Anglo Celtic Plate 100k - The Battle Within!

A road 100k is a bit of a departure for me - I'm more at home on the trails, but the chance to wear a Scotland vest was too strong a pull.  I switched my training and focused on the flat between February and May.

Ten days before the race I picked up a foot injury, this wan't just a niggle, but something that concerned me.  I saw my physio, chatted about it with Donnie and after 5 days tried another run - the next day it hurt!  I stopped running again and alerted the team managers that I was a potential DNS or DNF.  I kept this largely to myself as I didn't want well meaning friends asking about my foot progress on a daily basis.  Val and Adrian advised me to line up on the day and just see if it held or not.

Andrew, Rosie, Charlotte, Me, Grant and Ross!

The best thing about the weekend was running with Rosie, Charlotte, Ross, Andrew and Grant - a gutsy crowd with impressive running CVs.  We met at the airport and spent the Friday bonding whilst also 'touring' the course and picking up race supplies.  My favourite moment was the Tesco trolly dash whilst wearing Scottish Athletics branded jackets.  The Scottish stereotype was well and truly enforced by the supplies of race food we had all purchased - coke, milkshakes, bounty bars - whatever is going to get you through!  God only knows what people thought!

The morning had the usual pre-race anxious feel.  This probably wasn't helped when the Scotland Team left the hotel and immediately drove in the wrong direction for 3 miles!  Oops!  We were being supported by the team managers Val and Craig, and the epic ultra-running duo of Lorna and Noanie.  Support is a tough gig and we couldn't do it without them.

Usually, after a long run you can write about the scenery, the people you meet and the friends you make.  It wouldn't take me very long to describe the two mile loop I ran 31 times and after the first few laps I didn't see very much of the 17 other people.  Instead I will focus on the brief emotional ups and long emotional downs of my race.

The huge field!

The race began and immediately the men tore off - us 5 girls kept a slower pace and we were fairly close together for the first 5 laps.  My legs felt heavy from the start.  At about 15 miles my stomach started feeling pretty rough - I headed into the checkpoint and dashed for the loo.  I hoped that was it, but after another lap it became clear that I wasn't going to have a good day.  I am grateful for the fact that it was quite a nice loo as I was going to be spending some time in there.  This continued for a while until we stumbled upon the correct dosage of Imodium - 6 in 3 hours.  FYI - this is NOT what is advised on the packaging.  I felt a bit better at 26 miles and managed a couple of cheery checkpoint visits.  

At mile 34 I was struggling again and it was clear to me that I was going to have to battle to even finish this one.  My sub 9 hour goal had gone a long time ago.  Ross was storming around and looking good - I gave him a little cheer every time he went by no matter how grumpy I was feeling.  Rosie was going strong too and was sitting very comfortably as second lady.  Grant and Andrew were fab and every time either of them passed me they did their best to encourage me and spur me on.  Grant grinned the entire day - he is possibly the happiest runner I have ever seen. 

I had a few sobs to myself at various points whilst continuing to run along the road.  Thankfully, most of the course was on quiet country roads so there wasn't anyone about to witness this.  I remember getting to 36 miles and thinking that I "only" had a marathon to go.  I think I started sobbing again as my legs were burning and I just had nothing left.  I've never DNF'd and this race wasn't going to the one to beat me - especially not in a Scotland vest - I fought on.

At one point I was convinced that everyone had lapped me twice and I was going to be the last person on the course by about 40 minutes.  Was there a cut off?  Everyone would be stood there waiting on me?  I ran into the checkpoint and tearfully asked Noanie and Lorna if I was going to get timed out.  They didn't know but forced me to eat something - I think Lorna handed me some "slablet" and sent me on.  The next lap I was informed that there wasn't a cut off and my Dad shouted that I wasn't last.  I wasn't last.....!  Who on earth was behind me and how far away were they?  I pushed on - now I was determined not to be last.

There was one teeny tiny downhill - it lasted about 2 steps, but I found myself really looking forward to it, except for the one walking break I was taking just after the checkpoint, it was the only rest my legs had.  A few things happened during the day that gave me brief moments of joy.  The first was when a chicken crossed the road - how can you not laugh at that!  The second was the growing abandoned food pile just after the checkpoint!  I just knew that crew were diligently forcing their runners to take food which was being slyly abandoned 10 metres around the corner!

The advantage of a small field is that all the supporters soon learned my name (thanks to Noanie for correcting everyone's pronunciation of it) and I got cheered and encouraged by lots of people during the day.  I managed to give very pathetic acknowledgements most of the time.  I kept going!

I had another low point.  I had decided that 100k, equated to 60 miles and that obviously meant I was on my 3rd last lap - there was light.  Then it dawned on me  - 100k is 62 miles and I was on my 4th last lap.  I had another sob at this point, but I had no choice, I was moving forward.  I was still ahead of the person who was last and I had passed another man during lap 5.  I could see him on the straights so I knew he wasn't gaining on me.

Finally, it was my last lap - I kept going and going and suddenly a flag was being handed to me and I was crossing the line.  I burst into heart-wrenching sobs and was hugged by Noanie and Lorna and then my Dad.  I wasn't crying because I was disappointed, I was crying because I was so relieved it was over.  Despite feeling awful from mile 15, I had managed the full 62 miles in 9:48.  18 people started that race and only 16 people finished it.

The whole team!

Ross was first man and Rosie was second lady - Rosie and Charlotte had won the ladies Anglo Celtic plate for Scotland.  I was so proud of everyone.  It turns out that Charlotte was only about 18 minutes ahead of me and had also had a difficult race.  After lap 5 we managed not to see each other for the rest of the race - an achievement on such a short loop!

The evening was difficult - my legs stopped working and I had a really sore spot on my calf.  I had another little sob after dinner and then it was off to bed.  Both myself and Charlotte were in too much pain with aching legs to really get any sleep!  I remember her stumbling around the room in the dark at one point until I pointed out that I wasn't asleep.  

I am so pleased I found the strength to keep going and finish.  I could blame the two weeks of enforced rest, but at the end of the day I just think I am not suited to road ultras.  I made some great friends that weekend and I have no regrets about the race.  I wish I had gone faster, but I just didn't have it in me on the day.  Sometimes you learn more from the ones that don't go well!

Back in the hills!