Nearly a year ago 12 kids from Sheffield Running Club took forth to run the West Highland Way over 5 days, I was in paradise. Fast forward a year and one ultra crazy girl took forth to run the first half of the West Highland Way – a mere 53 miles. For I bring forth to you the Hoka Highland Fling 2015. Ding Ding!
I had heard the Hoka Highland Fling was indispensable for Ultra runners. The Hoka Highland Fling is one of the larger Ultra’s in the UK with 1000 places and 750ish starters (allowing for a 20% drop out) It is part of the 2015 Scottish Ultra Trail Championships, so it attracts a high calibre of ultra runners. I was nervous. Nervous for a number of reasons. First lets start with the excuses, every runner has an excuse or two right? So mine goes something like this.
2 weeks previous I had run the Calderdale Hike Ultra, a 38ish mile fell event in the South Pennines and planned to run (run I said not race) the Sheffield Half the day after. Brace yourselves for the excuse… Stomach pain to the third degree prevented the latter run to take place, instead I found myself hooked up in A&E on a drip with potential something or other. Luckily I was discharged within a day, handed over a plethora of painkillers and told it wasn’t due to the miles, but simply girly stuff. Enough detail or do you want to see the photos too? They are probably on Instagram anyway.
So 10 days of forced rest with a mere 7 miler wedged in at the weekend and a near on 11 minute mile trot back from work left me questioning whether my body could endure 53 miles. In hindsight that forced rest was probably the best thing that could have happened in the lead up to the Hoka Highland Fling. So..no pity on the girl please it did me a favour in the end and anyway s**t always happens.
You can have results or excuses not both
I left it to the last minute to book accommodation, and managed to secure a hotel opposite the ‘official’ Fling hotel, but slightly cheaper for a nice spacious double room with free wifi and tea. Tea and wifi,its all that mattered right? I was aghast at the price of the train to Glasgow, £130 at its best, so I trotted along to a ‘split ticket’ website, and picked up a ‘split ticket’ return to Glasgow for £57 boom! All it meant was at my split ticket destination – Preston I had to walk four paces down the carriage to swap seats. Ding ding I am off to run the Hoka Highland Fling.(I just didn’t tell anyone)
You are stronger than your circumstances
Once settled into the hotel, I had to pick up a few extra fresh bits for my drop bags including some full fat coke and some cocktail sausages, every little helps, right? The concept of drop bags is not new to me, I have used them in the past but not to the Fling effect. There is no ‘food’ at the 5 checkpoints en route, only water.
Runners are responsible for providing their own ‘dropbags’ which had to be no larger than a shoe box. I had some freezer zip bags carefully labelled with my number, name and the destination. I had broken down bits of kendal mint cake, macaroon bar, jelly sweeets. Get the gist?
Mini peanut butter squares had been carefully constructed out of Warbutons thins and I split up a packet of hula hoops into three ‘cat’ poo bags with extra salt for good measure.
The full fat coke was poured into those little kiddies 200ml juice bottles and I threw in a bottle of coconut water for CP4. I love coconut water regardless of what the rest of the world thinks, its full of all the right stuff and tastes delicious, so long as you get the 100% stuff. Head along to your local Home Bargains for it. I also had some mango pieces and a gel in each bag amidst some of those chocolatey ritz cracker biscuit thingies (again from Home Bargains) and the runners’ ‘must have’ obligatory malt loaf cut into little blocks. And for desert a chia bar and some home made flapjacky things.
Thanks to the banter on the Hoka Highland Fling Facebook page I decided to experiment with Flumps. (What do they say about not experimenting with anything new on race day?)
Registration was a simple no frills affair, showing my driving licence in return I got a very special Hoka Highland Fling wrist band, my ankle chip and bib number. It was as easy as 1,2,3 I was 697. No trawling 53 miles across the city to an over indulgent Expo trying to sell you overpriced running merchandise, oh sorry wrong race that was London the day after.
Someone asked if an ultra marathon was like the London Marathon but with obstacles – Martin – TeamB_O_B – Twitter
The idea was to get an early night after ample amount of food and too much rice pudding. Pre race nerves meant I was unable to sleep but who does sleep well before an ultra anyway? I am no different to anyone else so that excuse won’t cut the mustard either.
If its important to you you will find a way, if not you will find an excuse – Runhaven.com
The coach left outside the official hotel at 4.30am which meant 4 lots of 4am, 4.01am, 4.02am and 4.03am wake up calls just in case. It felt like I had managed a whole hours sleep when Take That’s ‘These Days’ came blasting out of my phone. I should have put on the proclaimers ‘But I would walk 500 miles, And I would walk 500 more’, instead my Saturday morning sounded something like this:
Oh I can see the future
Coming to you
Crying with the sadness in your eyes
And I can find a faith in years I’ve wasted
Being around enough to feel alive
Take That – These Days
And that was me being awake enough to feel alive. Kettle was switched on as priority before throwing on on the running gear and ready steady go. I had a food flask so prepared some porridge to eat on the coach, and downed half my cup of tea, the rest was to take with me. It was raining, just saying.
Today’s Forecast 100% chance of not given a crap what the weatherman says
4.25am I was outside the hotel waiting to get on the coach. Panic struck for I had lost my ankle chip. I raced back to the hotel room where I had left the room quite neat and threw the covers everywhere in search of the lost chip. I went back to the coach my head held low in disgrace only to find it Velcro’ed to my race vest. A great start to the day. Ding ding another excuse. FFS.
On the coach to Milgavie I began to feel nauseous, my head was spinning, and I was overheating. I tried to get porridge down me but ended up stripping off to my t-shirt. My body doesn’t like food at 4.30am in a morning especially when being transported across Glasgow in a rather big coach with over enthusiastic runners. Oh its just another excuse to feel sorry for myself, right?
Make an excuse or make it happen
I was thankful to get off the coach into the freezing cold rain. After pottering around for a bit I bumped into Dave – a friend of Twirly Tutu man Mr Mike Wells. We chatted a little and then went to sort out our drop bags. The organisation of the drop backs put the Yorkshire Half Marathon (Sheffield Half) bag chaos to shame. Cars lined up with their boots open, carefully labelled with the destination and the numbers, 1-500 and then 501-1000. Finally the finish van for the the ‘finish bag’. I had by this time managed to cool down and get the rest of the porridge and tea down me. Feeling much more human I said goodbye to my main bag. That left 53 miles between me, my race vest and I, and my possessions. It was time to line up.. to line up for a poo. I soon got rid of my poo and felt completely human again. The race was about to start and I was ready. Excuses, not a word that exists in my vocabulary.
Nobody cares about your excuses, Nobody pities you for procrastinating, nobody is going to coodle you because you are making excuses, its your body, you move it.
I bumped into Mike, Dave again, Trevor, Kirk and Gia who were all good friends from social media, a lovely bunch of gentlemen. I hung about behind them like a lost soul, following them all into the sub 10 hour pen, trying to be optimistic that I would finish it within 10 hours. I had no idea. Mike had a ‘race pace plan’ and educated me within the first few miles about his targets in order to achieve a 10 hour Fling. I will admit it just went over my head. I am not very good at the whole pacing analaysis thing. You just never know what is going to happen. But I know it works for many. I am just a watch wimp with too much self doubt.
Run your self doubt into the ground
The Bonny Banks of Loch Lomond played airily throughout Milgavie adding to the already buzzing atmosphere.
By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes,
Where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomond.
Where me and my true love were ever wont to gae
On the bonnie, bonnie banks O’ Loch Lomond.
O ye’ll tak’ the high road and I’ll tak’ the low road,
An’ I’ll be in Scotland afore ye;
But me and my true love will never meet again
On the bonnie, bonnie banks O’ Loch Lomond
Johnny Fling – race organiser tannoyed out that the race was about to begin. 10, 9, 8, you know the score, 3,2,1 boom and we were off across the timing mats under the underpass and through the high street. Spectators clapping us on through.
The first few miles were puddly and muddy, splish splashing along the delightful trails. Mike and friends were running well a little way front of me, Mike supporting his tartan tutu and lapping up the attention even this early on in the race. I was struggling to keep them in sight especially on the downhills, in particular where Trevor’s Fell running skills came into their own force.
I recognised some of the route from last years’ running club trip. The cafe we stopped at to have tea and scones, all the gates, open all the gates, shut all the gates (thank you Mike for doing a fine job there), the blade of grass in the edge there and of course the highland coo poo.
Just outside the hamlet of Carbeth a stunning sound echoed across the trails. A Fiddle and drummer were making sweet sweet music, bringing a smile to every runners face. What an amazing sight and sound. Just imagine the mountainous Scottish Highlands glistering in the distance, the trail of love stretching far forward, the hills were alive with the sound of runners. A match made in heaven.
Run in places you love with people you like. Enjoying your surroundings and it will strengthen your commitment to running and bring out the best in you. – Deena Kasto
We passed ‘UltraDaftie Roo ‘ a blow up Kangaroo supporting motivational words about mud. Ding ding. Across the course were other hand written motivational signs adding to the amusement of 100s of flinging feet.
I caught Mike, Trevor and Gia up along a flat section. Kirk and Dave had gone steaming ahead apparently. Mike performing his obligatory twirls for the amusement of the passer bys and later the highland coo’s no doubt. A fantastic sight to see a man in a tutu running 53 miles, stunningly more so as he and some of his crew had just casually run sub 3 hour marathon at Manchester the weekend before.
A rather muddy field just before the first checkpoint at Drymen meant that some of the men were not very dry. Careful negotiation around the ditches by myself and one other near by lady meant that the ladies were Dryladies. Boom boom ding ding.
Racing is an escape from society. From symbols of status, from self-perceptions. A chance to just be. For everyone to just be, with each other. – Erin Beresini
I hadn’t bothered with looking at my watch but Mike informed me that he had to make it in 1.43 for a sub 10 hour Fling. Apparently we had made it in just over 1 hr 40 minutes. Drymen had just water no drop bags. I was feeling lively still, had enough water to last me over 20 miles so continued through the checkpoint and back en route, leaving Mike, Gia and Trevor to soak up the checkpoint atmosphere.
Be willing to go alone many who started with you won’t finish with you – Tony A Gaskins Jr
It was now getting much warmer, the sun was making a great effort to burn through those wild Scottish clouds. I rolled up the sleeves of my OMM jacket and glad that I had opted for shorts rather than longs. I felt like I was running an amazing journey. I was running an amazing journey.
Run + Mind + Heart = An amazing running journey
I’d not really eaten that much by now, and knew I could do with some more nutrition. A few nibbles on the obligatory Kendal Mint Cake would not see me through 53 miles. I reached for some broken up flapjack (homemade of course) and scoffed it down me with ease. That would do for now.
16/17 miles in came the biggest climb of the route, Conic Hill. Conic Hill stands at 350m of ascent, a mile or so of pure blissful hillfulness. I took the opportunity to strip off my jacket tie it round my waist. It was also a prime opportunity to pull out more food and this time my first gel in order to get enough quick release sugar down me for the downhill descent over the other side. I didn’t want a wibble and a wobble going down hill.
Hills aren’t in the way they are the way
I love hills and this was no exception. The gleaming sun radiating through the hill, the stream of runners, upfront, behind, each footstep shimmering on the captivating path. My energy was flowing beautifully, this is what paradise looks like on a Saturday morning in bonny Scotland.
A photographer (Monument Photos) took a strategic position just near the top to capture everyones’ moves. All photos are free, I say all photos are free and part of the entry fee, free… free… free. Such an act of kindness for someone who has sat there all day taking hundreds of shots of crazy ultra runners running up a hill. Not charging £18 for a race photo but all for the kindness of the Hoka Highland Fling. Simple.
I am free to run
(I am free to run)
I am free to dance
(I am free to dance)
Newsboys – I Am Free Lyrics
I feared the downhill descent down to Balmaha. I still can not run down hill and proved myself right as those footloose runners came charging down past me with ease. Once the rocky technical segment was out of the way I found myself speeding down the easy pathway towards the chekpoint chasing another guy for a laugh. Mikes other half Sarah gave me a massive shout out, I waved and the marshals shouted my number out to the drop bag volunteers who had it all there ready and waiting for me. I was flabbergasted at the impeccable organisation of 700 or so drop-bags all aligned ready for the runners.
I wasn’t going to mess about at the checkpoint, I had water in the goodie bag which I poured into my proper vest bottles, extra Nunn tablets, more Kendal Mint Cake and Macaroon Bar and probably one or two other goodies that ended up going straight into the Fling Bin. A fling Bin is one of one or two bins near the checkpoint for people to throw their rubbish into, brilliant Fling Bin. Fling your rubbish into the fling bin.
The kind and thoughtful strategically placed hill out of Balamah allowed me enough time to sort myself out and have a nibble on some food, I think at this point I also had a flump. Powered on flumps ffs.
Some chit chat took place to surrounding runners about whether the paths had narrowed and whether there were more stones and rocks, the interesting conversations that ultra runners have.
Stop talking, start running
The next stretch was a mixture of beautiful woodland trails with a pinch of tarmac thrown in for bad measure and a trawl along a pebbly beach all the way to Rowardennan, a mere 7 miles following banks of Loch Lomond.
When malt loaf is on offer at checkpoints I normally take a piece. So I dug deep into my pocket and swallowed my own squashed malt loaf which had been smothered in peanut butter. Yukkity yuk yuk yuk. My taste buds chocked on the mixture of malt and peanut butter. Never again. A girl has now gone off malt loaf as she spat it out with displeasure. I was not going to be defeated by some silly malt loaf.
Before I could have time to even think about replenishing the malt loaf disaster, Rowardennan was up on me. Another cheer from Mikes other half, Sarah as I swiftly ran in and out of the checkpoint grabbing my drop-bag which was being waved at me. What goodies await me in my drop-bag? As long as it was not malt loaf with peanut butter thank you very much, that was going straight in the Fling Bin.
I am glad that I provided my own water as I was able to refill on the go. I had hoped my coke had defizzed, but alas as I took a guzzle it was as fizzed up as a fizzy cola bottle sweetie. I spat it out and flinged it in the Fling bin with further frustration. Normally flat coke is great on ultras, the mix of sweet and caffine gives that extra boost. Hey have another flump instead, its brightly coloured and fun!
I run because it is the closest I will get to flying
I knew I should be eating more substantial food and now had 2 cocktail sausages to add to my delightfully mashed up pockets in my trail top. But at this stage my taste buds were still craving sweet stuff. Cocktail sausages with flumps were a cocktail for disaster. Even my peanut butter mini ‘Warbuton Square’ sandwiches which I had cut into far too small chunks had been crushed up like squashed grapes on the London tube in rush hour. My poor little sandwich squares ended up being flinged in the fling bin.
The climb out of Rowardennan was a little arduous, exhausting at times. Along a wide gravel trackway runners plodded on. Things begin to get interesting around 30 miles in. The wheels were falling off some of the guys, yet even as I ‘chicked’ them all, they were in good spirit telling me I was ‘looking strong’. These powerful words just powered me up even more. It must have been the flump, Powered on flumps. FFS. One guy must have been powered on something else as I ran he farted, I ran some more he farted some more, only on an ultra. He was trying to fart out the tune to The Proclaimers ‘500 miles’, I am sure. Ultra running rule number 7: we have no shame.
I am running from the fart you just left me
The wide roadway track gave way to delicious rolling trails. If I could marry a trail I would marry this one, I was in love. Trail running doesn’t get any better than this. Imagine your favourite deliciously melting velvet cake covered in luxury creamy ice cream served with a huge cup of tea brewed to perfection. Delicious. This was true love. I was in my own carefree world. I was dancing with the trails.
Know your limitations and ignore them
Invernaid approached at the blink of an eyelid. I had enjoyed that section so much that I didn’t realise I was 35 miles in. Only what I can describe as an extraordinary lady stood in the middle of the car park waving my drop-bag. She had already unpacked it asking me whether I really wanted the battered and bruised peanut butter mosh, smashed up hula hoops and pulverized malt loaf that looked less attractive than baby sick. She kindly stuffed the power bank for my watch into my race vest, filled up my water bottles and generally treated me like royalty. I was overwhelmed with her assistance and reassurance which boosted me even more.
Sometimes I get stuck in a figurative place and can’t find my way out, until running leads me in a better direction. Whenever life turns ugly, running presents something beautiful. Whenever I feel weak, it gives me strength. – Dave Griffin
I flew on my way with another small bottle of coke but again it was still too fizzy so that went into the fling bin. Epic fail on the coke front. Guess I should have used Pepsi instead? I was still on sweet stuff, macaroon bar and another gel this time to keep me concentrated through what can be described ad the ‘technical bit’. The ‘technical bit’ was 4 or so miles of tree roots big rocky boulders, sticks and stones that may break my bones if I hadn’t eaten more macaroon bar and flapjack.
As I struggled along some of the more technical bits, three guys came flying past me. At the same time I bumped into Mikes friend Dave. He informed me he was struggling but really; this guy had just run a 2.53 marathon the week before. Yes I chicked a 2.53 hour marathon runner on a 53 mile ultra but at the expense of his poor burning feet. I sent him encouraging words informing him that its all about the mind and to just put one foot in-front of the other, like it wasn’t obvious.
Every step forward is a stop closer to the finish
At the end of the ‘technical bit’ I found myself on my wee own. This meant one thing, weeeeeee – yes it was wee wee time. I found a rock and did my wee wee with no one else in sight, that was better and off I went by my wee self once again.
The ‘technical bit’ must have really taken it out on me as my body began to slow down and my head began to go fuzzy. I was beginning to feel drained and weary. Next minute I was picking myself up from the rocky trail having tripped and grazed my hand. No major harm done I was still in one piece. I glance down at my blood shot knees and grazes. All part of the fun. I picked myself up forced a ‘Bakewell Tart’ gel down me in order to get my head back into the trail. Within a few minutes I was back moving again.
Embrace pain and fuel it for our journey
Just a mere few more miles to Beinglas Farm and the final checkpoint some 40 plus miles in. Crowds cheered me into the checkpoint and once again helped with my water and drop-bag.
I took very little from my drop-bag as my pockets were already crammed with bits of flapjack, macaroon pieces, Kendal Mint Cake and squashed up cocktail sausages. A fantastic concoction of yuckieness. I kindly left my fizzy coke and coconut water for one of the other runners but took the remaining jelly sweets for good luck and ventured onwards. Less than a half marathon to go as I started to play mindgames with myself. Just a half marathon, a picturesque blissful half marathon, that is all.
Your body isn’t telling you i cant do this I need to stop it hurts it burns I’m tired, your mind is. Shut it up and run
The route then took me up a couple of inclines where some digging work was taking place. It was getting even warmer now and I was beginning to sweat. My body was fading. Another gel was needed to give me a quick boost. I normally don’t have that many gels on ultra’s but I had got all my nutrition wrong. Not enough savoury earlier on, too much sweet stuff, meant I had left it too late to enjoy the savouries and the sweet had become sour. I really needed to eat up some of these hills. With over 6000ft of climb there were enough to go round for everyone.
After another climb I began to chase down a couple of runners in front of me. I kept reminding myself that if I was feeling dreary by now how were they feeling? Cow Poo Alley was supposed to be approaching, I wasn’t sure where it was as the ground was so solid, almost disappointed there was no poo. There were some highland cows around and a bit of poo but nothing to mark an alley way full of poo. However UltraDaftie Roo had made another appearance en route which made up for the lack of poo and put another smile on my face.
Running helps me believe I can
Up the highland track we ran. I caught up and buddied up with a guy called ‘John’. We ran together chatting and encouraging each other to the sweet bitter end. Local Children en route were doing their bit by encouraging us and ringing those bells – Ding Ding with just less than 8 miles to go.
Then it was up a rather steep hill to face another photographer at the top. Click, we had been caught on camera walking up the hill. Its a race not a sponsored walk, come on body! Yes I was talking to my own body.
Smile remember you paid to do this
I was undenayingly struggling, but John was great company and knowing that there was less than 6 miles to go focused the mind. It’s just 10km, 10km that is all, just 10km. I was making every effort to keep up with John. The woods were buoyant with hills galore. Rolling down the downs and walking up the ups, time soon ticked on by. The comfort of having someone else in the last few miles running along side, understanding the ‘fun pain’ that was going through our minds. I was trying to have a conversation but I was unable to connect my brain to my mouth and was unable to even remember a simple word or two to describe something I can’t even remember saying.
Running has its ups and downs
I had neglected my food once again, my insides were rattling, they were hungry yet I felt sick at the same time. I forced some crushed macaroon bar down me followed by some Christmas Tree jelly sweets found in B&M a few weeks ago for the price of 50p (still in date may I add).
Out of the woods the marshals held away the traffic as we took the descent down to the river across the troll bridge and into flatter farmland. I was still antagonising over what goodies to fuel my body even though there was now less than ‘a parkrun’ to go.
Do your best appreciate each step forget the rest
Myself and John caught up another runner who was clearly having a worse time than myself for I was still running he had resorted to a slow walk.
John had now taken front position and was making good progress, whereas I was bonking. Whether it was physiological in that I had reached 50 miles or not I still kept going just putting one foot in-front of the other, and in a very sick way enjoying every step of it. I was determined in every way to stick with John and he was so encouraging, otherwise I may have curled up into a little ball of squashed haggis and I so didn’t want to end up in the Fling Bin myself either.
Forward is a pace.
I knew we were coming to the last mile or so, as the flat pathway ran along side the gushing river, much faster than our bodies would take us. In the distance we could see civilisation, the end was in sight. But before all that, there was a little bit of moorland path to negotiate. Relay runners were heading in our direction cheering us on and we were finally believing them when they said ‘not far to go’.
Through a large gate myself and John ran, and back onto a woodland path. People were stood cheering us on. John made a go for it and encouraged me to do the same as I let him fly into the distance. A massive grin spread across my face as I passed the bagpippers a pipping then more cheers and lots of ding dings.
The blow up finish archway was in sight. I turned the corner to a red carpet and masses of people cheering and clapping me in, some shouting my name, kids high fiving me. The grin on my face widened as I took stance and ran as fast as my little legs would carry me right up the red carpet through the flags to fling myself across the finish line. Did I mention with a massive grin on my face? 53 miles done and dusted. What a fling! Ding ding.
Believe that you can run farther or faster. Believe that you’re young enough, old enough, strong enough, and so on to accomplish everything you want to do. Don’t let worn out beliefs stop you from moving beyond yourself. – John Bingham
Immediately after crossing the finish line marshals were there to put a medal around my neck, hand me a bottle of water and find me a seat. I was exasperated as I took a seat in order to beat my breath. After a little shake and a wobble, I decided that was a phenomenal yet unimaginable 9 hours and 13 minutes of running in a spectacular Scottish Wonderland.
Things only ultra runners understand: This is not punishment this is fun
A most welcoming cup of tea was placed in my hand and the courteous volunteers helped me inside the marquee, fetched a goodie bag and some soup whilst I recovered. I felt like I had done a Parkrun 17 times over. (Note: I haven’t even ever done 17 Parkruns)
Post race free hot showers were not just available but were hot and free. Feeling human again, I was finally able to face more food, a well deserved jacket potato followed by delicious ice cream. Beer was served if you so inclined but I stuck to the tea and ice cream.
I later bumped into Mike, Dave, Trevor, Gia, Kirk and Crew. Kirk had finished in just over 8 1/2 hours and the others in just over 10 hours. Gia told us about his wrestle with the ground causing a nasty cut next to his eye, which had subsequently been patched up. Mike had managed to wrestle with a spiky bush, and I had cleaned up all my wounds so had no excuses for anything.
The award ceremony was rather long as this was part of the Scottish Championships for which there were prizes for all the Scottish Athletics runners.
I had no idea how I had placed, I had just run, and run and run (and run and run). When the top 3 overall women were announced with times of 8.42, 8.55 and 8.59 respectively I did start to wonder how well I had positioned. Little did I realise that when they started to announce the ‘old gits’ aka V40+ that I would walk away with 1st V40, (by over 40 minutes) with a time of 9.13, a gorgeous plate with the names of all other previous old gits on it (I would be the second fastest on there once I get it engraved, cor blimey), and a ‘1st Lady VET 40’ cup to keep myself. I was rather shyly over the moon. I had also come 4th overall out of all 160 females. Flinging hell.
If Calsberg could do Ultras – From the Highland Fling Facebook Page
What a fabulous day, running, dancing, laughing and grimacing through some of the most picturesque scenery I have ever raced, with extraordinary support from all the marshals and helpers before, during and after the event. The whole shebang was just remarkable. Full kudos to everyone who had some part to play in the Hoka Highland Fling, for it made me and 700 or so other runners participate in a rather jolly Scottish Saturday. And huge thanks to Mike, Gia, Trevor, Dave and Kirk for the pre race advice, the first 12 or so miles, and post race chit chat. Did I mention it was ‘quite’ good fun?
The day after I didn’t run a marathon like 35, 000 other people in London, instead I got out of bed.
- Position: 59th (chip time) and 60th (gun time) out of nearly 700
- Gender Position: 4th out of 160 females
- Age Group Position: 1st V40