Stour Valley Gold. A loosely fitting title for this post, but one that seems all so relevant. Not only is it a beverage served at the finish line of the SVP 50/100 (I think and hope that is what it was called!) but also a direct reference to the golden shades of the many, many fields run through along the course. The Stour Valley really was golden this year…
The SVP100 is becoming a it of a tradition for me. This was my third year running the SVP100. What began as my second ultra in 2017 has now escalated into my 20th Ultra. What the fuck. 20th?! No wonder my body aches (there’s also been 9 road marathons in that time)! It makes sense now I count them!
Each year has been different. SVP100 2017 was new to me and I was naive, oh so very naive. It whipped my butt for sure and taught me so much about ultra running. For the SVP100 2018 I ran it with others and shared the experience as part of my training for the CCC, this year however it was all about me. For me. I did it for the T-shirt. If you don’t know about it – the finishers T-shirt is green for the SVP100 (grey for the SVP50 and yellow for the volunteers). But on your third completion, you get a black ‘3-star’ t-shirt. I wanted it. I did this race for a T-shirt. Yep, that is who I am now. (I have since found out you get another ‘5-star’ black t-shirt when you complete it 5 times. I need to not think about that!!). What ever motivations are out there, running a race for a slightly different t-shirt is valid inspiraation in my eyes!
I ran the race this year mostly on my own. I needed too. Firstly as I have some niggles I’m conscious of, and wanted to be in complete control of, my race, and secondly for more brain and pain training. With the TDS and other longer ultras in the calendar I once again need to get accustomed to being alone with my mind when things get though. That being said, I didn’t find this one mentally tough. Quite the opposite, I found it very enjoyable. It did get me thinking though, about what has changed. 2 years and 17 ultras apart, my SVP journeys have seen me become a different runner, a different person even…
But before I get into all of that, lets have a quick recap of the actual race. If you are contemplating entering, do so. It is a wicked little race along the Stour Valley Path – a footpath that follows the River Stour through the beautiful Suffolk, Essex and Cambridgeshire countryside, including the Dedham Vale AONB (Dedham Vale ANPOB’s words, not mine). It is a small(ish) sized event of up to about 200 runners on the 100km (since 2018 there is also a 50km route starting in Sudbury and joining for the later part of the 100km route to Manningtree) that is meticulously organised by Matthew (Race Director). The route is delicious, the volunteers and support is immense (go check out the SVP100 community page on Facebook and you’ll see just how helpful everyone is!) and the race itself is very challenging – It is very flat (c900m over the 102km distance) with some tight cut-off times (you need to complete the 100km in 15.5hours). Personally I find some of the mountainous ultras easier than this one. It is not easy!
The weekend began with some less than ideal travel issues. With a 07:00 start on Saturday, overnight accommodation in Newmarket was required. I’d agreed to travel up with Pierre (who I’d stay the night with) and Agata and we each left work to get a train from King’s Cross at about 17:30. We’d be in Newmarket around 19:00 with time for food and prep before an early night. Or so we thought. We were each disrupted on our way to King’s Cross by some train issues. Whilst I made it, Agata and Pierre (who had the train tickets!) didn’t. It soon became apparent that there was a bit of a problem. A big problem. A National Grid power outage had hit the UK and King’s Cross was one of the worst affected stations (we later found out that trains from 17:30 were cancelled as the station was closed and the first train didn’t leave again until 21:30!). Sometime later Agata and I had found each other and went to a restaurant near the station as we waited for Pierre to arrive. Around 20:00, with Pierre now with us and a belly fully of pizza and pasta, we gave up and headed to Liverpool Street where we managed to get a slower train to Cambridge and then we took a taxi to Newmarket. Arriving at 23:00 was not what we’d hoped for.
Pierre and I were staying in the White Hart pub next door to the race registration point in the Town Hall. Ideal, except that the White Hart also seemed to be a late night bar. So if you are contemplating a good night sleep before an Ultra marathon then this might not be the best choice! Thankfully though our little adventure meant we were ready for sleep and we passed out quickly enough.
We woke up just before 06:00, rolled into the Town Hall next door and registered before returning to the room and getting ready. 06:50 we joined the rest of the runners outside as we began the (now familiar to me) walk to the start line. Moments after arriving, Matthew let off the air horn and the SVP100 was underway (not before Agata hustled us into a quick start line selfie!). The start of the course includes a few km along the road before turning onto the trail and this year I was a little more conscious not get caught up in the inevitable sprint start. My ankle/foot was still aching from the Lavaredo Ultra Trail and I hadn’t run for the last month until the week before. So I was trying to be wiser (more on that another time though as I’m clearly not so wise seeing as I turned up and started or even booked the race in the first place!) and pace my run. Having done the course twice before I knew what was in store and how challenging it is.
same hedge shot every year
same tree every year
One thing I soon noticed this year is how much more overgrown the route was. Almost immediately this became apparent when a low hanging branch knocked my sunglasses off my head within the first few km of the trails. As I turned around to pick them up another runner unknowingly tread on them and bust the arm. Dammit. Several more times throughout the day my hat was pinched off my head by an overgrown branch. I saw it happen to a few others too, a little amusing each time. I know that prior to the race volunteers and other runners had been out cutting back the foliage but it was still noticeably more overgrown (healthier!?) than previous years. Thankfully, despite a few thorn scratches on the arms and itchy legs it had no ill effects for me.
This year we were also treated to some cooler (less sunny!) temperatures but some pretty ferocious winds. Whilst I thought this was a good thing – the majority of the time I felt sheltered by trees and bushes and found the wind to be incredibly cooling on the skin – I do believe there were some incidents for other runners where the high winds caused problems. For me the only problem it did cause was a slight ache in my neck later in the day as the wind caught in my beard and forced my head to tilt as I ran!! Beard problems tough life!
Beyond that the run went to plan. Or better than planned, and the route treated me kindly. One of the things I really like about this event is how the aid stations are dispersed along the route of the SVP100. They start off further apart and the distance between them decreases as you near the end. The aid stations, as always, were full of incredible volunteers going out of their way to support and help you. Maybe it is my memory (and needs?) but I feel this year they were stocked even better than previous years and I had a few particular favourites in the homemade fudge(!) at the third aid station and the Strawberries at the fifth aid station. Those were perfect treats for me and hit the spot when I needed something different!
Shortly before I reached the second aid station, as I walked up one of the lush golden fields (which I recall from last year when a drone was filming overhead), I was greeted by the familiar face that is Mark (“Stour Valley Parry” as I called him – he was also tackling the 100km for the third year in a row). We ran and chatted for a little while before he darted off and, as he put it, we played out the slowest car chase imaginable as I tried to keep him in sight as he edged further and further away.
I carried on, admittedly faster than my intended pace, and I was soon playing leap frog with a gentleman in a green SVP finishers top (apologies I never got your name!). He was so smiley and friendly and we spent the rest of the day cheering each other on and laughing each time he’d somehow pop up from behind me. Usually because he’d stopped for a pint of Guinness(!) in a pub or to pick some apples from trees. He was having the best time and his laugh was contagious (thanks for being there!).
I reached the half-way point (third aid station) after about 5hrs 20mins. This felt very strong and rapid. But I knew it was too fast. I didn’t need to be going at this pace and had to talk myself into slowing down in the second half of the race. I had nothing to win here, only everything to lose if I were to injury myself ahead of the next few races. Thankfully a few wrong turns and a few hills helped slow me down too! Shortly after the half-way point a few runners went speeding past me and for a moment I was shocked at the speed in which they were running. Soon I realised though that I was out in front of the SVP50 runners and it was like the stampede in the Lion King and I was soon clinging to the edges of the single-track path and signalling them past me as they sped through. This also helped making navigation easier as I could follow more people!
Somewhere before the fourth aid station Hannah also came running through with the SVP50 runners and managed a quick chat before legging it and finishing her first race since coming back from a lengthy spell on the injury table. Nice one Hannah! I also briefly saw Kevin out there volunteering and directing runners which was a huge boost. The support, as always, really is fantastic on this event. Even Stuart, the race photographer, was hi-fiving and cheering runners through every time he snapped a picture and captured their pain/anguish for eternity! Stuart really was immense out there. I’ve no idea how one man managed to appear in so many places (for so long!) and maintain such a high level of enthusiasm whilst working. Thank you Stuart!
One thing I was looking forward to was the Church (St Andrews, Wormingford) which I knew had a tap outside. I couldn’t remember where on the course this particular church was and thought I’d missed it. 75km or so in it appeared and Smiley-Guinness-chugging-Green T-shirt dude and I enjoyed the cooling shower it offered us. We followed this up with then immediately getting lost afterwards by not turning off the road when we should have. Thankfully a car-driver corrected us before we went too far down the hill! That could have been painful.
Love this tree every year too
…and this one
I carried on through the course, running mostly but at a consistently comfortable plod and walking occasionally when it felt deserved/needed. For the final few miles I played leapfrog with a couple of runners and will always remember the runner in the yellow SVP top pacing another lady. He was so enthusiastic and encouraging and an absolute blast of energy at so late in the race. His support to me and comments about getting that 3-star tee were appreciated! Unlike the herd of cows in the last set of fields who decided to go on a little evening walk about the same time as we wanted to run through. They were some big bastards! Cows navigated, I eventually ran into Brantham and finished the race in just over 12 and a half hours. The fastest of my three SVP finishes. So way better than expected or planned. There was only one thing on my mind though…give me my 3-star finisher tee (apologies to the volunteers if I seemed impatient, I’d been waiting two years in my mind for this one!). A shower and some cheesy beans on chips later, I was chatting away with the Advent Running crew before hopping back on a bus then the train back to London. I left the SVP with the biggest sense of fulfilment from any of my runs to date. This one had been a long time in the making and I can stop obsessing about this particular t-shirt. Now about that 5-start tee……
2 years of medals
The Black finishers Tee
Earlier in this post I mentioned I’d been thinking. Thinking about those 17 ultras in between and what has happened during this ‘long time in the making’. Running the route mostly on my own I spent a lot of time reflecting. It was easy to do so as memories from previous SVPs came thick and fast and, naturally, I drew comparisons (trees and fields in particular – I was constantly amazed at how golden the wheat fields were this year!). This led to my mind thinking about me. Reflecting on myself as a runner and as a person, as to how I’ve changed since that second ultra marathon back in 2017….
In the running sense, I am a different runner now to the one I was back in 2017. As I write this and counted the races I’ve done in the last two years I let out an audible “fuck me”. I knew I’d done a few, but it hadn’t quite registered I’d gone from a complete newbie to a fairly experienced 20 times Ultra marathoner within the space of two years. So it makes sense that I’ve changed, and each race, each challenge has contributed to that in many ways… If it might interest you to find out more, then have a read here… I’ve separated it out as it ended up becoming quite a lengthy brain fart and not all that relevant to the SVP100….
Whilst recapping my different experiences over 2 years whilst running the Stour Valley Path Ultra, I started to think about what is different and how I have changed in that time. I surprised myself when I realised there has been 17 ultras between my first SVP100 and my latest. I surprised myself a little more when I started thinking about how this has changed me… so as a recap (or if you’ve not read about my latest SVP100 adventure):
SVP 2017 broke me. It was me alone and chatting with strangers. I didn’t know where I was going or what I was doing. There was very little pre-thought or strategising. I was destroyed for weeks afterwards.
SVP 2018 was enjoyable for the company. Ged & Chris made the race for me. I didn’t have to think about anything. Just talking and enjoying the ‘camaraderie’ on the trails.
SVP 2019 was for me and me alone. I did it for the t-shirt. For the confidence and for my brain. It was beautiful. I went into it with different types of goals, a sort of plan, but to focus on specific aspects of my running and adventure. I was clear in my mind that I’d run comfortably, consistently and with particular attention to my foot placement. I didn’t want any ankle rolling incidents. Mentally I was at ease with the distance and the challenges ahead. I was calm. This comes from experience. Something I didn’t have in 2017 nor 2018 (despite it being my second time).
Experience. That indeed I now have. I can now say I know what it feels like to run an ultra marathon. The physical and mental experiences. That I know what I need to do during such a run, to turn negatives into positives. To keep going when it feels like I can no longer do so. Experience and wisdom are so valuable and important during endurance events and my runs are now very much dictated by these. Many things have changed as I’ve gathered these skills…
I look back at my early ultras and what I had kit wise and carried along the runs. Without doubt I have better kit now. It isn’t all essential and you don’t need expensive or top of the range gear, but it does make a difference. Yes you can run marathons and ultras in any old thing really and it all comes down to your preference. But in my opinion better quality kit does make a difference, especially when you’re running as far and as often as I now do. The ease, the lightweight materials, the comfort, understanding different trail shoes for different purposes etc. Having the choices to define your decisions at key points on a long run is a great privilege to have.
I now have my go to strategies and tactics. Things I like, things I want, things I try not to deviate away from (like Tailwind, Tailwind, Tailwind!). I go in to races with a certainty in my approach and options to support my plans. I’ll study the route, the elevation, I’ll plan when I might struggle, when I might need support or something particular from my kit. At the SVP100, like most of my ultras, Tailwind was the basis of my nutrition. I genuinely love the stuff and refill 2 x 500ml of Tailwind at every aid station. That’s my default calorie, nutrition and salt intake right there. Yes I’m still greedy and pig out when I can, but no longer am I reliant on aid stations as I was 2 years ago.
Speaking of aid stations, I eat more fruit now. Far more fruit in fact. I didn’t see that coming (I blame growing up with a pretty horrific diet of processed foods!). If there are oranges and watermelon at an aid station I will go straight for them. Chocolate, crisps, biscuits and sweets are now secondary options. It is now a rule I now have. Other rules I tend to abide by include:
Headphones. I carry headphones but will never use them. They are there for that real emergency boost. I have no doubt that one day I will hit such a low that I can’t be left alone with my thoughts. Until that day comes, the headphones will remain in the bag and I will enjoy my surroundings and thoughts in peace and embrace them.
Coke. I’ve a rule that I won’t drink coke before halfway in a race. No real reason other than I know I like it so much, so I hold-off and make it something I have to earn. But also, no more than 3 cups at any one aid station. I want to have teeth left to smile at the finish line.
If there is hot/substantial food on offer, I must eat it. Be it soup or noodles or pasta or potatoes. Get it down you. Some proper fuelling, whether I feel like it or not, is going to be so useful at a later point. Food in general, whether hungry or not I make myself eat.
I always carry a spare (third) soft flask (500ml). Despite best efforts, you won’t know what the conditions are until you are living them. Be it a hotter day than expected, getting lost, or just how I feel during the run, having the option to carry more water is a conscious decision I make. I drink (sip) plenty and often and always carry a reserve option!
Don’t stop moving forward. It doesn’t matter if I feel like shit, moving forward no matter how slowly is better than staying where I am and not moving. Keep moving forward, towards the finish.
In a similar way to my tactics and strategies, I’m consciously more aware when I run. Aware of my surroundings (simultaneously managing to always look at the floor and my foot placements but also enjoy the scenery I run through!) and aware of my thoughts. I embrace my thoughts. I’m then better equipped to react and deal with them. I’m more aware of my body and how I feel and I’m able to focus on that, not only understanding when to push it and when to take it easier but being able to know when to make those decisions at the right time!
I’m kinder on myself. Taking those decisions and understanding the longer term (in the sense of the run I’m doing) implications of them. That it is okay to not only walk, but to walk a lot! That done in the right way, this doesn’t have such a drastic impact on overall time as you might think and that the benefits to energy and how you feel can be quite significant. Walk with intent as I call it.
I used to be a sucker for running for a specific time (even on trail) and constantly looking at my watch. But now, fuck the time and fuck the distance. I don’t buy into this ‘naked running’ / leave your watch at home crap though – Just change the settings. We all want a record of our run. If not to go back and analyse at some point then to show off to our mates and strangers whom we’ll never meet. It’s self validation, a part of us is wired that way. Let’s not pretend otherwise. I do however no longer care about the distance or time. Yes I could choose not to sign up to a race or to choose a different distance, but I get a challenge and enjoyment from the ‘longer’ (its all relative!) stuff. But once you start, you can’t change the distance. You need to cover that no matter what. Time? Blah. If you’ve read a few of my blogs you’ll know I once did give a shit and why I no longer do. My validation is now in completion. The achievement of getting the challenge done. So it is irrelevant to me to see time or distance on my watch. Until I hit the finish line there is still plenty of work to be done! What I find does help is being aware of my average pace. As contradictory as it sounds, distance and time is a factor and there will always be a cut off time and a realistic/best estimate finish time. So as long as I know what that averages out at over the course of the event, I can work out (if I need/want too) what is left or how I’m performing. And there will always be check points, indications of distance and time of day (like the sun in the sky!) and questions/conversations you’ll inevitably ask or hear (“how far to the next checkpoint”, “only x miles to go” etc.). So fuck times. Fuck distance. I go out with one job. To finish. I know what is needed to get there. No matter what, what average needs to be maintained.
And as a person… how has running changed me?
mmmh. This was a bit like writing a CV or a performance management appraisal document of some sort. “I’m a good person”, “People would describe me as bubbly”…fuuuuuck. It didn’t start off that way nor did I intend for it to end up like that. It’s another mind dump. The words just kept coming and I babbled on about me, myself and I. Maybe there is even an analogy of some sort in there. Is the ‘me’ the same as the ‘I’? Do these represent different iterations of my growth. Bollocks to all that. I’m trying to be too clever now. I’ve changed a little bit is all. Hopefully for the better. Shit chat aside, I feel like I’m a better person these days and I think running has something to do with it….
I’m less frustrated. I used to get wound up a lot. Never angry (except with my mum, she’s always bared the brunt of that for some reason – sorry mum, love ya!) though, mostly just frustrated. This would normally be a work thing too. I think I’m more accepting these days.
I’m less pedantic. Hoooooo. I love a bit of pedantry. It used to cloud my judgement though. I couldn’t see the bigger picture because I was too busy being a prick about the finer details. Still happens (did I mention I love a but of pedantry?) but I’m more accepting of being corrected and put in my place now.
I’m less touchy about things. I used to let things get to me. You know when something didn’t go as planned, when you were put out by something. That. I don’t care so much any more and am more accepting of the need to adapt and change.
I’m more tolerable. Not as in I’m more tolerable to be around (c’mon, I’m always tolerable to be around!), but as in I’m more tolerable of others and things beyond my control. I guess its the whole ‘change the things you can and accept the things you can’t change’ thingy.
I’m more willing. In many ways. More willing to try stuff, to do stuff, to inconvenience myself for the better good etc. I suppose this is an acceptance that everything isn’t centred around me and my needs and that I should put others before myself sometimes.
I’m more confident. Oh for sure I’m more confident. Be it at work or at home, running has given me that. Confident in my own thoughts, decisions and opinions. Confident in my own rationalisation of things and handling of situations. I finally accept that I know what I’m doing and I should portray that confidently.
I’m still very stubborn though. Possibly a negative way to describe determination, but it is a trait that is certainly useful in running and daily in achieving the things I set out to achieve! I don’t like being told what to do, which in a running sense means I probably couldn’t be coached!
I’m wiser. I rely on experiences more. Whilst maybe not in the running sense (not always smarter! As my race calendar would indicate!). I’m learning more to rely on those past experiences for comparison and accept the gut feelings in my decision making.
I’m more in tune with my body. This doesn’t mean I treat it with respect. Quite the opposite in fact. But I listen. I feel. I sense what is right and what is wrong. What I need to do and when I need to adapt. I’m accepting that some things are inevitable. Like injuries. Yes I can prevent them, but given the nature of running (and cycle commuting in London), I know one day I won’t avoid the inevitable and I’ll have to accept the consequences and deal with it. I’m strangely at ease with that thought.
My mental strength is strong, stronger than it has ever been. It’s been trained. Through running, through suffering and pain. I think it is one of, if not ‘the’, my strongest attributes. If I was on a running version of ‘top trumps’ it might well be my top power and special ability. I accept the dark thoughts, the difficult places, I accept I need to spend time with them and not let them consume or dictate me. As a result, I comfortable with them and can deal with them when I need to.
I cut out the negativity in my life. Sounds harsher than it is. I do what I want when I want and for my own benefit. Gone are the times of hanging on to people or things for the wrong reasons. I don’t want to be surrounded by negativity or things that drag me down. I respect myself enough now to only accept the positives into my life.
mmmh. There is a theme here. Acceptance. I accept running has changed me. I believe it has, and for the better. I also accept it might be the best midlife-crisis* I could have hoped for!
* I am not having a mid-life crisis. It is just a joke. Accept it. It was funny.
The first Marathon – London 2013
Second Marathon and first overseas – Kilimanjaro 2015
The first run I wanted to do – Bagan 2016
The first Ultra – RTTS 2017
Second Ultra – SVP100 2017
First run in my homeland – Brecon Beacons Ultra 2018
Sprinting to the finish…First Mountain ultra – CCC 2018
“Chaos isn’t a pit. Chaos is a ladder. Many who try to climb it fail and never get to try again. The fall breaks them. And some, are given a chance to climb. They refuse, they cling to the realm or the gods or love. Illusions. Only the ladder is real. The climb is all there is.” Petyr ‘Littlefinger’ Baelish.
If you know Game or Thrones, you’ll know the quote by Petyr Baelish. Whilst there are many specific and more subtle meanings in this quote within the story’s context, I think it’s apt to the the recent experience of running the Lavaredo Ultra Trail. A 120km trail race through the mountainous Dolomites.
It was chaotic. People clambering to ‘climb the ladder’. It was literally a climb – With over 5,500m or elevation, it’s a hilly run. Many attempted it, some 1,800 runners. Many failed and were broken by it – nearly 30% of the starters didn’t finish. Many succeeded, they clung to it. Why? good question. Illusions of grandeur perhaps, but the ‘ladder’ was certainly real and we all fought for our moment on the ‘iron throne’…
It would be too easy for me to follow he route of Game of Thrones comparisons. It would be trying too much and really there are no comparisons. I merely thought of that quote as repeated to myself early on that ‘this is chaotic”.
We were staying in a hotel situated on the final approach to the start/finish. This was great for making it easy logistically and something I’m not used to. About an hour before the start, Sonia and I casually rocked up to the crowd of runners. There were 1,800 doing the 120km and it was carnage. Absolute mayhem. We couldn’t get anywhere near the starting pen. We couldn’t even make it onto the road. Runners and family/friends blocked the streets both sides and the shoving began. It was like the rush hour on the tube. Somehow Paul found us in the massives. We spent the time waiting for the start getting intimately fondled and prodded from all angles. We waited as the elites were introduced and the MCs spoke about the event. The Epic theme music replaced the classic rock anthems and the countdown began. As the count hit zero the runners charged.
Waiting to Start with Sonia…
They charged forward and that meant many charged into space that wasn’t there. The pushing and shoving intensified as people impatiently tried to squeeze through people and barriers. Bunch of bellends the lot of them. After minutes of being shoved I’d been pushed into the start pen and was able to move of my free will. But not very far as the stampede bust through the barriers either side and runners clambered in where ever they could and the pile up continued. Selfishly, without thinking of Sonia or Paul I ran. I wanted away from these assholes. Away from as many of them as I could before the bottleneck of the first climb. I was charging through the street, a gradual incline, at a near 7 min mile pace. I was sweating already. I passed Yvette, Kevin and Jess and ploughed forward. A few km later the bottle neck came and I kept to the outside and filtered in. Now I could begin to relax a little. We’d climb. It would be like any other race – runners would fumble with poles. People would bunch up and some would squeeze past. I’d power up. Poles kept in the bag for the first climb as I always do. Finding my space and freedom as we ascended 500m or so.
The track was mostly gravel. One thing I noticed in the torch light was the fine mist of dust kicked up by the runners. I could see it and I could feel it. In my eyes and gritty in my throat. It wasn’t pleasant. But the climb wasn’t too bad. The gravel path soon widened and there was plenty of space. This was very much the case for the first two climbs and their subsequent descents. The Paths were wide twisting switchbacks, Easy to climb and very runnable. Many runners were running up them too including Cajsa who passed me early on.
The climb was followed by a fast descent as we approached the first aid station. Here the tranquillity of the night was replaced by the air of assholes again. The pushing and shoving returned as the small aid station was woefully inadequate to support thousands of runners charging in.
We piled up like clubbers 3-4 deep at a bar. Arms reaching through like a zombie apocalypse storming a safe-hold. Shouts of “aqua, aqua” filled the tents as the volunteers struggled with demand. I couldn’t understand why they were filling small (~2 litre ) jugs with water to then pour them into the runner’s bottles held our. It was so inefficient as 1-2 runners would be filled whilst the rest waited for the jug to be replenished. It took a long time before I had water again and I was refilled and able to head back out into the night and more wide gravel climbs and fast descents.
Despite the chaos I was enjoying the run. It felt good. I felt quick. My average pace was far quicker than usual in such races. No doubt helped by the wide and forgiving tracks. I was smiling as in continued on and began the second climb to Forc Son Forca (which was higher than the first). I recall the vast openness of the night. The climb through the wide roads broke free from the trees and the dark night sky with shinning stars covered us like a blanket. the higher we climbed the clearer the night sky became. In the quietness or the climb it was surreal and almost relaxing (panting aside!) and thankfully as we descended again and reached the second aid station it was thankfully was far less crowded. At some point during the night I whacked my right foot on a rock. I can’t recall exactly how it happened whether I kicked a rock, slipped and scrapped it or twisted it. I remember it happening though and breaking the night silence with a groan as I felt the rock scratch through my trainers on the outside of the foot. It was throbbing now but not preventing me from running.
It was now gone four in the morning and I was over 20 miles in. As I climbed the next, biggest yet, climb towards Forc Lavaredo, I sensed it would soon begin to get light. And as I climbed higher and higher the night sky became evidently more vibrant and blue. Dawn was coming. In the darkness of night cowbells rang out from the forest and fields around us. Cattle were beginning to wake and birds began their morning rituals with songs calling out from the trees. A short descent through the forest kept the light at bay for a little longer before we broke free onto the first of many lakes. Morning was here. The mountains glowed red in the morning sun. I stopped for pictures as runners ran on around me.
As we circumnavigated the first and then a second lake I continued snapping away. This is one of my favourite moments of any such race – Enduring the night and being treated to a spectacular sunrise in incredible places. And this was special. I captured the reflection of the mountains in the water and smiled to myself as I began the next stage of the run and continued to climb to Forc Lavaredo. The day ahead would inevitably be tough with high temperatures predicted.
The climb was the next challenge as it became steeper and steeper and seemed to go on and on. As I powered up, fresh off the sunrise treat, a voice called out. It was Paul. He must have legged it through the streets last night even quicker than I. I’d assumed I’d be ahead of him as I was the first of us to break free of the start line. We chatted away as we climbed. Both agreeing how great we’d found the run so far, despite Paul acknowledging how tired he was from a lack of sleep and how close he was to falling asleep on his poles.
At the top, incredible views awaited as we saw layers of mountains extending in all directions. A few pictures and some hot noodle soup for breakfast and we were back out. The next section continually presented us with rocky mountain panoramic views before we were soon presented with the iconic Tre Cime rocks – Three rocks formed at the peak. Huge. We were dwarfed in their shadows.
Paul was in pain here. His knee very uncomfortable and making it difficult to run the descent. Miraculously though it soon fixed itself and he legged it on ahead, rapidly descending as the gravel tracks subtly began to become more rocky.
The descent then turned into a behemoth of a downhill as we dropped over 1000m. A glacier stream was soon roaring beside us as we ran switch backs and long straights that were loose rocks. Mostly small but very loose underfoot. Paul ran on ahead as I struggled with the terrain. It immediately brought back memories of the riverbed in Trans Gran Canaria and my face winched. I walked and skipped a lot of the decline chatting away to a guy from Yeovil. He shared stories of his runs and was quite experienced with numerous podium finishes but had rolled his ankle during the night and was struggling a bit. We kept going until the sound of the water intensified and we reached the bottom of the descent around Landro. Up ahead we had to cross the fast moving river. Whilst not too wide, it was knee high and runners were contemplating which of three approaches they’d choose – (1) plough straight in and through (2) remove their shoes and socks and hobble across the rocks (3) continue further on and try to hop across larger stones and avoid the water as much as possible. It wasn’t a question for me. I was a numero uno runner. I grabbed a photo and waded in. It was glorious. With the early morning temperature already excessive, the ice cold water was a relief. It numbed my sore feet which were burning from grinding on the rocks and chilled my bones. I dunked my hat and drenched my body before running on.
Next was a very gradual climb of about 7km to Cimabanche which would mark the half way point. This whole section I was aware of from the profile as it was the best part of 20km from the aid station at Rif. Auronzo (before Tre Cime) to the ‘halfway point’ at Cimabanche. A fair stretch in the middle of a scorching ultra. I was glad I was here so early in the morning before it got too hot. I power hiked on. My foot aching from the bump in the night. It was getting hotter as we carried on. I talked to several runners including a French guy who was also suffering from a rolled ankle. Common theme here? Despite acknowledging how little running he’d be able to do, he pointed out we were still hitting a sub 20 hour pace. I laughed. This was ridiculous, but he was right. The night really had been rapid!
Runners from the Ultra Dolomites 90km race soon started powering past (and I mean powering as the lead runners ran the incline!) and the atmosphere intensified a little as I cheered them on and the half way point came into view. For the first time along the race there was support and we were clapped into the aid station. Inside it was small. I grabbed my drop bag and found Paul and his brother Nick. I joined them, grabbed a whole bottle of coke and began my halfway ritual of a wet wipe shower and change of clothes before dumping any unnecessary extra kit in my drop bag. Paul headed out and I told him I’d catch him up after a shit. Yep. Toilet talk. It’s gonna happen in an ultra race. Your body needs to function and running and eating will give you a need. Frustratingly I couldn’t relieve myself prior to the race so expected I’d need to at some point along the way. Whilst I wasn’t desperate, now felt like an opportune moment. I dropped my bag off in the van to return it to the finish and sought out a toilet. There were two portaloos. Neither with toilet paper. Whilst I had my own stash, I didn’t want to unpack my bag to retrieve it and couldn’t stand staying in the stench of the hot box any longer than I needed. I left. I shared my frustrations with an Italian lady. This was quite ridiculous – with the two races meeting here at Cimabanche, there would be over 2,500 runners passing through. Add in a few hundred more for friends/family/crew/volunteers and locals, two toilets is pathetically insufficient. It made me think that, despite the best efforts of all the volunteers, the aid stations and facilities were just inadequate for the scale of the race. The only negative on an otherwise excellent organisation.
Anyway, I was back out running again. We passed under a major road via a storm drain (some runners were injured hitting their heads here!) and I was climbing again towards Forc Lerosa. Soon I rejoined Paul once more. Then everything changed as we descended from Forc Lerosa….
We were about 70km in. 50km to go. The race changed. What so far had been a fairly “easy” and enjoyable run became and absolute bastard. Fuck the second half. It can fuck right off. My optimism left me. My desire to take photos and embrace my surroundings went with it. I didn’t hit a particular dark place. But I wasn’t enjoying the run any longer and I don’t want to recall the second half. I’m not ready to talk about it in the same detail. It can fuck right off. The short version goes a little something like this…
The ‘Valley of death’, ‘death canyon’, ‘hell’, ‘shitsville’, ‘that shit bit’. It adopted many names. A long, very long, stretch of rocky terrain (loose fist sized rocks) that extended in a canyon/valley far beyond one’s eyesight. No one was running. It wasn’t runnable. We crossed streams after streams, many of which were again knee high and the current strong. Runners embraced them. Some sat in them. We all drank from them. Each one became like a party as we escaped the heat momentarily. It was fucking hot. I felt like an ant under a magnifying glass. There was no shelter from the midday sun at high 30degrees. We trekked on and on. Soon climbing. Every time we came across water runners would set up camp and cool all over again. The river was our lifeline. It cooled us. Iced our pains (to the point it was painfully cold even!). Nourished and hydrated us. Without it who knows what would have happened. The scenery was breathtaking. The adventure was painstaking. There was no obvious end or path in sight. The stretch continued into the distant horizon.
Hours later we emerged at a ‘water station’. I sat and waited for Paul to arrive. He did. I felt shit. He looked shit. So I probably looked shit too. He verbalised it. He was struggling in the sun and questioned whether he could continue. It wasn’t a question for me. He was going to continue and finish. We had over a marathon to go. We still had a few km to climb out of the death valley. He had no choice here but to keep going forward. We rested then set off again.
As we neared the summit, Paul was wobbling a little as he climbed. We were seeking shade. We needed a break from the heat and he wanted to be sick. We passed a guy laying against a rock. We checked up on him, Like everyone we encountered he said he was feeling the impact. Not far passed him a huge rock offered a shadow and shade. We took the offer and sat down, exhausted. We hydrated and ate. We cooled a little and farted a lot. I’d reapplied sun cream at the previous water station but was feeling the burn. Then Paul heaved. He threw his guts up with a thunderous roar disturbing the other runner resting. Like before with his knee he was instantly better. We carried on.
The rest of the run followed a similar theme – We walked. Slowly at times. We hobbled over the rocky terrain. Before each descent were steep inclines. Some where tough and the sweat dropped off us. More and more runners ran passed as we slowed and slowed. Each check point ticked off the kilometres. 40 became 30 became 25 became 20. Hours passed in between. Each stop Nick was there supporting and encouraging. A long day for him. The mountains were beautiful. But we cared little about them any longer. We wanted it to be over. As we navigated the ‘Cortina’ trail up and down some ridges of the mountains we visualised the end. Paul was feeling a little rough again, his feet and knees hurting. My feet were destroyed. Hot spots and blisters making my walking pathetic. At the penultimate aid station of Passo Giau I sought out the medical team to treat my blisters. As I took off my socks there was nothing there. Hot spots yes, but blisters no. What I did have though was a bit of trench foot. I needed something and and they agreed to “wrap” my feet. As they did I saw the swelling on my right foot. A large lump which they addressed with padding. That knock in the early night had done some damage it was raw and bruised.
Strapped up we headed back out, Navigated the final climb and began the long descent to the finish. The last aid station marked 8km remaining. We took a moment (longer than planned because I’m slow and a fiddler with my bag) layering up as it would soon be dark as we hit the forest and as we left saw Reka arrive. She was on the 90km and ran straight through the aid station and said “are you coming” as we laughed her off.
trails in the distance
trails in the distance
We power walked and skipped down hill for the the next 5km or so. Gravity moving us faster than we wanted. The descent was a little technical and very slippery in the moist soil of the forest. Like the end of any ultra, it dragged on. Occasionally the lights of Cortina flickered in the distance. Always far away. Always far below. It never seemed to come closer. About 3 times in this section I rolled my ankle. We were mostly silent other than the expletive rants every time we hurt ourselves. The only entertainment was Paul’s increasing inability to walk. As he powered forward and tired he constantly tripped himself up with his poles. Numerous times he came close to stacking it entirely.
We broke free of the forest and were welcome to a “2km to go” sign. The church tower at the finish line stood out in the distance and we walked on. Finally we hit the Main Street. We put on a ‘brave face’ and ran the last few hundred metres through the town. The party goers and supporters cheered us in and we faked it till we made it. High-fiving supporters down the finishing stretch. We held hands and crossed the line together. The rest of the team there to see us finish just before 11pm, some 24 hours after we started.
Paul the Finisher
We shared the sunset and sunrise over the Dolomites. We shared the darkness of the challenge and the literal highs and lows of the adventure. We shared a beer as we collected our finishers rain jacket (ironic given how fucking hot the day had been). We shared an adventure in the mountains we’ll never forget.
It really was a race of two halves for sure. The first 66km we’d completed feeling strong in under ten hours. The next 54km took over 14 hours. I learned a lot this weekend. Some key things for me were:
Never to get too comfortable or underestimate a run. The illusions of grander I had at half way and possibly getting close to a 20 hour finish were naive. Anticipate and expect what lays ahead, never forget that these challenges, marathons even, will chew you up and spit you out.
Mountains are rocky. They always are and will be. Why I think some runs will be ‘easier’ I do not know. I should expect rocks. I fucking hate rocks.
The decisions to wade into the water I stand by. At the time they were the best. The fresh coolness very much needed. But the consequences and impact on my feet were severe. I should have expected this too. Trench foot is a bastard too. I should have attended to my feet earlier than I did.
Chaffing. I chaffed bad. On my lower back from my bag. I’ve a red strip the whole width which is now quite raw. I should have addressed this properly but I never bothered. I need to sort this out as it’s a horrible sensation and not conducive to running.
Sharing the trails in such an epic race is one hell of an experience. Having someone around you is so underestimated. Paul and I helped each other through. Gave each other strength. You can’t put a value on that. In October We’ll be running 150km in Poland. I’m so glad Paul will be there again at my side. That will be another whole new challenge! Thanks Paul (and Nick for all the support!)
When A friend asked if I was available to ‘help out’ at the Trail festival at Box Hill I didn’t think twice. I checked the calendar and I was straight in there. I probably would have bought a ticket anyway. A few days later when the confirmation came through and I was asked if I was OK to support the 50km guided run I chuckled. Yeeeeah sure. Why not. I was smiling. I love, despite what life throws at me, that I’m now ready. Ready to run. Ready to keep going. Ready to say yes to running, no matter what the distance. It’s a great feeling.
Saturday soon came around and I made sure I was there early to ‘check in’ and meet the others. As I walked to the festival Village I conveniently bumped into Matt who was behind much of the organisation. As I arrived so did the many familiar faces who were either leading the runs (all the Salomon Athletes/Ambassadors) and others like myself who were there to support them.
It was great to finally meet Tom who was the lead for the 50km and who told me we’d be joined by Mark (another familiar person I’m vaguely connected to but had yet to meet in person).
As we grouped and welcomed the 17 runners who’d make up our group, we immediately had one drop out after she realised this one might be beyond her. With everyone else ready to go Tom led us off. We’d be running a clockwise route and expected to be back around 16:30 or so.
As we left the field it became immediately apparent to me how varied the group was in terms of ability and experience. This was to be expected and wasn’t a problem, it was a guided social run after all. But something very important to be aware of – there was a long day ahead of us and fundamentally we were responsible for everyone’s health and safety and return! Spotting the ability and assessing each runner is important to ensure everyone has a great time.
It was like we’d done this all before as a team – Tom, Mark and I set off and split ourselves out. Tom Leading the way and setting a comfortable pace surrounded by the eager and more experienced runners. Me and Mark acting as the tail of the group, interchanging at the back of the pack.
Conversations begun as we all started to get to know one another. We’d soon be best friends for the whole day. It was a group of strangers. Runners getting to know other runners. Sharing stories and experiences, swapping tips and wisdom. A collective mass of adventurers. Tom would lead us on and ensured we stopped every now and then (frequently) for us to regroup and check everyone was OK. Each time a quick headcount to check we’d not lost anyone and then we’d be off again.
A small dog came bounding towards us. A ball of energy loving the runners rushing past. As he came to me last he started jumping with excitement and head butted me in the dick. Perfect shot. I can’t lie. I let out a gasp and was thrown off my stride for a bit. Damn stupid cute dog. One more runner then dropped out within the first three miles after twinging an injury. As he lived locally and trained these routes, after chatting through with him we were comfortable leaving him find his own way back to the start and we checked in with the wider team to confirm we were one down.
After about four miles we came to our first planned ‘aid stop’. Throughout the day we’d be flanked and met by Tony who would drive ahead and meet us with refreshments. At this first stop we dived into a huge tub of sweets (later I found out these were no ordinary sweets but ‘energy’ one’s by Powerbar.), refilled our water and grabbed a quick rest. We let Tony know of the drop out and confirmed to check he reached back to the festival site OK.
Long Grass Fields
Throughout he day we were also treated to some spectacular views and scenery (despite the overcast day). A particularly memorable point for me was the poppy field that we soon came into shortly after the first pit stop. It was stunning to see the red flowers penetrating the green carpet of grass. We continued on through the single trail which cut through the long grass field dotted with poppies. Next up, a mandatory stop at the now infamous ‘Matt Buck’ Waterfall.
Cracking on, one of the milestones of the run would be the tower of Leith hill. It’s a hilly route and one I knew most of from other runs. We’d normally have immense views from here but it was a little subdued as the heavens opened just as we arrived (but not before me and Tom grabbed a picture at ‘Rachel’s’ Tree!). We were immediately soaked through, even in our waterproofs. We took another break as we waited for Toby to arrive and meet us once more. We were now 10 miles in and very wet and miserable. But that all changed when he arrived. Wow, what a spread he’d bought for us. A legend of the supermarket aisles, he’d catered for all our needs and began taking special requests for the next stop. Sadly Steak didn’t make the cut but Pork pies did!
With the rain and clouds covering the sky we began moving again before we got too cold. Once we were running we’d soon warm up again. We continued in the rain for several miles as we hit Pitch Hill and Holmwood Hill before the rain finally ceased. Along the way we encountered some wicked ‘trail art’ someone had created with Bark. It was later on as we neared about 20 miles that the implications of diversity of abilities in the group became really apparent. We started to spread out more and more and the front would have to wait longer for the tail to catch up. We really did have runners of all abilities – From dragons back finishers and top 40 finishers at MDS (I believe this deems you ‘elite’!) and sub 2:40 marathoners to first time trail runners and those who’d never been above 50km before. The gulf was huge and has got me thinking about the implications of this (more on that another time). I’d spent most of the time running with Carl. A long distance walker more accustomed to going at his “own pace”. He got stronger as we went further though and it was clear that his mental strength was next level. It was never a doubt that he’d finish, only a case of when. A real positive attitude and one you see a lot of on the trails.
Trail Running Love?
Trail Running Love?
One dude unfortunately dropped out shortly after the 20 miles. We still had maybe 3 miles left to the next checkpoint but he was in pain and couldn’t manage more than an uncomfortable walk. His groin was aggravated and he was affected. We agreed that he’d have to stop and we called for a pickup. I stayed with him until it arrived. After which I sped on after the group. Like a hunter chasing its prey. I knew the trail. I knew what was ahead (including one of my favourite signs/views at Blatchford Down). It was a moment to myself. A peaceful one of just me and my thoughts. I’d been consumed all day by a bad pain in my left foot. My arch felt bruised and I’d been alternating all manner of running styles throughout to try and run more comfortably. I probably shouldn’t have continued myself but I had a job to do. It wasn’t affecting my ability to support the group there and then but I knew I’d be in agony the next day (and for over a week afterwards it turned out!). Now with some time to myself I ran on. I ran free. Was it painful? Yes. But I was smiling too. I passed several more groups of DofE and walkers and smiled and cheered as I zipped through, splashing in the mud as I went (I’d been enjoying the cold wet puddles and found them soothing on the ankle and foot!).
It was raining again but still nice and warm as I broke trough the trail paths into an open space and found the rest of the group just starting off from the final checkpoint. Mark stuck around and waited as I stuffed more kitkats and pork pies into my gob and we were off. Less than 4 miles to go. Time to “bring it home”.
The exhaustion in the group was obvious now and as we ran down through Denbies wine estate one last time Tom had a surprise left for everyone – the route wouldn’t take us straight back to the festival village but first up, over and around box hill. We were going home alright, just the long way! A few groans came but really they were more flippant than anything. This group had started as strangers and now bonded over 9 hours of wet hilly trails. We cracked on, first tackling the Infamous steps of Boxhill before a quick photo stop at Salomon’s Memorial, which provided a brief rest-bite after the climb.
Just before the festival we regrouped for the last time and ran into the village together. We were Welcomed back by a few volunteers and other runners and then we were then greeted to the rapturous cheers from Maggie, Rachel and Hannah. They were loud. They were excitable. They were the support we needed. I started to feel my face ache I was smiling so much from their energy. Quite possibly the best finish to a run I’ve ever had!
After a quick ‘wet wipe shower’ in the car park we grabbed some coffee/beer and pizza. We sat in the dimming sun and enjoyed the Salomon films on the big screen before deciding it was time to leave.
Whilst we didn’t personally experience that much of the festival village, it was an incredible day. A well run event that was very popular and catered for all. From 5km to ultra distances. There were also Workshops for trail techniques, guided and times runs and yoga and talks. A great day out for those used to trails and also those new to trails. Get involved next year is my advice. I’ll be back for sure!
A huge huge huge thank you to all those involved in organising the event and making it happen. To Tom and Mark for leading a fantastic run and all those I met throughout the day. A special thanks to Maggie, Matt and all the team at Salomon Running for getting me involved. A great experience!
I’ve read a lot of bollocks about what runners sacrifice. Quotes claiming that you give up your friends and the like. I think that’s the biggest pile of wank-shite ever. Your friends are your friends. They’ll always be there for you, understand and support you. It’s unconditional. Yes, like me, you might see them less, but that doesn’t (shouldn’t!) diminish the relationship. Likewise I am there for my friends unconditionally (if you’re reading this and had any doubts, be reassured).
In pursuing your passions, what will happen is you make new relationships, you gain new friends. Friends with the same specific interests as you and, in my case, in running.
Like any true friendships these friends will go beyond for you. That was what I experienced recently when I ran Trans Gran Canaria. I received much support and well wishes leading up to and during the event and had a great time training with Alan and Gif (thanks for the advice and workouts!) and running local hills with Arlene and other great friends I’ve made through this passion of running.
In particular though I was inspired by and I want to call out those friends whom I went out to Gran Canaria with – Yvette, Jorge, Ale, and Matt. Friends I’ve made through Wild Trail Runners. They were all running the marathon on Friday and they then spent the entire night and next 23 hours driving around the island following me and supporting me. I didn’t ask them too. They just did it. Because they wanted to. Because they enjoyed it. Because that’s what friends do. They slept less than me, clocked several hundred kms, barely ate and endured the loneliness of the night. But they brought so much energy and I was pleased to have them. I looked forward to seeing them. At most of the checkpoints they popped up with laughter and support. They put up with my smells and my moods (which was constant grumpiness!). I owe more to them than words can portray. But for now, the next time someone says you sacrifice friendships or you read some pointless motivational quote of the same manner, you give them the middle finger. Friendship is deeper than words.
Yvette, Jorge, Ale, Matt. Thank you. You’ve given me more than you may realise. My achievements are shared with you all and I look forward to the next adventures!
Trans Gran Canaria. One of the early season races in The Ultra Trail World Tour Series. I only heard about this race last year when some other people I’d met were heading out to run it. Set in the volcanic island of Gran Canaria, the 128 km race is part of the carnival of events staged over a week. With 7,500m of positive elevation it’s no mean feat. Yet it is sandwiched between the marathon, advanced (65 km) and the monstrous ‘360’ – a 270 km tour of the island. This would be my second UTWT race after my debut at the CCC last year and one which filled me with some pre-race doubts. I felt ready, perhaps not in my desired shape due to the customary lack of structured training I do, but confident of the adventure (I’d focused on shorter runs and lots of step-based training). The build up and the journey to Gran Canaria was fine. Typical in that it involved unnecessary stresses about the little things like packing and registering etc. Pre-race anxiety still overwhelms me greatly.
The ‘Weekend’ started Thursday night with a Chinese and a good long sleep. Yvette, Ale, Jorge and Matt all had the marathon at 9am so I woke with them at 5am, ate breakfast and sent them off to get the bus before going back to bed. All fine and I managed a few hours sleep before getting up at midday. I had a whole day to wait hanging around until my start at 23:00.
I walked into town and sampled the atmosphere. Cheering the marathon runners along on the last 2 km as I wandered towards the finish line to catch the gang all finish.
During this time we saw the second finisher of the 360 and someone who’d traveled from Alaska for the marathon race with 5 flights to get here! Earlier that day Luca Papi had won the 360 event and would be lining up in the field to also run the 128 km that night. Crazy (he finished by the way!).
The team all finished strong with Yvette smashing through her race, Ale and Jorge battling sickness and injuries to conquer theirs and Matt speeding through the finish so quickly I didn’t have time to react and take a picture! Great efforts.
Some hours later it was my turn to be sent out of the hotel and onto a bus to the start line. There was something weird about sitting on a bus, driving past the start line and thinking “I’ll see you again in two days, hopefully”. One thing was for sure, I was in for a long adventure! On the bus a gentleman from Beijing sat next two me. His second sentence was “let’s have a photo”. I don’t think he’s used to bearded people. I didn’t see him again.
The bus arrived at 9pm in Las Palmas. 2 hours before the race started. We offloaded from the bus and took the short walk to the beach where we mingled with the music and revelers at carnival. I’d never been to a race start that coincides with a local festival. The novelty soon wore off though. It was crowded. There were no toilets. None. Nothing set out for the race. Public toilets were closed and restaurants I inquired at pointed me in the direction of the closed public WCs. Helpful. Like many, I had to take myself along the coast to the sea.
Then we waited. And waited. For the two hours to slowly pass by. The question everyone had was why were we here so fucking early?! I sat on some steps for almost two hours. Smokers all around me which didn’t help with my pre-race anxieties.
With 15 minutes to go we were allowed onto the beach and into the starting pens. 900+ runners jostling for space. The team found me and wished me well. Final words of encouragement (and instilling of fear) from Jorge who’d previously done the race. He kept telling me how hard it was. He was preparing me and I’m grateful for his insights.
Over the loud speaker the announcements were made, a video played and music began, the live band playing the Gran Canaria by Los Gofiones. The ten second count down was made and the race began to a rapturous roar from the crowd and a synchronised-firework display. We set off running ran along the sandy beach. The waves crashing in and teasing our feet.
Within minutes I had to stop and remove the windproof layer that had kept me so warm for the last two idle hours. My plan was to run in short sleeves and arm warmers (which we’d received a pair of in our running pack). De-layered, I felt good. The sea breeze cooling on my skin.
After the beach we headed inland, first up a relatively small (few hundred meter) incline along a very runnable path. I ran most of it as I’d heard of the inevitable bottle necks that would follow.
Soon after this my memory already started to fade. It was night and dark. My mind was fully alert on the terrain and it was becoming rocky. Very rocky. Hard, sharp, loose rocks. We were running in and out of a river bed which felt like it went on for a long time. I often stopped to walk as others bundled past me at speed. I didn’t feel safe or comfortable running such tracks and knew I had a long run ahead. But it consumed me. I can’t recall seeing beyond the track. It was something like slow, gradual climbs up to remote villages before we hit the first aid station about 10 miles in. Yvette and Jorge were there and I fathed as always with my bottles and food before saying my good byes. I can’t fully remember the next section either. I was already in a grump. I vaguely recall a shortish climb through a forest and hurdling trees that were being cut down. Not technical, but not runnable either. It felt like we ran down through some massive mansion estate of some sort too. I remember stone walls and and a long driveway. But soon I emerged in Teror (the town, not my mental state). I think the section we’d just passed was the diverted track announced on the week of the race. It added a few km to the total distance.
At Teror the team we’re again there and we jigged and danced our way through. In TGC you are allowed external support in the vicinity of the majority of aid stations (Teror isn’t one) as long as it’s not in the actual tent. Before and after is fine. I was beginning to understand how I’d see the team or at least hear them as they shouted and ‘cooed’ endlessly into the dark. I was a little disoriented and despite studying the route and elevation I had no idea where I was. I’d continually ask which station this was and moan that the track “wasn’t very nice” (I wasn’t so articulated at the time!).
Beyond Teror the real elevation began. I remember one muddy-clay like climb through the dense forest which I took my poles out for. I blasted past runners as we climbed and was then blasted past in return as we went back down. The downhills were steep and rocky. Not loose like the riverbed thankfully. This would be one of the things I’d come to notice about the race – it’s very runnable. Over such a long distance I can’t run that far. And much of the terrain, as painful as the rocks are, is very runnable indeed. Especially when momentum takes control.
At some point along the way I passed another check point where Yvette and Jorge were waiting outside once I’d emerged from some minor DIY repairs. My left nipple was sore and my shoes were filled with sticks and stones. Whilst other runners fueled on warm coffee I patched up and got re organised. You quickly learn in ultras not to dwell on pains and discomforts but to sort them ASAP! I set off back into the night.
The darkness was full of depth and I also noticed the almost eerie atmosphere of the mountains at night, it was warm (some 14 degrees or so) but deadly silent. No wind. No insects. No animals. Just the noise of runners feet cracking on the forest floor and occasional burps and farts breaking the silence. It also smelt good (ignoring the farts) the foliage had some incredible smells which I cannot justifiably describe.
Off in the distance the silence was broken by the sound of drums. Faint at first but louder as I closed in on the source. Boom. Boom. Boom. Like a war drum pounding repeatedly. As I skipped down a small track I could see the origin up ahead. A band of drummers had lined either side of the path at the base of a climb. A steep bastard of a climb! I’m undecided if it was evil or pure genius that they chose this path and welcomed us like slaves pitted up against an almighty gladiator ahead. I charged forward. Power hiking up. I was enjoying the hills. I felt strong walking them and was boosted by passing runners who appeared less strong than me. It Became my tactic. Run when I could. Walk the rocky bastard parts (of which there were many) and annihilate the inclines. I began to look forward to them.
Next checkpoint up we emerged into a small roadside checkpoint by a reservoir. It was early morning, perhaps about 6am. It was a little cold at this spot and the checkpoint quieter than the rest. Whilst I’d not really suffered any real bottlenecks, the field was definitely starting to spread out. All I was interested in though was my stomach. I needed the toilet. I could feel the rumbles beginning. Your body is on a different cycle at night, eating and exercise disrupts it. Not a single aid station had any toilets. Just like the start, this was the only real negative aspect to the race organisation. Get some bloody toilets in!
Jorge sent me off with instructions as to what I’d encounter next. A long steep climb onto a ridge-way with cliff drops either side. Don’t fall in the dark he joked. I soon understood he wasn’t joking as two black holes of danger lay either side as we climbed. It was quite spectacular in the dark to see even more depth to the night. Along the top we followed a wall protecting you from the drop. I was tempted to climb over and use the wall as support to relieve myself but thought better of it.
We emerged into a road section before hitting a very steep technical down hill section. Almost immediately afterwards we’d climb again. As the path winded back up I could see off to the distance the snake of headlights descending behind us. It was mesmerising. White lights to the back, red (rear) lights up ahead. We were in a valley of some sort. I tried to capture it on my phone but again I can’t do the memory justice.
As we started to reach the summit dawn was breaking. The sun was rising and light was finally becoming our friend. It warmed up very quickly. We carried further up through forests and with the light of the morning finally got to see our surroundings. Wow. It was breathtaking. Layers of mountains as far as the eye can see. Each silhouetted by the one behind it. Off in the distance some strange peak formations were particularly fascinating.
We were approaching the half way mark. 65 km. Two things came to mind, firstly that the Advanced race would soon be starting (9am) and we’d be joined by another 900 or so runners. I saw only one positive to this. I’d maybe see Arlene and Julia on the trails. However, whether I timed it before or after 9am I’d be caught up in that race. Get there before they start and I’d have fast and fresh runners up my arse and pushing me faster than I’d like. Get there just after 9am and I might get caught up in the inevitable stampede and bottle necks. Lose-lose. Thankfully though neither happened. As we ran down and through the fields into the town we were greeted by volunteer staff who directed us into an aid station just before the 65 km mark. Here we were welcomed to hot food and refreshments. I decided to spend sometime here. I’d eat the pasta (I’d not been eating as much as I should have) and prep for the daytime running – recharge my watch, change my head torch and buff for a sun cap and glasses and plaster myself in sun cream. Best of all, there was a toilet. And I got the last of the toilet role. I felt like a winner. I headed off replenished and ready for the day.
The second thing that hit me at this point was that I still had a fucking long way to go. I was half way there. I still had a 65km mountain ultra to complete. I’d been running for 10-11 hours. I was tired and cranky. It was still a marathon and a half to go!! For fucksake. But, as Tomasz (who I chatted with over pasta) put it “I’m not feeling fucked enough yet”. Wise words.
Leaving the town of Artenara was another climb. And more treats for the eyes. I was constantly stopping to take photos as we climbed through forests and along more mountains tops. I wasn’t alone and as I’d interchange places with Martin from the US we’d point out good photo opportunities for each other. The strange rock formations were getting closer and more prominent.
I found the morning tough. I hadn’t seen the team since about 6am and as I made my way to Tejeda I was looking forward to when I might see them again. Alone with my thoughts my mind was constantly drawn to my left foot and ankle which had been hurting throughout. I was also constantly thirsty and breathing heavily. Despite making great progress I was certainly feeling how tough it was. I think the pasta kicked in though and the relieved stomach had settled. I found myself in a rhythm and had a solid stint of running before flagging as we reached Tejeda. The checkpoint felt like it took an age to appear after I first encountered the signs for the village. Upon arrival though I fueled on fists full of oranges (oranges had been my go to at checkpoints so far this race!) and, as it was just over half way, I decided now I could treat myself to cola. Always a runners friend on an ultra. I didn’t want to indulge too soon and it sure was good. As it approached midday it was sweltering. When I left Tejeda, I walked. We were on a paved road section that was downhill. I knew the next climb was one of the hardest, to Roque Nublo (the rock formations I’d been taking pictures of previously in the day). I couldn’t give a shit about running at this point. Some people passed me. I was fine with that. I’d found a strong hiking pace through the night and was able to maintain this comfortably between 14/15 min miles (when I ‘ran’ I was only marginally faster at 11/12 min miles) so I wasn’t fussed. That is until three men ran passed tethered to a metal pole. A lead and back runner guiding a blind man. As incredible as this was, I didn’t want to be stuck behind them on the climb. So I stepped it up.
Early into the climb I bumped into Victoria, a friend of Yvette’s doing the Advanced. We chatted briefly before my power hike took me forward. The climb was indeed a painful one. But as we reached the summit we were treated to the panoramic views from the popular tourist spot Roque Nublo. Throughout the run I’d been near another runner called Luis. I’d pass him on the ups and he would pass me on the downs. He didn’t speak very much English and me ‘speaker de no Spanish’. But we’d exchange back slaps as we passed. I like this unspoken camaraderie of the trails. It’s special. It’s an acknowledgment to each other’s strengths. No words are needed. As we summited he tried to explain the route. We’d go up to the rock and be checked in before doubling back and heading down a different way. He also insisted on taking a photo for me. I liked Luis. I didn’t get to see him again much more after this as he made too much ground up on the downhills. And this was my concern for the last marathon – as we reach Garañón where the marathon started the route was predominantly ‘downhill’ (as in comparative elevation gain in relation to the rest of the course). The majority of the races elevation is done in the first 80 km of the event. And I was discovering today that my downhills were weak. I’d readied myself mentally. I was planning now to walk the majority of the marathon remaining. I was so far ahead of my estimated time of 27 hours. I was starting to believe I could finish on Saturday before midnight. At a push, if I stayed focused and had no incidents maybe even a sub 24 hour. I cracked on.
I thought I might see the team at Roque Nublo as they’d planned to hike it themselves. But timings would have been tight and Garañón was the planned bag drop. Coming into Garañón I was greeted to the beaming smiles of Yvette and Jorge. I hadn’t seen them for about 8 hours. It didn’t show, but I was so glad to see them.
I had a plan here. Collect my bag. Change my clothes. Eat some food and prepare my kit for the rest of the day and night. Then leave what I didn’t need behind (or rather with the team to save me having to walk to get it at the end!). And that’s exactly how it went down. For food a bowl of potatoes with salt. Butter would have been great but they were delicious. Wet wipe wash, clean T-shirt and buff. Again I emptied my shoes of crap but I also decided against changing my socks. My feet felt OK and I was also afraid to look at them incase something was worse than it felt. I was wearing Stance 360 socks and I’ve found these great for doing ultras. I re-applied sun cream (you don’t want to compromise a race due to being unprepared!) and removed many things from my back (extra night layers etc I hadn’t needed). And I re-stocked on my holy grail – Tailwind. Pre-race I’d measured out 18 servings of Tailwind into either soft flasks or travel bottles to mix with water on the go. This worked a treat and was so quick to take one of the bottles of powder out and empty into water at an aid station. I took 9 with me on the start and had 9 here waiting. Whilst it was slightly less than the desired amount for the race, I intended on eating along the way too as I like the taste of food and thankfully I don’t struggle with eating on the move. I made a slight mistake though and should have taken a few more initially as it wasn’t a 50-50 split for distance or time to Garañón. The last 10 miles I’d done with out Tailwind and I was missing the taste. I was craving my hit like a junkie!
After again chatting with Tomasz over potatoes I was back out and reassured by Jorge and Yvette. They’d run this part as their marathon yesterday so again debriefed me on what was to come. As I mentioned, mostly down hill with two climbs although nothing compared to what went before and then finally the dreaded finish along another river bed.
The first of the climbs was gradual but long. Through forest paths and looping around the mountain. Here I saw many runners, familiar faces and new. Also many people looking defeated by the run. I’d pass them and check. One guy, Brian, suffered from stomach issues but reassured me he was OK (and had done the race last year) and many others asked the same question – “how far to the next aid station”. Good question. I was wondering the same. It felt like we’d be climbing for a very long time of false summit after false summit. I’d drunk nearly all my water including my third spare flask which I’d carried since the start. I was trying to calculate my estimated finish. Earlier in the day I’d figured a 4 hour half marathon (to Garañón) and an 8 hour marathon to the finish would see me make it in 24 hours. I couldn’t remember what time I left Garañón but now had less than 7 hours before 23:00. I wanted it. I also wanted to go to bed and to stop. I was fed up of the terrain now. Whilst I hadn’t fallen. My feet were beginning to hurt. I was walking as I had been for the last hour or so. 7 more hours of walking was a long time to contemplate.
Eventually the aid station appeared. It was small but I found a chair and quickly emptied my shoes of stones again. I didn’t plan on staying here long but I was starting to chaff and I wanted to make sure I had more than enough water after that last stint. I’d kept and empty fourth flask after Garañón so I decided to fill them all. I prepped all the Tailwind and a lovely volunteer helped me film them all. He was lovely that is until he got a little mud on the bottle and decided to empty the entire Tailwind filled goodness onto the floor to wash it. I wanted to hurt him. Hurt him bad. He wasn’t to know. I didn’t say anything. I thought some evil things in that moment though. I thanked him and left. As I was leaving the familiar sound of Arlene called out. She was entering the station above me and shouted me on rather than wait. I don’t know how or where I ended up ahead of here?!
The next section was also runnable. I didn’t want to run it but it was downhill and the rocks weren’t too loose. I stayed inline with the crowds and again played leapfrog with various people as I powered past on the inclines and they floated past me on the downhills. Eventually I found a second (third? Forth? Firth?) wind when two faster runners ploughed through. Together they had momentum and I could see them easily alert runners ahead of them who granted them passage past. I piggy-backed in behind them. Tailgating and running several kms with them and a comfortable pace. I was still doing the math. Badly. But I calculated I needed a few stints of running to get me in before Sunday came. After a while they stopped. But I was in the zone and carried on for a little longer before emerging onto another road section.
Walking again we were on another climb. I think I’d been confused as this definitely wasn’t the last climb I’d face. With the late evening sun pounding my skin I hiked onwards as we gradually climbed a fairly smooth and wide path. Up ahead I spotted the welsh dragon on a lady’s t shirt and I spent a while chatting to her and a fellow welsh woman she’s met on The trail. She joked about making it in time for the rugby. Eventually we reached the top and another downhill began. This one was a bastard. I really didn’t enjoy it. A very man-made winding switchback of slippery cobble stones. I don’t know how long it went for but I really didn’t like it. I couldn’t Run it. I was afraid of slipping. It hurt my feet. It was steep and the bends sharp. Gravity forced me to walk faster than I liked. I was glad when it ended. Other than that it opened out onto what I can only describe as what I perceive Mars to be like. A completely alien terrain of hard sharp rocks and dry ground. The torturous terrain of Trans Gran Canaria was relentless!
It didn’t stop there either. We came across a sign that very reassuringly said “extreme precaution. Technical Section”. It didn’t fail to live up to the hype. It was almost vertical. Very short switchbacks of jagged rocks and barley wide enough for a single person. We backed up into a slow descent. A short intersection with another path treated us to the information that it was just 1.5 km to the next aid station. 1.5 km of the same technical descent. My feet were taking a pounding now. I craved the rest bite.
At the aid station I ate cheese. It was good. I also took the decision to, for the final time, readjust my kit. It was now about 18:99 – 19:00. Soon the sun would set so I wanted to be ready. Away went the hat and sunglasses. Outcome the buff, head torch (new battery!) and arm warmers. Deja vu all over again. From here it was the last climb. About 200m followed by a downhill to the riverbed back into Maspalomas.
The climb was slow. I was still calculating my time. I couldn’t figure it out but I was now confident I’d get sub 24 hours. My mind focused on getting to the last 15 km with 3 hours to go. That would be 9 miles. 3 miles an hour. 20 min miles at a comfortable walking pace. I was still hiking at close to 15 min miles. I was confident. I strode on. Up the dirt track road we went. The night began to fall and I enjoyed watching the sun set. The same day I’d welcomed on one mountain I now said goodbye to on another. I captured the snake of headlights coming down the technical section back in the distance and was thankful I navigated that in the day light. My thoughts went with those doing it at night. The only negative point here was a staff volunteer driving up and down the climb, churning up the dust into our faces for us to inhale. I don’t know why he was doing it. Perhaps to check on the runners?!
As we summited the final climb it was time for another run. Initially the path was wide for cars and smooth to run before it became rocky again but not loose. For the second time I found myself tailgating two other runners. I set my aim to run to the bottom and the beginning of the river bed. Then my task would be complete. My false finish. From there I know I’d get to the end. No time pressures. I’d complete the event for sure.
The riverbed came. They carried on. I stopped running. I probably stopped a lot of things at this point but swearing was not one of them. The riverbed was the rocky bastard I’d read about. Dry, sharp loose rocks. It’s not an over exaggeration to say I was afraid again to break an ankle or slit my throat on a fall. I walked. Painfully stepping and sliding like trudging through mud. I swore out loud a lot. But I maintained my pace. I passed a lot of people with my power hike. Occasional they’d run past when we’d have a moments pause from death by a thousand rocks but I’d soon pass them again when they slowed to a walk.
It was dark. My feet were blistered for sure. I was constantly kicking rocks into my own ankles. Fuck it hurt bad I was lonely. I was cranky. The night was again spectacular as the riverbed was overlooked either side by rocky mountain faces. Off in the distance they merged and I longed for the opening back to reality. Eventually it came. I hadn’t passed any signs of the distance markers. I hoped I was near 5 km to go. I hated them when I first spotted “105 km to the finish” and “95 km to the finish”. Now I longed for that last confirmation. My time was good. I was walking back no matter what.
Under the motorway bridge up in the distance two silhouettes were making noise. Calling for me as they had the previous night. I knew it was Yvette and Jorge. I could hear them question and laugh as they thought it wasn’t me. The penny soon dropped and they came in to cheer me on. To the final stretch. I was super cranky at this point. I wanted for nothing except more solitude and the finish. I wasn’t capable of dealing with anything and I abruptly made this clear with unintentional rudeness. My mind had wandered to some dark places over the last 22 hours. Possibly some more places of self discovery also. I wasn’t ready to re-emerge to reality just yet. I still had a lot to deal with and get through.
One more checkpoint. Parque Sur. It seemed weird to have one so close to the finish but also one I was quite thankful for. Some more cola and sweets. I politely declined a beer and begrudgingly trod on. Down an old river bed again (although rocky not loose and nice and wide). The final stretch was a slight uphill along the road I’d walked and cheered the marathoners along on Friday. I’d already spotted that day the grass patch to the side of the road I’d walk. It was like carpet under my feet. I felt smug as runners ran past me. I was getting overtaken frequently since the last checkpoint and I couldn’t give a shit. I’d won my race. I’d smashed my goal of completion. I may not have been smiling but was pleased with myself.
I had two roundabouts to go. Then the last bend Into the finishing straight. I looked at my watch for the first time in ages. It said it was 21:55. A new goal came to my mind. 5 minutes to make a sub 23 hour??! The few stretches of running and tailgating had really paid off (along with my overly conservative 20 min/mile walk estimates). My mind fired up. The quickest I’d reacted to anything for a whole day – my brain and my body connected and agreed we were going for it. I left the grass. It was on. Uphill. Momentum began to kick in. I don’t know how far it was. It looked longer than 5 minutes. There was only one way to find out. Nothing to gain other than personal satisfaction. I powered forward. Photo-finish ready. I wasn’t going to finish looking like I’d just walked a 7 hour marathon or run 128 km. I was going to finish with the smile that had been missing for so long. The cheers and the whoops came. All The team were there including the “Aguafiestas” Ale and Matt. This was my moment. The high fives came as I rounded the final bend into the finishing straight. I lined up with the little sloped finishing platform. The sadistic bastards. I hit it and finished up on my toes instantly striking the pose of the ‘trans Gran Canaria’ logo. I don’t know where that came from. I wasn’t the first nor the last to strike the pose I’m sure.
As I stepped down from the finish some child slapped the finishers medal into my stomach and a lady gave me the gilet. Cola and kebabs were consumed and sweaty hugs enjoyed with the team. Now we all had a gilet for our efforts. I immediately reverted back to grumpy Dai and my legs made it clear how much they hated me. I wanted ice cream but they were closed. I wanted a shower so they drove me home.
The next day we walked some sand dunes and the reality of the damage to my body started to became clear. My ankle is swollen and hurts badly. My feet are blistered and battered. I say we walked some sand dunes. I hobbled them. Flying home I, like many others, partook in the unspoken custom of wearing the finishers gilet through the airport. You nod in silent appreciation to other finishers. You know what we’ve each been through. One final acknowledgement before it becomes another generic piece of apparel in the reality of the real world.
If you spoke to me in the hours after the race then you’ll have received a certain miserable perspective on the event. That was unjustified. I stand by what I said in that, to date, it’s the hardest thing either done. But as the emotion of the finish has settled I’ve been able to reflect on and recall the positive and enjoyable aspects. Yes it really is hard. The distance was new for me and mentally I felt that. For 2/3 of the event knowingly having an ‘ultra’ still to go was demotivating and the pounding your feet take is exceptionally aggressive. But, the landscape and environment is surreal. The Rocky Mountains, Mars like terrain, panoramic island views, fresh aromas of of the forests and witnessing a day break and set from spectacular view points is incredible.
The organisation itself was also fantastic. Before flying out I moaned about the lack of information on the website or email contact. Reality is you’re provided with enough. And that is all you need. The race exhibition and bib collection was so straightforward. No kit checks or too much hassle. The organised buses were efficient. The aid stations were incredibly well stocked and had great atmospheres. The volunteers were superb and so helpful (to the guy who emptied my Tailwind – I’m sorry I thought about hurting you. But this doesn’t mean I like you!). The course markings were phenomenal. There’s no chance of getting lost in this one. Signs and markings were very frequent (even though you rarely turned off the same paths!). Many had hi visibility strips attached to them and there were hundreds if not thousands of markings with flashing red lights too. I played a game at several points along the day and came to the assessment that, when walking slowly (e.g. hiking up a climb pace) there were typical signs/markings every 15 seconds. Without doubt the best course markings I’ve encountered. The swag bag of goodies was also decent. A branded technical compression t shirt, arm warmers, shoe gaiters and finishers Gilet filled the drawstring bag.
Would I recommend the race? I’m not sure. It is incredibly hard. If I’d done the marathon or advanced I definitely wouldn’t be going back to try the 128 km. I did enjoy it though and am glad I experienced it.
I’m also so thankful for Yvette, Jorge, Ale and Matt who sacrificed so much this weekend to support me. One day I’ll be able to repay the kindness.
Fears, queries, questions, what-ifs, buts, worries and the voices. These are all manifestations of “the doubts”. As an event or milestone creeps closer, the doubts increase. They aren’t always rational, but they are all explainable. It’s a nervous thing. Fuelled by anxiety. Fuelled by the determination to succeed, to reach the finish and achieve your goals.
The voices in your head will call out the same ‘what-ifs’ over and over, but you deal with it. You just have to. In the same way I process the bad times during an ultra, I face the doubts head on. For each question, each doubt, there’s at least one answer and reassurance. There’s nothing to really fear here.
With my biggest challenge to date, Trans Gran Canaria, inching closer like an ultra runner hobbling to the finish line, my mind is in overdrive. The doubts are coming thick and fast. Here’s a few I’m currently battling.
“I’ve never done this before” – you’ve can say that about a lot of things you’ve never done before. Time to set some new limits, bust through that ceiling, reset the boundaries and find a new comfort zone to live in.
“But it’s 128km! That’s a LOT further than I’ve run before” – You’ll break it up by checkpoint and hike a lot. Get so far through and the kms will be reducing. After a 100km you’re on the home stretch. Remember you’re running home in this one!
“What if I can’t make the cut offs” – Of course you can. You know the average pace needed and have run similar paces to this before. You know how to pace it across a long distance and elevation. Quit worrying.
“I’m going to get stressy and anxious” – You always do. Stick to the plan. Get through registration and get your bib. Relax. Get to the start and get moving. Relax. Once those two things are done you are running free.
“Can I stay awake to run through two nights” – You’ll be tired at night for sure, but you’ve run for 21 hours before, It’s not that much longer. You’ll sleep on Friday before you start. You’ve run lots of night runs. You’re not I’ll-prepared, you’ve trained, you’ll have caffeine. You can rest at Garañón if all else fails. Or find a Chäir.
“What if I get lost” – Always a risk. Never a real worry though, you’ll have gpx. There are 900 runners. There are aid stations every ten miles or so. You can’t get that lost surely. Just don’t switch off.
“I’m going to get sun burnt” – you’ll have sun cream and a long sleeve base layer. Just don’t be a dick and forget to use them.
“I’ve heard the terrain is hard” – Yep, we’ve been told repeatedly that it’s tough. And it will be tough! But you will walk when you need to. Don’t run. Trust your gut. Don’t panic.
“I’ll need to poo” – of course you will. Poop you shall. Enjoy the sweet release.
“I’ll be lonely” – You like your own company. You can entertain yourself. So do so and have fun.
“How much do I need to eat” – as much as you want too. 200 cals per hour is the rough guide. Keeping that going for 30 hours means a lot of food. So just keep eating and enjoy the picnic! There will be plenty of good stuff available at the checkpoints. to enjoy and top up the Tailwind.
“My foot still feels weird, feels like it’s someone else’s” – well it’s not though is it?!
This won’t be the end. I’ll have to answer many more questions in the lead up. I’ll also have to keep answering the same questions as my mind attempts to fluster me. I won’t let it happen. When the doubts come calling for you, stay strong. Stay rational. Whatever other questions come up, give them the time they deserve just don’t ignore them. Deal with them and be rational and you’ll be just fine.
If you go anywhere near social media platforms like Instagram at the moment you’ll see lots of similar themed posts relating to advertisements. The Advertising Standards Authority recently updated guidance on ‘social influencers’ and its caused a wee bit of a stir among the community. I’ve observed it manifest in a number of different ‘types’ of outlooks and perspectives…
There’s people who just don’t care, they’ll carry on doing what they do regardless and without remorse or recompense.
There’s people who will follow the guidance to the letter, for better or for worse, without consideration. A tick box exercise if you like.
There’s people who will moan about the negativity it drives and how unfair it is on them as an influencer ignoring the impact it has on their ‘followers’?!
There’s people who might not be affected but who will call it out at every opportunity, pointing the finger at those influencers and their responsibilities to the world
There’s then the people who will go all out honesty and transparency and over-tag and over share every snippet of their lives like they are taking a morale high-ground.
There’s people who will back track and justify all their relationships they’ve ever made with statements akin to “I’ve worn this brand since the day I was popped out of my mummy’s tummy”
There’s also people who will feel they have to do the opposite and justify their opinions and say “this is not an ad!”. You don’t need to do that!
Even people who will simply take the piss at every opportunity.
Me? I do a little of each. Quite frankly, I’m not concerned. I’ll abide by the rules where I should and also where I feel morally obliged too. I also feel as individuals we need to take responsibly and ownership for our own thoughts and decisions. Yes, we can all be swayed by advertisements and influencers, but you make that decision yourself. Stand up and be accountable for your own actions.
Anyway, I’m not tapping away at my keyboard for this reason. That is more a background check and observation. What I wanted to do is flip it around and look at it from a different perspective. A more positive view. Whatever industry we are active in, when presented with an opportunity we make a decision as to whether we want to take it or not. Whether it is right or wrong for us. There will be many things that we take into consideration when making such decisions but it is, as always, a cost-benefit analysis. What is in it for us (value)? What do we have to to achieve that value (cost)? Do we think the benefits outweigh the analysis? Done. Simple.
Whilst (in this context) this will mostly materialise in an incentive (e.g. payment, gifted items, brand enhancement etc.) vs effort (time taken, contractual commitments etc.) considerations, there are other ways we might approach this too, such as meaningful connections vs reputational damage/negative public opinion (I’m sure you’ve read about recent backlashes like the Fyre Festival or Celebrities promoting ‘get fit quick’ type ‘health’ products).
Specifically it is that “meaningful connection” aspect I want to touch on. Something which is often overlooked and something which I feel I’ve substantially benefited from in a number of my recent opportunities.
Take my recent run with Gabe as an example. This was born out of an incentivised campaign to promote the MyCrew App. A simple advertisement concept. I use it, I publicise that I’m using it. If I meet a certain quota (e.g. frequency of runs, number of attendees etc.) then I’d be eligible for some gifted items. This is very much the ‘carrot’ in the ‘carrot and stick’ analogy. I can tell you now that, for whatever reasons of my own doing, I immediately failed to meet the necessary criteria, so the carrot is gone. It hasn’t stopped me being active in the campaign though. Why? Because of the meaningful connections. I’ve met a few runners through this opportunity whom I could talk about, but recently met Gabe who is on the other side of the campaign working within the community. This one got me thinking…
It was one of those meetings were conversation flowed. Natural commonalities were apparent and we got on. We shared experiences and stories and we debated pros and cons of all things related to the running community. To me it is clear we think similarly, we process thoughts, data and ideas in the same way to make them a reality. Our professional backgrounds also reflect this and the type of work we do. It was more than just a run. More than just an opportunistic moment of mutual benefit. It was certainly a means to connect with someone who otherwise we might not have crossed paths with. One I’m sure won’t stop here. It was two people with a shared interest and a shared passion spit balling ideas and theories.
I’m mumbling now but I know what it means to me. I think my point is to look beyond the posts, the cover story, the potential negative image and press and to think and appreciate about what else is achieved from making new connections and where they might add real ‘value’ to your life. Likewise, just because something is an Ad or a sponsored post, it doesn’t imply that it isn’t meaningful…
It’s only just 2 weeks into the new year and my first Ultra of 2019 is ticked off. This is a great feeling. The year is looking just a little bit daunting, so to get it underway and emerge through the first finish line is pleasing.
Over Christmas I was worried. More than I’ve been since I started running. I’ve had a few niggles over the last year and you know what your body is feeling. This niggle felt a different, it concerned me. I know when it happened. I don’t know what happened or what it is though. During the night run a few weeks before Christmas the top of my foot hurt. It hurt as I stepped off the train, before we even started running. It felt like my laces were too tight but loosening didn’t help (neither did running the 24 miles, I know!). The pain intensified and persisted for a few days and a lump appeared. So I was concerned.
It woke me up for the first time and I swallowed my stubbornness and went and saw a physio. The prognosis was good, ankle movement was as expected and I was set some rehab and stability exercises and prescribed some rest. Always some rest. That is the difficult part right?! Over the Christmas period I continued to dwell on the pain and with the Trans Gran Canaria race looming in the distance I was thinking of pulling out of the Country to Capital. 70km felt like it could put my year at risk before I even began.
But, I didn’t. I’ve been stubborn as always and after a follow up with the physio and a check up with the GP (who confirmed the lump is a small Ganglion cyst, but nothing to worry about) I stuck by my original plan. So to the race I went.
This is quite a popular event. There aren’t that many ultras in the first few weeks of January, especially not ones so accessible from London. An ultra at the beginning of January is a test. A checkup if you like. To see where you are at and what your body is saying after Christmas. Many runners use this event as ‘tune up’ (as Alan describes it) for what is to come. So that became my aim too.
With an early start and a rush from the first train from London to Wendover, I decided to stay overnight in Stoke Mandeville. I’m glad I did. I woke relaxed and at eased and casually made my way to registration with plenty of time to do all the mandatory registration activities without any stress.
I met with Alan, Lenny and a few of their mates and the race Director sent us on our way. There was a mad dash at the start as the runners legged it down the high street to get the front line at the single track paths. And that there is where the majority of my memories of this event comes to an end. It is, as events go, pretty unspectacular. We cover a lot of ground (45 miles!), but it is mostly forgettable. True, the start near Wendover Woods is quite scenic, but as soon as you get inside the M25 it is a grotty run. 30 plus kilometres along the Grand Union Canal towpath, it sounds good, but it is ugly. Flat. Hard. Narrow. Covered in more litter and abandoned rubbish than you can imagine. I’m not talking about the odd bit of crap here and there, in places it was piled with bonfire sized heaps of rubbish. London has a problem here it needs to address! Such as historic part of the country in such a sad state.
Anyway, that’s off my chest. What do I remember?
A few rolling hills to start with provided some early morning treats to the eye. The first 15 or so miles were a breeze with some walking up the inclines and crowds of runners to chat away too and enjoy. Shortly after the second checkpoint, with conversations of the morning often revolving around the recent UTMB ballot results, I got chatting to Sophie. Sophie had quite a remarkable experience at UTMB this year which really puts all the preparation and stress of the events into perspective. There’s a lot of discussion around changes required to events as a result and hopefully we will see those much needed changes come sooner rather than later.
As we chatted, Sophie pointed out how fast we were running. What finish time this equated too. I knew I was ahead of the pace I’d set out for. I knew I’d gone off too quickly. I was feeling OK though so was rolling with it. Sophie gave me a reality check. I stuck with it and carried on, telling myself “as long as it feels good”.
I started to make deals with myself. First off, get to checkpoint 3. This would be roughly a marathon in, after which it was the towpath all the way to the finish. I’d have a moment at the checkpoint and update Alan and the others on my progress (we’d be meeting in the pub later in the day). Checkpoint 3 came about so quickly. Quicker than I expected. One of the volunteers did acknowledge it was now the afternoon, so I’d done the marathon in around 4 hours.
Onward along the canal we went. The field did start to spread out now and no doubt a lot of us were starting to feel the aches in the legs. The route had no signage or markings but I did have the GPX on my watch. I was on the towpath, I didn’t need it though right? Wrong! I was constantly following the runners in the distance and at one point, after heading after a runner I soon heard some screaming behind us. It took a moment but the caller was persistent. I’m so glad he was as we had missed a turning off the canal path onto another. If we had continued, we would have ended up in Brentford! Thankfully I was able to back track and recover and thank the runner. The could have been very costly!
I negotiated the next set of deals with myself. First off, get to the forth checkpoint. I was hopeful it wasn’t too far away. And it soon arrived. To my surprise the volunteers confirmed there were just 10 miles to go (I’d been estimating closer to 13 miles left) and the final checkpoint was only 4 miles away. This lifted me. I decided to walk for a moment and eat some more food, then I’d run what was left of the 4 miles. I could do that. That was a very process-able distance.
The next deal would be when I get to the final checkpoint I’d start a walk-run strategy. I’d been checking my average pace for the last few miles an I knew a strong finish (somewhere under 8 hours) was on the cards. I probable could have run the last 6 miles but there was nothing in it for me to do so. I came up with the plan to walk 0.25 miles, run 2 miles and repeat. This would make the last 6 miles so much more manageable and I felt I’d walked very little other than the few short inclines early on in the run.
After leaving the last checkpoint, a few miles from the finish I saw a familiar face. I recognised it smiling out at the runners. I couldn’t place it though. We had a Hi-five. Then it clicked. Rowan called out my name and it all made sense. We’ve known each other through Instagram yet never met, somehow avoiding each other in the 20 plus group that was out in Berlin together. Rowan snapped the only picture I have of the day, we had a hug and I was back on my way. The last few miles went down exactly as per the deal, I was blocking out the crap littered tow path until Little Venice came upon me so quickly.
The finish was an understatement. A subtle welcome, medal and a cuppa doesn’t do the brutality of the race justice. The Country to capital is not an easy run. I don’t think any flat runs are. It gives me great awe thinking about those runners who take on events like the Thames 100. It must be so hard on the body. Don’t go entering the Country to Capital because you think it is an easy race, it really isn’t!
It’s the day after the run and I feel surprisingly good. I’m thinking and checking over my body and I’m feeling very happy. There’s things I know I need to work on and things I need to improve, but after a tough run I expected to be in pain in a few places. The worst is my ribs and abs. I know I’ve run hard when they ache! The foot? The foot feels fine. Now back to those rehab and stability exercises.
Update: The run is LIVE on the MyCrew app. Download it here MyCrew and look for the run to get easy access to updates and find out who else is joining.
Ok, so here it is Saturday 29th December – a Trail run around Three Bridges. Who wants to join?
This time last year I met a bunch of trail runners. A collective of like minded individuals who share a passion for running, trails and enjoying nature. They welcomed me into their open group and took me on many adventures over the year. I want you to experience this too. So, come and join the Cool Cats (check them out on Facebook and the ‘gram!) as we head to Three Bridges to get one last muddy trail run in before the New Year comes…
Details are below, but get in touch with me directly and I’ll make sure you are added to the group and kept up to date with the plans. Expect cold and wet weather with mud and plenty of great company. We run together, to enjoy each other’s company and share the trails (there will be plenty of opportunity to take pictures along the way). We’ll probably be floating around the 7.30min/km (just under 12min/mile) pace on average.
The route will be a ~37km loop from Three Bridges, Starting and ending in Three Bridges Station. We will initially run down towards Balcombe station where you can opt to join the group there and do a shorter route (approximately 20km) as we head back up to Three Bridges. The longer route will have a few hills and a total elevation gain of about 500m.
Both routes are available on my Strava page (links below) where you can download the GPX/TCX files if you want to.
Both routes are mainly trail but will involve a few road sections.
If you are joining for the shorter route, meet at the Half Moon Pub, a short walk from Balcombe Station
Not this side
This side, car park side
Saturday 29th December.
Meet for 08:45 to start running at 09:00am from outside the station (Three Bridges)
If joining for the Shorter Route, be at the Half Moon Pub for 11:00am (you may need to wait a little while but I will provide updates to those joining)
How to Get there
From Central London:
Either Train from London Bridge (08:07am) / Blackfriars (07:59am). Or join from another station along the way. Get off at Three Bridges (or Balcombe if joining for the shorter route, get a later train though!)
From anywhere else:
No idea! You’ll have to figure that out for yourself!!
We’ll head to the Hillside Inn afterwards. Passing Three Bridges station again on the way. Address is Balcombe Road, Crawley RH10 7SX
Get there on time! We will start running at 09:00. That means you need to be there before 09:00! Please don’t make everyone else late. Likewise if you are joining at Balcombe, we’ll come and find you but won’t be hanging around if you are not there on time!
Whilst this isn’t an organised event and there is no mandatory kit, be sensible! Bring what you need. It is advisable to:
bring enough water for the whole journey (there are no planned water stops along the route),
bring food to eat and keep you fuelled (we’ll be running for hours!),
its December so bring warm clothes and something to keep you protected from the rain,
Something warm and dry (inc dry socks!) for afterwards too!
Any medical supplies you need!
Expect mud, Trail shoes are advised!
If you feel unwell or have an injury, tell someone. Don’t be afraid to speak to us, so we can help you!
Please make sure you are capable of doing the whole distance comfortably. Whilst we will stick together as a group, we aren’t set up to split into different groups. We will be running and not hiking!
This is not a race nor a guided trail run! It is a social/group run. There are no pacers or leaders. We will run together at a pace suitable for everyone. If you want to go faster it is your responsibility not to get lost, to come back to the group or to wait and regroup. It is not other people’s responsibility to keep pace with you! Leave your training plans and times at home!
So if you are interested in joining, get in touch here or via Instagram to let me know (If I don’t know you are coming, I can’t plan for you!)