I cannot force my legs to run any more. I only have a few hundred metres to go of the D33 ultramarathon but after thirty three miles everything seems so far. I look around the Duthie Park in Aberdeen. I cannot see the finish line. I am walking. I feel like every step is a mile. I look ahead, still so far to go. Another runner overtakes me. Then I see the sign for the route to follow. I pick up into a jog. A woman in the park sees me and says, “well done”. The route turns right, off the path and onto the grass in the centre of the park. I can see the finish line. I think to myself, “Oh my god, I am actually going to do this. I am really going to finish.” Waves of emotion pulse through me. Relief. Ecstasy. Joy. Disbelief. I am on the brink of tears. I see my wife and friends beyond the line. I raise my hands. I punch the air. With one final effort I roar out “Get in”. I am across the line. I have done it. I am an ultra marathon finisher.
I feel like everything is draining out of me. All of the effort. All of the struggles through training. All of the doubts. All of the times when I was coughing my guts up but still ran. All of the early mornings, getting up in the dark to get out and train, forcing down big bowls of porridge to give me the energy to run. All of the long runs which felt so hard. All of the times when my friends met me for the final few miles of my long runs to get me to my distance goal. All of the runs in the rain, the cold, the wind. The runs with jogscotland. Every single one. Every single inch I have covered. I have poured everything I had into this. And I have done it. I feel like I might collapse.
But I do not collapse. My wife and friends are there to meet me. The joy kicks back in. It really dawns on me that I am an ultramarathon runner. This is crazy. This is bonkers. Me. Running an ultra. Not just doing 50k, but doing more than that. The thirty three point six miles of the D33 is more than 53k. I can barely comprehend it. But that is the reality of what I have achieved. More than six hours of running and it is done. My wife takes out the medal from the goodie bag which one of the organisers has given me. I put it on. For the rest of my days, I can say I finished an ultramarathon.
More than seven hours previously, after having a major breakfast of two bowls of porridge (I really do not like porridge), two slices of brown toast, a large glass of orange juice and a rowie (look it up). I get in the car and my wife drives me over to the hotel where registration for the race takes place. I am a ball of nerves. Anxious and excited at the same time. I know I have run six marathons before. I know I have run a marathon in training. But am I really up for this test?
“Running an ultra is not like running a marathon”
I get my number. I drop off my food bags for the halfway point and the three quarter stage. I am carrying three gels, an energy bar and a litre of electorlyte drinks in my bottles. These will be enough to get me halfway. In my bag for halfway I have more gels, a sausage roll, a fruit scone, and powder to refill my drinks. For three quarters, much the same, but this time with the addition of a packet of smoky bacon crisps. Running an ultra is not like running a marathon. It is a different mindset and the fueling is different too.
My kit gets checked – because of the distance, every runner has to have full waterproofs, hat, gloves, foil blanket in case of emergencies and take it with them in a running rucksack – and I meet up with my friend Susan, who is also running the event. We had spoken beforehand about potentially running together but Susan is a faster runner than me, so we had agreed each of us would run our own race. With about half an hour to go to the start, we get asked to head over to the start line for the pre-race briefing. I eat the porridge bar I have in my pocket and sip my drinks as we stand, bracing against the easterly breeze.
It is a chilly morning but dry. It is overcast with drizzle forecast but given it is early March in the North East of Scotland, these are good conditions in which to run, particularly when you are going to be out in it for a very long time. The only issue is the wind, blowing straight off the North Sea. This is going to be in our face for the entirety of the second half of the race.
“This is no time for heroics”
Race briefing done. Watch on. Final kiss from my wife. We set off. There is no going back now, but I have a plan; a plan worked out over months of training. And I am going to stick to the plan as much as I can. A couple of days before the race, my friend John, who has run ultras before contacted me and said, “This is not a time for heroics. Be happy with the outcome.” Those words are ringing in my ears as we head through the park. Everyone seems to be running so quickly. Susan and I have a little chat. We wish each other well and we begin to run our races. I slow down a bit.
About half a mile in, I see my friend Billy, who has come to wish me well on the route. It is always such a boost when you see someone you know. My wife is going to be at about halfway too, again, something to look forward to. Shortly after that, another running friend Steve joins me. He is also doing the race. We run together for the first six or so miles, chatting as we go. My pace is slightly ahead of schedule but just about right.
“this is no time for heroics”
I get to the first checkpoint feeling good. It is about eight miles in, and coming back will be just around twenty five miles. For most of this part of the race I can see runners ahead of me. As we get past the checkpoint I overtake a couple and we chat for a bit as I pass them. We come down a large hill, the only real hill on the course. The plan for the way back? I am going to walk up this hill, or try and walk/run it. If it was a marathon, and there was a hill at twenty four miles, I would be busting a gut to get up it, but today? With another nine miles to go after it? Remember, this is no time for heroics.
The miles tick by. I almost take one wrong turning, but I quickly spot the signs and get back on the right path. The course follows the route of the Deeside Way from Duthie Park in Aberdeen out to the small town of Banchory. Sixteen and a half miles out. Sixteen and a half miles back. The Deeside Way is the route of the former Deeside Railway, closed as part of the Beeching cuts in the 1960s, so every so often, particularly through the suburbs of Aberdeen you pass through where the old stations used to be, the platforms still clearly visible.
As I get to around the twelve mile mark, I see the first runner coming back the other way, preceded by the lead bike. You might think this is demoralising, but this was almost exactly where I thought this would happen. I have prepared for this. I am on track for my race, just as he is for his race. We wish each other well and carry on. Every runner who passes me exchanges pleasantries. We all know what we are trying to achieve in our unique ways. This section is long and pretty featureless, I am not looking forward to this on the way back.
Around a mile and half before the halfway checkpoint, I spot my wife. I am feeling good, still apprehensive as I have so much distance to go but things are ok. I notice my number is at risk of coming off my shorts as one of my running magnets has come off, so I stop and we try and fix that. But I want to keep going. I run on.
Shortly afterwards, I pass my friend Susan, now heading for home after being to the halfway checkpoint. She is looking strong and we have a brief chat but both of us do not stop. We need to keep going. We have such a long way to go.
When I get to halfway, I stop and the fantastic marshals hand me my food bag. I gladly bite into my sausage roll – yes it was cold – and they help me to refill my water bottles, to add in the electrolyte powder into my drinks. I take a couple of bites of the fruit scone. I put my gels – I am taking a gel every five miles – into my pocket and I get going again, worried that if I stayed longer I would begin to stiffen up.
I overtake a couple of other runners as I begin to head back, passing my wife again shortly afterwards. I will see her at the end. Now things are starting to get tough. This section is long and straight, pretty much running parallel to the road to get back to a village called Drumoak. The wind is nagging in my face. This is how it is going to be for the rest of the race. It is a grey day so the scenery is dull and lifeless. There is no one ahead of me. I am alone. Alone with my own thoughts. Alone to ponder all of the distance still to go. This is mentally hard, never mind the physical part. I just keep telling myself to keep going. To stick to the plan. My pace is good. I just need to keep it up. The route seems to stretch forever. Where is everyone else?
I run on and on. Still there is no sign of Drumoak, but then I catch a glimpse of an orange running top. A runner I had noticed as I approached halfway is now up ahead of me and walking. Ahead of him, there is someone else. I run on. We reach Drumoak, as I run through the village, totally randomly, I see a woman I used to work with!! We say hi, she says how great I am doing. Another boost. On we go.
I am approaching twenty three miles, I know what is ahead. I have passed the guy in the orange top. I can see others ahead of me now, some close, some in the distance. I reach the hill. Others are walking and now I am too. Stick to the plan, no time for heroics. I walk. I run. I walk. I run. I get up the hill. The only cut off point for the race was the checkpoint at twenty five miles. You had to reach that within five and half hours of the start. I get there about four hours thirty five minutes in.
“I do not feel like eating”
One of the marshals at this checkpoint I knew a little. Lorna hands me my food bag. Another marshal helps me refill my bottle. I have been taking my gels but I am reaching the stage where I do not feel like eating. I wolf down the smoky bacon crisps, and I put a gel in my pocket, but the rest of my food I put in my rucksack. I am feeling a bit sick. There are others at the check point with me. I wish them well, thank everyone and carry one. Eight miles to go.
Having reached the checkpoint within the time limit, I could walk in from here, but that was not the plan. The plan was to keep going as much as I could. I get beyond marathon distance. I am trying so hard not to look at my watch. This is now unknown territory. As I get towards twenty eight miles, things are now very much run/walk. I am running as much as I can, but I am also doing military marching pace when I am walking. I decide to have my final gel though I really do not feel like having it, but I know I should. I do not want to run totally out of gas now. I meet up with two other runners running and walking like me and we chat a bit. One of them has done the race before and she says, “all we need to do is keep chipping away”. Great advice. I keep chipping away.
I keep saying it, but this is not the time for heroics. This is the time for digging in. This is the time to look ahead and decide, “I am going to run to that bridge”, or, “I am going to walk to that tree and then start running again”. This is the time to look inside and find yourself. To discover that you are capable of so much more than you ever thought. I get beyond the thirty mile mark. We have been passing back through the old stations once again. Every one passed is another landmark toward the finish. I begin to believe. I begin to genuinely believe that I am going to finish, but it is so difficult.
“I am really going to do this”
The route begins to go slowly downhill so I run a bit more. There are runners ahead. The Deeside way just stretches out ahead. I pass a woman on a horse. Families out walking, out enjoying a Saturday afternoon stroll. Another runner is on the path ahead of me, heading my way. He sees me, stops, take out his headphone and says, “are you doing the ultra? Is that today?”. I tell him yes. He says, “fair play, great effort”. I keep going. There are more houses now, either side of the path. The Deeside Way is coming to the end. I am really going to do this.
I can see four figures at the end of the path at the entrance back into the Duthie Park which I had left more than six hours previously. A man and three women. I pick up and run again, as I get closer I realise that the women are my wife and two of my running friends, Maxine and Jeanette. They break out into applause as I get closer, encouraging me on. I pass them and run into the park for that agonising final half mile. And a few minutes later I am with them beyond the finish line.
As we chat and discuss how it has gone I also look at the medal and it is an instant classic. As I mentioned earlier, the race takes place on the old Deeside Railway line, so the medal, which is wooden, is in the form of a train ticket. I love it and have spent quite a lot of time just looking at it. It is a physical symbol of all that went into it.
After the race, I find out that Susan has also finished and I am so happy for her. She was around twenty five minutes ahead of me, an epic effort. I then headed back to the hotel where we had registered where the organisers had some hot soup and rowies on offer for everyone. The soup was totally epic, but I was done, I just wanted to head home. I saw some other friends, we had a chat, and I got back in the car. Stiffness was setting in. Getting out of the car was a task in itself, and then it was a case of starting to celebrate. Frankly I have not really stopped. Having put so much in, it is important, in my book, to really enjoy the warm afterglow. I am on such a high.
Even after the race, I still did not feel that hungry, so while we got in fish and chips, I only ate about half of it, keeping the rest for later. While I had burned off an enormous amount of calories in doing the race, I really could just not get comfortable afterwards, though I knew I needed to keep drinking (not just booze) and eating a bit, so my go to snack is always salted peanuts. You cannot really see it in the photos but my face was just covered in salt when I finished as I had sweated so much out so I knew I needed to put a lot more back in.
My legs felt like they were on the brink of cramping up for most of the evening. In the days afterwards, my legs were extremely stiff after sitting down for any length of time, and I was discovering muscles and tendons I never knew I had, but as I have said before, pain is temporary, glory is forever, and this is definitely a glorious outcome. I have added my medal to the hanger with my most special medals – those from my six marathon races and the one ultra trail event I have done.
What have I learned then, about this whole experience? Running an ultramarathon gives you a totally different perspective on distance. To go 50km and beyond in one go makes you consider just what is truly possible. Once I got beyond that marathon mark, it was almost a surreal experience. It was almost like something out of body. I knew it was me who was doing it, but I was so focused on the target it felt like I was someone else.
It has taught me, again, the value of my running friends. Every single one of them told me I would do it. They probably believe it more than I did. And that helped me so much. I got brilliant advice and support from important people at the right time. That helped me get my head around what I was trying to achieve. I have had the goal of doing the D33 probably for about five years so to finally do it is the culmination of so much time, toil and, along the way, tears. It was not a time for heroics, and I am ecstatically happy with the outcome. The whole atmosphere of the race was fantastic, with great organisation, incredibly enthusiastic and encouraging marshals and also fantastically supportive other runners. I truly want to thank them all.
“the ultimate challenge”
It has given me more of a perspective of my own capabilities. I had always regarded the marathon as the ultimate challenge – and it is a huge achievement – and by doing them I had nothing to prove to anyone. But by doing the D33 perhaps this has just proven to me, even more, of just what I can achieve in terms of my own mental strength and resilience. and my physical endurance, guts and determination.
I have no idea if I will ever do an another ultramarathon event and I definitely need a break from the Saturday morning long runs for a bit before I contemplate what my next race will be, though my immediate thought is to do some local 10ks or half marathons in the coming months. Who knows?
But the main thing out, of everything I went through and endured, is that I know, I truly know, that I am an ultramarathon runner; an ultramarathon finisher. And that is a very special place to be.
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craigaw 1969 
Congratulations on becoming an ultra runner! Loved this blog, truly inspirational. Hopefully one day I may be able to earn the title too. 🤞🏻
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