirt. Contact lenses in. Vaseline lathered in the hidden areas.
There was still some uncertainty. I was sure we were supposed to be getting a dibber & GPS tracker, but at registration had only been given a dibber. Also, where was the start line? At 0645 I decided to stretch the legs and went for a wee jog along the road to Hosh and over the bridge and back. On return, a runner parked near my car said they were giving out the GPS tracker at registration so I collected that.
At 0655 everyone started gathering near the visitor centre entrance and we got the chance to eye each other up. Some fit looking people there, all geared up for a long day out.
The race director emerged to welcome us all and give a briefing about routes, gear, water, emergencies. Then we were told to congregate under the distillery sign for a photo before starting. I chose to nip to the toilet for a last minute pee which meant when I got to the group I was standing at the front. This also meant that when the signal 3-2-1 went, I was running at the front of the group.
Gulp.
I headed to the road and turned right, feeling a bit like the Pied Piper. No-one came sprinting past. I slowed. Still no-one came past. What is going on? On I went following the same ground I had jogged 20mins before and turned left into the Hosh estate road which wound through woodland and fields to climb gradually towards Loch Turret. I took one quick glimpse over my shoulder to see runners spread for a long way back, no-one close by. Blimey.
I was going really slow. 6min/km pace or so but still I was at the front. After about 3km I finally heard the sound of footsteps approaching from behind and was joined by a young guy in a luminous yellow top. We stayed together for the next 18km chatting and nervously speculating why we were at the front, whether us noobs had ballsed up the pace.
Near the reservoir dam the route left the tarmac turning right onto a land-rover track, over a fence and then almost a 180° to the right. Except, this turn wasn't marked. Having studied the route over the past days, and holding the map in my hand, I was convinced of this direction but Darren was less certain. Off we went jogging south-east towards the rising sun looking to our right back to the road where the followers were bobbing past.
The track took us over the Corbett of Auchnafree Hill which we reached after 1hr50min. It had been a long 17km ascent but enjoyable with expansive views opening up over Strathearn to the south (filled with mist), Beinn Chonzie to the west and the Lawers hills to the north. The sun was bright and I was happy to have my glasses. Not a cloud in the sky.
Then it was time to descend after a quick trot over the heather to join another LR track. The descent just got steeper and steeper as it went on, a real knee basher. Thighs burning. We could see the first checkpoint vehicles below in Glenalmond at 20km and heard them cheering (a marshall and 2 medics) as we got closer.
Darren had a drop bag but I was happy to just grab a bottle of water to down before we turned left and headed up the glen. To store the empty bottle I took my pack off and stick it in the back. As I put it back on, one of the elastic straps snapped meaning it flapped open and running was hindered. Darren was eager to keep running so I told him to crack on while I sorted the strap.
In reality I was glad of the walking break as my legs were still shaking after that brutal 3km jarring descent. I watched him jog ahead as I struggled with the stupid elastic strap, eventually fashioning a knot to hold it in place. I restarted running and soon caught Darren at a gate where he'd stopped to take off his top layer.
We ran together again briefly, but I was going really slow. He asked how I was doing and I replied "Exhausted", which was true. As soon as there was any gradient to the track, I stopped to walk but he carried on. It was the last I was to run with him and my 1st place was gone.
Nevertheless, I was still proceeding west over a few undulations and through some gates, passing the odd ruin in this lovely glen. On the hillside to the left, over the river was a evidence of a pipeline contouring across the grass. I knew we'd be leaving the track at a hydro dam and this pipeline presumably emanated from it. It was a good way to gauge progress.
Rounding a bend, the dam came into view ahead. On the hillside above it was Darren climbing strongly out of the glen up another track. There was a marshall and her car at the dam. She asked whether I was doing the 50 or 75. "Fifty!" I panted and she directed me over the dam. Over I went and joined the track to start the horrific climb out of the glen. It was so steep, I don't know how a vehicle could ever climb that gradient. I slogged up and then realised 3rd place had reached the dam. This was Ewan who chatted to the marshall and looked quite relaxed.
He made quick work of the hill and caught me in minutes as I battled skywards with sweaty palms on hips. We chatted briefly until the route left the track for the open heather. Darren appeared to be 'off-route' in a peat hag. Ewan asked if he was ok and he was. Darren moved quickly over to tail Ewan as I struggled to keep up with them.
Peat hag grimness for a couple of hundred metres, and the associated wet feet after 28km. But I did take the opportunity for a quick photo looking north towards Loch Tay and Ben Lawers.
At last we reached a fence and suggestions of a vehicle track to replace the bog. They were 50m ahead and set off jogging down the track. My achilles was now making itself known and the change of angle nipped. I was running but in a laboured fashion. They continued strongly and the gap grew as I minced my way down towards Invergeldie.
They were out of sight as I joined the main Munro path for Beinn Chonzie and began passing late morning walkers setting out for the summit. I tried to look happy as jogged down the gravel. Onto the tarmac and I decided to walk for a while to regain composure. Thankfully the road was quiet, despite being lined with Munro bagger cars. I ran the flats and downs but any hint of up, I walked.
At the point where we'd been advised of a diversion (to stay on the road), a female marshall instructed me to "follow the road all the way to Comrie". I asked if this was longer and she said she thought so. Hmmm. A bit odd. A kilometre or so later at a track junction, there was a finder post with an Ultra arrow pointing off the road. There was actually a car parked in front of the post, so it was slightly obscured but I did spot it. What to do? I stopped and consulted the map. I could see where it was directing me, back towards the original route over the river. But the marshall had said to continue on the road. And that is what I followed.
Sadly, it was grim. The map I had printed didn't include this piece of road (due to being off the advertised route), so I was running blind. I didn't like that and I fell into a dark demeanour, swearing to myself as the road turned west and away from Comrie (as far as I could tell). My watch clicked over to 42km run and still no sign of Comrie. I was out of water. Suddenly a building and house passed by and I could hear the A85 in the distance. Aha! There's the church steeple. Ah I recognise that corner. Here we are.
But there were no Ultra signs. I followed the main road east and started to look for a shop to buy some water in. At this point 4th place appeared round the corner. What a relief! We greeted and I moaned to him about needing water. He said the second checkpoint should be on the outskirts of the village. We walked east over the bridge and then the bridge over the old railway. No signs. As we passed a campsite I decided to get some water from a tap on the reception building wall. He carried on along the road.
As I returned to the road I could see a man in the distance gesturing for me to cross the road which I did and he told me the CP was 100m along a track to the north. What?? Total bonkers. There was the now 3rd place guy taking some Coke from his drop bag and a marshall who wanted me to scan my dibber. I had a moan about the route and markers. She pleaded ignorance.
3rd place and me set off walking together back to the main road and towards the campsite. We found one arrow directing us in there but nothing else and we wandered aimlessly past the static caravans. Looking at the map I knew we had to get to the river so mumbled that fact to 4th place. We reached the river, but no obvious path on the bank. We headed east and over a fence towards a pile of rubbish in a field. I spotted a red&white tape tied to the next fence - this must be the route. We followed it and found a riverbank path.
East we went, trotting between the Himalayan balsam and nettles before reaching the disused railway path. Through a gate and into a sheep field. I checked the map again - 3km of this ahead. Simples. 4th place began to run and I followed, he became 3rd, I became 4th. Harrrummph. But I was nackered and beyond racing so let him go.
The railway embankment was pretty grim and overgown. Nettles, brambles and fallen trees interspersed with the odd randomly placed red&white tape to keep the motivation going. And an ankle deep river to cross. Pretty frustrating at this stage in the run - 47km in. At 48km the railway path reached a road which I followed towards a small forest track.
Thankfully the next section to Crieff was lovely, shaded woodland on wide flattish paths. The watch ticked over to 50km and I realised I needed another gel to up my spirits. I was truly spent at the stage, or at least I felt like it. Out of the woods into a housing estate and left towards the A85. From earlier close studying of the map, I knew the race route crossed the burn on the A85 and returned to the Distillery up a woodland path, not up the road. So that is what I did.
Crossing a footbridge festooned with Ultra bunting flags, I turned right into the car park and crossed the finish line. I was the first runner to approach from the correct direction - 1,2 and 3 had all come up the road! Tsk Tsk!! Medal presented by a child, I took a bottle of water and walked over to 2nd and 3rd place who were chatting near the Distillery reception.
Despite the chaotic organisation and a bit of a scrappy last 10k, I had enjoyed myself. Coming 4th was pretty good, first old feller.
