A Big Year of Change
- Jul 11
- 9 min read
Well, where to start? It's been about nine months since my last newsletter, and life has been quite the ride.
If you're new here — hello. I'm Kayleigh. I coach runners, I direct the Beecraigs Backyard Ultra, and as of Monday I live full-time in a van in Scotland with my dog Bowski. This is the honest, unfiltered version of where the last nine months have taken me: two stress fractures, a relationship ending, a house I loved and then let go of, and a decision made in the middle of a meditation that's about to change everything.
Grab a brew. This is a long one.
Where I left off: a stress fracture and the West Highland Way.
Rewind to the start of 2025. I was healing from my first-ever stress fracture, though at the time I didn't fully know that's what it was.
I was in the West Highland Way Challenger Race (the race in reverse!) and I knew something was lingering — I just wasn't sure what. I got 36 miles in and had to pull out at Bridge of Orchy. The agony wasn't great and I was waddling like John Wayne, so that was that. Thirty-six miles and done. My first ever DNF.
Then I spent the rest of the year getting myself back. Five weeks on crutches, no weight-bearing, including rocking crutches in a bikini in Gozo, then gradually back to walking. I swam, I biked, and I did my first 5K again at the start of September, which honestly felt fantastic. From there I jumped straight back into the big long miles, because I had Golspie BYU at the end of November and I very much had it in my head that I was going to be the last one standing for the second year running.
Three weeks out I did a 50-mile training run — a 12-yard backyard simulation with my friends — and felt absolutely incredible. Everything pointed to a good day.
Golspie, and the day my head wasn't in it
But there was something else going on that had been rumbling since my injury: trouble in my relationship. We were working through it, going through couples counselling — which I'll come back to, because counselling has genuinely been one of the most valuable things I've ever done and something I still do now.
There was a lot happening. A house move on top of everything else. Looking back, I just wasn't in a great place mentally. So when I got to Golspie, I didn't enjoy it. I dropped out at 13 yards — less than half of what I'd have needed to win. My legs were fine. Physically I felt good. I just wasn't there emotionally, and a backyard ultra will find that out about you faster than anything.
That's a lesson worth sitting with, actually: at the long distances, the body is only ever half the story.
This is exactly the stuff I work on with the runners I coach — the head as much as the legs. If that's the bit you keep tripping over, take a look at how I coach.
The relationship, the cottage, and a fresh start
The relationship came to an end in January.
Back in November, the week after Golspie, we'd moved out of our house. The plan had been to buy somewhere together, but with all the uncertainty we were in, I made the call that I wasn't comfortable committing to a joint mortgage. We could keep working on things, but not with that hanging over us. So I found myself a rental — and what a place it was. A beautiful Snow White cottage in the middle of Abercorn, next to an old historic church, with woodland paths right there for the dog. A wood-burning stove. Genuinely magical.
We tried to make it work. Things were okay for a while. But the day after my birthday in January, we both decided — probably more me than us — that it wasn't sustainable. So we ended it there.
And then I set about building a new life.
Building a business while everything else moved
Alongside all of this, I'd started a new job back in September, and I was continuing to build my coaching business, Run Smile Inspire, which right now is going really, really well and I am absolutely loving working with people who inspire me every single day.
I was also preparing for the biggest thing I'd taken on yet: hosting my very first ultramarathon, the Beecraigs Backyard Ultra, in April.
So the start of this year was hectic, life-changing, and — despite everything — genuinely rewarding. Beecraigs was an absolute success. I'll do a full write-up on how I put it together, because I know a lot of you are curious about the race-director side. If you want to hear more, check out my interview on Young Hearts Run Free Podcast.
And guess what? It sold out for 2027 within 24 hours!!!
2027 sold out in a day — so if you want first shout at a place for 2028, get on the waiting list and you'll hear before anyone else.
And then it happened again
My focus was a sub-24-hour WHW for myself, which I knew I was capable of. I was also entered for the Catalan trail, around 56 miles, which was going to be my peak training week.
I went out to do a recce on half the trail. A couple of days before, I'd felt a niggle on the other side of my groin — eerily similar to how the first stress fracture started. But I thought, surely not. Not again. So I ran the recce anyway. I could feel it the whole way, but it never got worse and it wasn't painful. Then I stopped, started walking, and that's when it flared — sore, limping a bit. That was my red flag. I stopped running immediately.
That was around March. Fast forward to now, and I'm still not running.
The West Highland Way — from three points of view
I was building my training back up, aiming for the West Highland Way race in June. It's my favourite trail of all time. I genuinely believe it's the best trail in Scotland. I got a place in 2024 and had the best experience of my life.
This year, whilst I had to DNS, I got to experience it from another two completely different angles: I coached an athlete who finished his first 100-miler in 22 hours 50, and I crewed someone from my run club who came home in 23 and a half hours. Both incredible performances, and I'm so proud of them.
I've got a wealth of WHW knowledge from all three perspectives now — running, coaching, and crewing — and I'll be putting together a proper guide to help anyone tackling it for the first time.
I'm writing a full first-timer's WHW guide — join the list and I'll send it the moment it's live. And if a first 100-miler is on your own horizon, that's what I coach people towards.
Two stress fractures in twelve months — getting to the why
I got an MRI. It confirmed a stress fracture. And now I was genuinely worried: two of these in twelve months is a pattern, not bad luck.
So I went digging. Tons of blood tests. DEXA scans to check my bone density. And the best thing I did was book a private consultation with Renee McGregor and her team a couple of weeks ago.
What they found: I have acetabular dysplasia — a different anatomy to most, where my hip socket is shallower than it should be, so it's not covering my femur properly. I've also got osteopenia in my femur.
Here's the bit I really want to flag, because it matters for so many of you. My DEXA report came back "within normal range" against the WHO standard. But Renee's team were clear: that's not normal for the athletic world. The same is true of blood work. Normal serum ferritin is often quoted as anything above 12 — but for female endurance athletes it needs to be much higher. That gap between "clinically normal" and "normal for an athlete doing this to their body" is a genuinely dramatic issue right now, and it's everywhere.
I'll do a dedicated post on iron, ferritin, and bone health soon, because it deserves its own space.
The iron and bone health post is coming — join the list so you don't miss it.
A decision made in meditation: going full-time in the van
And now? The next chapter.
In a beautiful moment of meditation, I decided I'm giving up the cottage I love and going to live in my van full-time.
I've had the van just over two years now. I've taken it away on long trips, so I know how it all works, and I adore it. It's cosy and it's freedom. There are a hundred questions people always ask about the logistics, so I'll do a whole post on van life to answer them properly. Removals are coming on Moday!!!
The week it all went sideways (and my people showed up)
This past few weeks alone have been a ride. Two weekends ago, I was at my sister's in Glasgow and Bowski got very sick — I had him in the emergency vets at midnight with fluid on his lungs and his heart disease in a bad state. They kept him overnight. He's on medication for life now, but he's back to being a wee rascal. He's twelve and a half, nearly thirteen, and doing pretty damn good.
Then the air suspension on my van collapsed, which had to get recovered up to a specialist garage up North of Aberdeen and goodness knows how long it'll take to get it back! One thing is for certain, I'll be officially homeless come Monday!
And while this all sounds terrifying, the beauty of this crisis? My friends came to the rescue in a way that has completely overwhelmed me. I've been lent a van to use for as long as I need. A house to stay in. Someone to look after Bowski while I'm away in Croatia with my sister. I've never felt so held by the people around me. That's its own kind of wealth.
Continuing Developing as a Coach: working with Shane Benzie
The other thing I completely forgot to mention!! After reading The Lost Art of Running, I drove the van eight hours down to Shane Benzie's place in Goring-upon-Thames and spent a day working on my running form and movement. All outside, the way it should be. The transformation was incredible — just see for yourself!
We got talking, he found out I'm a coach, and he got excited and told me he trains coaches to deliver his methodology. I was so hooked on this stuff that I signed straight up. Over the past few months Shane has been training me to deliver a decade of his research — and last week, he travelled up and assessed me leading two workshops. It was a lot of fun and I can't wait to get them launched! If you're curious about a workshop, send me an email.
Running Movement Analysis Workshops — launching next month I've spent the last few months training with Shane Benzie to deliver his methodology, and from next month I'm running my own movement analysis workshops. Spaces will be limited and I expect the first ones to go quickly. Send me an email and you'll get first access before I open them to anyone else. Join the waitlist →
What the next six months hold
So yeah — quite the six months. And the exciting part is that the next six look just as adventurous.
Van life begins. A week in Croatia with my sister. A week at the Samye Ling Tibetan Buddhist retreat in August. A week in Chamonix with nine others, hopefully with plenty of hill walking (no running — I'll cover my running comeback properly in another post). In October I'm hoping to get out to the Hebrides to spend time with my mum. And in November, two weeks travelling around the north of India — a place I've felt a pull towards ever since I read Shantaram.
Coming up on the blog
There's a lot I want to dig into properly, so here's what's on the way:
The full West Highland Way first-timer's guide — from a runner, a coach, and a crew
How I built the Beecraigs Backyard Ultra from scratch
The honest van life logistics post — all your questions answered
Iron, ferritin, and bone health for female endurance runners
Running form and movement analysis — and how the new workshops work
My running comeback journey, when the time's right
Let me know which of these you want first, and tell me anything else you'd like me to go deeper on.
Don't miss the next one I write these properly, a few times a year, and each of the guides above — the West Highland Way first-timer's guide, the van life logistics, the iron and bone health post — lands here first. None of it shows up reliably in a feed. So if you want it, put your email below and I'll send each one straight to you. Send me the next one →
Thanks for being here for it all. It's been a big year of change, and I wouldn't swap a second of it.
Run far, smile often, inspire someone.
Kayleigh 🏔
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