The Ben Race ...

Pretty much all the focus of the ankle rehab since February was aimed at being on the start line for my 10^th Ben Nevis Hill Race.

The Two Inns race in early August had been the test piece both in terms of fitness and also in ankle stability. It proved useful in identifying fitness was acceptable (just) but in terms of descending the ankle was still pretty much shot to hell. The upside was knowing this before the Ben which in turn meant either taping or the use of a full brace – giving the length of the descent, a trusty BioSkin Trilock was the choice.

In a change to recent events, Katie was in a supporting role rather than racing. We drove north through a whole bunch of shared memories from Katie’s Triple Crown of the Fling, the West Highland Way and the Devil o’ the Highlands ~ a lot of living in a relatively short time …and all good times (even Kinlochleven).

The Ben Race started as it usually does, fast. At the end of the first mile and tarmac, I checked my watch ~ at 8 minutes, a minute down on the usual split but a sensible pace. For some reason it took until turning into the section above the Red Burn before the legs and lungs really settled into climb mode. Aware that the descent was going to be slow, I tried to maintain a balance between a reasonable pace and still leaving something in the legs for the way down. It was good to get past the half way and start the direct line up the hill. Wee shock was when the race leader Finlay Wild shot past and I realised how far I was off usual pace with a lot of climbing still to do. Summit time was around 1:32 – good enough but was also aware that Fin would be finished before I started the descent.

The brace held the ankle well and the initial plateau / scree was actually fun (I had left enough …mibee) but the green wall was brutal. Quads screaming and out of breath, I actually had to stop briefly to recover before starting again, falling over, swearing …only to repeat the sequence again a few times before reaching the burn. Drank a pile of stream water in an attempt to keep the impending cramp at bay before climbing back up onto the path.

With very little left in the legs, I was passed by a good few runners. A very poor route choice down one of the short cuts lost further places and all I wanted to do was see Katie and finish. Just above the road section I was met with shouts of “Beardy” …I stopped for a wee smooch had headed towards the tarmac. Shout from my Westies clubmate Lorna raised morale further and I was almost feeling good again. This feeling lasted for around 100m before the guts complained about the attempted increase in pace and I promptly spewed. Feeling a wee bit lighter, encouragement from Katie fed the legs and I only spewed once more before entering the finish field. Last wee lap was guid and I recorded a finish – slowest in terms of time but over the moon. Lying on the grass, the mind turned to the first weekend in September next year !

Thanks to everyone who has encouraged the rehab and special thanks to Katie …for everything.