West Highland Way to West Shenzen Bay

A belated race report but I've been in Hong Kong recently with no time for life-sapping activity such as blogging....

Got to Milngavie in plenty of time for the 1 a.m start. I tried to have a kip but that was futile. Decided to go for a slash with 5 minutes to the start but when I got back, I was at the rear of the starting grid with the footpath too narrow to move further up. I was starting slow anyway, so no worries there. I then realised that my head torch was in the car but my crew had locked up and were out of sight in the crowd








Spot the numpty without a head torch

somewhere. Hmmm..could get interesting! Then we were off. It was pub chucking-out time and high-fiving drunks in the precinct seemed a bit surreal! Just before the WHW path, I caught sight of Ivor and shouted for him to bring my head torch to Carbeth. Fortunately I bumped into Gavin MacKinlay in the early stages and he sportingly lit the way for me until I could get my torch. On this section, we passed Chris Moon,
looking remarkably sure-footed with his spring-steel prosthetic limb. I hadn't heard of Chris before - he lost an arm and lower right leg to a land-mine in Mozambique - and I must admit, I was quite startled at the thought of someone attempting such a race with an artificial leg. So well done Chris on achieving your goblet!

Drymen arrived in 2:01, a minute outside my schedule. I had been telling everyone I was going for 20 hours but secretly I was working to a 19 hour schedule. And I reckoned that would need a slow start, so my time at Drymen was fine. I didn't have any intermediate markers for pace but my speed instinctively felt right. On to the forest section - midge hell! The drizzle picked out by my head torch was in fact, millions of the wee blood-suckers and zero wind had the entire population queuing up for a feast. A leisurely stroll up Conic Hill, with fantastic view of a serene looking Loch Lomond, and cautious descent got me to Balmaha within a second of my schedule. I bumped into Gavin again here and we ran towards Rowardennan together. At Salochy, we were joined by John Kynaston, the first time we'd met. John was having his pit-stop here to avoid the crowds of Rowardennan. I had a bit of a low around this time - perhaps my brain asking my body "what's going on? - you've had no sleep pal". Chicken soup at Rowardennan eased that though, and I was soon running easily towards Inversnaid. I'd lost track of John and Gavin by now. I assumed John was ahead as he was running straight through but I'd no idea if Gavin was ahead or behind.

This section was where I had been over-exuberant in the Fling, so I pegged back the pace and walked the long forestry track climbs. I could make out a Carnegie vest in the distance. Too elongated for Richie, it turned out to be Stevie Ogg, who I caught just before Inversnaid. Stevie's good at long road races but he told me his longest run in preparation for the WHW was 20 miles, so I thought he might find this quite a challenge. I warned him that Inversnaid to the end of the Loch would be tough! And of course it was for everyone. The technical trail specialists can probably make up a fair bit of time here but I'd decided to take this section cautiously and not worry too much about time - it's so easy to get carried away too early in the race. I'd thought that my schedule to Bein Glas was 7:25, so I was depressed when that time passed and I'd still a few miles to go. Turned out it should have been 7:45. I got there in 7:52, so I'd lost a wee bit of time but nothing to worry too much about.

On the track to Derrydarroch, there was a large herd of cows wandering up the path. It was a bit disconcerting to see a large bull in their midst and to have to pass within a couple of feet of it. Thankfully, it was more interested in humping the nearest cow than having a go at me, so I continued unscathed. By Carmyle, I had made up some time and I felt quite good as I approached the Crianlarich hills. I could see John Kynaston up ahead and caught him at the muddy farm section. We chatted for a bit. John said he felt fine, though he didn’t look it! and I think he was having a bad patch. As for me, I felt much better than at this stage in the Fling and I forged on ahead, dropping John by the gate which marked the halfway point. On the downhills in the forest though, my quads started giving warning signs of trouble ahead. It was now my turn for a bad patch and before long, John had caught and passed me and by the A82 crossing, was well ahead.









Duck or Grouse Bridge successfully negotiated

My support crew graffiti artists (it was only flour folks!) had been out in force though, and their messages of support lifted my spirits. At the Auctertyre weigh-in, I was within ½ kg of my starting weight, so my half-hourly eating and drinking strategy seemed to be OK. I leap-frogged John here, as he seems to prefer longer breaks but he’d passed me again by the new underpass. I kept him in my sights though and caught up with him once more. We ran the last mile or so to Tyndrum together and as we crossed the Fling finishing line, I commented how weird it felt now being in unknown territory, as I’d never run more than 53 miles before.

Tyndrum was my longest pit stop. I had a shoe change here, as my hessian specials were starting to chafe a bit. I had broken them in previously but probably not enough for a 95 mile race. So it was on with my battle-scarred but oh-so-comfy 3000+ mile builders bag shoes for the rest of the race. I’d hoped that I would arrive at Tyndrum fresh as a daisy but in reality I felt a bit worse than that! I’m not sure I could really have expected any different though. The section to Bridge of Orchy was the only part of the WHW I hadn’t run yet. I got caught in a sudden downpour and had left my waterproof in the car, so I got cold very quickly. Fortunately the rain didn’t last and by the time Bridge of Orchy loomed into view, I was getting warm again. A lovely pint of Deuchars awaited my arrival at the bridge. I could quite happily have sunk a few more but time was of the essence!

On towards Loch Tulla, I spotted John up ahead yet again. I could hear him talking to himself. Had the sun made him flip? As I got closer, I realised he was actually doing his video diary, so all was well. We chatted once more - I told John that my quads weren’t feeling too clever and I wasn’t looking forward to the descent into Kinlochleven. John had the same problem in his first WHW, where he had to walk from Kingshouse! He pushed ahead on the descent to the loch and I took it easy, trying to conserve whatever quad life I had left. On the flat and uphill though, I was fine. On the road section before the climb to Rannoch Moor, I said hello to Debbie, who I hadn’t met previously but knew her from her blog. Marco couldn't be too far ahead then – that was a surprise, as I had expected him to be well ahead by now. I had a rolling pit stop here, so managed to leap-frog John again. Yet more road messages awaited me but the highlight was a group of old biddies that Will had put up to (and they’d obviously rehearsed!) showering me with adulation as I passed. And with support like that, how could I fail?!

On Rannoch Moor, I was closing in on Marco. He was running the flats but walking anything uphill. I hadn’t met Marco before either, so I introduced myself when I caught up. It obviously wasn’t his day and he said he just couldn’t seem to get going. I told him to stick at it, as things might turn around. It was getting pretty warm now but all in all, the conditions very pretty perfect for the race and it felt great to be spending my day on this crazy endeavour in such a wonderful place. The descent from the moor past the ski slope and on to Kingshouse was gentle enough and I was still moving fairly well. At Kingshouse, a second pint awaited me. I was only going to have half but it tasted so good, I necked the lot in about 10 seconds flat! I had a brief interview with the BBC here. They seemed to be treating me as some sort of WHW race expert, so I duly adopted that persona! I recall spouting such gibberish as “the race starts here”, etc. But how the hell would I know? I’ve never done it before! If they show that bit, I’ll be cringeing with embarrassment come September.

The sight of John fast-approaching the checkpoint was my cue to be on my way sharpish. On the way to Devil’s Staircase, I had a perfect view of Buchaille Etive Mòr glistening in the sun. It’s an iconic peak and must be one of Scotland’s most beautiful mountains. My younger brother Euan’s ashes are scattered at the summit. He was killed in ’96 when he fell off Aonach Eagach in Glen Coe. Buchaille Etive Mòr was his favourite peak and it overlooks the glen. I imagined him laughing at me from the top, goading me along. I felt quite emotional here - it seemed only yesterday that he was still around - and my thoughts inspired me for a good climb up the Devil’s Staircase. The Beeb were lurking at the top, waiting to pounce on bedraggled runners as they struggled past. “How do you feel?!” they asked cheerily. I don’t think these guys would have got many coherent responses!

To this point, I’d had a fairly good run. At Kingshouse, I was about 15 minutes behind my 19 hour schedule but that didn’t seem too bad and I probably hadn’t dropped any more time up the staircase. In my heart of hearts though, I knew that wasn’t going to continue, with a lot of descent from here on in. And so it proved. The descent to Kinlochleven was murder on my quads and though I was still running, it wasn’t much more than a shuffle. On the road into the village, I was overtaken by Stevie Bell I think – the first time anyone had passed me since Tyndrum.









The hill WAS steep, honest - it's just Fergie's camera that's shite

My weight was still good – about the same as the start, so that was one less worry. I tried a fish supper here – fine in theory but not really such a good idea! The fish was OK but I couldn’t face the chips. I had a bottle of coke for a caffeine boost and took a couple of pain killers, hoping they might ease my muscle soreness.

When I had reccied this part of the route, I’d commented on my blog that the climb to Lairig Mor didn’t seem too bad but that it might be a different matter with 80 miles in my legs. Well, I was soon to know and yes, the hill was a different beast this time round! I just focussed on one step at a time though and eventually the top arrived. The Beeb had set up shop here also and I went into pose mode as I jogged past the camera. On the first downhill though, it was just too painful to run any more and I realised that it was going to be a long lonely walk to the finish. John had arrived at Kinlochleven as I left, and I knew it was only a matter of time before he caught me. Sure enough, a few minutes later and he was there, all fired up for the final 12 miles. I was pleased for John that he was still on schedule for a PB, and shouted him on his way.

Now resigned to a walk, a few things kept me going. Firstly, I’d come such a long way and endured so much that I was now absolutely determined to get to the end. Then, I thought of John’s experience from his first WHW – he had to walk from Kingshouse whereas I only had half that distance to go. Also, Debbie Consani’s ‘best piece of advice’ on the WHW forum was that if you’re capable of walking at Kinlochleven, then you CAN finish. And I was, so I did! There was still no guarantee of course, and there was always the possibility of cramp finishing me off. Thankfully that didn’t happen though. I’d taken on a bit of salt via my soup and I’d also munched 3 magnesium tablets on the way. I don’t know for certain if that made any difference but I didn’t cramp up at a time when I felt I would be predisposed to it, so it probably did some good.

My slower pace was generating less body heat and the headwind on the Lairig Mor cooled me very quickly – so much so that I needed waterproof top and gloves to stay comfortable. I’d long passed my ETA at Lundavra, so Martin was dispatched up the path to find me and I was grateful for some company on my way in to the checkpoint. A final mug of soup and some dried apricots, then on for the final slog through the forest via Glen Nevis to the finish. I was expecting "midge hell part 2" here but for some reason, they left me alone. Was I stinking so much by now that I was unpalatable? Or perhaps there was just enough of a breeze to keep them at bay. There was a steep flight of wooden steps to negotiate in the forest and I must have been a spectacle as the only way I could get down them was backwards. Thankfully there were no witnesses. The final forest path was supposed to be a nice fast run in to the finish but there was nothing I could do about that I just kept moving forward as best I could. A few runners were passing me now, all looking remarkably fresh. Gavin caught and passed me at last – so he had been behind me from Rowardennan after all. Martin and Ivor met me for the final 1 ½ miles and ever so slowly, Fort William came into view and, finally the Leisure Centre, and finish in 21:18, TFFT! I had a massage at the leisure centre but I think I was a bit of a hopeless case and there wasn't much he could do to ease the stiffness. We did make it to the Grog & Gruel after that but I'm afraid I was useless company and 2 pints had me falling asleep into my beer.

I could have slept all Sunday, partly because my thighs were so stiff I could barely get out of bed but we made it to the prize-giving, which was a great finale to the event. It probably takes twice as long as it should though because of all the hobbling. Fortunately, we got seats right down the front to lessen my pain. I found myself making a mental note of how stiff folk were compared to myself. Everything from one extreme; folk like Sharon and Richie just breezing up for their goblets as if they were still on their taper - ridiculous! - to the other, with the likes of Martin Hooper and Neal (well he did have a broken foot!) looking even stiffer than me. Yes, we know how to suffer for our sport!

Thanks to all who made the race possible and especially to my support crew Ivor, Martin and Will - all FGMs. Having had time to reflect, I'm sure there's some time to come off with a bit better preparation, so I'll hopefully be back next year.

End of the WHW? Is it bollocks - there's still 200 yards to go...

I had barely time to catch breath before I was off on a business trip on Monday to look at some big bridges in Hong Kong and Shenzen in mainland China. 12 hours in cattle-class probably wasn't the best idea so soon after the race and my ankles had puffed up like baloons by Hong Kong. No running for me on the trip but I did have a workout of sorts when we had to get up 300m to the top of a tower on Stonecutters Bridge. The lift hadn't been commissioned yet, so we had to climb up ladders on foot. And with 30-odd degrees, 95% humidity and all our safety gear, we were totally drenched by the top.

Hong Kong's 7 million population is shoehorned into the coastal strips and there is a surprising amount of mountainous countryside. Races include the 100k McLehone Trail with 26,000 feet of ascent in November.

Huara(che) for Tapers

My official training for the WHW ended last Sunday, any running thereafter being just a 6 miler or so every second day to tick over. In the last 4 weeks of training proper, my ego wanted eight 30 miles+ runs but reality intervened and I managed five. These included two early morning runs to work, which I found surprisingly enjoyable and which I may continue occasionally, post-WHW.

My right ankle seems fine now but I've picked up a niggle in a ligament at the top of my left hamstring which is uncomfortable. It's not stopping me running altogether but it's something I could do without for the race. I'm thinking this probably stems from my ankle twist 4 weeks ago, when I was favouring the right leg and running off-balance.

With less training last week, I had a bit of time to dabble with shoes. Having just read the 'Born to Run' book, I decided to make a pair of Huarache running sandals, as worn by those expert ultra runners, the Tarahumara Indians of Mexico. One of the characters in the book, Barefoot Ted, gives instructions on how to make them on his website. I made mine from 6mm medium density EVA sheet and 1.5 metre boot laces. I've only jogged a few miles in them but I'm already impressed with the simple and ingenious design, which is perhaps a thousand years old. They can certainly tackle terrain that would make even the most masochistic barefooter's eyes water - and that's presumably why the Tarahumara developed them in the first place. The bare EVA would be fine for a one-off race in the dry but for better durability and traction, some rubber would be needed. Huaraches were of course, designed for the rocks and dust of the Sierra Madre, and the one flaw I would see for use over here would be lack of traction in mud. Stud grips could be added but with such a thin sole, there would be a danger of the grips punching bruises into your feet. Still, the WHW has no mud to speak of, other than a bit on the Conic Hill descent and the farm track towards Crianlarich so, couple a sole grippy enough for damp rock with reasonably toughened feet and I reckon Huaraches would be fine for the WHW.



They're not for me in the race though, at least not this year... For that, I've gone organic, with my hessian WAY-farer shoe. I'm now breaking these in, all in good time for the race. The hessian upper is a wee bit heavier than my usual woven poly but it is the most comfortable material I've tried and it does expand naturally with your foot during a long run.

For my support team, I'll be mobilising the Brown Army in the form of Trotters Ivor Normand, Will Bailey and Martin Ferguson (left). Will is a student but hopefully Ivor 'Mr Logic' can bring some sense to the proceedings. Martin is a 2:26 marathoner but perhaps better known for his encyclopedic knowledge of '80s pop hits and his relentless barrage of the worst jokes in the world. The guys are tasked with setting booby-traps for the front-runners and laying the metaphorical brown carpet for myself. Some doubts remain of course; the last time Ivor was in these parts for a weekend's walking, he ended up getting punched full in the face by his girlfriend (now ex!) on their drive back home; the last time the club had a student in Fort Bill, he ended up getting a free bed for the night, courtesy of the Northern Constabulary after being found face-down in the gutter with trousers round his ankles; and can anyone survive 24 hours of rapid-fire Fergie jokes? We'll find out soon enough.

At the last team briefing in the Blue Blazer, it was suggested that beer ought to be my liquid of choice for the run. That might not be as daft as it seems - beer does have a high moisture content at around 96% water, and the small amount of alcohol would guard against the evils of hyponatraemia as highlighted by Dr Chris. Let's face it - no-one could take on board 2 gallons of the stuff without pissing some of it out. Also, in my experience, alcohol in beer taken after a long run is metabolised very quickly and I'm sure would be processed even quicker during a run. I can't just dismiss the proposal in any case, for fear of a Politburo ice-pick. I haven't done enough experimentation to risk a full beer strategy this time (though I heartily recommend it to fellow competitors!) but I reckon the odd strategic pint of Deuchars will be beneficial - and what better to wash down my Kinlochleven fish supper?

Looking at the field this year, if Lucy and Kate Jenkins aren't running, then Adrian Davis, Scott Bradley, George Cairns and Jack Brown ought to be in with a shout. Richie could also be in the running if he's got his peaking right. It will be interesting to see if his high mileage punts him up to a higher performance level. Marco and Thomas seem very similar on paper, so that will be an interesting battle if they both have good runs. If things go well for me, I've a feeling I could be seeing a lot of John Kynaston and Pacepusher during the race. I'll just have to let them psych each other out in their ruthless quest for club records, and slip past quietly unnoticed! Talking of club records, I was having a look at Trotter attempts. Ian Campbell ran 17:49 in '89, Kate Jenkins 17:37 in 2000 and Jamie Thin 24:34 also in 2000. But these times were all achieved while running for lesser clubs, so the HBT record stands at 29:02 by Dario in '96.

Lots of folk say they hate tapers but I love them; time to hone my tv remote skills and generally laze about, which I'm great at. It is my observation that the best ultra runners are a) women or b) a bit chubby round the gills (I won't add "or both", for fear of a slap). And for me b) will be easier to achieve than a), so there'll be none of this "cut down on calories during the taper" nonsense and I won't be easing up on the pies this week. All that remains for me now is to get my head round the psychology of the battle ahead. It's a downhill race of course, so I'll keep reminding myself of that on the climbs. See you all on Friday!

GPS Sucks

Last week's training didn't quite go to plan. The intention was two long runs and a hill run. But after my WHW run the previous Friday, where a twisted ankle had led to me favouring my right leg, I had the strange experience of my right leg feeling fresh as a daisy, while my left seemed like it had been hammered by a hard race. So my first run of the week was Tuesday with a lunchtime 4 mile jog down by the Kelvin. Left leg and opposite ankle were still a bit tender but things held together OK.

On Thursday I felt brazen enough to try running my 35 mile commute home from work, via Bellshill, Shotts and Fauldhouse. Fortunately, I managed to sneak off about 4 to increase prospects of a daylight finish. Normally if I'm running homeward I'm heading for Carfin train station 14 miles out which still seems a long-ish run, so it was a bit of a psychological hurdle reaching that point and realising "just 21 to go....FFS!". The central belt perhaps isn't the most inspiring landscape but from the high point just past the "M8 Church", Kirk o' Shotts, I had a surprising view all the way to the Far East (North Berwick), West to Glasgow, and Northwest to Ben Lomond.

I'd been a bit worried that my left leg would stiffen up during the run but by the time I'd finished, both legs were stiff but at least balanced! And for pace control, my 5 minute walking breaks every half hour did keep things in check but that was difficult later on - after 3 1/2 hours on the hoof, all you want to do is get home for your tea!

I was down in Sheffield at the weekend but did manage to get back in time for a Pentlands hill run out to West Cairn on Sunday. This is a 14 - or so I thought until I used my garmin on the route for the first time and found out it's only a 13. I hate that about GPS; they invariably show that you've been over-bragging your mileage and your training log has previously been a big lie. And when just occasionally you want it to be a bit shorter, like on Thursday when I was secretly hoping it would let me off with something like a 33 miler, - no chance - the GPS dragged the run out to the full 35.

Tuesday this week was another first, running in to work from Livi. I'd been trying to talk myself out of the run; I'd set my alarm for 4 but was lying awake thinking that I still had the hill run in my legs....that's it, I'll do a recovery run at lunchtime tomorrow and run to work on Wednesday - so I switched off my 4 o'clock alarm setting and nodded off. Then I woke at ten to 4 thinking - no, something will turn up at work ruining my lunchtime run plans, as often happens, and I won't get out at all. So up I got and was off and trotting by 04:20! I took a different route this time - slightly shorter at just over 34 miles, following the Almond upstream to Blackburn, on through Harthill, under the M8 on Forrestdyke Road, picking up the 75 Cycle Route at Forrestfield, then on to Glasgow via Airdrie and Coatbridge.

It was a slow start, perhaps because I was still half asleep, but once I'd warmed up and got into the flow of the run, I really enjoyed it. It did seem a surreal experience to be running all that way to work though - my drive to Sheffield the following day took less time! The cycle route is now a building site, as it will be making way for the new Bathgate to Airdrie railway line. Ironically, this was originally a railway but we threw it away in the '60s along with most of our railways, and now have to pay for it all over again. I passed a few "path closed" signs but I persevered through the mud - any terrain that bypasses the aesthetic assault of Plains is worth the extra effort. I had a few minor aches and pains, so I popped a couple of ibuprofens at about 4 hours. I've had problems with my stomach taking this stuff before, normally if I've taken it on an empty stomach before a run. But as I was eating along the way, things seemed fine this time and the tablets did the trick.

My main problem on getting to work was that I'd got showered and changed just in time for a 10 o'clock meeting, but was ravenous and had no time to fetch a fry-up breakfast. So I had to quickly make a bowl of porridge and eat it at the meeting. Running such distances on your commute does save on petrol and train fares but unfortunately that's more than accounted for by the cost of increased food intake - and costly dental bills to repair the damage from tooth-decaying junk swilling round your mouth for hours during the runs.

I've also been following with interest the WHW blogs. Timtheshoeless has been making great, er, strides... in barefoot running. I've followed his reading recommendation and bought the book "Born to Run" about the Tarahumara runners. I've only read a few pages but I like them already - beer forms a large part of their diet. Can't wait to read some more.

Training Re-vamp

It's a bit embarrassing looking back at my new year training plan, as reality hasn't exactly matched up to festive optimism. In the last few weeks leading up to the WHW, my mileage base is a fair bit lower than I'd hoped. I've done a good few tempo runs and a reasonable number of long runs but intervals and hill sessions haven't really happened. Still, we're all where we are and this week I decided to change my training a bit to try and make best use of the available time to 20th June. For me, the priorities are 1. learning race pace and 2. a bit more fireproofing of quads for downhill running. The weekly plan then, for the next 3 weeks, is two 30+ mile runs at very low intensity (about WHW race pace - what's the point of doing your long runs at 8-9 minute miles if race pace is 12+ and you never learn in training what that actually is?) and a 15 mile hill run where I'll walk the climbs and run the flats and descents. I live 35 miles from work so I can do this by running to work one day early in the week (4 a.m start as I usually have meetings about 10!), running home later in the week (using some flexi-hours so I can get home before midnight) and a weekend venture into the Pentlands for hills.

This week I was on leave and managed to get 2 long runs in. On Tuesday, I impressed myself by managing to get out the door at 04:30 for a 30 miler over the Pentlands to West Linton and Carlops, returning via Borestane and East Cairn. It was amazingly peaceful being out when everyone else is asleep but with a chill east wind and ground frost, it was fecking freezing and it took about 3 hours to warm up! Once the sun's rays did get above the hill line though, it was a superb day and with the view from East Cairn, it felt great to be alive. I toyed briefly with the notion of going up West Cairn as well but this wasn't meant to be a hill run as such, so I headed down to the drover's path and took a less demanding route home. Total time, about 5hrs 45 mins.

On Friday, I headed North with Gulshen and Sara, got dropped off at Bridge of Orchy to complete the WHW and meet them in Fort William. I'd run Kingshouse to Kinlochleven before but the rest of the route was new to me, so I was looking forward to the run. A bit too dreich to see any of the larger peaks but a nice day for running nonetheless. All was looking good as I trotted up the hill from Bridge of Orchy but I'd only gone about a mile when I twisted my right ankle. Bugger. I should have turned around and gone back, as Gulshen was changing and feeding Sara so would probably still be in the car park. But I couldn't get my head around abandoning such a long run after just 15 minutes so, ever the optimist, I thought "it might ease off" and headed on towards Loch Tulla. Cukoos calling here - obviously a bumper year, as they were out in force at the Fling too. Plenty of adoptive parents in the bird community will be marvelling at the size of their 'offspring' in coming weeks.

Up on to Rannoch Moor. I'd never seen it from this vantage point and I seemed just a tiny speck in its incredible vastness. As I passed Kingshouse, the post-sprain endorphins were wearing off and my ankle was getting a bit uncomfortable. By the time I got to Devil's Staircase, I decided to phone Gulshen and ask her to pick me up - but, perhaps not surprising, my mobile had no signal. So I resolved to continue towards Kinlochleven and perhaps once I'd gained some height, I'd get a signal and could phone ahead. It was really exposed up here and I was glad of the waterproof jacket in my back pack. The climb at least didn't seem to make my ankle worse and although the gradient required me to walk a fair bit, it was over before I knew it and I was soon descending, albeit gingerly, towards Kinlochleven. My first prototype off-road shoes had been mercilessly ripped to shreds on this section in the 2003 Great Trotter Relay. No such drama today though, and I reached Kinlochleven without incident. By now I had a phone signal but I'd also kind of sussed out how to nurse my ankle along. And, 15 miles to go didn't seem so bad somehow, so I decided to continue. The climb out of Kinlochleven wasn't as severe as I'd expected but maybe that will be a different story after 80 miles of the WHW race!

Forging on towards Lundavra, I caught my first and only glimpse of sunlight all day - shafts of light bursting through cloud and radiating the valley in glorious contrast to the brooding leaden sky. And even that moment alone was worth the journey - it really is a staggeringly beautiful place. I had to ration my sightseeing though, as the path is pretty rough here with plenty of ankle-turning opportunity and the last thing I needed was a double sprain or doing the other one. Thankfully, everything held and before long Glen Nevis was in sight. Only half the Ben was visible today but that's probably the usual view. The last few miles of the Way are fairly gentle, with a gradual descent into town. Fort William rush hour was in full swing with queues of up to a dozen cars as I jogged past the race finish point at the Leisure Centre and on a couple of hundred yards to the Alexandra Hotel where we were staying the night (no chance of fobbing Gulshen off with a bargain bunkhouse). Just short of 36 miles in about 6hrs 40 mins - not fast for the run itself but if it was supposed to replicate WHW race pace, still far too fast for me.

It was nice to be able to relax with a nice meal and a couple of drinks at the hotel, rather than have to rush off home. We'd forgotten to pack the power cable for Sara's bottle steriliser and by the time I got to the hotel, Gulshen had been to Boots and bought a new steriliser to use the cable from it. She then took it all back the next day for a refund! Lateral thinking of sorts but if it had been up to me, I'd just have used the cable from the kettle in our room...

My ankle of course, ballooned overnight and I've got DOMS in my left leg from favouring my right so yes, I'm a bit of an idiot. The swelling's gone down and I can walk OK today though so I'll try a jog tomorrow and see how things are. For both these long runs, I tried out some soft oaty chocolate bars (Kelloggs Elevenses I think they're called). The're slower energy release than jelly babies (which I'm now bloody sick of anyway) and half a bar every half hour kept me going nicely, so I'll be using them for the WHW, possibly supplemented by chicken soup at Kingshouse and a fish supper and coke at Kinlochleven.

Diddy! (or Legend?)

Had to laugh when I read Stuart Hay's latest post. Stuart has been trying for a few years to crack the sub-3 marathon barrier. He's easily capable of 2:50 but keeps coming home in 3:01 or thereabouts. A few months ago, Stuart visited Graeme at Hampden for a very thorough physiological testing session, involving VO2 max, lactate threshold and a personalised training programme based on heart rate training zones.

Stuart's next opportunity to go sub-3 is in the Edinburgh marathon at the end of May. Now, you might think that with a service such as Graeme's, you pay your money, do the test, get your training programme and that would be it. Not so. Graeme takes his job seriously and logged on to Stuart's blog after the Edinburgh to North Berwick race to check for evidence of progress. He was obviously less than impressed, as you can see from his bollocking HERE! Now Stuart is a club stalwart who tends to turn out for all manner of races, club runs and interval sessions, whether or not the session is doing him any good, so Graeme has probably hit the nail on the head.

Of WHW bloggers, I know that JK (and possibly Richie?) have had Graeme's testing done so guys, I hope you've been following his advice or expect a rocket!

I've been thinking of paying Graeme a visit for the test when I can raise the funds. But I'd probably have to lie in my blog thereafter....

Fling Anal-ysis

One of the great difficulties of a race like the Fling is pace judgement and this is an area where I made mistakes last week. So I thought it would be interesting to look at how others had paced the race. To be able to compare the entire field, from the results I calculated each competitor's split time as a proportion of their overall time, then ranked these for each of the 4 race sections. Thus, competitors can be compared by how they ran their race rather by overall finishing time. Fellow anoraksics click HERE for details.

Section 1 - Milngavie to Drymen
There was a vast range of pacing here, from the fastest at about 14% of total time to over 20%. Slowest relative time was Stuart Mills at 21.4%. This was an anomaly though, as Stuart had gone walkabout here and his later sections were therefore likely to be relatively faster. But leaving Stuart aside, as a proportion of his total time Jez started slowest in the entire field! Marco has taken some stick for his pacing but whilst he was fairly high up the section 1 rankings, he was by no means quickest out of the blocks. Davie Hall, you started faster than Marco, with 15.3% of your total time compared with Marco's 16.3%!. Perhaps surprisingly, the most cautious starters tended to be male. I can only conclude from this that corny banter from the male supervets caused the girls to flee.

Section 2 - Drymen to Rowardennan
Split proportions here ranged from about 17% to 29% of total time. Notably, the bottom 20 in the rankings contained Jez (27.6%) and 9 women who were still keeping their powder dry.

Section 3 - Rowardennan to Bein Glas
Another wide pacing range here, from about 22% to 36% of total time. Jez starts to come alive, moving into the top 10 at 28.5%. Towards the other end of the scale, Donald Naylor marks time with a 33%. He told me after the race that he'd decided to take a walk for an hour on the path from Inversnaid. My bullshit detector had filtered out this comment but his stats seem to bear it out.

Section 4 - Bein Glas to Tyndrum
Time proportions ranged from 23% to over 36%. I had assumed that Jez would hit top spot here but he just maintains form with 10th ranking at 24.2%. As a general trend, women tended to finish better than men. This can be explained scientifically - having ran the middle sections conservatively at a pace which allows exessive nattering, women found in the last 10 miles that they had plenty left in the tank and finished strongly. And as an ultrarunning strategy, it's very effective. For those towards the bottom-ranked for this split, the wheels must have come off and I suspect some of these had picked up an injury or other problem but were battling grimly on to the finish.

Who ran the best race relative to their ability and what are the golden split proportions? Well, that's difficult to say but for pacing strategy I reckon we can all take a lesson from Jez. It's notable that he ran his race differently to most of the field. Would he have changed anything if he had been going purely for the course record rather than having to secure a win first and foremost? It's possible, but he did have the confidence to let others go ahead in the first half, so it's clear he was running his own race. His split proportions from last year's race were also similar to this year. The magic percentages are 19.8, 27.5, 28.5 and 24.2 for each race section and the most 'Jez-like' runs were from George Cairns, John McLaughlin, Lewis Grundy and Julie Gardner. I hope they all felt they had good runs!

So, on the assumption that Jez's split proportions are close to the optimum, most WHW bloggers could have ran between 10 minutes and an hour faster on the day, simply by running slower to Rowardennan. Easy peasy, eh? All assuming of course, that everyone's race went otherwise to plan!

Fling 09

Set my alarm for 04:15, then dozed off and when I resurfaced it was after five. Shit! A mad panic to cram down some breakfast and set off at high speed towards Milngavie. Fortunately, Livingston's F Troupe were thin on the ground at this hour and with the M8 commuter-free, I actually got to the start with plenty of time.

For shoes, I went for my trusty road trainers, which have a 23mm EVA midsole. In the Round Rotherham race, I'd used a thinner midsole and my feet took a bit of a battering, so with the rocky nature of the Fling course, I opted for a bit more comfort this time. In the event, they proved fine, so I'll be sticking with them for the WHW. For nutrition, I had orange juice, marmite, jelly babies and my designer gels. The latter will need adjustments before June.

The Fling organisation was excellent and it must be the best bargain race around. In addition to racing over spectacular countryside, for your tenner entry you get a bottle of bubbly, a couple of beers, flask mug, plate of stovies and they even have a massage parlour at the end. Small wonder then, that the race is so popular with Scots and Yorkshiremen.

I chatted briefly with WHW Blogger John (Project June) before the start. He seemed psyched-up for the race. I wasn't really sure what pace to aim for but 9:30 - 10 seemed a realistic target. With that in mind, I looked at last year's results and made a mental note of John Kynaston's splits as a guide. I'm sure that 95% of runners start off far too fast in such races and most of the field seemed to be way ahead of me after a couple of miles. I spent the first few minutes chatting to Donald Naylor but he always starts far too fast so I wasn't getting suckered into any of that and I slowed down to something more sensible. I talked to a few other runners in the early miles. As we passed through Gartness, I recognised Gavin McKinlay from his blog, so introduced myself. He had a similar target to me, so I guessed my pace wasn't too far out. A few hundred yards ahead, I could make out a yellow vest and dog, which could only be Pace and Paw-pusher respectively. Drymen arrived at 1:40. That seemed a bit too quick but I suppose the first 12 miles are by far the easiest terrain. On the climb up Conic, I felt strong and caught up with Neal, who seemed to be having a bad patch. Harvey seemed full of beans though, and both passed me again on the descent to Balmaha. I was taking it easy here, as I've not done nearly enough downhill acclimatisation and fried quads at this stage would be disastrous. 2:47 at Balmaha was again far too quick but I felt fine. Lots of folk seemed to be taking leisurely breaks here but I had decided to eat and drink on the run, so a quick re-stock of bum-bag from the drop-off supplies and I was off, leap-frogging hordes in the process.

Shortly after Balmaha, I was overtaken by a fast-moving Stuart Mills, who should have been at the front-end but had got lost on the way to Drymen. I heard him saying to someone that he could probably still get second place from here - he certainly wasn't short of confidence! I passed Trottette extraordinaire Debbie MacDonald on the way to Rowardennan. If she's not doing London or Lochaber tomorrow, no doubt she'd have some equally crazy racing schedule over the next couple of weeks. I tried the first of my designer gels on this stretch and what a disaster! They tasted great but I'd added too much chocolate to the mix and they required a forearm-busting effort to get about an inch of "gel" from the tube - I might as well have been trying to squirt a Yorkie bar out! Thereafter I existed on my other foods and fortunately I had plenty of that. Despite my upper body workout, Rowardennan arrived at 4:03.

From here to Tyndrum was all new territory to me and it immediately showed, as I initially followed the shore only to have to re-trace back through the car park to get to the proper path going up the hill. On towards Inversnaid, I was forging ahead, enjoying reeling folk in on the long forestry path climbs. On reflection, I paid for this later on and really should have been far more cautious at this stage. Inversnaid is a technically challenging section with lots of path hazards; firstly, the approach required navigating through a herd of fatties who'd just been disgorged from a tourist bus to clog the path. Then, beyond the hotel came the rocky rollercoaster obstacle course. It was probably the most interesting part of the route but tricky to pass through in a hurry and I found it hard to keep any sort of rhythm going here. Still, I had time to admire the wild goats - a bit sinister looking but seemingly content to share their domain temporarily. As I got to the end of the loch, I started to struggle, and the climb and descent to Bein Glas seemed to take forever.

Leaving the checkpoint, I was in trouble, with the insides of my thighs starting to cramp. From here until mile 48 was a total crawl and quite a few folk who I’d passed miles back started to re-take me. Thoughts of a DNF started to creep in but whatever I did would mean several more miles on foot, so I shuffled on as best I could, constantly grazing on marmite and supplementing my juice supply with burn water where possible. I’d been warned about the Crianlarich hills but I actually started to pick up here. Perhaps it was the “only 10k to go” psychology, or maybe the cool of the forest shade making things more comfortable but I definitely detected a change of gear and things started to perk up a bit. I’d have had to walk most of these climbs anyway, so I wasn’t losing too much time. The steeper downhills were becoming a problem for my by-now deep-fried quads but gradients started to level out and before I knew it, I was out of the forest and on to Auchteryre, with only 5k upstream to Tyndrum.

I realised that if I could average 10 minute miles from here, I’d get under 9:30, so I dug deep and even claimed back a few bodies that had re-taken me earlier – including Orange Wig-man who appeared to be in a bit of a daze, his brain doubtless having overheated in his excessive headgear. On through the new A82 underpass – a definite safety improvement. On a previous WHW relay, a changeover point was here and to avoid traffic, the incoming runner finished on one side of the A82, with the outgoing runner starting on the far side. All seemingly safe but HBT always carry a pig’s trotter as a baton and I recall Phil Mowbray nearly decapitating a motorcyclist as he hurled the stinking limb over the busy road to our next runner. But I digress….I had the odd wobble in the final mile but managed to hold it together, and was content with my sub-9:30 in the end. And boy, did those beers at the finish go down a treat!

After I’d finished, someone told me that my shoes looked as if they were falling apart, to which I replied that no, on the contrary, it was a designer distressed look. I don’t know if it was just a coincidence but shortly after that, I was approached by a doctor who asked if I was OK, sat me down and gave me a banana and choccie biscuit. He said he was keeping an eye out for people in trouble and I looked pretty rough – Oh, thanks mate!

I wish I could have stayed and sunk a few more beers but I had to be on the 6 o’clock bus. Nevertheless, I did have a chance to chat to a few folk before I left. Neal seemed pleased with his run but Harvey sadly had to withdraw with paw trouble. You'd think by the closeness of our times that we'd been having a titanic battle all the way but I hadn't actually seen him since Balmaha. I met another WHW blogger, Richie Cunningham, for the first time. He ran an excellent PB, so his recent mega-mileage seems to be working. I also bumped into a couple of former Springburn Harriers compatriots from over 20 years ago; Alex Chalmers and Mole. Alex C hasn’t changed too much apart from his hairline and Mole is still the 15 year old kid he always was (and running 2:01 for 800m as a V50!). It brought back memories of my only night out in Tyndrum, circa ’84, when a few of the Springburn lads had driven up for the Saturday night disco, doubtless lured by the healthy numbers of young women staying for the summer to work in the local hotels and pubs. We were supposed to be camping but ended up getting run out of town by local bikers, in a mad car and bike chase to Crianlarich. They’d taken offence that one of our number (Danny Wilmoth Jr I think) had pulled one of “their” women. It’s strange how memory plays tricks on you - I had been thinking that this was the same night that our car had been mistaken for the getaway vehicle from an armed robbery of a bingo hall in Glasgow as we returned in the wee sma’ hours. On that occasion we were being pursued by an unmarked CID car (which we thought might be local gangsters, as I lived in Ruchazie at the time), and the night’s entertainment had culminated in a Dukes of Hazard-style car chase with us getting well and truly jam-sandwiched by about 8 squad cars as we made a last frantic attempt to escape after being holed-up for an hour in Blackhill! But no, Alex confirmed that had been a different night entirely, after a Harriers' evening to Aberfoyle.

Ah, happy days! Anyway, back to this century...All in all, a cracking day out and the Fling will definitely go onto my favourite races list. I’m already working out a strategy for next year and more intelligent pacing should give some scope for improvement.

A Trot Too Far

With my belated thirst for mileage, I thought I'd combine long run with race on Saturday, so I trotted the 19 miles from Livi to Hunters Bog, then ran the Bog Trot. Despite getting there about 3 minutes before the start, it was still seeming a good idea. Well, until the first savage climb up Salisbury Crags that is - when I belatedly realised that I might just have overdone my warmup somewhat!

Still, I'm in need of hill work and if that's what you're after, the 4 miles of Bogtrot certainly doesn't disappoint; brutal climbs twice up the Crags and once up Radical Road, with wonderfully fast runable descents. So, despite my discomfort, I plodded on as best I could - my slowest ever time, but all good training nonetheless and with a mile cooldown (on the pancake-flat World XC course), nearly 24 miles for the day. Highlight of the prizegiving was John Blair-Pish winning a tin of corned beef for first vegetarian.

A bit of DOMS today after Saturday's exertions but I still managed to get in my 14 mile commute run to catch the train at Carfin. I've decided to Fling my sorry carcass along the WHW on Saturday, so I'll probably run Wednesday, then ease off until the weekend.

Desperate Measures

Yippee! Good news from Dario last week - I've now got a WHW race place. Depressingly though, my training mileage in February and March sunk woefully low, with my 16 week moving average skulking in the low 30s mpw and I've now resorted to the use of syringes. More on that in a minute...






On a positive note, last week's mileage was 80 - my highest for about 25 years! - culminating in a 31 miler yesterday out to Beecraigs Loch, via some of the sights of the Bathgate Hills. As with all of my current training runs over 20 miles, this was a run/walk effort - 25 minutes running followed by 5 minutes walking, which translated to about 28 miles total running and a good workout, with not far off 5 hours on my feet. It's a good way to break up a solo long run - all I had to do psychologically was 10 gently paced reps, then feed and hydrate during the walk recoveries.



I took a jar of chocolate hazelnut spread to nourish me en-route but it soon became obvious that Gulshen had scoffed most of it beforehand and it ran out prematurely. Despite being a "squeezy" jar, these are far from runner-friendly and mile 24 in a busy Almondell Country park saw the undignified spectacle of me desperately trying to scrape the dregs from the jar with my fingers and getting chocolate spread smeared all over face and clothes like a naughty toddler - much to the disgust of adults.

I suppose whatever race food you go for, it's got to be easy to get it inside you. And that's where the syringe comes in. Don't worry, it's not a cycling one and there are no needles involved - it's merely a vehicle for getting the perfect gel recipe into a the ideal container. To obtain suitable syringes, you can marry a nurse like I did, or get them off ebay where, bizarrely, they're flogged as a must-have accessory for pike fishing. Today, I made a bulk batch of gels to last me the next few weeks; a chocolate spread, peanut butter and honey mix - lovely!

Ingredients

Toothpaste tubes make the ideal containers. Brush teeth for a few weeks or be extravagant like me, hang the 17p expense and squirt the paste down the sink. Rinse the tubes out well unless you're a mintaholic.

Mix ingredients and heat in saucepan until nice and fluid.

Welding gauntlets reduce the inevitable third-degree burns.

Inject into the tubes. Avoid 'crunchy' peanut butter to extend syringe life.

Ready to go in the perfect squeezable tube - with bonus hint of mint for added freshness.

West Pentlands Whiteout

I'll really have to get some decent mapping software. The stuff which came with my Garmin watch is embarrassingly shite (but today, given the conditions, ironically very accurate).

On Sunday, I went for my first hill run this year in the West Pentlands. 16 miles in 3 hrs 12 minutes - all of 5 mph! Well, some of the going was very tough. None of your mamby pamby Carnethy/Scald Law motorway tourist paths of the East Pentlands out here, you know. In fact, apart from the old Drovers Road to West Linton, there's hardly any paths. And even with that, the section between Cauldstane Slap and the Lang Whang needs much artistic licence to be labelled a path. Out here it's basically swamp, thick heather or a combination of both. Today's route took me south from Murieston out to the Pentlands and the summit of West Cairn, east to Cauldstane Slap, then north over Corston Hill and back home.

My summer route to the Pentlands gets me south of the Lang Whang in half an hour and follows a path south from Murieston but requires wading over the Linhouse Water, as the nearest bridges either side require a 2 mile detour. The strip of land on the north bank is owned by the Scottish Woodland Trust and they want to provide a footbridge so that sheep can cross from the south to graze it. But the farmer on the south has refused, as he doesn't want unwashed plebs from Livi contaminating his land (whereas, if you wade across, at least you get a bit of a wash). Anyway, wading the river is fine in summer, when TGI (Total Gonad Immersion) might be considered bracing but it was out of the question today because a) the river was in spate from snow melt and b) my screams would alert farmer with shotgun.

So I took the long way round, on a new route for me, heading 'off-piste', and straight into an uncharted swamp. And with the water table so high, even my mighty goretex socks were no match for the conditions and my feet gave up the ghost circulation-wise about half way round. I crossed the Lang Whang west of Happerrig Reservoir, at the source of the Water of Leith. The landowner here has shooting interests but it really pisses me off that he has red flags out to warn the public off, shooting season or not and as far as I can tell, 365 days a year. And they were waving away today in the blizzard. But perhaps I've misunderstood and he's actually just a communist? No doubt I'll get shot one day and be even more pissed-off.

From here it was a short stretch to the base of West Cairn; relatively sheltered by the forest but when I hit the hill and started to climb, it was a different story. I was into the teeth of a gale and from about 500 feet, it was a whiteout, with drifting snow making upward progress painfully slow. My hill legs are definitely a bit rusty at the moment and my calves were screaming for mercy after a few minutes. I had windproof gear on but in the cross-wind, the right side of my face and neck was freezing off, so I had to zig-zag to get a wee bit of respite. I did briefly consider turning back but, looking behind me, it seemed just as bleak as where I was heading, so there was no alternative but to grit teeth and slog onwards.

Finding West Cairn was no problem, as I was following a dry stane dyke up the hill. When I crossed the summit and started to descend, I could make out a line in the snow that seemed to be a path but after a few minutes and with poor visibility, I had that "Oh f*ck!" moment when I realised I'd no idea where I was (and of course, no compass). I seemed to be descending far too fast for where I should have been. So I stopped and gathered my thoughts - Ok, it's a west wind and I'm supposed to be heading east, then north. So I got the wind at my back and then headed left a bit. I wanted to pick up the Drovers path heading north. Hopefully, with Happerrig being a big body of water, I'd reach that even if I missed the path. I might have to negotiate a swamp to get there but at least that would be better than ending up in West Linton.

So I stuck to my strategy, slow going as it was and as luck would have it, the weather eased a bit. There was a break in the cloud way in the distance and bizarrely, I could make out something red with shimmering white. It took a while but I then realised that it was the Forth Rail Bridge almost 20 miles away, with the white tarpaulins of its repainting job. That perked me up, as I now knew I had my bearings. I soon worked out where I was and slithered my way down to the Drovers path.

More marsh back to the Lang Whang and then up Corston Hill. This wasn't too steep but there was a too much snow to make it runnable, so I just embraced the hill and let the summit arrive when it was ready. North of Corston, the last 3 miles were road and although I took this at a steady pace, it seemed remarkably fast compared with what had gone before. Back home at last, the run had been a bit more than I'd bargained for and felt more like a 30 than a 16. But I had a nice feeling of having endured in the conditions.

I tried out a new (for me anyway) food for the run - Morrisons chocolate and hazelnut spread. It's very calorie rich at 584 per 100g - about 70/20/10 fat (mainly from nut oil)/carb/protein, so maybe not the ideal proportions (not that I know anything about nutrition) but it's absolutely delicious and seemed to do the trick. I would highly recommended it for any Ultra chocoholics out there.

Two fingers

To five fingers.
It's been a bit of a struggle getting mileage in of late; what with fatherhood responsibilities, lack of sleep, 3 to 4 hours daily commuting and work, the last few weeks have been a bit of a blur. I've even missed the zimmer and senior Nationals and haven't been out on the WHW since November, FFS! I really need to get organised to integrate training with my commute, and get some long runs in the hills at weekends.

Still, running isn't everything and I have at least been ticking over, training-wise. On Thursday, I managed to get an evening pass-out (mainly because Gulshen wanted one for Friday), so I took the opportunity of attending Trotter drinking in the Blue Blazer, and worked up a thirst by running the 17-ish miles to the pub. My route followed the Almond downstream to the Union Canal Aquaduct, along the towpath to Sighthill, then lit streets via Gorgie to Edinburgh's West End.

I couldn't find my head-torch but it was a clear night with a half-moon, so I just headed out regardless. As Running Dad has posted on his blog a couple of times, it's amazing how your senses adapt in the absence of artificial light. When I headed into the dark after Mid-Calder my night vision gradually kicked in and coped fine for most of the run, only being compromised by the increasing concentration of sodium light as I approached the Metropolis. Parts of the wooded sections along the Almond were a bit hairy though and in the darkest parts, the main challenge was actually locating the path.

I'd have taken an hour anyway if I'd got the train in, so I felt the 2 and a bit hours of running was time well spent. As an added bonus, I'd earned 3 1/2 training pints - any surplus to that being consumed purely for social purposes. I wasn't the farthest travelled either, with Bob Taylor (pictured, right) having flown in from Oz for the session. As is always a problem with the Blue Blazer though, you're only just getting settled in when it's time to go. And with no night buses going further west than Hairy Twat, I'm stuck with getting the 5 to midnight '28' from town, or a £40 taxi fare. So my exit was left to the very last minute, requiring a wobbly 1/2 mile sprint to get to the bus stop in the nick of time. And at the other end, it was so bloody cold that I needed to add yet more mileage and jog the mile from bus stop to home.









Comrade YP warms up for Trotter Training

Anyway, back to the title of my post. I wrote last time about my Vibram Five Fingers. Well, they're certainly an innovative shoe with their toe freedom being a major feature. One thing I've marvelled about 6-week old Sara is that she can grip tightly with all her toes. I, on the other hand, having for decades stuffed my feet into Clarks and the like, have pathetically weak middle and small toes. So maybe freeing them up and using them as intended is the way to go for restoring their strength?

But innovative as they are, the retail price of VFFs is so ridiculous that I won't be rushing to replace them when they wear out. Instead, I've bashed out my own version (OK, during time when I should have been training) from B&Q gloves, Asda socks, 3mm EVA sheet, tie-wraps, and recycled bike tyre sidewalls for grip. As with the VFF, not really a shoe for muddy XC but will be ideal footwear for this year's Black Rock!

Off we go...

Tie-wrap strap guides

I feel a bit of an aerosol doing this...

Glued sock safely docked and beheaded

Voila!

Silly? Dangerous? The perfect race shoe for WHW novices!

Vibram 5 fingers. No, they're not a dodgy-sounding sex toy. Sorry to disappoint - they're just shoes. But as shoes go, these are definitely hard-core. Oh dear, so much for principles - I've gone and broken a 4 year streak of self-sufficiency and succumbed to the evils of mass-market trainers by getting a pair of these. I must admit though, they're pretty radical and even my own trainers seem like over-blown pillows compared to these. And yes, these are an after dark shoe if ever there was one!

It's a strange concept - customer shelling out lots of money for what is little more than a second layer of skin. Never an industry to miss a trick, Big Shoe Corporation has been cashing in on the current eco-friendly back to nature zeitgeist, with shoes like the Nike Free and Air Rift. But neither of these makes the grade for natural running as far as I'm concerned - they've both got big heel wedges for starters. The Vibrams though are much more like the real deal. If fact, so much so that I found myself during my first run wondering if I'd have been just as well leaving the shoes off altogether.

I had a wee blast in them tonight on a 2 1/2 mile loop round Murieston - not far but enough for starters and crikey, they certainly focus your mind on getting every foot plant exactly right! Even rough-textured tarmac feels like hot coals and loose stones are best given a wide berth, at least until my feet toughen up. My next challenge will be to see how long I can get away with wearing them in business meetings.

The shoes were actually a present from Gulshen "for being supportive during the birth", which was really nice. But then, considering the shoes, perhaps she was being ironic?




Still on a shoe theme, I suppose it's now inevitable that I'll have a go at creating a kiddies range. Thankfully then for Sara, Anne Hay came to the rescue with a superb pair of hand crafted booties which are a damn sight more professional than those she might have been wearing before too long if I'd been left to my own devices. Thanks Anne!

Slippery Snakes and Wilderness

Running has had to take a back seat for the last wee while. During the week of Sara's birth, I managed a grand total of 6 miles! - partly from being too knackered and also because I forgot training existed for a while. Since then, I've just been ticking over, as I adjust to the demands of squawk sessions (at 3 hour intervals from Sara, and slightly longer from Gulshen).

Last Tuesday, we took Sara down to Sheffield to show her off to Grandparents. Most of the route down was clear but heading east from Manchester, we had fun and games trying to cross the Pennines. Rear wheel drive and wide tyres weren't the best combination for snow and we had to abandon the Snake Pass shortly after Glossop. Fortunately, the Woodhead pass a few miles to the north was still driveable and we had better luck there.

With the car parked up at our destination, I realised on Wednesday that I had a puncture. No big deal, I thought - it's only a 10-minute job to change the wheel. Well, that's the theory. In practice it took 6 hours. I had recently fitted some locking wheel nuts but, embarrassingly, I'd left the key in Livingston. And as these nuts are designed so that thieves can't remove them, there was no way I could get the wheel off - so we could have been stuck in Sheffield for some time! I explained my predicament to Britannia Rescue and a patrolman arrived a couple of hours later. As he took stock of the situation, he exclaimed "That one's a locking wheel nut. Can I have the key please?" Aaaagh, FFS! Anyway, after explaining that the missing key was the reason I had called them in the first place, he said "Well, I can try with a lump hammer and chisel, but you'll have to sign a disclaimer and your wheel might get f****d". So I said thanks but no thanks and spent most of the day tracking down a mechanic who could do the job properly. Despite the wasted hours, I did manage to salvage a run in the last 2 hours of daylight out into the Peak District and I’m glad I did, because it was superb, in bright sunshine and pristine snow once I got above the urban zone.

With my recent lack of mileage, my 16-week average has dipped well below 40 mpw, and I’m only too aware that this trend will need swift reversal if I’m to be in any sort of shape by June. With that in mind, today at work I stretched the concept of lunch "hour" somewhat, as I dragged Stuart Hay out on a lengthy cross-country jaunt along the Kelvin eastwards out towards Bishopbriggs, south up to the Wilderness Woods, continuing south to the canal towpath, turning westwards on past Lambhill and back into town. It was a cracking day to be out, crisp and bright, but there was some tricky going in the riverside fields east of Balmore Road, with frozen deep ruts and not quite enough snow covering to make the going comfortable. The fields here are always flooded and the trick was to avoid a dunking by trying to spot where snow was covering thin ice. Stuart did get a freezing soak up to the knackers later on when he slipped into a ditch but I tried hard to contain my mirth.

The Wilderness Woods are a strange place. Thirty years ago, some weird folk lived in them, rumoured to be witches. Me and my older brother found their camp once when we were out air-gunning in the woods but we certainly didn't hang about for introductions. They may still be there for all I know, but we just skirted round the edges today. The woods' population of roe deer is still thriving though and we saw plenty of them, all humbling us with wonderfully graceful demonstrations of cross-country running.

Stuart had joked half-way round that he needed to get back in time to catch the 4 o'clock train. Well, it wasn't that bad but it was nearly half-two when I got back to my desk - late enough to have to feign that "just back from a meeting" look; probably none too convincingly, what with soaking hair straight from the shower.

Ultra Stars

Gulshen's contractions started at 2 a.m Wednesday and ended 25 hours and 50 minutes later, with the wonderful arrival of our daughter, Sara Jennifer Minto, at 3:50 a.m on Thursday. Weight 6lb 8oz (Gulshen's bump was deceptive!).

So that now gives me a target time for June! But compared to childbirth, ultra running is a stroll in the park and I'll now consider myself a wimp every time I'm feeling sorry for myself during a race.

Blackridge 5-pinter

Today's session was notionally 20 miles of running, split into 4 mile run segments interspersed with 1 mile walking breaks. I hadn't put much planning into the run - I basically just eyeballed the map, decided roughly where I wanted to go, then headed out the door. It was sunshine and shorts as I set off but that didn't last long.

My route took me along the 75 cycle route to Blackridge, south to Harthill, then back home through Whitburn and followed the Almond downstream from Blackburn. Hardly the most inspiring route but then today wasn't the best for enjoying the view.

First casualty was the walking breaks; the weather eventually closed in making it just too bloody cold. Normally, folk out walking their dogs on the '75' are fairly sociable and give you a nod or hello as you pass. But today, I'd obviously committed a faux-pas. You could see them clocking me at 50 paces; "out walking in shorts in this? - Loon!". And so I was studiously ignored. By the time of my second scheduled walking break, a couple of miles West of Bathgate, my legs were numb with horizontal sleet. Fortunately, I'd brought leggings and balaclava in my bumbag. Lo and behold, once these were donned, I was no longer considered such a loon and the locals were back to their hospitable selves!

Forging on towards Blackridge, the terrain was very exposed with no shelter from the strong south westerly and now driving snow. I had to narrow my balaclava to just a slit for eyes and nose to prevent my face from completely numbing up. Any further walking breaks were out of the question and I had to keep running just to generate a bit of body heat. Blackridge to Harthill was miserable - straight into the wind. Turning east at Harthill was a relief, as I had the wind at my back and could finally begin to thaw out for the remaining 11 miles home. As I finished my loop, the weather too had come full circle, and I was bathed in sunshine on my arrival home. The route turned out to be a bit longer than expected at 27 miles and with less walking than anticipated, I clocked up 25 miles of running.

I've therefore earned 5 pints, according to my schedule. Not that I can have them all of course, as I need to stay sober enough for that dash to the delivery ward, whenever it's required. Maybe I should start keeping a log of the surplus, and have a beer-fest after the birth? Well, that's probably in jeopardy too. Gulshen's been grudgingly tee-total since April - I had thought of joining her in solidarity but that thought quickly passed (probably speeded on its way by the fact that I had a pint in my hand at the time I thought it). Anyway, she'll be expecting instant post-birth role reversal so she can hit the bottle ("vintage Cabernet Sauvignon, none of your Tescos fiver muck, thanks") with a vengeance for the foreseeable future.

Waiting game and EVA refurb

Still waiting for the new arrival. Due date was 12th Jan and with Gulshen's bump now bigger than the turkey we devoured at Christmas, it looks like double figures here we come . I'm just glad I'm a bloke!

Running-wise, I've not been too adventurous, generally confining myself to within a 5 mile radius of the house, just in case. If I extend that radius to 6.5 miles though, I can get a single loop 20 miler in so that's what I plan tomorrow.

My road shoes' midsoles are a bit long in the tooth, so I replaced them today. I usually change midsoles every few hundred miles but the builders bag uppers have now clocked over 2000. They look ridiculous but are now so comfortable, I don't want to get rid - I just keep patching them up as and when.

I was curious to see how the EVA had fared, so I did a post mortem, slicing cross-sections through the midsole at forefoot and heel. As you can see, they've tended to mould to my foot shape but that's OK as far as I'm concerned. The main thing I'm looking out for is any significant change in thickness from one side of the foot to the other. These weren't too bad, with near enough 20 mm of EVA across the width, so they'd probably have been OK for a bit more mileage.

Once I'd replaced with new EVA and outer rubber, I grubbed about a bit in the garden mud to prepare them for tomorrow's run - I just can't stand squeaky clean white bits on trainers.

Variables

An easy run today, on my muddy 6 mile XC route through Murieston and Mid-Calder woods. I had run the same route 2 days ago and had included a 3 mile harder effort in the middle. I therefore expected today's run would be about 5 minutes slower than Friday. I was surprised then to find I was a minute quicker today and in the 3 mile middle section, was within 10 seconds of Friday's time. So why was that?

Scientists might tell you that to be sure of the cause of changes in experimental results, you should vary only one parameter at a time. Well, the first parameter was deliberately reduced effort today. But today's shoes were also different; a bit heavier, though with better grips than on Friday. It's possible too that the footing was firmer today but the woodland paths were still muddy, with lots of slippy turns. Had I subconsciously been competing with Friday's time? That's also possible but I don't think so - I was careful to ensure via my breathing that I was totally aerobic today, even on the hills and slippy bits.

A further variable might have been my head. I've been reading "Master the Art of Running" by Malcolm Balk and Andrew Shields. The book is based on principles of the "Alexander Technique". Frederick Alexander was an actor, who overcame an inability to perform by means of better postural awareness and perception of body movements and actions. He wasn't a runner but his principles have been applied to many fields such as physical therapy and sports, including running. Key applications for running include the relationship of head, neck and spine to running action, so I digested this chapter before heading out the door.

I have been aware of the importance of good posture in running for some time now, but I hadn't realised how much my head bobs about until I tried out a new head torch in preparation for the Round Rotherham a few weeks back, when I ended up quite dizzy trying to keep track of the wildly fluctuating spot of light in front of me. Heavy weights bobbing about at extremities are mechanically inefficient and as runners' heads tend to be a substantial weight, this must equate to a lot of wasted energy.

So, the instructions from brain to body today were; Keep head steady, focus on a point 30 yards in front - if I need to look down, move eyes, not head; and keep a tall spine, aligned with head and neck, regardless of gradient or terrain. And that's what I tried to do, for every step of the way. I could tell from the sides of my eye sockets that my head was still moving slightly from side to side but hey, Rome wasn't built in a day.

In the final analysis, there were too may variables to establish why I was faster than Friday with less effort but whatever, the run felt pretty good. And enough food for thought to continue in my quest to "master the art of running" and not consign the book to the attic for a while yet.

Training thoughts 2009

Like everyone else, I've been giving some thought to next year's training, so here's my cunning plan:

Main focus will of course be the WHW race in June. And if I end up not getting an entry for that, there's always the Self Transcendence mile race in the Meadows the previous Wednesday. I'll also possibly be doing the Senior and Zimmer Nationals in February, the 'Fling' in April and, looking further ahead, the Two Breweries in September and Round Rotherham again in December.

My immediate aim was to end this year uninjured and capable of upping training from New Year. Well, that plan's not gone perfectly but hasn't been too bad. I did have some knee pain in November, (probably due to bumping up my long runs too soon rather than than too high an overall mileage) but that now seems to have passed. And I've had a bruised left foot since the Round Rotherham race, which I didn't do any favours today on my 16 miles of deep frozen rutted paths. Probably serves me right but I'll be seeking out softer surfaces for the next couple of weeks.

For races up to marathon distance, I reckon that what you are capable of on the day depends on all of the training you've done in the previous 12 weeks. And of course, what training you are capable of handling in those 12 weeks depends on your background prior to this. I'm not sure about ultras, as I've little experience but I'd expect the critical period to be longer and I'm plumping for 16 weeks. So, allowing a 2 week taper, the 16 weeks starts in mid-February. Between now and February, I'll be trying to get my mileage up to 60 per week, and I'll be hoping to maintain that as an average during the 16 week 'critical phase'.

With a baby iminent, I'll have to be more enterprising with regard to fitting in runs but I still have to go to work, so I'm hoping I can get 3 or 4 weekday runs either at lunchtime or as part of my commute. I'll just be having one quality session per week until March. This will generally be the inclusion of about 4 miles at half marathon race effort within a run. I've no idea what that actual pace is at the moment, so I go by breathing effort. For me, this corresponds to the maximum pace I can comfortably maintain with a breathing rate of 2 strides in, 2 strides out. I find this handier than fixating about an actual pace, as it can be done on any terrain and in any weather.

From March, I intend to add another mid-week session and this will either be fartlek (max 30 minutes total of faster efforts), my urban hill session; 12 times up North Portland Street at Strathclyde Uni, or an occasional outing to Thursday evening Trotter training in Edinburgh. Any weeks when I have a race, I will forego one or both of the mid-week sessions.

All other running, including weekend long runs, will done at an easy pace. My rule of thumb will be that they should be slow enough so as not to wipe out the mid-week sessions. I'm banking on only being able to run on one day per weekend but I'll try and get a 20 miler in, off-road if possible, with one 30+ miler per month. I'm quite attracted to the notion of setting aside a fixed time on a Saturday, 6 hours say, and filling that time with walking and running. So, when a 20 mile run is scheduled, the 6 hours would include more walking, and less when it's a longer run. And as John Kynaston has pointed out, there's no better specific training than on the actual course so I'll try and get some long runs in on the WHW.

I suppose one of the challenges of the WHW race must be functioning when you'd normally be asleep. This will be one advantage of having a new baby; whilst short-term, lack of sleep might make training more difficult, come June, acclimatisation will be complete!

And last, but by no means least, the final plank of my training strategy is a pint of beer for every 5 miles trained. My long research on the matter has settled on this pintage as producing optimum results. This would imply 19 pints in Fort Bill though, if I manage to reach the finish line come 20th/21st June. Thankfully that's likely to be academic, unless 24 hour opening has reached the Grog & Gruel.

So that's the theory! How it all pans out remains to be seen and is of course one of the great intrigues of the sport.

Happy New Year to anyone reading this and best of luck with your 2009 training and racing.

Socks

Season's greetings to everyone. I had such a good haul of pressies this year, I thought I'd share this pic with you. Well, I didn't share the chocolate orange of course. That was mine but after much pleading, I did let Gulshen have the little core bit in the middle. Ironically enough, the only thing I'd specifically dropped hints about were socks. Extra special socks though - Goretex ones. They're a bit more up-market than my usual "3 pairs a pound" Asda fayre, so I'm glad I didn't have to buy them. I'm needing to put in a bit more training emphasis over hill and country rather than road. My end of the Pentlands (West) is a great playground; lots of lovely mud and a quagmire from September to June. The problem is, my shoes are collander-porous and maybe I'm just getting soft but the prospect of two hours' foot-numbing immersion at this time of year has subconciously led me on to drier but ultimately less interesting routes.

Hence the socks. Most stuff I'd have a go at making, but some things are best left to the experts and waterproof, breathable socks are definitely in that category. I'm hoping durability will be OK as my birthday isn't until September but time will tell. Unfortunately, my present was too well hidden to be brought into service for my early morning Christmas run but even with damp feet, my 6 miles soft padding through Muriestion and Mid-Calder woods was very peaceful and soothing. A fry-up breakfast, dinner with family in Bishopbriggs and a beer or two in the evenng rounded off a very pleasant Christmas day.

Bye-bye Xantia

A bit of a tear-jerker this morning as my trusty M reg diesel Citroen was finally loaded onto the tow truck to head for the great garage in the sky. The neighbours' curtains were twitching; "about bloody time too", I could almost lip-read. It had been 'letting the Street down' since...well, since I bought it in March really. The problem with fleabay is, I'm just too good (aka gullible) at bidding. You need to keep your powder dry until the last few seconds. I get my stopwatch out and time it to the wire; , 8,7, "Bid",click, 4, "Confirm bid", click, 1,.... "Congratulations, you've won".. YEEES!!....er..."Oh sh*t, what have I done?" It's got me into bother in the past. A couple of years back, I bought a Mazda RX7 on the spur of the moment. The trouble was, I hadn't got round to mentioning it to Gulshen, so I had hidden it in the garage until I worked out my story. Of course, she found it first... The car did give me an excuse to blast over the Lang Whang to Carnwath for my Sunday papers for a few months but even that pleasure was barely worth the wrath incurred.

This time round I got permission first but had perhaps painted an over-optimistic picture of the sort of shed I might be bringing home. No, the Xantia was no oil painting but what can you expect for £240? Of course, that's one of the seductive evils of ebay - the illusion of motoring for pennies. You've still got to tax and insure it, and then there's the trips to scrap yards to source bits for the faults expertly covered-up during the pre-bid inspection. Still, when all's said and done, this one was OK, and perfect as a commuting banger I could park anywhere without fear of vandalism or theft. A big bonus was that these cars (and old diesel Mercs too) run on vegetable oil; straight from the bottle from Tescos in the summer, and a 50/50 mix with diesel in winter (and yes, the exhaust smells exactly like a chippy!). Well, that was fine in March when cooking oil was 50-odd pence a litre but changed days - it's now about £1.40. At this rate, we'd should be frying our chips in diesel!

I got 8 months' sterling service out of it but come MOT time, it needed a few bits and bobs that would have totted up to a couple of hundred quid, so I cut my losses and phoned my friendly scrappie to come and tow it away. I chanced my arm with "how much will you give me for it?" "70 quid"...eh?..er..."OK then" - I practically bit his hand off! Changed days also then for the value of scrap metal. This one will head for the crusher, then off to the Orient to feed China's voracious appetite for everything we throw away.

So we're now down to being a 2 1/2 car family, the 1/2 being my project projectile, the home-brew Mintoid Trotter, which is destined for the Nurburgring in Germany. The Nurburgring is the old half-marathon Grand-Prix circuit where you just turn up, pay a few Euros, then blast away to your heart's content until you blow a gasket or they scrape you off the tarmac, whichever comes first. Click HERE for how it should be done and HERE for how it shouldn't. Not that I'll ever finish the car with a baby on the way. At least, not until such time as I've taught junior to MIG weld....

Right, that's enough of that. I'm off for a run before I catch the car bug again!

Training Inspiration

While we wait with interest for John to unveil his 2009 training plan, those seeking further ideas might be interested to see what the Marathon Monks of Mount Hiei get up to Here. Yes, we're all just a bunch of softies! I'm not too keen on the hats but I'm glad to see my shoes are catching on.

Round Rotherham 50. 13th December

I was a bit nervous about going to this race. My wife Gulshen is nearly 36 weeks pregnant, and having to sprint 250 miles back up the motorway didn't make much sense if the baby decided to come early. She was happy enough to make the trip though, so we went together and stayed with Gulshen's folks in Sheffield, thus combining Christmas presents' swapping with the race trip. I took a phone with me during the race just in case of that urgent call but fortunately everything was fine.

The Round Rotherham has incredible variety; canal, river and lakeside paths, park and woodland trails, industrial estates, historic ruins, urban streets, country lanes, and mile upon mile of rolling countryside predominantly over ploughed fields. In hill running terms, there are no major climbs but it's not totally flat either, with about 6250 feet of ascent according to my Garmin. Overnight rain promised to soften things up, and mud-lovers certainly weren't disappointed! It was still raining at the Saturday 7:00 start but a pundit told me confidently that it would clear up by 9. Twenty miles into the race, someone else said it would clear by noon. At 3:00, it was "any minute now..." Well, it did clear up, finally, on Sunday.

The refreshing lack of bureaucratic red tape in the race (you could even just turn up and enter on the day) was matched by amount of tape marking the route. Graham Henry of Portobello had done the race before, so I asked him what the course marking was like. "there is none!" he replied. Well, there was a bit but it seemed that when the roll of tape ran out, bits of the carrier bag it came in provided a few more markings, then nothing. Not that that's a complaint because an excellent Wainright-style route description was provided with the race info. You ignored it at your peril though. The other strategy was to follow Graham or listen out for South Yorkshire accents to tap into local knowledge and that tactic saved my bacon more than once.

I spent the early race with a small group which included Graham and Ian Rowland of Dunbar. Graham is mad as a hatter and keeps everybody entertained with his relentless banter. He's organising a "Coffin Race" next year to commemorate the era when Balerno didn't have a church and bodies had to be transported over the Pentlands to Penicuik for burial. He didn't specify what had to be in the coffin during the race but I presume weights would suffice in lieu of a corpse.

Jack Brown of Cambuslang appeared out of nowhere at about 20 miles. Now Jack's a proper runner, with an impressive record in track and cross-country, so I knew I had gone off too fast if I was with him at this stage. He had ran a canny first half indeed and powered on to finish an excellent 4th. We chatted for a bit and I found out he's in a similar boat to me; this was his first ultra, he's on the reserve list for the WHW race and was getting the Round Rotherham in as an early qualifier.

As we left Rother Valley Country Park at 22 miles, the course became decidedly more rural. I had thought that the race would be mainly on runable paths, so I was surprised to find the next 10 miles dominated by the true cross country lover's delight; plough. And not just any old plough. This was heavy clay, turned into a sticky quagmire of WW1 battlefield consistency by the heavy rain. The stuff really sucked the strength out of your legs. By the time you'd slithered and clomped your way over a plough section, you'd be a few inches taller and the clag which stuck to your feet would last a couple of hundred yards before you were running on shoe sole again.

It wasn't particularly cold and I was fairly well wrapped up but on the higher ground beyond 25 miles, exposure from the relentless rain and wind began to take its toll. My saturated woolen gloves were, as Graham so eloquently put it, "as much use as **** ****" and my hands became so numb that I could barely open my bum bag to access food. Fortunately, things eased with hot soup and tea at the Woodsetts 30 mile point checkpoint and a more favourable wind direction later on. Another feature of these conditions was the large amount of standing water on flooded paths and the frequent freeze-thaw cycle on your feet further augmented the sensory experience.

My nutritional strategy was a jelly baby every 10 minutes or so from 90 minutes, with back-up from marmite (taken neat this time, not the inedible yuk I created a couple of weeks back). I preferred the 'little and often' approach but many relied entirely on the impressive array of sweet foods at the checkpoints which averaged about every 7 miles or so. The hot soup and sandwiches at the 30 mile checkpoint were bloody marvellous and I spent a good 10 minutes here gulping down as much as I could. This seemed to work fine for me and I never reached a point in the race when I felt I couldn't keep stuff down.

I ran with Ian Rowland for much of the race. He would disappear and then, usually after one or other of us had made a minor navigational gaffe, we'd bump into each other again and I only managed to get my nose in front in the last few miles. I had a bit of a bad patch at about 42 miles and was reduced to a crawl on some of the uphills. But as I drew closer to home, my confidence grew and I seemed to get going again. The last checkpoint was only 3 miles out and I got quite a buzz in the final section along the River Don, knowing that, barring disaster, I was going to finish. I got back in a wee bit under 9 hours and within daylight (just!). Not particularly fast but mission accomplished and it'll be a wee email to Dario to hopefully punt me up a rung on the WHW reserve list. Apologies to Brian though - in my usual last-minute rush, I forgot my MP3 player, so my verdict on Slayer-assisted ultras will have to wait 'til next time.

This race really is a well thought-out, superbly organised event on a cracking course and is a credit to Rotherham Harriers. It was an epic experience for me and I would thoroughly recommend it for those looking for something a bit different.

Post-race, I've got a bit of a left calf twinge, so I'll give it a rest for a couple of days, then gently ease back into training later in the week.

Traction Control

I had a fairly conservative training week last week. I wasn’t sure how much my long run/walk the previous weekend would have taken out of me, so I just confined myself to a few easy runs of up to 7 miles. Sunday was a lazy day off. One of my hobbies is home-brew running shoes (well, home-brew anything really. I'm afraid I took Blue Peter a bit too seriously as a kid). I want grippy shoes for hill and XC runs and my existing off-roaders are a bit long in the tooth, so I knocked out a new pair.

I am a firm believer that it is beneficial to run as naturally as possible; i.e with the same technique you would use if you ran barefoot (forefoot landing rather than heel). To that end, my shoes are as minimal as possible; they have a thin, flexible EVA sole/midsole to provide a little bit of cushioning and protect against sharp objects, a lightweight woven poly upper (B&Q weed control sheet in these) to connect my foot to the midsole and keep out grit etc, and rubber studs (in this pair, from Contenental Vertical bike tyres) to assist traction. All of the other features associated with modern trainers such as heel wedges, heel flares, heel counters, excessive midsole thickness, arch supports and motion control devices have been dispensed with as they all present more problems than they solve (IMHO!).

This type of shoe isn't everyone's cup of tea of course but for me, minamilist is best. All of the muscles, ligaments and arches of your feet are put to work as nature intended, and thereby become greatly strengthened, rather than withering away with underuse from all the "support" and mollycoddling given by a typical £80+ trainer.

1. Upper to midsole

2. Initial upper fit

3. Starting to take shape

4. Gripped-up and ready to go

I started making these in 2003 and am pleased to report that I have been mass market-free for 4 years.

Monday: I have a 35 mile commute from Livingston to Glasgow, so during the week my training is restricted to lunchtime runs from the city centre, or incorporating them into my commute. This evening I did a 14 miler from Glasgow to Carfin, to catch the train on to Livi. It's the furthest I can get with lit streets. Timing is crucial. You need to allow a few minutes leeway to make sure you can comfortably get there on time but arrive too early and you soon start to freeze. No problems today but I felt a bit of a prat as I stood on the floodlit platform in sub-zero with steam billowing out from my sweaty gear.

I ran steadily to Bellshill, then upped the pace a bit for the last few miles. I'm hoping to do the Rotherham 50 on Saturday so from now to Thursday I'll be easing right off.

TORVILL & DEAN

Sodium deficiency can be disastrous to runners exercising in extreme heat but today it proved equally problematic in cooler conditions. It's been interesting reading tales of the battle-scarred from Sunday on the WHW blogs. That's understandable out in the wilds on 'terrain' but I never thought I'd see the day when my lunchtime run would be halted by the impenetrable barrier that is the Kelvin Walkway! Someone posted a query on one of the WHW blogs the other day about the best shoes for grip on ice and wet rock (I couldn't find it when I looked later). The answer would be orienteering spikes, which have a combination sole of studs and tungsten spikes. I don't have any, but I could have done with some for today's jaunt. Overnight snow had obviously melted then re-frozen before dawn, leaving a pristine sheet to trap the wary and unwary alike. As I tried to cross the bridge to follow the river down towards Kelvinbridge, I might as well have been on the Luge run! Even girls-blousing 6 inch strides didn't work - in fact it was embarrassing but TF no-one saw me. The park's normally infested with Carnethy and Westie types at lunchtime but presumably they'd all whimped out today. Anyway, I had to admit humiliating defeat and abandon my route, gingerly re-tracing my steps to head for Great Western Road where, thankfully, salt was in more plentiful supply. Hardly my most productive session but at least I managed to "do no harm", which is always a bonus for any training run in my book.

Bizarre Injuries No. 97

I took advantage of a day off work to get a gentle jog in round some local Livingston trails (I don't really live in Hunters Bog by the way - that's just where I go for holidays). A light dusting of snow enhanced the experience. As I floated through the woods though, the plastic toggle in the base of my top caught on a branch. Too slow to realise what was happening, I continued onward, thereby maximising the strain energy in the elastic cord...THWAAK!...the plastic projectile suddenly released and bulleted into my right arse cheek at 70mph. I now have a bruise the size of a 50p as a souvenir. Click Here. It looks suspiciously like a love bite though, so I thought I'd better explain to my wife Gulshen as soon as I got back, in the interests of self preservation.

Looping Livi 40 - Part 2

Wow, what a morning - bright sunshine and no wind. A bit of a chiller but a cracking day to be out and about. I set off on Saturday at the back of 9, packing 3 bananas, about 700 cals of designer gels and 1 1/2 litres of saline dilute orange. Target pace was about 8 minute miles for the runs and half that speed for the walking breaks. I Picked up the 75 cycle route just outside Livi. The path was treacherous with ice in the shade - I wouldn't want to have been cycling on it today. This section of the 75 is a ridiculously contrived route as it zig-zags back and forward for no apparent reason. Fine if you're pottering about like me but if you actually wanted to cycle from Edinburgh to Glasgow, why would you want to add 15 unnecessary miles to your journey?

I Crossed the M8 at the Pyramids, their surreal red sheep chomping away happily in the morning sun. When I first saw the pyramids, I naively assumed they were some sort of underground storage tanks but no, they're actually a sculpture, one of several weird and wonderful creations along the M8. I left the 75 near Armadale and headed into the town, passing the clock tower. I have vague memories of this as it was the start of my leg in the only time I made Springburn's Edinburgh to Glasgow team about 25 years ago. I can just remember being eyeballs out all the way and having no idea where the finish would be, and also being passed by Don Ritchie.

A bit of a climb out of Armadale but nothing too drastic, then a descent into Avonbridge, before heading east towards Linlithgow. I picked up the Union Canal towpath at 20 miles and 3:05. As I headed through Linlithgow, I had a strong urge to peel off to the Four Marys for nutritional supplementation in the form of a pint but peeling me back out might have been harder, so my willpower held and on I plodded. I took a split at marathon distance; a few minutes over 4 hours - nearly exactly half Geb's speed!

Beyond 30 miles was new territory for me; on my 7th 'rep', things started getting a bit tougher and I was longing for the next walk. As I headed south of Broxburn the sun was already low and way to the west; FFS! where had the day gone? I reached the Almond Viaduct at 34 miles exactly, and headed up river, following the aqueduct which supplies the canal with water from the Almond a couple of miles upstream. On my last running rep, my speed dropped noticably but I didn't force it, being content to just get round in one piece. On the plus side, I was now on my regular training paths, so that eased the last couple of miles significantly. I got back in 6 hours 23 mins; 39.7 miles according to my garmin. So did I jog up the road an extra couple of hundred yards and back to make it a true 40? Did I bollocks. By then, a long soak in a hot bath to ease my weary limbs, aided by a medicinal pint of Deuchars was much more appealing.

As for my energy gels - well, I didn't throw up but I suppose the acid test was that I'd scoffed all my bananas but couldn't finish my gels. I wanted to try out a gel with a bit of protein and marmite (or in my case, Morrison's yeast extract) is about 50/50 carb/protein. I like marmite in small doses but the problem (for me anyway) is that with such a strong flavour, it isn't necessarily the sort of stuff you can gulp down after 30 miles or so (and maybe combining with honey isn't the most appetising combination). Perhaps I'll just try marmite sandwiches next time.

So, all in all a tiring but enjoyable day out. Lessons learned? 1. I need more practice at pacing this sort of distance, 2. Commercial gel manufacturers have no need to quake in their boots just yet and 3. Ultra training doesn't leave much time for other daylight activities in the winter months.

Looping Livi 40 - Part 1

I had a 7 month break from running since last Christmas, but then suffered a post-Olympics motivational rush, resulting in me being up to 40 miles per week by the end of October. Now, I've always resisted ultras, having long considered their participants to be a few studs short of a Walsh. So maybe it's a mid-life crisis, or that my eccentricity level is creeping ever northward but all of a sudden, I got an irresistible urge to enter for the West Highland Way Race next June. So off I clicked to the WHW race website, only to find that enteies are already full. What a bummer. The best that race organiser Dario could do was put me on the reserve list, advise me to "do the training" and I'll find out in May if I've got a place.

So that's what I'm doing. And prior to the event, I've got to 'qualify' by completing 40+miles off-road race. Two contenders for this are the Round Rotherham 50, 2 weeks on Saturday, and The Highland Fling (first half of the WHW) next April. Leaving it until the Fling might be putting all my eggs in the one basket so close to June, so that leaves the Round Rotherham. It sounds grim. Rotherham is surrounded by places with names like Grimethorpe and Greasborough, which do pretty much what they say on the tin. But, by all accounts it's a cracking race and it strays onto some of my old training routes from when I lived in Sheffield in the 90s. So I'm up for it and sent off my entry this week.

OK, I'd better start showing willing. In the last couple of months I've run a 20 (West Highland Way to Balmaha) and run/walked a 30 (Livingston to Easterhouse). So before I tackle the Round Rotherham 50, I need a final stepping stone - the Looping Livi 40! That's this weekend's task. I spent most of this afternoon conceiving the road and path route - starting at Murieston, it goes via Bathgate, Armadale, Avonbridge and Linlithgow, then along the Nolly to Almond Viaduct, and onto paths up the Almond and Murieston Water via Mid-Calder.

I'm not fit enough to run a 50 straight; nor a 40 for that matter. So tomorrow's session will be a run/walk effort, with the objective of getting round and not wiping out next week's training. Yes, the LL40 will be an interval session! - 8 x 4 mile jogging rep with 1 mile walk interval. Up until fairly recently, walking during runs would have been unthinkable to me. But ace German coach Ernst Van Aaken advocated them in the 60s and 70s and, having tried them, I've changed my mind. They are surprisingly enjoyable and a good way of extending the length of your long runs. I reckon you get the cardiovascular benefits of the sum of the running bits, but overall you end up with much less muscle damage.

I'll also be trying out my new home-brew energy gel tomorrow - a honey, marmite and olive oil mix. Nutritionally, it seems promising but whether I can keep the stuff down remains to be seen.