Modern Athlete Magazine Issue 113, December 2018 | Page 25

TRAIL RUNNING
you could possibly run eight ultras in as many days?
I could feel the steely eyes of a kelpie on my back
already…
Running past the Falls of Glomach on day three
Roughly three and a half hours later, I got to the camp,
an impressive layout of 22 eight-man tents, a few
main white marquees, and 70 welcoming, super-
friendly race volunteers all going out of their way to
make our experience as comfortable as possible. We
were staying a stone’s throw from the tiny settlement
of Glenfinnan, which has been made famous largely
for the Harry Potter viaduct, an impressive construct
that towered above me as I stood in the icy river and
had my first bracing, post-run Scotland river wash.
SURVIVAL TACTICS
Day 2 saw the organisers batch us into groups based
on our ‘prologue day,’ with the slower runners starting
first. The clouds were heavy and threatening to
wobble, as were most of our moods, knowing that we
faced a 57km day in icy, wet conditions. The terrain
was challenging, with bogs, slippery humps of grass
and rocks, but we passed through some gorgeous
countryside, including fairy-tale waterfalls fringed with
ancient, gnarly forests.
At the top of the very final peak I could feel my
mind and body shutting down. I was soaked
through, the wind chill was hectic, and I could
sense system collapse. I remember Filippo
hearing my mumbling and seeing my face, and
then taking control, helping me put on two extra
thermal layers and forcing me to eat something.
My hands were frozen into useless claws, and I
just burst into tears, taking huge gasping breaths
and feeling immobilised by fear.
Many participants found the day’s run brutal, and
there were some despondent faces around camp
that night. Some runners only trickled in well after
midnight! I heard later that our tentmates, a young
couple from Malaysia, had to be hauled off the same
mountain, suffering hyperthermia and there had also
been one or two dramatic rescues off isolated peaks.
One rescue even involved a boat, such was the
inaccessibility of the route! The Kelpies were at work,
and runners were starting to topple.
Her slick, green skin twitched feverishly. She
shook her vast, wild mane of dripping water
weeds and serpents and pawed the Loch’s muddy
bank angrily with her vast hooves. The kelpie then
slid effortlessly back into her dark, misty home.
She had just missed making eye contact with
one lonely, exhausted runner… just. She would
wait for the next runners, though. She would
The rolling Kintail glens of day three
wriggle into their minds, lure them into her dark,
bottomless waters, and never let go…
JUST HANGING ON
Day 3 was another brutal, long day with endless
boggy sections through the remote glens of Kintail
and four massive climbs. By the time I staggered
into camp at 7:30 that night, I was in a dark mood.
Even though the next day was the second-shortest
day of the CWU, the accumulation of the two
previous days was etched all over runners’ faces.
Many were held together with K-Tape, and the meal
tent mood was a tad more sombre than previous
nights. I could almost smell the Kelpie’s fetid
breath, she was so close…
Despite its relatively short distance, day 4 still managed
to bite many of us firmly on the arse with a long stretch
of trackless boulder-hopping towards the end. After
that, days 5, 6 and 7 remain something of a blur for me.
I know they were all spectacular, and that they were
long and tough. We would be out there scaling endless
steep mountain peaks, negotiating our way through
incredibly boggy, trackless moorland for hours on end.
Yet on all those days the weather was perfect, and the
rare window of sunshine would burn away any chilly,
dark sentiments about one’s predicament.
The final day’s route was spectacular, taking in some
exceptional coastal landscape and beach running.
It was the shortest day, and we all knew it, and were
eager to finally reach the seemingly elusive lighthouse
that we had all heard about perched on the end of
those ragged cliffs at Cape Wrath. In the end, Brit
Robert Barnes won the men’s race in an impressive
time of 45 hours 37 minutes. Carol Morgan confirmed
her place as one of the UK’s best ultra-runners by
winning in a time of 55:11, and an impressive 12th
overall. Filippo had an astounding week and claimed
sixth overall, with an excellent time of 52:20. I was
placed third woman, in an overall time of 59:22.
THE TOUGHEST RACE?
Kelpies have a weak spot. If you can get hold of a
kelpie’s bridle, you will have command over it and
all other kelpies. When a kelpie is captive, it is
said to have the strength and stamina of ten horses.
It is highly prized. If you have the power to use a
kelpie bridle on this malevolent spirit beast, then it
will bow down and serve the master of the bridle.
I think that when you run the CWU, you dance with
the kelpies – the kelpies being the voices in your
head, the ones that want to drag you down and see
you fail. The Kelpies got hold of 38% of the field this
year… With any tough endurance event, where you
are asking your body to do unspeakable things, the
mind and how you control it becomes your greatest
weapon. I found my kelpie bridle out there in the
magnificent Scottish moors… possibly halfway
through day 5. I met some extraordinarily powerful
humans out there too – people who stared pain right
in the face and blew those kelpies right out of the
water, with the reins firmly in their hands.
Passing through Torridon on day four
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