On 7th October ‘23, myself and 480 other runners took on the 57-mile race between the Scottish Powerhouses of Glasgow and Edinburgh.

After 3 weeks of recovery, analysis & and enough Sudocrem to fill a bath, I think it’s time to reflect on what went down that fateful weekend…

The Pre’s

Friday night. Macaroni Cheese cooked by Lucy Grip with a side of pesto pasta. Carbed up to the sack.

Phone notification - Met Office. A perfectly shaped amber weather warning, framing the exact route right down the middle.

A shocking night’s kip gave way to the alarm at 0400 - unnecessary due to the pounding rain outside. One look out the window and I got a glimpse of what we were going to be dealing with…

Quick nip down to Riverside, Glasgow, taxied by a sister as dedicated as she was bleary-eyed - followed by a last minute from the sage, we made our way to HQ.

Greeted in typical Scottish style with a piper-drummer duo, it really did feel like the prelude to battle. A serene image of the duo, with a faint background of hubbub from fellow runners zipping up, strapping in and silently contemplating just how mentally unstable we were by actively seeking the discomfort.

I think most of us were in agreement that the weather made it all the more enticing.

Just a group of unhinged individuals from all corners of the UK and beyond, with a common goal of making the 94km journey across Scotland on one of the worst days of the year.

Last minute safety brief. 0600. Horn. Reawakening of the Piper, but with h a bit of extra spice behind it.

Go Time…

Into the Abyss

A mere mile and a half of nice, lit streets and it was straight into the abyss.

Plunging into an intense darkness of Glaswegian park, disturbed only by the beams of our head-torches, it was intimidating to say the least.

Exacerbated by the incessant roar of raging water running down Glasgow Branch. Mother Nature expressing her disdain for daring out the house in protest of her vile mood that day.

8 miles in, we make it on the Forth-Clyde Canal; a welcome respite from the angry river. However, open air out of the park meant a true understanding of the task ahead.

49 miles of driving rain, sporadically flooded footpath & a naughty headwind that rendered any chance of keeping some parts of the rig dry impossible.

The following 20 miles were the easiest if the lot, though - still fresh, fully talced and carbed, head down and work.

Pace stayed on a dime all the way until the (roughly) halfway checkpoint. First marathon (and a bit) boxed off, with a picturesque cherry on the cake of Falkirk wheel…

.… albeit set against the apocalyptic Scottish sky

Deep in the Pain Cave

Anyone who’s done an Ultra will attest to the fact that things get a bit saucy after mile 30.

Granted I’d made a bit of an error pacing a slightly-too-speedy first 26.2, so I probably deserved a bit of a psychological slap on the wrist.

Through the slightly-too-happy-looking Falkirk Tunnel felt like the complete antithesis of what was occurring in the Upstairs Department.

Enter, stage left: The Pain Cave…

The point at which the mind starts to go to some dark, dark places. The most challenging yet valuable moment of every Ultra.

A 15 mile stretch that, in all honestly, is completely vacant in memory - save for the partial memory of getting knocked slightly off-path by some dumb prick on a bike (enter stage right: groin strain, delirious strapping, drop 15 places…).

Undoubtedly the hardest part of any race, it is the period where your soul is laid bare against the elements and ever-growing build up of lactate. Where you have an internal dialogue that will forever remain lost in memory, yet the semblance of which is etched on the brain.

Where you find your true Self.

The biggest battle of the War was had - the growing voice seething with self-doubt and demanding an early exit, versus the stubborn, resilient Ego that had no doubt that the finish was inevitable.

There’s not much to be said about this stretch, largely because I can’t remember it - but all I know is that the Ego won, shortly followed by a duo inviting me to join them for the last 16 miles to the finish.

A Welcome Checkpoint at 49 miles delivered some much-needed carbs in the form of strawbs, flat coke and some boiled ‘tatoes.

Only in Scotland…

Enter the Burgh - The Summit

With the help of some slightly delirious chat with the Team, the 3 of us plodded along at what felt like a sprint (7:00” kms feeling like pure gas at this point), and soon we came across the outskirts of the city that holds a special place in my heart.

I lived in Edinburgh for 6 months. Having visited my sister up there many times, it was a dream come true to go and study Sports Management up there - which became a reality back in 2018.

However during my time there, due to various factors, I experienced the darkest of moments in the wraps of anorexia and depression that saw me make two attempts on my life.

Having only been back to the city once since, I was always anxious about returning to a place that holds such bleak memory - but in that moment, beautiful spires in sight, I was fixated on thought.

Stripped of any emotional control, I dropped off the duo I was running with to gently plod on my own; at which point I felt tears forming out as I ran.

The realisation of who I had become since that time - at the conclusion of my greatest personal achievement yet, unrecognisable to those who knew me then.

Tears of joy, relief that I was on the verge of finishing in the face of the darkest of memory.

Rewriting how I define a city that also holds so many great memories but has so long been overshadowed by that December.

I knew then that I truly at peace with the events that went down 5 years ago - devoid of filter, at my rawest self, finally coming to terms with what happened. Acceptance of it as part of what has formed who I am today.

These thought processes spurred me to the winding route (that kept teasing with blind corners you thought were the end…) that lead to the Edinburgh Athletics Track.

One final 400m lap of the track for good measure (bastards…), and it was over. Repping the boys in blue and white to the chorus of a storm-soaked Lucy G, we got it done : over the line in 9:32”, coming in at 37th overall.

Topped with a groovy gold medal & a beer to finish.

Only to be disappointed at the lack of alcohol in said pint…

The Aftermath

57 Moist Miles in a Scottish Storm left me beaten up, soaked to the bone, but more stoked than ever before.

I may have been walking around like I’d dropped a monumental load in my Budgy’s, but crossing the finish line only fuelled my hunger for more of the same, and some.

My sister and her fiancé, Lil Wayne, will testify to the fact that I was wrecked after the race, and once I had sat down it was game over. Straight on the blower to Pepe’s to lodge an order they probably thought was for a family of 3, after which a futile attempt to watch a film only to conk out 5 minutes in (new PR).

The following days involved the trademark waddle, which got less waddle-y by the hour - and indeed the pride-sucking reality of having to train my Athletes in sliders due to feet that looked akin to a soldier post-jungle warfare. But all in all, fully recovered within a week.

An absolute blast of a race that filled me with awe and inspiration at every one of the runners who joined me. Humbling is putting it lightly - genuinely staggering seeing some of the efforts out there.

The Lessons

Ultramarathons are invaluable opportunities for learning - both about the technicalities of pushing your body beyond the limits of percieved capability, but also in terms of what it teaches me about life. So, to summarise this review, I think it would be pertinent to condense into 3 main Lessons…

1. Running is overcomplicated all to often - the less you think about, the closer you’ll get to that meditative state where you could go forever

2. Our past determines who we are, but it doesn’t have to define us - confronting the past as your present self is a surefire way to find peace of mind & clarity.

3. I am convinced there is a direct correlation with distance ran & mental instability. I have signed up for the 360km Race Across Scotland next year…

If you made it this far, ta for reading.

Onto Bigger & Better things…
Hx