A part of me thought I would never DNF a race. It’s all mindset I thought and I’m not one for giving in (or so I thought). Unless they kick me out I’m not leaving the race.

On the other hand I will admit this is the first race or adventure where I had a tendency to say ‘if I finish’. In all other races I’ve done, finishing was a certainty in my mind. So why the doubts? Did I set myself up to fail? I’ve reflected on this. I think the answer is no. I simply made a choice. To continue to suffer or to let the suffering end and I chose the latter.

A few weeks before the race across Scotland (RAS), feeling ill and with nothing to do but rest, I watched a video on mental mindset for running Ultras. I can’t remember what it was called, but it was very good. The guy talked about ‘first blood’ and that really resonated with me. The idea is that at some point in your race something will go wrong ‘first blood’. You have to know this will come, adapt, resolve it and move onwards. After that you may have second blood, third etc. Running an Ultra is akin to resolving a series of problems. Some you may have expected and some you may not.

With this in mind, I was happy that when something cropped up I would not lose my head and simply adapt.

Chris and I hired a camper van for the race, which he would live in for the 4 days I was to be racing. He would be my support ‘crew’, carrying all my spare clothes, snacks, and additional medical kit etc. I could also sleep in there as and when needed for an hour or two. (At most – given the continuous nature of the race).

Arriving in Portpatrick the evening before the race we parked up the van, got registered and set about getting ready for the race. As I went to charge up my watches and phone, I discovered that the power chargers we’d meant to bring with us were in fact still at home. Furthermore the two new Garmin cables I’d brought with me were in fact rubbish. First blood already?!

Chris fiddled with the stupid Garmin cable prongs (notoriously useless actually) and managed to get one working for one watch and the other one working for the second watch. Hallelujah. We went for dinner and as we sat eating, Chris suggested he drive to Stranraer the next day to buy new power chargers. Not ideal and not a place he wanted to go to but it was simply necessary.

Initial issues resolved, I felt calm and ready for a good nights sleep before the race.

Ha ha. Did I say good nights sleep?

The wind gusts were 36mph. Apparently parking a camper van up by the sea in strong winds does not make for an ideal sleeping environment. Who knew?

Chris (of course) slept like a baby. He found the van wobbling back and forth like a boat ‘comforting’. Personally I found it anxiety inducing. I managed to sleep from 9pm till midnight (hazaah to 3 hours sleep) but woke up to the sounds of the winds and the feeling that the van may topple over. This kept me up the rest of the night but in any case the alarm went off at 4am. Ah well. Second blood.

After a breakfast of a cheese sandwich (turns out you can’t plug in a toaster on a camper van when you don’t have electric hookup (I feel so stupid lol), I went off to the start to collect my tracker and hand in my drop bags for checkpoints 4, 7 and 11.

Chris agreed to come over in a bit to take my sweatshirt off me and also apply some KT tape to my back.This is a roll of tape that runners use on their skin. It helps prevent chafing when you run.

It got to 5.45am, the race was due to start at 6am and I still hadn’t seen Chris. Starting to panic I dived into the ladies and asked the first person I saw to apply the tape to my back. Luckily for me she was an expert at this and her friend nodded sagely that she was otherwise known as ‘tape lady’.

Shortly after I heard Chris call my name and with some relief handed over my sweatshirt and said goodbye till later. I would not see him now until 73km at checkpoint 3. The support teams were not allowed to stop earlier.

The director came over and ushered us all into the starting pen. The bagpipe player piped out some beautiful Scottish tunes as the sun rose in the sky and we all looked at each other with apprehension and excitement.

I started at the back, only for more people to come forth and stand behind me. I was fairly far back which suited me well. I wanted to start off slowly.

I jokingly turned to the lady next to me and suggested we watch our hats as the wind on top of the cliff tops was picking up. I was already holding mine down.

We all saw the drone fly above and suddenly we were off.

With an excited jog forwards we all came to a screaming halt as we then climbed out of the harbour up the steep steps to the top of the first cliff. Everyone walked and I found my place in the queue upwards. As I reached the crest my hat laughingly blew off and over a nearby wall. Ah. Third blood then. Crikey I haven’t even run a kilometre yet.

The first 5km of the race follows the coast northwards. It’s hilly with a few climbs down to a beach, then up some steps to the top again. None the less I found the pace of the group I was in, very comfortable and settled into my race.

When we reached the lighthouse we turned right inland to start the crossing of the country to the east coast. A few miles of tarmac followed and I enjoyed the easiness of it. Everyone was very chatty at this point. One person would pull up and ask me questions and then I would pull up to someone else and ask them questions. They were all of a similar vein. Did you sleep last night? Have you done this race before? I was surprised at how many were having a second or even third go at it. Surely it wasn’t that hard??

A few kilometres later and I met a lady with whom I ran for the next 20km. We had a similar race pace and the conversation flowed easily. We would walk the hills and run the rest.

The terrain was very varied. Once on the trails, it was incredibly uneven at times, which made it slower going, but the views were stunning and it was an absolute joy to be out there with people who felt the same way about these challenges as I did.

After just 21km Virginie and I came into CP1 (checkpoint) smiling happily. This was fun. I grabbed a few tiny sandwiches and some boiled potatoes and topped up my bottles with water and cola. Up until this point I’d done well at keeping on top of my nutrition with proper food (I prefer to eat sandwiches, buttermilk pancakes, malt loaf). Unfortunately I had nearly run out and the food at the aid station was mostly tiny pretzels, crisps, sweets and biscuits. The next stage would be just 14km so I didn’t think this should be a problem.

Another 10km flew by as I ran with my new running friend, finding out about her life and fascinating career as a surgeon.

A few kilometres before CP2, I ran out of energy. I had no food and no water left and found myself bonking (going energy wise in the red). Oh dear this was not good. I let Virginie head off ahead and walked for a bit.

Although I highly recommend this race and the organisation and volunteers are exceptional, I would however, say that these early checkpoints did disappoint in terms of food. In future I would personally carry more of my own. I like/need to eat real food with decent calories. I don’t get along with sugary drinks and snacks. There were virtually no sandwiches left, so I grabbed some boiled potatoes and ginger biscuits. I was looking down at this tiny bag of food and wondering how I was supposed to run 42km hilly trails to CP3 on a few hundred calories. Hmm.

Before CP2 we’d also encountered some bogs, so paying attention to everyone who had previously DNF’d and advised that ‘looking after your feet is key’ I sat down at the side of the road to sort them out. Tootsies cleaned and dried, I donned a lovely pair of dry socks. I set off again feeling smug that I’d done the right thing. With hindsight I actually needed several pairs of dry socks in my rucksack as I’d only taken one with me. Chris had the remaining pairs in the van but that was another 36km away.

Setting off I started to feel better after a few salty potatoes and water so managed to get back to a jog. A kilometre on, I found myself on very uneven fields with boggy bits. The kind where they amusingly put in these short wooden bridges even though you step off them directly into another bog anyway. This preceded a long stretch of wet Bogland and my feet were wet through again. Feet issues aside I’d now been suffering from a bad back and tight glutes since as early as 12km into the race. At this point, I was starting to notice the pain and tightness extend down my leg. I found myself going ever slower and people started to pass me.

It was just 7km to the Beehive Bothy. Utterly beautiful trails all the way, glorious sunshine (also far too hot and muggy mind you) and it should have been enjoyable. Sadly I was no longer having fun at this point.

The pain in my leg travelled down the outside tendon, tightening and locking evermore. My run turned into a jog, turned into a walk, turned into a hobble. I could also start to feel a blister developing under one of my toenails, which I was fairly sure was now being forced off (yes this does hurt). Losing toenails when you’ve kicked something, they simply turn black and 3 months later they fall off….that doesn’t hurt at all. When they get forced off immediately by a blister, it definitely does.

Arriving at the Bothy I decided to take some time out. I sat down inside and tried to do my best to attend to my blister. It was difficult to pop so in the end I gave up, covered it with a plaster and threw my wet socks back on as I didn’t have another dry pair on me. I met a hiker there. He had just started walking the South Upland Way and was going to camp down at the Bothy for the night. I envied him in that moment. Gosh imagine just staying here, cooking up some camping food, maybe reading a book. Boy did that sound good.

1km further on I saw the race director up ahead taking photographs of the runners as they crossed the field towards him. Now it was my turn. I felt obliged to break into a run for the picture, even if in my head I was thinking ‘ow ow ow’. He gave me some more water and let me know they’d put on an additional pop up point at someone’s house another 7km on. Yes! I got some motivation from that and picked up my walking speed a little, despite the pain. This didn’t last long.

I cannot express how long that 7km took. I kept looking at my watch and the distance didn’t seem to change. I started shaking my watch. Surely it wasn’t working!

I’d also now reached an 8/10 on the pain score. Higher if I tried to go downhill. This was not good so early in the race!

A thousand years later (or so it felt) and after a number of climbs over or under fallen trees I reached the pop up point. A lady was kindly sat at a table outside her own house. There was squash and cola, boxes full of sandwiches (proper big ones) and crisps. I took some butties and drinks, said thank you and carried on down the lane. I was just thinking of calling Chris when my phone rang. How’s it going? He said.

“Not good. I’m thinking of DNF’ing.” I could almost hear the surprise down the phone.

We chatted for a while and Chris persuaded me to carry on for now and see how I felt later. Of course this was the job I had given him to do. “Do not let me give up” I had clearly stated before the race.

He said he would not be able to come and get me on these narrow lanes so I had to make it to CP3 either way. I could just see how I was, when I got there.

I can’t lie. I felt disappointed. I knew in my heart I needed to stop. It’s hard to say if this mental or physical. I think it was both. I am (sadly) familiar with a tight IT band having suffered from this during my 55km race (9 weeks out from RAS) and the 100km hike (6 weeks out from RAS). In both cases I was able to finish the race, but it took 2-3 days for the hobble to abate.

I might be able to take a 1-2 hours break at CP3 but certainly not 2-3 days. Without this, I knew my hobble pace would get progressively slower and I was already down to 2km an hour. I could probably knock out 3km on the flat (laughably), but on a downhill it would reduce to 1km an hour as I tried to swing my right leg out and around as the knee simply wouldn’t bend fully.

From then on Chris rang every hour. “How are you doing?”. I knew he needed to be sure that I was certain of my decision. I also knew that I was. On one of the calls I made it clear I was definitely pulling out. There was simply no point as I would not make later cut offs in the race at this pace. Reassured of my decision he suggested he could drive to the end of the road from Glentrool to pick me up. This would save me the last 5km, making my run 68km today instead of 73km. I was in no doubt. “Yes please”.

It was shortly after this that I left a road onto a hill, plateau and subsequent downhill which contained the boggiest bogs of the race so far. In some ways this didn’t matter. I didn’t have far to go, so who cares if my feet are wet. However, the very uneven ground was causing such severe pain in my right knee I was wincing and simultaneously turning the air blue.

Pausing to take a breath from the pain, a young runner from the USA caught up with me. “Are you ok? Did you sprain something?”. I didn’t want to explain the details so simply said yes. She offered to stay with me but I insisted she continued.

“I can manage onwards no problem and my husband is picking me up shortly before CP3. You go ahead.”

We said goodbye and off she went into the distance.

A few kilometres of challenging terrain later I finally made it to a small country lane. Standing there wondering briefly which way to go the young woman caught up with me. I wasn’t sure how she had come to be behind me again but she did mention getting lost. As I could now walk a little better on the road we continued on together chatting as we went.

Around the corner we came across a large herd of cows with their calves. There is an understanding for hikers/runners and generally anyone crossing the countryside. Never come between a cow and its calf. They can be aggressive (understandably) as they protect their young. In reality we couldn’t go around them as they were covering the whole width of the road. Several cows stood in front with the calves behind them and they started walking towards us. I’ve seen many cows walk towards me over the years. Normally its because they think you have food. Generally they are harmless. This is the first time I had thought, they are protecting their young and mean business. There was a real sense of aggression in their eyes, which seemed to say “get away now”.

My new running friend started to bang her poles together as someone had told her to do this to warn off cows. It was not working and in any case I felt this may antagonise them so I asked her to stop. She then suggested we hop over the barbed wire fence into another field so we could bypass them altogether.

Agreeing to this was one thing. Executing it was another. My right leg did not want to bend properly and the barbed wire came right up to my crotch. Thankfully Rita helped me across the fence and we both reached the other side unscathed.

The cows must of decided we were no longer a threat as they then continued to walk up the hill in the direction we had come from, although they kept their eyes locked on ours the whole time. In the end we had to stare at the ground to get them to keep moving away from us. At this point, it seemed easiest to just cross back over onto the road. A hop, a swing, and we were back where we had started.

Shortly after Rita turned left onto a trail that would take her to Glentrool whilst I continued on the road to meet Chris.

Once in the van, it was officially over. There was no going back now.

Arriving at CP3, I approached one of the volunteers to tell them I was DNF’ing. “Are you sure?” He asked. “Yes” I said, pointing back at the car. “In any case I just got a lift so its too late”.

I handed in my race number and tracker and thanked the volunteers who said I should come back another year and try again. Maybe. 🤔

Thankfully, as we had a camper van anyway, we spent the rest of the week having a mini holiday, travelling around Scotland and the Lake District. It gave me a chance to recover and reflect on what had just happened.

So what went wrong? This is a question I don’t yet fully know the answer to. I do know, however, that my muscles are currently very ‘triggered’. After only 10km I am experiencing tightening of the glute muscles and back pain. From there, the tightness extends around to my hip muscles, thighs and ultimately the tendon down the side of my leg/around my knee. As it has now happened a few times, I know once I feel the first tightening sensations that its only a matter of time before I will be left hobbling. It started for the first time during my 55km race. Did I go too fast then?

There are so many possible causes for this ‘faulty car alarm system’ I currently have going on. The following are all things I will look at in turn:

• Shoes. I’ve been running in a high heel to toe drop for years (due to previous issues with Achilles injuries). This is the difference in millimetres between the height of your heel and toe. A higher drop gives more cushioning to your calves and heels. It can also, however, give rise to issues down the front of your leg, knees, and IT band problems. I may experiment, therefore, with a lower heel to toe drop shoe. This will need to be done incrementally and slowly so as not to cause other issues.
• Too many ultras before the main race. I’m certain of this one being a contributing factor. If you forget the JOGLE run or the coast to coast run, I have only done one race Ultra before and never run further than 58km before this year. In the space of 3 weeks I ran a 55km and walked a 100km race. They were both hilly. There were only 6 weeks after the long race before RAS. On reflection this was too much. It might have been fine for someone that runs 100km a week but I only run/walk 50km a week in total.
• Biomechanics. I’ve had a ‘sticky out bottom’ for as long as I can remember. The first time it was commented on was during a ballet exam when I was a little girl. “She needs to tuck her tail in” I would get on my final report. When I was in my 20’s and living in Germany I was affectionately nicknamed ‘duck bottom’ by my gym mates. Until now its never been an issue. For running a really long way however, the tilt in the pelvis is not ideal. It leads to tight hip muscles and lower back pain. On the other hand I ran JOGLE with none of these issues and presumably had the same duck bottom then! So this is a contributory factor perhaps, but it can’t be the overriding reason.
• Muscle imbalances. Similarly to the above but more easily changed. I have weaknesses in my my left glutes and probably some other areas. I tried to work on this a lot before the race, doing single leg squats and band exercises at the gym. To no avail however. Have I simply not done enough yet or is this not the reason?
• Lack of experience on the appropriate terrain. Although we do hike and run in the Peak District and locally, I realise that the ground is not madly uneven as I experienced in the race. I’ve also realised that my training has not incorporated as much elevation as it probably should of done. Going forwards this is something I need to work on more. Perhaps more quality over quantity. Lower mileage but trickier runs might be the order of the day.
• Last but definitely not least….. my favourite armchair. I took early retirement in March and have swapped time in an office chair for more time in my recliner. Of course, I am on the go during the day but I do sit in my beloved chair over breakfast, lunch and most of the evening. Maybe this is leading to tight/shortened hip flexors?

Currently I’m signed up to a race in 2026 which is longer, hillier and harder than RAS. I’m left with uncertainty as to whether its doable for me in the time. I’m going to take a little break from running, find a good sports physio and take it from there. Fingers crossed. 🤞