West Highland Way Challenge Race Report

30 Jun 2025 at 12:29 // under Running Personal Ultra

Running the West Highland Way has been on my bucket list for a while. I remember hearing about people running the route, 95 miles of tough terrain, and doing it continuously, in some cases in under 24 hours, and it blew my mind.

About 4 years ago I met a couple of people who had taken part. They were (relatively) normal runners, not the gods I imagined you would have to be, and for the first time, I thought maybe I could do it.

The West Highland Way is 155km with about 4000m climb and over rough trails, so a big step up from my previous ultras. My first ultra marathon was the Forth Ultra in April last year, a 79km loop from Falkirk mostly on roads. Then the Glasgow to Edinburgh, along the canal, 92km on tarmac and basically flat. This would be completely different.

Pre-Race Nerves

In the run-up to the race I was nervous. Really nervous.

On the Monday before the race I had a huge case of imposter syndrome. Why have I entered this? What gives me the right to even consider that I can do this?

On Friday I took the train to Fort William. After all the transfers and I knew I was on the right train, I had to accept that while the travel was making me nervous, most of the nerves were for the race itself.

Once I arrived in Fort William, I hid from a rain shower and had some lunch in a café. It was interesting to hear the war stories from a group of ladies about my age at the table next to me who had just finished. "The second day was the worst". I am hoping that there won't be a second day.

As I walked to my hotel, I heard an American walker cheer a group as they finished. The group thanked him and congratulated him as well. "How long did you take?" "5 days" "Oh that's better than us, we took 6", "hey 6 days is still great!". And yet I want to do it in under 1?

Race Morning

I went down to breakfast slightly earlier than it was supposed to be open. A mountaineering tour group were staying in the hotel and had organised an early breakfast so they could get an early start climbing Ben Nevis. The hotel receptionist asked as I entered the lobby if I was part of the group and said we could go straight through for breakfast. I hung back to clarify if I was allowed. "I am not with a group, I am just a normal guest". "Yes, no problem. There is no one normal here". Thinking of the challenge ahead, I had to agree.

Overhearing the conversations at the other breakfast tables, I found out the mountaineering group were taking part in an organised 3 peaks challenge. One of the ladies said "I don't want to do it, but I want to have done it". What a beautiful quote that describes exactly how I was feeling.

Race Run Through

Fort William to Kinlochleven

I set off and it feels like a normal Saturday morning run, perhaps somewhere I have never run before and with people I have never run with before, but still a normal run. The nerves had gone.

As we started to climb, I noticed my heart rate rise quickly, and I was one of the first in my group to slow to a walk. After my heart rate dropped back down, I started running again, but the heart rate shot up quickly. As a result of my focus on heart rate, I was a much slower ascender than the others around me and I started to drop places quickly. This didn't bother me. I needed to protect myself. That was my main focus on this section, protecting my body to let me get to the end.

Once the climb levelled out, I was able to spend more time running than walking, and I started to catch up with folk again. On the downhill sections, I was much faster and descended quickly, letting my legs carry me, without adding much effort. I stubbed my foot a couple of times on rocks protruding from the path, tripping or losing balance. Each time I caught myself and kept going, but thought that was close. Too close. I needed to be more careful.

There was one section of the path which went straight through a ford. There was a detour path that went over a bridge, adding an extra 10m on each side of the small stream. I took the bridge. So far I had avoided the puddles and managed to keep my feet dry. Again, this was part of the protect myself strategy. Keep the feet dry, avoid blisters, get to the finish. At the same time, I could imagine my coach's scorn at avoiding the water.

Once we crested the final hill and could see down into Kinlochleven, I really started to have fun and let my legs go. I picked up speed and rushed down the hill, much faster than the few folk I had been beside. There were a couple of close calls again where I nearly tripped, scaring myself a bit, but I still let my descending ability take me down the hill quickly and into the first checkpoint.

Kinlochleven to Glencoe

I was fairly quick in the checkpoint, refilling my water bottles, adding a sports drink sachet to one of them. Grabbing a banana and a couple of sandwiches before setting off again. I tried running while eating, but noticed that my heart rate shot up very quickly again. I decided to walk while finishing my sandwich, then forced myself to run again.

Once we got to the edge of the town, the climb began. Almost one continuous climb from sea level until the highest point in the course. At the start of the climb I resigned myself to being slow on the climbs again. Despite this, this was the point where I caught up with some of the walkers, people who were taking part and not intending to run at all but instead walk the whole distance in one go. They had set off two hours earlier than us.

About halfway through the first climb the rain started. I was actually rather hot and was worried I would overheat if I put my rain jacket on, however it looked like it was going to be heavy and persistent so I stopped early and got my jacket out of my bag and put it on over my race pack.

At the top of the Devil's Staircase the wind from the south was very strong and combined with the rain made it a pretty miserable occasion. I certainly wasn't enjoying any of the views but was focusing again on where I was putting my feet and attempting to avoid injury.

Descending the Devil's Staircase I again let my legs go and pulled ahead of a couple of the other runners I had been with on the climb. My trail shoes were excellent at gripping the rocky surfaces and I made the most of it. Once I got to the bottom I realised I had possibly overdone it again and my heart rate was quite high.

After Kingshouse I made my way up towards checkpoint 2 at the Glencoe ski centre. By this point the rain was pretty heavy and the wind was strong and as it was an uphill section I was back to walking again. The walk was a long and slow drag and I was relieved when I reached the campervan that was acting as the checkpoint.

Glencoe to Bridge of Orchy

Once in the checkpoint I had to sign myself in and then refill my water bottles. By the time I'd finished that and grabbed a couple of bits of food I had started shivering. Ideally at this point I would have stopped and changed my socks for dry ones, but the wind and rain had me worried so I set off as quickly as I could.

After setting off I found it was a real struggle to run. The uphill sections where normally I was walking to keep my heart rate down were no longer spiking my heart rate like they were earlier. I suspect my problem at this point was I had gotten cold and was really struggling to get my body temperature back up again.

I knew that this section of the trail was very rough underfoot, but I still wasn't properly prepared for it. There was no chance of me keeping my feet dry - they were soaked through by this point. This was a section where my footwear probably let me down. There was no cushioning in them and my feet got ripped to shreds.

At least the rain stopped for a bit. I eventually took my jacket off and strung it through the webbing on the back of my pack.

As I climbed the hill after Inveroran Hotel, I spotted a couple of groups of walkers setting their tents up for wild camping. It was a bit weird to see them finished for the day when I was aware we had such a long way to go.

As I was running down to Bridge of Orchy I noticed that, while I was still able to run downhill easily, my feet were hurting lots. It was a relief to reach the third checkpoint.

Bridge of Orchy to Auchtertyre

Checkpoint 3 was completely different from checkpoint 2. It was indoors for a start. Even though the rain had stopped, it was still a relief to be inside. When I got in a volunteer was very quick to bring me my first drop bag. I took the opportunity to change out of my damp t-shirt and put on a long sleeve top. Another volunteer offered a choice of meat or vegetarian chilli. I really enjoyed my vegetarian chilli as I fiddled transferring my race number from my old t-shirt to the new one.

By this point it was about 17:30, yet my body felt like it was lunchtime. As I left the building, I met one of the runners I had climbed out of Kinlochleven with. We ran together for a bit, but I was struggling to keep going, particularly on the uphill sections. I was happy to play leapfrog depending on the terrain for most of the next section.

As I passed through Tyndrum, one of the support crew for another runner told me that I was doing great and was in fourth place. My mind exploded. I would have guessed about 10th! By this point I was really feeling the fatigue. A part of me was really tempted to slow to a walk and give up on any decent times. But this news put a stop to that. If I was in 4th place, that was just one person ahead of me struggling or pulling out and I was in line for a trophy.

The section leaving Tyndrum was on paths through a wood and I loved it. I don't know what it was about the terrain but the running felt smooth and easy for a bit. Once the path left the wood things became tough again but I continued to push on to the next checkpoint.

Auchtertyre to Beinglas

Auchtertyre was the first checkpoint where I was on my own. The field had spread out enough that the person ahead of me had (just) left as I arrived, and I was gone before the next person came in. The midges were also out in force here. They didn't cause any issues while on the move, it was just when stationary that they got you. This was incentive to get going again.

I managed to make a couple of wrong turns on the next section. My watch was very good at telling me that I was off course after I had noticed myself and started to make my way back again.

The uphills were energy sapping and the downhills were painful on my feet. When passing the junction down to Crianlarich, the halfway point of the route, it really hit me how bad a state I was in. I was knackered, my feet were agony and I was only now at the halfway point. I didn't let the thought stop me. I pushed on.

At one point, not far from the checkpoint, I had to stop to get something out of my bag. By the time I had finished I looked down to see my legs crawling. Literally. They were covered in midges, attracted by the smell of my sweat. It was a strong incentive to keep moving.

I was aware that after the next checkpoint, the course gets very tough and impossible to run. I was looking forward to that. At least everyone would have to walk that section and I would be able to rest, recover and get going fresh again.

Beinglas to Rowardennan

When I was in the Beinglas checkpoint, two other runners caught up with me. I changed my top for a second time and put my small running pack into my bigger one which also had my emergency bivvy bag and sleeping bag. I heated up a pouch of piri piri grains and set off first with my head torch on, ready for night to fall.

Sure enough it wasn't long before the others caught up with me. I tried to push on with them but my feet ached a lot. Each step was painful and my energy levels were low.

Sure enough the path was difficult. I think I would have found it fun if I was running on fresh legs, lots of ups and downs, scrambling over rocks and tree roots. Yes there was no way to run the whole thing, but with fresh legs I could have run some bits and enjoyed some of the more technical descents. As it was, I just found it brutal.

I found myself walking even the runnable sections. My brain kept having a fight with itself. The problem was that every step hurt. The rational part of my brain knew that when I was running my stride length was bigger. Therefore if I were to run the whole way I would take less steps and find it less painful overall. Unfortunately the more primal part of my brain disagreed. When I was running I was taking steps at a much higher cadence therefore every minute I experienced much more pain than if I were walking. This battle would continue for the rest of the race, and more often than not the primal part of my brain would win.

The weirdest part of walking this section during the night was seeing lichen getting lit up by my head torch. It had an eerie glow to it and my brain would try and make sense of the weird shapes I could see. I often thought I'd seen a sign or a weird statue only for it to turn out to be lichen on a rock or a tree.

This was the section I realised that I wasn't going to have the race I wanted. As time ticked by and I continued to walk rather than run I realised my chances of getting under 24 hours were slipping away.

I continued on, I had no other option. But Rowardennan couldn't come soon enough.

Rowardennan to Drymen

Rowardennan was the checkpoint I helped at last year and as I remembered, the midges were there to encourage racers to move on quickly.

Despite how I felt, the option of giving up and retiring did not cross my mind. I swapped back to using only my small bag, refilled my water bottles, grabbed a sandwich and headed on. Still walking.

Not long after leaving the checkpoint, a runner I had last seen climbing out of Kinlochleven caught up with me. He was now running with his son as support. I was impressed. I could see that he was also struggling, but was still going. I decided to have a go at running with him.

Surprisingly I managed to maintain the run much longer than I had at any point in the previous few hours. It was still painful. I still wanted to stop, but having someone else, going at a similar pace and also struggling gave me extra willpower or stamina to keep going.

I found, once I was running, I was slightly faster than him. I adopted a leapfrog strategy. When I was walking, I would not let him get too far away from me, then would run to catch up. I was not allowed to stop, no matter how much it hurt, until I caught up with him again. The strategy kept me going at a much faster pace all the way to Balmaha and the foot of Conic Hill.

At the foot of the hill, the other runner stopped, I assume to get his jacket out. I continued up the hill, assuming he would catch me soon enough. As I climbed I saw many signs telling us to stay on the path. So I did. I followed the obvious stone pathway up the hill. And missed the turn off to stay on the West Highland Way, that was a more traditional dirt path. I was halfway up to the summit before I realised my mistake. I cursed myself a lot.

The walk back down was really painful. Climbing didn't hurt my feet that much, but the descent was a different story. By the time I rejoined the proper path, the other runner had passed and was ahead of me again.

At this point we were starting to descend the hill, the kind of terrain that hurt the most. I did try to catch up with him, but he was running well down the hill and pulled away from me. I was back to walking on my own again. By this point my right knee was starting to hurt as well.

The route from Conic Hill to Drymen was deceptive. I didn't think it was far, yet it seemed to keep going. I heard a ping from my phone in my bag. Despite a lot of messages in the family chat, the only one that I heard was my mum saying she had arrived at the finish and was waiting for me. I felt guilty that she was there so early and I had such a long way to go. I phoned her to let her know that I was struggling and she would have a long wait.

Drymen to Milngavie

When I made it to the Drymen checkpoint I felt pretty defeated. The volunteers said that I was doing great but I admitted that I was just walking at this point. "That doesn't matter, walking is fine".

After more water, crisps and a banana, I set off again. I was not giving in. I had not put myself through all that to give up. I wanted that goblet.

But then I thought of that phone call with my mum. I could phone her. She could probably pick me up in under half an hour and this would all be over...

Then I pushed that thought away. No, I can't give in so close to the end. I would never forgive myself if I did.

But wow this section dragged on. The mile markers to Milngavie taunting me. I am not convinced how accurate they were, but with my slow walking pace they were amongst the longest miles I have experienced.

Eventually I left one path, walked along a short stretch of road and was about to follow the route down a new path when I heard lots of cheering from the woods. Then a man came out of the path and noticed me. "Are you in the Milngavie race?" I was confused but I was heading to Milngavie so maybe yes? He then started berating me about getting lost. My lack of sleep and general fatigue didn't help, but he told me to get down that path.

Once I did get into the woods, I worked out what the confusion was. There was a local 8.4 mile trail race, and as I had a number on my front he thought that I must have been in that race and gotten lost.

I had merged with the other race just after the front runners had passed. I was running (ok, walking) down the same path, but all these fast and fresh runners were flying past me. Occasionally one would shout to check that I was ok, and I would reply that I was fine, just doing a different race.

Eventually the fast runners had passed and gave way to the slower pack. There were far more folk checking on my condition. Several suggested that they could get one of the race marshals to help. Again I would let them know that I was in a different race. I had set off at 10am the previous day from Fort William. That usually got a reaction.

It was about here that my watch eventually died. If I had managed my sub 24 hour target it would have been fine but with the delay, using navigation and needing the accurate GPS, it was too much. I got my phone out to record the remainder.

As I approached the outskirts of Milngavie the last of the trail runners passed me. I had a bit of a chat with the organiser who was acting as tail runner. She was intrigued by the idea of doing the race in the north to south direction, so she would be running home.

Again I was on my own, the path winding its way along beside the river. I kept moving, and eventually recognised a bridge. Not far now, but I didn't have the energy to run for the finish. I heard a cheer, my mum and another couple clapping and shouting. It made me happy, but I still couldn't run, just kept plodding. I made it to the obelisk and mum took a photo of me before I went to the race finish in the Fraser Centre across the square.

I was done. 27 hours after setting off I had finished.

Post-Race and Recovery

I was presented with my goblet, and then made my way over to the other end of the room to sit down. Mum managed to find my drop bags and after a bit more hunting, my finish bag. I took my shoes off but as I started to peel the socks off decided against it.

We went to a McDonald's drive-through and I got my usual post-ultra meal. I didn't move from the car seat. At the time I was swearing that I had no interest in doing any part of the West Highland Way ever again.

For the next week, each day was a different kind of pain. The first day, it took a good 2 minutes each time I tried to stand up and put weight on my right leg. As a result I couldn't drive as there was no way I could put my foot down on the brake hard if required.

The next day was still a struggle to walk, but the knee had recovered enough I was comfortable to drive. But it was the blisters that covered my feet that stopped me walking any distance.

As the week progressed, it was a different niggle that was bothering me most each day. Calves, hamstrings, Achilles. They all took their turn.

By the end of the week most of the blisters had subsided, but one went red and painful. I eventually went to the doctor's and was seen by a nurse practitioner.

"I think I have an infected toe." "From an ingrowing toenail?" "No, I had a bunch of blisters. I think this one got infected." She looked concerned, "How did you get the blisters?" "I took part in an event last weekend and destroyed my feet" "What was the event?" Damn, I had hoped to avoid this. "I attempted to run the West Highland Way" She gave me a quick 'well that was stupid' look before moving on, checking the foot and issuing me a prescription for antibiotics.

Reflection

It is now a month since the race. I have managed a few runs. My right hamstring is still a bit tight and I have definitely lost a fair bit of fitness, but it is nice to be back running and training again.

It is amazing how fast the pain fades from memory. I remember the conversation with my mum about never wanting to have anything to do with The Way ever again, yet I am regularly thinking of things I could do differently. Different shoes could have protected my feet better. If I had had a support crew the whole way, I probably would have changed my socks at Glencoe. I could have done some practice runs in hillier terrain.

I need to be careful. All these optimisations and improvements could lull me into thinking it would be a good idea to try again for sub 24 hours.

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