RACE REPORT
I really enjoyed the time before the race this year. I had been here before and this time I wasn’t so nervous. I was confident of my schedule. My training runs had been good up until April although after this they spluttered a bit I was still confident that I had the endurance. If there was any doubt in my mind it was that I had had a bug on the Monday/Tuesday before the race. Unable to eat properly without throwing up. But I felt I had caught up with my carbo loading on the days between then and the race.
Relaxed, I watched all the race virgins pottering about nervously. I was sure that I could beat the 20 hour mark. If everything went to plan I would only have to slowly jog or even shuffle the last 14 miles as last year it had taken me five hours to walk it. I could never be that slow this year. My schedule called for an easy pace to Tyndrum in the hope that I could keep going and so catch up on the times from last year.
This was the thought.
I spoke to the rest of the WHW family. Sharon, John, Ian, Richie, Karen, George, Davie. All looking nervous. I did too as I gave blood.
Along with Debbie my support was completed with Athole and Rob from last year. My mum came along to wish me luck and Rachel from Garscube as well.
At the start line I met Thomas and Neal. Thomas had been struggling a lot since the Edinburgh marathon and had a physio appointment only days before to try to sort out his damaged legs. I felt confident that there would be no stopping him this year as he was so disappointed that he DNF last year. Then my heart sank when he told me that he hadn’t told the physio about the race and that they had said that he may be able to do an easy run on the Saturday. Okay the WHW calls for an easy pace but I wouldn’t necessarily say it was an easy run. My fingers were crossed that he would be okay. Neal on the other hand was full of confidence. He told me his time to Drymen was scheduled at 1:40. WHAT? Suicidal I thought. Thats 15 mins faster than my plan. Neals training hadn’t seemed to go to well either. Certainly not as well as the year before. I expected to see him broken at some point later on up the Loch side somewhere.
1am and we were off. I started at the back and jogged slowly past the local neds who were out taking pictures on their phones at the sight of 150 runners in lycra. I wanted to kick one of them up the backside but then had second thoughts. Imagine putting in six months of training and ending up in a police cell for GBH to a ned at the start. I ran, sorry jogged on and saw my dad there to cheer me on. I was embarrassed as I was at the back of the runners. My dad will be proud of me when I finish under 20 hours I thought.
Through Mugdock park and onwards towards the Beech Trees the pace was excruciatingly slow. But I had my plan and my schedule. I wanted to show everyone that I could do this. No running on ahead at break neck speed just to die in the last 15 miles and be overtaken by everyone. I owed it to my support team and to the people I had trained with.
I met my team just after Beech Trees. It was hard to see who was who through the midgie nets but I knew it was them as we had gone over the plan meticulously. “Brilliant pacing Marco” “Your going well” they shouted . I was pleased with myself. Finally I was pacing a race correctly.
At Drymen I looked at my watch. Bang on 1:55. On my schedule precisely. I hadn’t broken a sweat and I felt fantastic. I spoke to Silke and asked where was Thomas. She said he was in front of me. Fantastic I thought. Looks like he is going to be fine then. But there was still a long way to go for both of us.
Drymen to Rowardennan
Onto the Conic Hill section and the field of runners was starting to break up. Excellent. I wanted to have some time on my own now. I was eating well and the sun was starting to come up. Ah life is great. At the top of Conic Hill there was a blonde haired girl with a camera crew. She started to ask me some questions and I gave some quick answers as I ran past. “I think she wanted me to stop and give an interview” I thought. Yeah right. Who would stop at the first 20 miles of a 100 mile race. I thought about it and then I imagined Sharon fixing her hair and applying her waterproof mascara and talking to them for 10 mins. They would have to tell her to go away.
Just past the top of the hill I saw a figure in front of me. I didn’t recognise the running style but it looked a bit like Mike Thomson. Imagine my surprise when it was infact Thomas. He was running awkwardly but he had got this far and looked cheery. Still I worried when he didn’t follow me even although the pace I was doing was so slow. On the way down Conic Hill I met a Kilbarchan supporter. “Hey Marco your doing well” he shouted “Neal is twenty minutes ahead of you” “Oh no... I hope he knows what he is doing” I thought.
I reached Balmaha and stopped to chat to my support team and the Mountain Rescue guys. They couldn’t believe I had run the 19 miles. “You haven’t even sweated yet” they remarked. This added to my confidence. Any more and I am sure my head would burst. The mighty Scottish midgie soon put an end to our conversation and I ran on taking a walking break at the next hill and devouring yet another gel.
On I went. This section is harder than it looks on paper with lots of small ups and downs but my pace was still so slow that it was just too easy. Thomas quickly caught up again. Perhaps I was going too slow. At times I tried to quicken up just a notch and try to get my legs out of this shuffle pace to Fort William. Just a little stretch I told myself. But instantly my legs said no. There was no 5th gear and no rest bite from this tortuous slow pace. “No reason to concern myself” I thought to myself. “My legs are just preparing themselves for later on when this pace would be fast”
I said to Thomas that my legs felt tired and he smiled reassuringly at me. Later on I would find out that he was worried about me but at that moment I wasn’t. Running was easy and I was with my friend and the scenery was fantastic.
Sharon caught us up. She looked shocked to see us so soon in the race. The three of us ran together and talked. Well Sharon talked and we listened. She seemed in great shape and was easily eating the miles (and chatting)
Into Rowardennan and my time was 4 hours 41 minutes. 1 minute behind my schedule. Fantastic. I was so happy.
Rowardennan to Carmyle Cottage
I walked with Athole for a bit and let Sharon and Thomas go on ahead. I wanted to make sure that I had eaten enough as it would be a long time until I met my team again. Running again I easily caught Sharon and Thomas. Good my legs are back again. I didn’t push but I started to run away from Thomas and Sharon. I could still hear Sharon behind me but not a lot of Thomas.
Then things felt strange. This section was just not feeling as easy as it should. Don’t worry. Ian Beattie says you get 3 low points in the race and this was just one of them. Sharon, Thomas and two other guys caught up with me. I stayed with them and then went on again. I needed time by myself to regain my strength. I felt bad as I had left Thomas and Sharon. Sharon would be okay and I was certain she would finish but I was still worried about Thomas. At the moment though I needed to be more worried about myself as my right knee started to hurt. Great that is all I need.
I was then overtaken by one of the other two guys. My knee was struggling as we were now on the rougher section just before Inversnaid. That boads well for the next section.
At Inversnaid I am again bang on schedule. But this pace is starting to hurt more and more. My stride was way to short and my knee was hurting. Not enough to stop but enough to know about it when on rough ground.
Andy from the Mountain Rescue team was at Inversnaid and started to look for pain killers for me. Oh well at least it is later than last year where I needed them at Rowardennan.
He didn’t have any and I started to get impatient when David Dodds the MR team leader started to look as well and also drew a blank. This wasn’t me. They were doing me a favour and I was getting ratty. Sorry guys.
Sharon and Thomas arrived. What the hell. I was sure that I had been going much quicker than them. Thomas wasn’t looking happy but Sharon was infuriatingly so. How does she find this so easy?
I left them for the arduous route to Beinglas. My knee still sore as no-one had painkillers. I was in a foul mood and just didn’t want to talk to anyone. My progress was good though and before long I was out of the hard bit and on to the hill at the end of the Loch. I looked round to see a progression of people behind me. “What? I thought I had been flying” Obviously not. Sharon was the closest to me and quickly caught up.
Again she was surprised to see me. I thought she would have learnt by now that she is much better at this game than me and shouldn’t be surprised that she kept catching up. Actually maybe she was surprised that she hadn’t already overtaken me.
She asked how I was and I explained about my knee. She stopped and out of her bumbag she gave me pain killers. I am an idiot. If I hadn’t been in such a rush at Inversnaid then Sharon would have offered them to me there. Anyway mental note for next time. Carry pain killers. Thats two years I have made that mistake now. Anyway Sharon you are a lifesaver. Thank you so much.
By the time we enter Beinglas Farm the painkillers hit in. I am a new man and less concerned with my self. I asked Sharon where Thomas is and she informs me that he is struggling a bit but still going. I am a bit more worried but I as long as you can put one foot in front of the other then keep going. Problem is it is still a long way and a lot of one foot in front of the other.
My new found strength is a godsend and I start to pull away from Sharon and make steady progress towards Carmyle Cottage. This is easy. Reaching the cottage my support team are there ever ready and waiting to attend to all my needs. They really are the best I could ever wish for and it is great to see them after such a long time. Murdo is one of the marshals at this checkpoint and tells me I am in 12th place. Wow I think. Okay I had a rough patch but I have hardly pushed. Now to make an assault on the top 10.
“Where is Neal” I asked. “20 mins ahead of you but don’t worry about that” I wasn’t worried at all. I actually just wanted to know how he was. My own goals was my race this year not anyone else.
I was getting more and more surprised at how well he was doing. It was entering my mind that maybe today was his day. That one inexplicable day that everything goes well and you can do no wrong. So far this wasn’t my story but I was still within reach of my schedule and I was feeling great now. Well within my 20 hour target.
Carmyle to Bridge of Orchy
Again I felt great leaving Carmyle cottage easily catching the people that had overtaken me after my extended break. I met my support again just at Crianlarich and scoffed some more food and a Capri Sun. Off again and through the woodland to the Wigwams. On the downhill I felt a small twinge in my left shin. Nothing to worry about just the terrain.
My support team weren’t ready with the weigh in card at the wigwams. I lined up for the weigh in impatiently. 20 seconds to long. Not a problem normally but again I was feeling the rage that kept affecting me today. Everything had to be to a schedule and 20 seconds waiting wasn’t planned for. I had to be at Tyndrum for bang on 10 hours. Athole appeared humbly apologising and instantly I was embarrassed that I could even contemplate being annoyed. Ultra running rage. Everyone no matter how nice they are gets it. My team knew I didn’t mean it. Hopefully. Perhaps they sensed my distress or maybe I didn’t hide it well enough but they offered to get me an ice cream at Tyndrum. And oh how I looked forward to it as I passed runners all the way. They were all dying.
My plan was coming together now. I felt great and here was all these runners struggling. Rob met me at Tyndrum. “This is working Rob” i said. “I am going to beat this West Highland Way. Everyone is dying and I am picking them off. I feel great” I could see Robs concern. There was 42 miles to go. But I was on a high and floating on my way to the finish. Nothing would stop me now.
With my ice cream I walked up the hill out of Tyndrum. Two of the “dying” runners overtook me. “I’ll catch them on the downhill section. May as well enjoy my ice cream first” I thought.
I finished my ice cream and started to run. I couldn’t catch the two runners. “Strange. I feel good but my legs won’t do what I want them too.” Instead of giving me energy it was as if my ice cream had sapped it.
Okay onto the downhill. I’ll get back into gear now. A very familiar pain shot up from my right ankle up the shin. The same one from last year but on the opposite leg. Still it only affected me downhill. Once on the flat I got back to my scheduled pace.
But it wasn’t good. I had to fight to get up to 11:23 per mile that was called for in this section. What the hell was wrong with me. One moment fine and then within minutes dead on my feet. My body had given up. The legs hurt and my energy levels were very low.
Pick yourself up I demanded from my body and I got going again but again I was sapped on the hill at the half way point of the section. I struggled up to the top and turned to see Sharon skipping towards me in the distance. I say skipping because she may as well have got out of the car just a mile before. Fresh as a daisy she bounded towards me and with feelings of deja vu from last year and John overtaking me towards the end I turned and mustered what I could to run towards Bridge of Orchy and the safety and sanity of my support team.
I tripped and fell, nearly pulling every muscle in my body to stop myself landing on the path in an effort to land on the grass. Now muddy and covered in sheep shit I reached the downhill and finally my team for a recharge of my batteries.
I sat on the chair willing the race to be over. Embarrassed that within 7 short miles I had gone from superman to grumbling moaning wreck. Unable and unwilling to get going again Sharon hopped skipped and jumped into Bridge of Orchy, like a diva she waved away her support and continued passed me. I was broken and any chance of getting under 20 hours were gone. My race was finished and my head sunk. I could have cried and to be honest I just wanted to go home.
Bridge of Orchy to Kinlochleven
“Get up time to go. Get on with it” Debbie woke me from my self pitying hole that I was digging myself. She nearly dragged me out of my seat and up the hill and I wish she had. “Get on with it Marco” I said as I headed up the hill. At the top I got ready to increase speed and get back into the race on the way downhill.
Straight away the pain in my shin. Getting sorer and sorer. Every step the pain shot up my leg and sapped what little energy I had left. At the bottom Debbie ran towards me with a very energetic Harvey, Neals dog.
I could only whimper “I miss Cairn”
I had never wanted to quit so much as I did then. I had done this race already. I had my goblet, what do I have to prove? That I can walk whimpering and crying over the finish. I know it is an achievement and when everyone says that it was a good time even although you had to walk I feel good. But it is shortlived. I will not let this race beat me. I want to one day be proud of what I have achieved. To say I tried the hardest I could and my time was whatever. To be honest I don’t care what time I get. I just want to say that I did the best I could. Not like last year. Always the reply to “What time did you run the WHW in” was “I got 20 and 3 quarter hours but ......” and then it would be the excuses. I had to walk, I had cellulitis, I had a sore leg. Maybe everyone gets that when running an ultra and perhaps I never will have that perfect race but this year I was determined to do it and now it was unravelling before me. Falling apart and I was helpless to stop it. By now I was past caring I just wanted it finished and to be home with Cairn and Debbie watching TV and doing anything else but this bloody race.
I started to recover again over Rannoch Moor. Perhaps the hill onto the moor gave me time to gather myself again. The sun was out and the views were tremendous. Billy Minto caught up with me and overtook me but I didn’t care. I was just glad that I was moving forward. One foot in front of the other.
Now John Kynaston caught up with me and I was determined to stay with him for as long as I could. I managed to the hill before Glencoe before again the irritating pain in my shin stopped me from continuing. It really was beginning to hurt now and felt worse than last year. Although I may have taken over the prescribed amount of pain killers that time.
Debbie joined me just before the Ski Club and asked what I needed. I don’t remember what I said as my memory of all the events begins to get hazy as I battled the pain in my leg. All I wanted was a cuddle and then she jogged off into the distance. Within a couple of minutes I couldn’t even see her and I was alone in my thoughts and agony as the downhill stretched into the distance.
Oh so I prayed for uphill as I ran along the road toward the Kingshouse. Debbie joined me again and said that the film crews were here. I tried to look strong as I shuffled into the checkpoint. The camera was in my face and I just wanted to swear and tell them what I really felt as they asked me questions and I gave the shortest possible answers. Trying to conserve as much energy as I could.
My team sat me down and shoved soup into my face. Thank you. I had been looking forward to this for hours. I always planned on soup at Kingshouse. Potato and leek. It was cold but I didn’t care. Still the camera was in my face filming me eating and still asking questions. I thought my one word grumpy answers would have scared them off by now but instead they were closer, zooming in and watching as I spilt soup over myself, drinking from a pink pot. I had lost all of my politeness and civilised correctness. I was an animal slurping and howling as I died a slow death. Perfect TV viewing nowadays in the age of Big Brother and I shudder as I think that will be how people remember my WHW race when it is shown in September.
Kingshouse to Fort William
Again I am kicked out of my chair and I try to run in case the camera is still filming. But they are bored of me now and there is other poor cretans coming in to the checkpoint all the time. John, Alex Kas and Mark are here. They love watching the WHW race and are always there to cheer me on. Putting me on a pedestal high up for achievements that I have never quite achieved. I feel sorry for their wasted trip as I am a shocking mess and an excuse of an athlete.
Where am I and how did I get here? I have no idea about times of day or times of the run. The schedule is out of the window and it is just a case of finishing now.
I reach the Devils Staircase and although they don’t admit it I know my team is worried. John and Debbie run up to the top of the staircase in preparation for me making an appearance. The climb I so looked forward to as a rest from the downhills kills me and I sit down to rest but Debbie is at the top shouting me to get a move on. I just want to sleep. Just 5 minutes. Please.
At the top Debbie tells me to look good. The dreaded camera is there as well. The camera man is blethering on about fantastic views and artistic light. Pity it is all to pot as I stumble towards him, broken. He switches the camera off and looks more annoyed than me. Again more questions and I grunt back.
Debbie and John run off ahead of me and I hit the downhill.
More pain this time even worse. They are both out of sight before I am a third of the way down.
Then some walkers overtake me. The humiliation of it all. One of them looks like a statistic for how unfit people are nowadays with his huge beer belly. “Your doing fantastic he gleefully tells me”
The big downhill now begins. Just less than 800 meter down to Kinlochleven. I can’t do it but then remember John Kynaston telling me how he had to walk backwards. I try it and instantly no pain. In the end I seem to be able to get quite a good speed going. Backwards. I laugh as I think how I will explain to Dr Chris how I managed to crack the back of my skull open while running.
Now and then I meet someone and turn around so I don’t look too daft and straight away the pain is too much. I grit my teeth. I am too proud to run past them backwards like an idiot.
The awkward stones have taken a toll in this section and my knees and shins hurt.
Into Kinlochleven and the team are having fish and chips. I manage a few chips and then tuck into some weetabix. A tip from Jezz Bragg and oh how good it is.
Ally Bea is there as well. Straight away she looks worried. I thought I was hiding how bad I was. She gives me a cuddle. In a strange way it feels like my mum (sorry Ally) and I feel so much better. I laugh. It’s like a dying soldier calling for his mum.
By now I am over four hours behind the leader and can have a support runner. I am a bit worried as the speed I am shuffling at is far too slow for a fit person to be going.
Rob is the first unfortunate person to be tasked with this unthankful task. Back up another 800 meter hill and I am out of breath trying to keep up with Rob. But he is a saviour. I would surely have curled up and gone to sleep at some point but Rob keeps me going.
I try to do some maths in my head but it is hard going. Rob is talking to me and I find it very hard to concentrate on anything.
I am doing on average 30 minute miles. My God. Old woman walk quicker. Every step is painful now and there is no rest bite. I calculate that there must be only 12 miles left. I nearly cry with anguish at the thought of another six hours of this. Also I am struggling at the thought that this pace will mean I will be over the 24 hour mark.
Okay another “quick” calculation and I work out that if I walk/shuffle at 25 minute mile I will be just under 24 hours. I can’t work out anything that is complicated so a lot of rounding was done. Also I am not sure about the 12 miles as that is a guess.
Rob is in front of me. He has the patience of a saint as he tries to get me to speed up. I don’t tell him about my pace goals. It’s too hard to speak and I am trying to hide the pain. Slowly I manage to speed up and the average on the watch slowly decreases. 29:40, 29:30. Every 10 seconds is a goal now. Keep going.
It is now speeding up as we are now on flatter ground. 29:00, 28:50....
I am getting cold now and start to put on clothes that Rob has brought with him. 5 layers and a hat I have on but I am still cold. 28:20, 28:00
Downhill sections now and the time is really going down 27:30, 27:00
Past the old farmhouses but the ground is tough. The average pace is still going down but slower, 26:30, 26:20
Up hill now and I stop looking at the watch. Its no use. I feel slower. I cant get the average pace under 25 minute mile.
It doesn’t take much to dishearten me now and so I am resigned that I will be over 24 hours. I relax and slow down. But Rob isn’t hanging about and I am again breathing hard to keep up with him. All the way I look forward to turning the corner and seeing Ben Nevis in the distance.
Everyone is overtaking me now. Still running. George, Mike. All doing and looking great.
I am scared to look at my watch now. But I do.
25:20. eh. I can do this I thought. A new wave of excitement hits me and if I know if I keep this up I will do it. Under 24 hours. It’s not my original goal but it is my goal now. I don’t care who overtakes me, what time I get or what position as long as I beat 24 hours.
We reach Lundavra and Debbie meets us and tells me that she will be taking over from Rob. Rob looks relieved as if admonished from a life sentence. What has Debbie let herself in for?
She is more caring now. Helps me. I know that is because it is just a case of finishing and because there is no time targets to adhere to. I don’t tell anyone that I have my own but I am sure they guess.
Up the hill from Lundavra, young John overtakes me. Full of beans and running away from his support. He is talking to me but doesn’t notice that I can’t keep up. I can’t hear a word he says as he runs into the distance.
25:00
I am going to make it but it’s getting really hard. I know realise I need a cushion of time because I may struggle coming down the hill at the end. Damn. Not long left to try to get the average down. I settle on 23:00. If I can make that then I will have some leeway.
Its getting dark now and we only have one headtorch between us. Debbie has it and is trying to light the way for her and me. It keeps shining in my eyes and casting big shadows and is worse than if we had no torch. I snap at Debbie and tell her just to care about shining it for herself.
Down the stairs to bonking boulder. My legs are killing me and I fear they will buckle with disastrous consequences on the stairs.
I can’t see my watch now but hear it beep low battery. I don’t even want to turn the light on in case it drains what remaining charge I have.
I don’t have a clue what time it is or what my pace is. I just concentrate on one foot in front of the other. One step at a time. Always forward.
Debbie is scared of the dark in the trees. She grabs my hand and pulls me along. I can’t keep up with her adrenaline fueled march and start to stagger. “Slow down” I moan.
Every downhill is torture, I can feel every root. We stagger around and I wonder if we are even on the path. but always on my mind is what is my pace?
Headtorches behind us. Ian Beattie and George. I am pleased that Ian will complete it this year and then curse as I think it is his fault I am doing this.
At last out of the trees and on to the big new path. I try to see the watch in the low light. Was that 23 something? Downhill is excruciating. The pain is awful. Another runner passes and asks directions. I tell him the wrong way and Debbie tries to correct me. I shoot her down. I am right I tell you. I just hope he didn’t listen to me.
Braveheart carpark and light. I am under 23 minute mile and then the battery runs out. I will make it. I have no time to see by how much but if I have calculated correctly it will be a close thing.
My team joins me and we walk together towards the finish. I am talking now. Relieved that I am near the end and the 30 mile speed limit sign that welcomes you as you reach Fort William.
Graeme Reid overtakes me at the end. I am so pleased for him. It looks like his kids are running the end with him too.
We reach the Sports Center. People are cheering but I am just glad it is over. Last year I managed to run in. Not this year. I can barely walk. It passes in a blur. 23 hours 33 mins. Well under the 24 hours. So much for my calculations.
I don’t care. I give my blood sample. Get me out of here. I am finished with this race. I will never do it again.
WILL I EVER LEARN?
95 miles is a long way. Believe me though when I say it that on Saturday it felt so much longer. I certainly had a lot of time to think during that time. Why the heck am I doing this again? Especially on the last 14 miles through the Lairig Mor. A carbon copy of last year walking in pain for five plus hours. Yet this year I was three hours slower. What went wrong this year? It wasn’t the weather as it was perfect and so many people ran PB’s with the top times being some of the fastest ever recorded on the WHW bar Jez’s time.
Was it my training? My training went to plan right up until April then I stuttered and started to feel run down and burnt out. I remember after a fast 42 mile run which was only two weeks after another 42 mile run and felt fantastic, John Kynaston said that he hoped I hadn’t peaked too soon. I dismissed the comment as I was on a high from running the route so well but as the race drew nearer I heard his word over and over again. He was right, you train to race not race to training.
I had got over confident from a few months of good training. If the race had been then perhaps things would be different.
In the end it wasn’t my day. Actually I wouldn’t say that. I completed the race and that is always an achievement in itself. The thing I am disappointed with is that I put a lot of work into my training. I paced the race perfectly and I ended up slower and just as broken as the year before. Neal ran off like a bat out of hell and everyone thought he would blow up. He proved us all wrong and finished in a time that I can only dream for. Everyone said don’t race the Edinburgh marathon and Thomas proved that that was the wrong thing to do, but again Neal proved us all wrong and raced it just 3 weeks before. I on the other hand was taking an extended taper and trying to undo the damage I had done with over training pretending that I was being cautious and preparing when in fact I was praying that my battered body would feel better.
This was proved time and time again and it is only now that I realise what my body was telling me. The two day 75 mile run for example. I had had a couple of niggles before it but they didn’t affect me.
I felt worn out at the end. Much more than John who seemed to get stronger as the finish grew closer.
Perhaps I need to go back to basics. How I used to run. When I first started running I ran in orthotics. Years of hillwalking had given me dodgy knees and they fixed them. I stopped wearing them. Perhaps they would stop me getting the pains in my legs that I have now got both times on the WHW.
Also when I train it is very rarely over 7 hours. Does this cause me problems? Do I need to have more time on feet runs?
In the end with failure I have probably learnt more than if it had gone all to plan. I want to do the race again now that I have had some time to think about it. But do I have the will power or determination to do 6 months training for it all to amount to nothing. No I don’t. I need a different plan. I need to involve other races and other challenges. I can’t afford to give up another year for one goal because when it goes wrong you have nothing.
Yes I will do the race next year but I will do new things too. Hill running is something I have been wanting to do and other challenges too. Next year won’t be the year of the West Highland Way but rather it will be a year that will include the West Highland Way. I won’t be ruled by it but also I won’t be beaten by it. Hey I must get it right eventually.
