Drop me off in Tyndrum and I'll see you in Fort Bill
There's a theme developing when it comes to writing up my runs on Scotland's most famous national trail. Much like the West Highland Way Race itself, back in the heady, pre-pandemic days of 2019, my first attempt at the Devil o' the Highlands Footrace (to give it its official title), offers very little in the way of opportunities for gratuitous toilet chat or instances of my habitual fecklessness. In short, it went quite well. In all likelihood, this account will descend into naval-gazing whimsy that has little to do with running. It might just be a bit tedious. It will definitely be far too long because I'm on holiday and the weather is crap. Strap in, or bail out while you still can. This year's main race was set to be Lakeland 100. Again. After last year's sub-optimal performance, in which I had a bit of strop and decided I just couldn't be arsed, I was keen to a) train a bit smarter and b) work on my mental game. The lack of preparation with regards to