Highland Fling 2026
Saturday 29th August 2026
Race Report by Angie Parkin
The Highland Fling covers the first half of the West Highland Way from Milngavie to Tyndrum. Over 53 glorious miles you get to experience the best that Scotland has to offer in terms of scenery, hospitality and sometimes even the weather. I walked the WHW last year and at some point a little thought popped in to my head that maybe, just maybe I could do The Fling as it’s affectionately known. Due to my incessant listening to a variety of ultra podcasts this particular race had been on my radar for some time. I’d always dismissed it as I didn’t think I would be able to make the cut offs. In the depths of winter last year I decided to throw caution to the wind and just go for it. If you only ever go for things that you’re sure you can do then you’ll never know where your limits are. It seemed like a good philosophy at the time.
The new year rolled around and the enormity of what I’d committed myself to started to hit home. It wasn’t the mileage that worried me. I’d done 47 miles twice before doing The Lap down in the Lakes. Each time though it had taken me 20 hours. I had to go 6 miles further, but I had to be able to do it in only 16 hours. I’m no mathematician, but even I could see that was a potential problem. I knew I’d have the sheer bloody mindedness to grind out the miles and get to the end. It was being able to do it quickly enough that was going to be the real challenge.
I decided not to panic and to put some hard work in instead. Action conquers fear and all that. I worked hard in training to try and improve my speed. I was Ms. Consistency when it came to strength work and yoga. Nothing fancy, just workouts in the house via good old YouTube. Super dull, but super essential. I figured that if I built a strong enough base then it would be much easier for the more exciting running stuff to follow.
I was really on it with my training. The terror of what I had entered got me out the door even when I really didn’t want to. The fabulous weather didn’t help. I absolutely love the sunshine, it’s my favourite type of weather. If, that is, I’m lolling about in the garden reading my book and eating ice lollies. Going out for 8 hour runs in the boiling hot, not so much. I am absolutely never entering another race that means I need to train over the summer. I got so hot looking that people were actually stopping me and asking what they could do to help. One person offered to fill up my water bottles, another offered to give me her cap. You get the idea. I clearly looked like I was melting. Spoiler alert. I was.
Anyway, I got the training done. I didn’t miss a single session. My long runs were time based and a mixture of running and walking to reflect what I’d be doing on race day. I practised my fuelling religiously. A mixture of gels and real food. Sandwiches, sweeties, chocolate, pork pies. You name it and I tried it. The Scotmid in Cairneyhill became my friend, as did the water point in Culross. I couldn’t carry enough liquid with me to get me through the runs. I also introduced full fat coke. I hadn’t drunk it for over 20 years, so that was an experience. I hated it at first, but then it became my saviour. It truly is the red ambulance.
Three weeks before the race, right when all normal people would be starting a taper I headed to Milngavie with my sister to walk the West Highland Way. I’d messaged her last year when I was walking it to tell her how much she would love it and how we had to walk this together. This was the only week she could do, so I figured at least it would be a good recce of the route. We had a fabulous week. A lot of the conversation pretty much went “this is very runnable”. “I need to have run to here in x hours”. My poor sister! At least once we got past Tyndrum she didn’t have to listen to me panicking about cut offs.
On the Friday I drove through to Milngavie where I was staying at the Premier Inn. I checked in and then headed out to pick up my number. In reception I bumped into Jane and Donald and we walked along together. After I’d got my number I saw Niall and Heather and had a chat with them. Jane and Niall were doing the relay – with Jane taking the first shift up to Rowardennan and Niall bringing it home. It was so lovely to see some friendly faces, especially as I was so incredibly nervous.
I optimistically went to bed around 7.30, but I think it was about 10.00 when I finally got to sleep. Amazingly I slept pretty well and didn’t even have any dreams about missing the start. The alarm went off at 3am and I was up straight away. No need for the four alarms I’d set just in case! Just after 4.00 I headed out of the hotel and started walking along the road. I heard a voice say “cross over and join us”. Clearly other Flingers heading to the start. We were chatting as we walked along. We were all Fling virgins and were all taking advantage of the 5am start as opposed to the standard 6am to give us an extra hour to make the cut offs. As we walked along more people joined in and I started to get excited as opposed to just completely terrified.
I handed in my three drop bags. The Fling only provides drinks at the aid stations, so the drop bags mean you don’t have to carry all your fuel. I was pleased to see that most people were handing over freezer bags with a similar amount of stuff as me. Turns out that just meant that we were all over estimating what we would need. When you get your drop bags there’s a table where everyone leaves what they’re not going to use for other people to help themselves to. By the final drop bag aid station the goodies were heaped up like some sort of toddlers birthday party. By the end I was dumping everything except the 3 gels I’d put in each bag. I did pick up someone’s discarded Lucozade at an early aid station and an apple juice further in. Good learnings for what to put in future drop bags. Not that I’m doing more ultras of course. Definitely not. Only short stuff from here on in.
We headed to the start line. There were a lot of us starting at 5am. I had naively thought I’d be one of only a few taking advantage of the extra hour. And looking around there were a lot of speedy looking runners. If they felt they needed the extra hour then what chance did I have? Imposter syndrome anybody?!! A few of us who had walked down together huddled on the start line waiting for the announcements to begin. The atmosphere was completely electric. With a nod to the 5.00 start and the approx 9pm finish of the race they played Dolly’s 9-5. Especially emotional given her recent demise. And then we were off. All the head torches bobbing along looked impressive as we made a start. We settled into a rhythm through the woods. No need to panic. We’re just off for a run. Only 7.5 miles to the first check point. That’s all I need to think about.
I soon got chatting to Fiona who I’d walked down with. We seemed to be fairly evenly paced and as the miles ticked by we were still running together. At one point she said that this race was her Everest. I looked at her and asked her if she listened to the Young Hearts Run Free podcast. As expected she said yes. Their theme this season is your own personal Everest. We both agreed that we were very much looking forward to seeing one of the hosts John Cassidy at the end as he was announcing people as they crossed the finish line.
We also talked about our strategies. She had a Jeffing plan of 80/20 – I was a bit more relaxed about the split of running and walking. We hatched a plan that we would try and get some running miles in the bank whilst the going was good. We got to the Beech Tree and I was about 5 minutes ahead of the rough idea I’d had of when I’d arrive. I have to say that has never happened to me before. My timing plan never survives the first checkpoint. By the time we got to Drymen at 12.6 miles I think I was about 20 minutes ahead of schedule and still running with Fiona. I had a slight panic that maybe I was going too fast and wouldn’t be able to sustain it, but I think it was just that the path was so runnable. At this point I started to believe that maybe, just maybe this was going to be achievable.
By the time we had been over Conic Hill (hot and steep!) and arrived at Balmaha(19.8 miles) Fiona had gone ahead of me. She was stronger on the uphills and I am terrible on the downhills. Every man and his dog was passing me going down Conic Hill – I really must work on that! We met up at Balmaha at the checkpoint and our first drop bag. We’d been running with Fiona number two in places as well and the three of us were ready to leave at the same time. By this time I was really confident that I was going to make the first cut off at Rowardennan. I’d had a real fear that I would be timed out at that first cut off point, but I knew now that baring a disaster that was unlikely to happen. Fiona #1 was keeping us right with our pacing, Fiona#2 was keeping us entertained with stories of her friends and I was doing my Rain Man impression by having memorised the distances between checkpoints and the cut off times.
Jeff had now been introduced to the party – and we were making use of Fiona #1 having this programmed on her watch. I mean obviously we worked this around walking uphills and making the most of any downhills. We continued to make really good progress. As we approached the Rowardennan checkpoint at 27.2 miles I saw a posse of Carnegie Harriers cheering me on and then Harriers were well represented as volunteers in the aid station. Sue took my photo as I confided that I’d fully expected to be timed out here. She told me she was sweeping later on and didn’t want to see me. I definitely didn’t want that either. Ken filled my soft flasks and I went on my way.
I started to struggle a wee bit on the next section. This should have been a nice part with some really good downhill runnable sections. Instead it was just very hot, there were swarms of midges and for the first time I started to feel a tiny bit sick. This had been a real problem for me in previous races, so I was keen to avoid it this time around. I made sure to take plenty of salt tablets, kept the gels going in and drank plenty. Luckily that feeling didn’t last long and it didn’t return. Fuelling was an absolute triumph for me this time around. I managed to switch my strategy to gels when real food wasn’t working, I kept taking the calories in regularly and kept going with them almost to the very end. Someone gave me a piece of lime Voom bar towards the end which was fabulous(nothing new on race day – yeah right – whatever gets you to the end!!) and I’ve picked up a few ideas from Fiona#1 for fuelling future races. Not that I’m doing any more ultras of course. Good God woman, what is wrong with you!
Not too far from Inversnaid(34.5 miles) and the next drop bag I saw Fiona Rennie on the trail. When I was complaining about having a bad spell she told me that’s to be expected and I would soon feel better. And that I’d get a break from the running on the next part along the Loch side. Wise words – and when they’re coming from the legend that is Fiona Rennie then you most definitely take heed! Pauline was on water duty at Inversnaid so my Harriers cup was running over. I retrieved my bottle of coke from my drop bag and caught up with the Fiona’s.
We set off for the notorious Loch side section. I loved it when I walked it a couple of weeks ago. I found it really fun and was looking forward to doing it again. Be careful what you wish for. Turns out when you’ve already got 34.5 miles in your legs then it’s not quite so much fun clambering over rocks and tree roots. On the plus side I didn’t end up in the loch or have to get rescued. And I am happy to report that despite it feeling like it goes on forever, eventually you do get to the end. There’s then a section before you get to Beinglas(40.9 miles) which is in theory runnable. Somebody probably should have told my legs that. They certainly weren’t very impressed when I suggested it might be an idea to do some slow running. There was a guy behind me who was really struggling. He was worrying about getting timed out. I knew that we were fine. I was telling him how long we had to get to Beinglas and how far it was. I suggested that if we just run small bits we’d be there in plenty of time. That really helped me to put it in perspective and to get my arse in gear. In the end we had almost 45 minutes to spare.
The Beinglas checkpoint had invited every single midge in the world to hang out there. I got my last drop bag and used my collapsible cup for the first time to take on some coke. I read some messages from friends and family who were tracking me. If ever you’re in doubt then just send the message – it means so much and can honestly save someone’s race. I caught up with Fiona#2. She told me that Fiona#1 had taken a tumble but had been patched up and had now gone on ahead. We didn’t hang around long as the midges were terrible. Plus, you know, we’re professional ultra runners who are slick at getting in and out of check points! Although I’m guessing that Kilian Jornet probably isn’t so physically exhausted that he keeps forgetting whether he’s dibbed his timer and so goes to dib a second time before leaving the checkpoint “just in case”.
We’re now heading for Bogle Glen(47.5 miles) and the promise of yet more coke. I’m not going to lie to you, that was a total and utter slog. I’d got in my head that from Beinglas there was “just” a hilly half marathon to go. When I was listening to a podcast saying that it sounded completely reasonable. The reality though was quite different. I was death marching it in by this point. I’d had a problem with my back a week before race day which was manageable and didn’t seem to get any worse with running. By this point though any running was really hurting my back, so even the downhills became impossible to take advantage of.
I headed out with Fiona#2. Up,up,up. It probably wasn’t, but it certainly felt Everest like. Yet again I started to doubt whether I’d done my thing with the dibber. Luckily sense prevailed and I didn’t turn around and retrace my steps. From this point onwards it was all about reaching the A82 crossing and the last place where you can be timed out. We had loads of time, and it would have taken something catastrophic for us to not make it. Most of that section I spent doing maths making sure that I’d got my timings right. I can not think of anything worse than having done 50 miles of a 53 mile race and not being allowed to finish. Luckily we got ushered across the A82 without any issues and there was “just” a parkrun to go.
What is it about race organisers that lie about the length of their race? If it’s 53.7 miles then don’t say it’s a 53 mile race. Logically I know that this always happens. I even understand it. How could every single person possibly do exactly the same distance over such a long race. I’m never surprised when a marathon is long, but for some reason I take it as a personal affront when an ultra makes me go a single step further than the advertised distance! Poor Fiona#2 who had to put up with my incessant whining about the fact that we should be there by now. Eventually we got to the gate saying 500 metres to the campsite. Time to pick up the pace a wee bit. Not that you’d probably have noticed a change of speed necessarily. We agreed we would run down the red carpet but not a step sooner.
We could start to hear the buzz from the finish line. We looked at each other. We’ve made it. We come around the corner and there’s a gang of Harriers cheering me on. I’m crying like a baby by this point. I hear John Cassidy saying “it’s Angie Parkin from Carnegie Harriers”. I’ve done it. I’ve actually gone and done it. I run down the red carpet punching the air in celebration in my usual understated way! It’s not just about this moment, but rather the things you give up to get to this point. Months of turning down lovely Sunday morning social runs with your friends so that you can do stupidly long runs. Not always getting to your beloved parkrun as it doesn’t fit in with training. Prioritising sleep over pretty much everything else. That’s all in the past now though. All that matters is that you actually did it. All that planning and hoping and doubting and I’ve made it to Tyndrum. If I can do this then no dream is too big.
