Ignorance Is Bliss

Aucht a few wee ups and downs twists and turns. It'll be grand.
Oh My Good God why did no one tell me the truth.
I remember making a phone call and whinging down the phone
“ why did you let me do this, you should have told me, I'm nowhere near fit enough to do this blah blah blah moan moan”
You get the gist.

All for one bloody leg of the Fling.

I was in a team with my fella, my bro and a lassie from my club. The plan was The Pirate would set off a bit earlier with the men and cover the first leg as a warm up. He was supposed to take it easy and arrive with time to spare before taking over for his own leg from Karen. Karen's fella was giving me a lift to the next relay handover and then on to Rowardennan. He took a wee detour via his mates garden centre before arriving in Drymen. The Pirate meanwhile was having a coronary and gagging for a drink.
We duly arrive, sort out the boy and when the change over is done I wave him off with some water, coke and sweeties a little worried coz I'm not going to see him til Rowardennan.

The perils of car sharing quickly became evident when after arriving in Rowardennan I get a frantic call asking where I am as he's out of water and nothing to eat. I am helpless and unable to respond. I begin to worry. The injury which has plagued him for the past couple of months had flared up and was giving him bother.

Time was slipping and I knew he was suffering. I aimlessly wandered around the car park constantly looking at my phone desperately wanting to call but I knew that would be no help, and possibly even more demoralising. I had to wait it out and my ignorance of the route showed again when the call came that he was near, but not yet at the road I had no clue where that was.

I met him with some water and we changed over the sash and the chip. I was on. Mrs W was doing the same leg as me in the second of the Striders four teams so it was good to have some company and to be honest if it wasn't for her I would have ended up a snivelling mess sitting on a rock refusing to move like a stubborn old goat. I knew about the long incline out of the checkpoint and the Pirate described it as the motorway. We chatted and enjoyed the sun. Very aware that time was gonna be tight. I've never run more that a half marathon, so realising what I thought was a 12 mile section was actually 13.6 (13.94 according to Jo's info) gave me my first wobble.

We cracked on passed lots of walkers who looked completely hacked off about having to step out the road AGAIN for a couple of johnny-come-latelys. When we arrived at Inversnaid I was chuffed to see my Maw n Paw and their crazy dug. I was under strict instructions to keep moving and no gabbing.

What the hell is that all about?......in my last post I said I would go like shit of a shovel for as long as I could. Why oh why did nobody tell me that was NEVER gonna happen.
As a marshall for a number of years at various events I am constantly in awe of what people achieve but my experience between Inversnaid and Bein Glas has shed a whole new light on it. I don't know how people keep all the way to Fort Bill.

I fell and smashed my knee and shoulder and launched my phone about 20 feet away. I bubbled and snivelled and whinged some more. My call for a pep talk was a big mistake

“its only 13 miles, get a move on woman, now you know how it feels. Oh I'm just having a glass of wine”

That was enough to boot me up the backside and get moving again. I was still feeling sorry for myself and dragging my feet and out of know where Dario popped into my head. It must have been around Doune Bothy, near where his book is buried, but again due to my ignorance of the route I don't actually know where that is. I got angry with myself and I swore out loud, right ya bastard, TTFU.

I passed a few blokes looking worse for wear and checked they were ok. One guy was really annoyed with himself coz he had to pull out of the WHWR at exactly the same spot. I passed the sweeper and cracked on for the last two miles. Mrs W came back out to meet me for .37 miles. I was so glad to hear I was nearly done. 13.something miles is a piece of piss I'm told. But for me it is all relative.

When I finished I downed a lager shandy and realised that's exactly what I am. A shandy drinker, a lightweight. I'm a marshall I know my place.

The post race ceilidh was magic. The Strathaven Striders lived up to their moto of being a drinking club with a running problem. Boy do they know how to party.

Tonight we had a wee run and a pint. Everyone is still buzzing about it. We had 4 relay teams and 3 individuals. It's already on our list for next years club outing. Just as long as Murdo will have us back, and he lets me have my marshall jacket back again.

Thank you to my team mates Dave, Karen and Chris.
Well done to everyone to took part, marshalled, took care of car park duty, took photies, and cheered and clapped.

Ignorance is bliss.