Dunoon 55K: The day I caught the train. And another train. Then a ferry.

Legendary foodstuff: Pre race fuel for serious athletes.

I wasn't going to write this report. There's really not that much to say about my race. I could sum things up by telling you the route is beautiful, incredibly runnable, the people are absolute diamonds, and the organisation sport on. However, my run was very uneventful and, given that my race reports are primarily an opportunity to take cheap shots at myself, I'm going to struggle for material. But then I remembered the Chicken Tikka Hogi from Chilli Grillz in Dunoon that I had for my tea on Friday night, which quite frankly deserves a blog post all of its own, and my £2.50 dram of Talisker (OK, I had two at that price, I wasn't gonna win anyway) and I thought I should put something down on record, for the sake of my own memories, if nowt else. There might not be much actual running discussed.

Never mind the write up, I wasn't even going do the race. As I've repeatedly told anyone prepared to listen, I'm a bit knackered. Up until this point I'd completed four ultras in 2019, as well as two marathon(ish) distance events, not to mention (although I know I do, repeatedly) the bad bout of low mood which has not only contributed to me feeling like shit, but has resulted in me being a bit lax on the self care front - too much junk food (errr, the Hogi was essential race fuel, and it contained salad OK?), too much wine, and not enough sleep. Then there are the corrosive effects of the massive self-confidence crisis I appear to be experiencing on my emotional and physical well-being, which just aren't much fun. It's beginning to pass though. I'm about to start a new job which I'm looking forward to and I'm enjoying cooking again, which means I'm eating well. I'm also managing to get up and run before work. I can't quite do the 0430 alarm just yet, but that's arguably a sign of sanity, rather than an indicator to the contrary.

So with my state of mind much improved, I remembered how much I enjoyed the inaugural Dunoon Ultra in 2016, despite it being my first experience of projectile vomiting during a race. Yes, it's a bit like a road race in places, but, as I've already mentioned, the views are great, the organisation fantastic, and the welcome from Dunoon Hill Runners absolutely second to none. I had a quick Google, discovered I could get a bed, train tickets, and ferry crossing for less than it would cost to fill the car with diesel, and I thought, fuck it, why not?

To make things interesting, I booked the cheap, advance rail tickets which meant I had to travel on specific trains. This was further complicated by the fact that the return journey starts with a ferry crossing to Gourock, continues with a train to Glasgow Central, then another rail journey back to Carlisle. I had to get my timing right and, given my unparalleled capacity for being a massive twat, I did wonder just how wrong things might go. In theory though, it was very doable; despite lingering fatigue I knew I should be capable of at least equalling my 2016 performance of 6 hours 53 minutes, and given that the race finishes on the pier, right next to the ferry terminal, all I had to do was grab my gear and hobble aboard. So while I never really think of myself as racing other people, in this instance I was most definitely pitting myself against public transport!

Speaking of transport, a broken down train at Cardonald did threaten to make the journey North a bit more arduous than it needed to be (thanks to Helen for keeping me updated via the race Facebook page - say what you like about social media, it really does have its uses). Fortunately things were beginning to work themselves out by the time I arrived in Glasgow and I was straight off the train from Carlisle, onto one bound for Gourock. I hadn't appreciated the fact that the ferry leaves pretty much from the train station, so that allayed my concerns about transport connections (and my own fecklessness) on the return journey. I clocked Helen of the transportation updates, and her partner Scott while waiting for the boat. Initially I knew it must be them because of Helen's Fling hoodie, but then I realised I'd seen them supporting at the Cateran in May. Small community. 

My hostel was just a few minutes' walk from the pier and was genuinely brilliant. I should clarify that they don't really sell Talisker for £2.50 a go, I just had the good fortune to be served by an inexperienced member of staff. The boss was very good-natured about the mistake when it came to light and definitely saw the funny side, although I'm sure the correct price will now be etched on the poor lad's brain for life.

Outdoor seating at Puck's Rest Hostel - great spot for a party!

The forecast had been fairly crap all week but, as anyone who's ever been to the West coast of Scotland can tell you, forecasts are guesswork, at best. It's safe to assume that there'll be weather at some point, but the route is relatively low level so there was no need to pack for Arctic conditions. I'm a big believer in always having full waterproofs though, if for no other reason than my pathological clumsiness and heightened probability of falling over my own feet. If I break myself, I don't really want to add insult to injury by contracting hypothermia. As it happened the day dawned reasonably fine and mild, and we were treated to a pretty fabulous sunrise while boarding the coach to head for the start (and breakfast) at Benmore Gardens. 

Continuing in the vein of Ultra Fuelling for Proper Athletes, I had 2 breakfast pastries, a scone, and a mug of coffee (all provided as part of race entry, as well as the coach transfer - you definitely get value for money on this one), in between doing my usual how-many-poos-can-I-do-before-I-start routine. I was on my way back from my third visit when someone shouted my name and I saw Ellen, who supported me on the West Highland Way in June. Everyone had been lovely up to this point and I'd chatted to a few people so I hadn't been lonely - Scottish ultras are always friendly - but it was brilliant to see her, and Andrea, whose dog is at least part of the reason Ellen and I first met outside Glencoe Ski Centre back in February. They were there to support Andrea's husband, David, and Ellen's friend Kirsty, so would pop up at various points along the route, and at the finish. Even just a few words of support from friends can make all the difference when you're tired, especially if you've been on your own for a while, which seems to happen to me a lot - my craic's obviously shit!

I was feeling hot, knackered, and breathless early on, despite my usual very conservative pace. I'd felt similarly at Cumbria Way 30 a few weeks earlier though and was in a much better head space than I had been then, so I knew I'd settle into a rhythm and things would improve. I chatted to Mike as we made our way through Puck's Glen, which is easily my favourite part of the route. I'm not sure of the origin of the name, but it certainly has something of A Midsummer Night's Dream about it, you would hardly be surprised to encounter the odd faerie. Mike and I had shared a dorm the night before but I'd been half asleep by the time he arrived, so it was nice to have a proper blether on the trail. There was the usual chat about races, but we also managed to get round to topics as diverse as the superiority of English country pubs (barring a few notable exceptions elsewhere - I am always happy to be introduced to others) and Robert Burns. He looked far more comfortable than me at this point and was obviously the faster runner, so once the trail opened up he pulled away easily and I didn't expect to see him again.

The next few miles are mostly undulating fire roads, with increasingly good views of Loch Eck. If you get your kicks from technical trails then this probably isn't the race for you, but I quite like being able to take in the view without having to worry too much about where I'm putting my feet. It makes for pleasant, easy running, with some hiking on the longer inclines at my current fitness levels - I'm sure the boys and girls at the business end run the lot. I'll confess to having forgotten quite how long some of those climbs are but I settled into a happy place, keeping things steady, enjoying bits of chat, and remembering to take on battered nuts, giant strawberries, and my homemade banana loaf every 2 or 3 miles. I haven't quite achieved human dustbin status yet, but I'm working on it. While this is definitely improving my endurance, it also means I spent a good few minutes using the toilet facilities at checkpoints, which is frustrating when I'm running relatively well. It's a work in progress.

Looking back down Loch Eck.

I was really chuffed to share a couple of miles of trail with Ian, who I ran with for ages in the 2016 race, and to finally meet David Hetherington in person. He told me I had a weird accent, then I THOUGHT he asked if I was a Geordie (I get that a lot; I'm not), until I realised he was actually asking if I was Jodie? We had a natter for a few minutes before I shattered any illusions he might have had about me being a nice lady by making jokes about puking and crapping. I'm mother to a nine year old boy - my dubious sense of humour reflects this! 😀

If I've done one thing pretty well this year then it's learning to pace myself. I suspect a lot of the sickness issues I've had in the past have been at least partially related to ambition outstripping ability and pushing far too hard in the early stages of a race. I've learned how demoralising it is to be passed repeatedly in the latter miles and, on the flip side, the satisfaction to be had when you reel people in towards the end. This race was no exception; a good portion of the second half is pretty flat so if you've been sensible on the hillier sections you can make up quite a bit of time by just being able to run later on. I overtook a few people suffering from cramp and one or two mentioned lack of salt as the culprit. I'm far from being an expert, but when I've suffered from that particular malady in the past it has naff all to do with salt intake, rather it's a sure fire sign I've pushed my body harder than it's conditioned to cope with. I'm not saying you should be afraid to test your limits, but it's treading that line between being the best you can, and blowing up. These are the musings of a complete hobbyist, back of the middle jogger, and maybe some folk genuinely need to chuck a bit of salt down their neck, I can only speak from my own experience and I've definitely made progress in the last 12 months.

My hair colour is excellent, if nothing else!

I won't lie, there are sections of the course that get a bit tedious, but here the thing: the scenery could be jaw-droppingly phenomenal at every turn and if you run for long enough, sooner or later you'll be bored shitless. There's no harm, then, in an opportunity to work out strategies to deal with boredom. I'm not that keen on wearing headphones in a race; I'm not saying I never will, but I like to be aware of what's happening around me. I also think it can make me lazy, I stop checking my form, and I forget to eat. Instead, I set myself challenges, so when I want to walk I tell myself I can, but not until I've counted to 50. Often I find I can count to 50 a few times and eventually the desire to walk passes. It's simple, and it and seems to keep me calm and rational, the power of which can't be underestimated when you're knackered and liable to make poor decisions.

I caught up with my dorm mate Mike, which surprised me. It goes to show the benefit of experience though as he was undoubtedly a faster runner than me - I simply happen to have been for more long jogs. We had a brief chat (my craic had dried up by that point) and he was in good spirits, just a bit sore. I was in grit your teeth and get on with it mode at this stage so I wished him well and kept on keeping on.

Despite feeling a bit smug about how successfully I'd executed my race, I did have to really force myself to take on fuel in the last 10K and things started to unravel slightly on the final long descent, when I felt incredibly nauseous. In 2016 I had thrown up bile repeatedly while trying to run down that hill and I felt nowhere near as bad as I had then, but just as I thought I might catch the lass in front, I had to stop and wretch violently. There wasn't any actual puke and I was close enough to the finish to suck it up and bash on. It helped that I had another woman to chase. I wasn't going to catch her, but I could close the gap, and found it quite satisfying to see her looking over her shoulder on the last stretch.

The last mile is all flat and takes you along the prom; on a Saturday afternoon it's filled with locals, most of whom are enthusiastic about the race and cheer you on, which is a great incentive to plaster on your best cheesy grin and pick your feet up. I can't overstate the value of smiling when things are a bit rough; it sounds daft but it really can alter your mood. Finishing on the pier is a nice touch and there's a bit of a party atmosphere, but I'll admit to feeling fairly broken when I crossed the line - far more so than I had at Lakeland 50 in July. Dunoon Ultramarathon is just over 34 very runnable miles on hard packed trail, so for someone who doesn't do a great deal of road running it's a bit of a shock to the system.

I finished in 6 hours and 21 minutes, over half an hour faster than in 2016, and in ample time to catch my train. In fact, I was back in Glasgow so much earlier than anticipated that I ended up forking out for another ticket - absolutely worth it to be home almost two hours sooner than planned. I hadn't showered so I'm guessing the guy who had the misfortune of sitting opposite me on the train wondered what he'd done wrong in a former life, but he was a bona fide manspreader, so I drank my mini bottle of Prosecco from the race goody bag and did not feel remotely guilty. 

A cracking little adventure and, although I missed the boys, it did me the world of good to get away by myself. It's the first time I've relied solely on public transport for a race and the nature of the location meant it worked brilliantly, I'd definitely do it again. It was especially nice not to have to worry about driving home afterwards. The event was exactly as well organised and friendly as I remembered, not to mention brilliant value for money. I'd highly recommend it as a first ultra.

Now, where can I get a hogie closer to home?

***NB: This race took place in early October 2019. I wrote about three quarters of this report within a couple of weeks of the race, then forgot about it. I came across it again while writing up my Glentress Marathon report and thought I might as well finish it off.***