adventure – Run With Dai

Mayrhofen part 2. The humbling

Published on September 9, 2026 by runwithdaiLeave a comment

The adventure for the Mayrhofen Ultraks Z101 was never meant to be multiple parts. However, 2025 introduced me to Mayrhofen and a cancellation due to weather saw us cover around 30km a of the trail. It was tough but spectacular and a second attempt was booked for 2026. The organisers kindly offered a discount for the 2026 edition, so Paul, Darryl and I signed up. More confident than ever…

Like the year before we attended the race briefing. This year there was little of note – The weather was perfect. It was pretty much going to be sunny throughout. Starting in low 30 temperatures and dropping to the mid teens high in the mountain during the night – The complete opposite to 2025. Even arriving in town the difference was obvious with the previously snow covered mountains a bright, lush green instead! There would be a small course diversion this year due to a landslide, but this section would be marked (the z101 is a semi-autonomous race with no specific course markings). The briefing also touched on the more technical aspects of the route after the climb to Schonbichler horn and the “block terrain” section towards the back end of the course. This year I was under no illusion as to what lay ahead, or so I thought…

At the start line we had our kit checked, collected our trackers and positioned ourselves fairly close to the front. Not intentionally, we just wanted the shade to keep cool in the scorching evening heat. Unlike last year when it pissed down at the start, there was a huge crowd who cheered us as we ran up the Main Street through Mayrhofen once the race started. By the time we got to the end of the main road it felt like most of the field of runners had passed us and we were fairly near the back where we belonged.

The first 30km of the route was comparable to 2025. We powered up the first climb to Gamshutte in about 2 hours. It is a whopping climb, but whilst the forest was warm and humid, the trails are forgiving. Arriving at the aid station it was still daylight (last year we were delayed an hour so it was dark when we arrived here) so we took a moment and enjoyed the view. We filled our bottles with ice cold mountain water. Ate some cake and drank a clear liquid that wasn’t water. It sounded like some local thing. Whatever it was, it was sweet.

From Gamshutte we descended quickly, recalling the runnable narrow switchbacks as we dashed down. Thinking back to the wet conditions of 2025, I don’t know how we didn’t fall down this trail. By now loads of other runners had passed us and it suddenly felt like we were propping up the race! We were shifting though and were down the mountain in next to no time at all. From here, the section was a long runnable stint of gravel trails, sealed paths and road but all gradually climbing a few hundred meters. We ran when we could. Walked with intent when it was steeper. We enjoyed the trails without our head torches, using the soft glow of infrequent street lights for as long as we could. A notable moment was seeing a cat casually laying on the back of a cow resting in a barn. It looked at us with a real cat attitude vibe.

As we approached the water stop that marked the end of the section, and the start of the biggest climb, Darryl and I noticed Paul had dropped back in the darkness of the night. While Darryl waited at the water station I took advantage of the public toilet at the road control area. Something ‘wasn’t right’ with my stomach and I was glad of this proper toilet! As I emerged, a new man, Paul was waiting with news. He’d decided not to carry on. He just wasn’t enjoying it nor was he in the right frame of mind for what lay ahead. Darryl and I said good bye, stuffed our face with the freshest, juiciest apple at the water station and carried on.

This climb is a beast, well over 1000m. It’s pretty tough, steep in places and hard on the legs and lungs. First you climb in the forest which was very humid this year. Then you emerge on to the mountain and it gets steeper and steeper. We moaned and groaned our way up. Somehow I’d blocked this all out from my memory and recalled “it wasn’t that bad”. It was. After a lot of swearing the trail levelled a bit as we navigated across the mountain and began the final section of the climb which was steep with short, rocky switchbacks. After summiting, the traverse of the few hundred meter long boulder field led us to the aid station. This was way easier to navigate this year without the snow covering! As we approached the aid station I stopped to try to recreate the photo from last year. Not a bad comparison …

Scroll to see the differences in conditions at Friesenberg-haus between 2025 and 2026!

We reached the Friesenberg-haus aid station in a little under 7 hours. We were almost an hour up on our rough plan (for a 30 hour finish, the cut off is 31 hours) and about 15 mins quicker than 2025. Confidence was good. I felt good! Here we had some soup and more of the clear liquid. Turns out there was a communication error on my part. It wasn’t a local drink, but some generic isotonic/sports nutrition. I took a few cups as I’d been cramping on the climb so thought this might help. There was a joyful moment as we left and I told Darryl I’d gone further than I did last time. Darryl had a few more km to the next aidstation to get the same sensation.

Here our race soon started to unravel. From the Friesenberg-haus the terrain changes dramatically and is basically just rock the whole way. The short but steep climb out of the aid station was tough. It only took about 20 mins, but it felt way longer and harder. Effort levels had shot up. We then slowly descended all the way to the next aidstation station – the Olperer-hutte (a little over 3km away). It was slow because the terrain was so tough. Just endless large boulders and slabs of rock the whole way. Our gait was disturbed, our ankles rolling and our toes being bashed about. Like I’d done before, Darryl seemed to have blocked this from his memory. Last year in the snow he covered this section far quicker than we did this year. I’ve no idea how!

The stand out memory from this section was an odd technical malfunction Darryl experienced. He’d been complaining his head torch was quite dim. At some point there was a loud crack. We both heard it and I thought it was perhaps the sound of a rock being cracked underground as the slab he stepped on moved. However he said it came from him and he felt something hit his head. He reached back and his battery compartment of his torch had come loose. Odd. He closed it and carried on, making a note to change the battery at the next stop. As we arrived at Olperer-hutte, he went to change his battery. It was then he found out that one of the AAA batteries had exploded, leaked acid and blown the battery compartment open. Thankfully he was able to clean out the acid and change battery without issue and the torch now worked properly. A new experience for sure!

At Olperer-huttewe had some snacks but got cold quickly. Even with the warm night it was chilly so high on the mountain (we were around 2,400m at this point). We quickly checked the profile of what was next and left. We were a little confused as it seemed to suggest it was an 18km section. But we knew it wasn’t that long! It was however net down hill as we’d loop towards the Italian border and then turn back on ourselves down to Zamsgatterl where our drop bags would be.

This section was an enduring nightmare. Ultimately our undoing. Very soon into it Darryl vocalised his pains. His Achilles injury had flared up and he acknowledged he was in a lot of pain. He’d power through and get the medics to check him over at Zamsgatterl. Powering through was all we could do as the mountain put an end to any aspirations we had of moving with any pace. The terrain was just more of the same. Rock after rock after rock. “Block terrain” was the phrase used by the race director to describe the terrain towards the end of the course, but oddly not here. It was like one continuous boulder field for over 10km. In many places solid and stable slabs of rock, in many places uneven large boulders we’d tentatively hop our way across from one to the other and in between just loose rocks the size of footballs. On some occasions it was steep with chains to navigate, in one place it was like a stone stair way to the stars – huge boulders we’d lunge up. We joked that even though it was a net downhill section, we were moving with the pace of a steep climb. It was no joke though and it wasn’t a good sign.

My stomach was playing up again and I needed to take a moment to myself. After a steep climb (on which a large sheep casually lay on the track without a care in the world) I left Darryl perched on a rock and I climbed higher to find a bit of privacy away from the trail. With my headlight off I found a moment to enjoy the surreal night sky. Stars glistening in the darkness with a slight glow highlight the mountain silhouettes all around. It was a special moment. Darryl had also enjoyed the starry sky without his head torch while he waited for me. As for my stomach, I was starting to think that the isotonic drink I was knocking back doesn’t agree with my stomach. I made a note not to have any more!

With our headlights back on we trudged forward. We slowly navigated around the mountain trail. Occasionally seeing head torches way off in the distance. Constantly swearing at the ground. At one point Darryl tripped and fell. Shortly after I did the same. We decided to ‘take a moment’ and sat ourselves on a rock, heads down in silence feeling sorry for ourselves as we tried to regain composure. A few minutes later we got back up to carry on and “get this over with”. We were barely covering any distance. Everything was so distorted. It felt like we were moving fairly quickly, but we just weren’t. It was slow going. We reached the river crossing that was noted in the race briefing, but that was straight forward. The water level was so low we didn’t event wet our toes. Eventually we could see head torches coming in a different direction. The border and turnaround point was within touching distance but yet so so far away. When we did eventually reach it we were mentally exhausted. Physically too, it was like we’d run 80km not 30 odd. Our neck and shoulders also ached from staring at the ground constantly.

The trail opened onto a wide access track. We were excited and then immediately disappointed as a few markings led us across and off the trail. Whilst it was a self navigation route, the course did follow the marked trail with the usual red/white markings (which we exceptionally visible having recently been painted – you could still smell the paint!!). Here though there were no trail markings. The path was barely visible (it’s just rock remember) and we followed what felt and locked logical in the darkness. Darryl’s watch beeped constantly indicating we were going wrong/off route. It was beeping so frequently I thought it was birds chirping away.

Eventually we found our way down and re-joined the wider access track. It was less rocky now and far more runnable. Our legs however had no running in them. We were probably close to 45km in but death marching like it was 95km. Slow steady steps forward. Amazingly as we made our way down the track we could occasionally see head torches way up high beginning the descent, still heading towards the border, probably not yet even at the river crossing. We counted maybe 6 or 7 lights still behind us. Some maybe even 2 hours behind. We were amazed after thinking we were right at the back.

In the distance a glow started to appear. The Zamsgatterl was coming into sight. By now though we’d been ‘crunching the numbers’ for a while and had come to the realisation that we wouldn’t be making the cut offs and would most likely be getting timed out. Not here though…

The first cut off was at 1pm (20hours) at Greizer Hutte. After that it would be 5pm (24 hrs) at the Kasseler Hutte. Before the Greizer Hutte though we had to climb and descend the two highest sections on the course. From Zamsgatterl a short flat section by the reservoir, then starting the steep climb to Schonbichler Horn, the highest point of the course. First passing another aid station the Furtschaglhaust. From the summit we’d then descend what would involve a very technical section with a rope. The pictures of it from the race briefing make out it is a difficult descent. After the descent off Schonbichler Horn we’d reach the Berliner hutte. Then another climb up Mörchnerscharte and down the other side to Greizer Hutte, This section is supposedly even more technical and difficult.

The descent off Schonbichler Horn (although we wouldn’t have had the snow covering this year)

It was a long and torturous journey ahead. We discussed continuing to Berliner Hutte, By which point we’d probably be timed out. There we could enjoy the views and rest at the mountain hut with a hot meal. And we’d get to experience the Schonbichler horn. This was now our aim if the reality of being timed out was as likely as we thought.

Arriving into Zamsgatterl we were deflated. The drop bags and seating/ aid station was outside on the trail. It was about 5:30 in the morning and very cold in the valley. We asked if there was an indoor area and we were led to a small back room. A sort of storage room for the hut. There was another runner sitting in there in full waterproofs trying to stay warm. He’d dropped from the race about an hour and a half earlier and was waiting for a lift back from the organisers once all runners had arrived/passed through.

The space wasn’t conducive to the rest we needed. The usual warm meal and change of clothing wasn’t going to happen smoothly. I quickly changed as we talked through the options. I chatted with the other runner who knew the area and course well. Darryl went to speak with the medic. My news was insightful, Darryl’s a little more tragic – he’d been told to withdraw and not continue on medical grounds. His Achilles was in a bad place and it would be very risky for him to continue. He handed his race number in. I stubbornly held onto mine refusing to succumb to the reality.

Basically John (the other runner) said we wouldn’t make the cut offs. That was clear. We needed at least 8 hours based on how long it had taken to cover the course so far. If I left immediately we had about 7.5 hours. The volunteers also confirmed I’d have to have left already to have any chance of making the 1pm cut off. Plan B and the tour to Berliner Hutte for food was also unfeasible. There would be no transport back from the Berliner hut (it was a few hundred meter climb up the mountain) and if I did get there, I’d have to walk about 10km back down to a main road to get any transport (and that would involve waiting for public buses in a Sunday to get to the other side of the mountain range). John did suggest I could climb the Schonbichler Horn, then turn around and come back to Zamsgatterl . But by which time I’d return, the runners and aid station would be gone and I’d probably have similar issues getting transport back to Mayrhofen.

I was slowly accepting the reality of the situation. It all made sense to drop here. To stop trying to go further. To take the option of a lift back and, most importantly be sensible – I did after all have to remember that in a week’s time is be on the start line of the Tor Des Geants 330km race. So this would actually be a blessing in disguise and not wreck my body before staring. I handed in my number too….

Probably about 30 mins later the volunteers drove a few of us back to the town of Ginzling – were we arrived after the first descent in the race. As we waited for the organisers to collect us from here, Paul woke up and came to collect us. By 8am we were showered and in bed. After a sleep the analysis began… on reflection we had no chance. This race isn’t for us. We aren’t strong nor fast enough to endure the terrain of the Mayrhofen z101.

After being an hour ahead of our race plan at Friesenberg-haus, by the time we reached Zamsgatterl we were almost 2 hours behind plan. That’s a massive swing and time difference in what was a fairly short distance. We’d planned to leave Zamsgatterl about 4am. Instead we were arriving near to 5:30am and feeling battered from the journey.

Whilst Zamsgatterl is a little under half way in terms of distance, John suggested it was closer to about a third of the way in terms of time (which would make sense from our own timings and what remained of the time to the final cut-off). The second half of the course being much harder and much more technical. John alluded to it being very similar to the block terrain we’d covered, added with the three big climbs, technical descents and a ridge crossing. Throw in the tired legs and it just becomes slower to navigate.

The “Block Terrain” hat makes up most of the distance after the Kasseler Hutte. Similar to what we traversed in the night.

He said someone he knew, who’d finished the race previously, had suggested that you probably need an ItRa index of at least 600 to finish it. For context both Darryl and I are high 400s. (I’m currently a little over 500 after a skewed result bunked my performance index up uncharacteristically). I looked up John after the race and he was high 500s. He himself was aiming for a 29hour finish and was over 1.5 hours ahead of us getting to Zamsgatterl. It was clear our plan and confidence was way off the mark and we’d truly underestimated the brutality and technicality of the race. the short section we’d managed to do in 2025 wasn’t representative of the rest of the route!

After the race finished, checking the results only 34 out of the 111 starters finished. That is an astonishing low finisher rate of 30% and a huge dnf (did not finish) rate of 70% in what was perfect conditions for the run. You’d normally expect the percentages to be the other way around and on a bad weather day an event’s dnf rate to creep to the 40% mark. 30%! We did not belong on this start line!

What was more telling was that all the finishers were way ahead of our splits. All the runners who finished in the final hour made it to the first aid station over an hour faster than us and all of them passed Zamsgatterl (where we dropped out) over 2 hours faster than us. Everyone inbetween was timed out at the first cut off at Greizer Hutte.

So on reflection it was the wise and sensible choice to stop when we did. Although we the wiser choice would have been to better research and understand the race and route and our compatibility before signing up for it (twice!) in the first place. We will live and learn. Maybe… Mayrhofen z101 is no doubt a spectacular event in an incredibly beautiful area. It also well and truly humbled us. I won’t be naïve enough to go back a third time!

The race profile showing where we reached (Zamsgatterl) and the profile that lay ahead…

Hips Don’t Lie

Published on October 27, 2021 by runwithdai2 Comments

The Cappadocia Ultra Trail (CUT) is a 119km trail run in the heart of Turkey. Set in the Cappadocia region, runners do a sort of figure 8 from Urgup. Exploring the historic landscape as they traverse the high plateaus and valleys from one side of Cappadocia to the other. The terrain in the region is made up of ‘tuff’ – a thick ash (from ancient volcanic eruptions) that solidified. In many places, millions of years of wind and water erosion has left behind incredible structures (like the Twin Fairy Peaks) and in others, humans carved the malleable material into vast networks of caves, living quarters and other structures, both above ground and below. A remarkable region that is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Like the course itself, the CUT for me was a race of two halves. The spoiler in my story is that the first half was the more difficult experience and, unusually, I finished the race much stronger than I started.

Each race is an experience and one to reflect on. Each time we run we learn something a little bit more out ourselves. This is why I like ultra running so much. I don’t think it ever actually gets easier. Hopefully we just get stronger and wiser and are able to deal with the challenges better. Going into the race I already new some mistakes I’d made even before I’d stepped a foot over the start line. I thought it would be my struggle to shake a mucus-y cold from the week before that would make the race harder. Turns out it was my own planning. I’d mentally prepared for 24 hours of running and, being further East than usual, and the sun setting earlier, I’d brought mostly caffeinated Tailwind. For some reason I didn’t question my choice to bring so much. And so I started with two bottles of caffeinated Tailwind at 7 in the morning. I was junked up and, along with the multiple morning coffees, It went straight through me! That exciting story unfolds as I recount the morning’s adventures…

Usual photo opportunity whilst everything is still being set up

The start line was a breeze. With about 20 minutes before the race start we’d walked down from the cave hotel we were staying in nearby, dropped off our bags and bumped into Sammy, Sarah and Harry. 5 minutes later we were waiting in the numbered holding pens and ready to go. The race began with a steep uphill section along the roads as we’d leave Urgup. I didn’t want to run the hill but was caught up in the dash of runners (and two stray dogs who’d some how made their way into the starting pens with the runners!). Before he’d shot off, Paul had explained that the trails were fairly narrow early on and that we could expect some bottlenecks. So I stuck with it, huffing and puffing my way up.

It was soon over and at around 7:30 in the morning we were running on the dusty trail paths with incredible views of the area and hundreds of hot air balloons floating in the sky above Goreme. Having taken a hot air balloon ride the day before it was a surreal experience to now be running the trails we’d seen from above. The trails weaved through the rock formations and faster more confident runners bounded past, hoping from rock to rock as the rest of us followed in single file down the gullies carved out as paths between them.

My morning mistakes immediately started to hit me as I could feel my stomach cramping. Too soon I repeated to myself internally. Too soon. I sipped the Tailwind solution, trying not to take the full caffeine payload too early, saving plenty of it for the later stage of this section. Soon we reached the first aid station situated along a road as we left the town of Ibrahimpasa and I topped up on water, watering down what was left of the existing Tailwind in one bottle and switching to the basic lemon flavour in the other, before carrying on whilst ramming some cake into my mouth.

The route took us down through the town and onto a path at the back of the houses/caves. The two dogs were still running with us and Coren caught me up. We ran together a little while weaving through the back paths, duck-walking our way through some tunnels and cave systems before we began the largest climb of the first half of the race and then making our way up and over a major road which had armed police stopping the traffic for runners. The route then took us down onto a phenomenal down hill trail through some white chalky rocks. It was steep and slippery. Here the runners were split into the more hesitant and the clearly very confident ones who bounded passed the rest, bouncing from side to side.

My body screamed at me the whole way as I looked for a place to escape off the trail. The landscape was barren and there was nowhere to grab a moment of privacy and I struggled on, no doubt pulling some questionable faces. A short while later the rocky section was over and we entered a section of golden forest. I saw my opportunity and took it. A sacrifice to the God of Thunder needed to be made. Relieved, I emerged back out and joined the train of runners. This section, leading to Goreme was glorious as the yellow leaved trees shone in the light of day and the trail teased its way through the forest.

A snippet of golden trails and white Tuff terrain

The route led us up and into Goreme, where I caught back up with Coren and Yvette who’d passed me. We ran together through Goreme, recognising it from the previous morning where we’d floated over the day before on our Balloon ride. Leaving Goreme we were stuck behind a smelly garbage truck on a narrow lane which turned my stomach even more. I thought I’d be over my issues now, but the last few kms had made me think otherwise. I wasn’t well that was for sure and the initial sacrifice had been rejected. We weren’t far from the next aid station but I didn’t know what to expect and felt unpredictable so was keeping my eyes peeled again.

We began the next, steep climb to the aid station in the town of Uchisar. Along the way was a tap, I filled my bottle to drink from, before deciding it probably wasn’t the best idea, so poured it over my head instead. As I reached the aid station I bid farewell to Coren and Yvette and went toilet hunting. After some language barriers and misdirection, I eventually found one in a Mosque. It wasn’t pretty but it was necessary and I was thankful for the privacy and a running tap. I washed my face and emptied an absurd amount of mucus and dust out of my nose before setting off out and hoping my body and mind would now work together.

With the delivery complete, my attention turned to the second issue or mistake I’d made and which had been masked by my previous distractions. Knowingly, I made a poor choice of footwear for the race – the Adidas Two Ultra Parley. A Good shoe that is comfy and decent for hard packed trails, but I find lacking in both stability and support. I took a risk and it was slowly proving to be a bad choice as the laces were causing pain in my metatarsals. Occasionally, sharp pain would shoot through my foot and I’d limp forward. I was going to have to address this soon, but for now I was running OK and the next aid station wasn’t far away as it was a short section of about 6 km as we’d loop around to the other side of Goreme.

I put my foot issues to the back of my mind vowing to loosen the laces when I next stopped. With my mind preoccupied, I don’t remember too much about those 6km other than passing a horse ranch and feeling like the shackles had been removed. My body was relieved and after 30k I was able to focus on the running. I caught up with Coren and Yvette again as we hiked some gentle climbs in the heat of the day. The sun reflecting back off the white ground. I mentioned I’d not used suncream and Yvette said she had some she’d give me at the aid station too. Soon I was sitting on the side of the road creaming up. The metatarsals on my left foot were screaming at me. I used the rest break as a chance to loosen those laces which I think were adding pressure to my foot (there is no padding on the tongue of these trainers). It helped a little. But before setting back out I recognised the next challenge I was facing (or soon to face) – with nearly 40k of running complete I realised I had eaten very little. After a huge breakfast, I wasn’t yet hungry, but soon would be. I grabbed some satsumas which were delightfully juicy and started to eat some of my snacks knowing that I was going to have to eat more to keep going!

Despite thinking I’d be low on energy from not eating, from aid station 3 I felt like I was flying. Besides the pain in my foot which I was still feeling, I was running carefree. There were some more incredible trails through woodlands and I overtook a few runners as I enjoyed the gentle downhills and small climbs. We went through some more fantastic rocky sections with huge caves (no ducking to get through these), as we ran passed what I think was the ‘Pigeon Loft Cave’. After the woodlands I emerged onto a long dusty/sandy straight back out in the open. I plodded on and started to notice it was a bit more windy now. I say a bit, I mean really windy. Up ahead I could see the dust swirling on the path and then it hit me. The wind. The dust. The combination. I could barely keep my eyes open even with my head turned away and facing down. I caught a glimpse of the sky, it was grey. A storm of some sort had hit us. I really hoped it wouldn’t last!

Ale caught this picture of the storm from when he was at the second checkpoint. I guess I’m in there somewhere!

The sun cream I’d recently applied meant the sand stuck to me. I was covered. Every time I went to drink I had a mouth full of dust as an accompaniment. Eventually I broke off the path and was now crossing a field with the wind behind me. I passed Sarah as we began another climb.

The climb was pretty scenic. Further up ahead there was a guy I recognised from Madeira two years ago – Maarten. We ran together a bit and swapped stories of the last two years and races (including both being at Val d’Aran a few months earlier). We were talking about how hot it was and how much water we had when a girl came up from behind, clearly struggling with the heat and pleaded if we had any water to spare. Luckily, knowing this was a longer section, I’d filled a third soft flask so had a spare 500ml which I gave her. She drank nearly all of it in seconds, gratefully thanked us then vanished off into the distance. She would have been one of the lead runners in the shorter 38km race which started a few hours after we did. Not long later we came across a make shift water station before the course split for the 38km race to head back to Urgup more directly as we detoured off to Cavusin.

We went left at the course split and began another scenic but slightly more technical trail that undulated along and down the side of the mountain. Mesmeric views of red rock formations were all around us as the trail led down to the next aid station where I continued to address my nutritional problems. I grabbed a full bottle of water, some coke, more satsumas and hot lentil soup and went to find myself a place to sit along a wall. I’d started to fill my belly as Maarten arrived and shortly later Yvette, completing the Madeira reunion. After a few mins I left them both sitting in the shade and carried on.

Incredible rock formations on the undulating descent

The next section towards aid station 5 began with a big steep climb as a snake of runners weaved up to the top of the mountain we’d just circumnavigated. It was very hot now in the middle of the day and the climb was exhausting. Up top the paths traced the edge of the mountain as we made our way back along the top, almost to where the course split had happened a few hundred metres lower down. The views were spectacular and way down below I could see runners on the trails we’d arrived on. I wondered to myself how far behind me they were. It would only be a few miles for sure.

View from the top with the trails visible lower down

The top of the mountain was fairly flat but rocky. I mixed up the running and walking as the trails were so visible so far ahead I couldn’t mentally commit to keep running it all. Eventually there was a very steep but short descent and we arrived at the next aid station. A small tent halfway up the mountain. As I sat and drank more and ate some food, I got chatting to two guys from Yorkshire. I wished them well as I left and began the last section of the first half of the race back to Urgup.

As I drank from one of my refilled Tailwind bottles, I noticed another error I’d made where I’d mislabelled a Tailwind portion and instead of lemon I had another caffeine one. Despite feeling more settled, it worried me a little and I didn’t want to repeat the morning’s mistakes which were still very fresh in my memory. So I tried to make sure I’d drink from that bottle last and prolong when I took in more caffeine. Thankfully it was only another 8k to the halfway point and I wasn’t likely to need a full litre.

The route was pretty as we traversed lots of gradual ups and downs and undulated along trails between farmland and areas of modern housing. There was lots of walking and I was starting to feel the effect of not fuelling early on. I knew I’d need to continue that process of addressing the imbalance at halfway, this time with more substance. As I walked I began talking to Omar from Jordan who was doing his first Ultra, the 63km. He was so friendly and smiley and enjoying his race, knowing he was on the home stretch. Shortly after seeing, as we approached the iconic Twin Fairy Chimneys, the 38km course re-joined our route and there were loads of other runners surrounding us. I had a momentary boost as I powered passed a bunch of them and felt a surge of arrogance and confidence in my performance and race. A timely mental boost to see me through to the halfway point!

We then reached another major road crossing manned by the police. I can see now that it is the same road from earlier in the day, just many miles further along. The Police stopped a car for me to pass and the driver started shouting out the window. It was Sammy. Amazing timing. I then descended down the red bricked pavement to the aid station. Wincing with pain as my foot broke my stride and technique. I’d been adapting my running for the passed two sections but now on the hard ground I was more than a little worried that the damage may done already.

Into half way I went. Sarah was already there and Sammy busy supporting and getting her ready to head back out. I grabbed my bag and went straight for the food asking for “everything”. I had some soup, pasta with tomato sauce and cheese and a giant potato to go with it. I then found a place on the grass to sit in the shade and went about executing my on-the-fly strategy. I removed my shoes and socks and let my feet catch some air whilst I ate. There was a blister that would need taking care of on my little toe. I’d been ignoring it as it had been giving me grief for a while and it was clear now why. A blood blister.

In between eating I’d clean and fix myself up – a wet wipe shower, removing dodgy tape from my toes that had peeled loose, reapplying it and addressing the blister. Yum. Yvette and Maarten had arrived and we all joked as I cramped trying to reach my feet. I ate the dry potato by dunking it in the soup. I was conscious I needed more salt intake too so grabbed some more cheese and finished off with a GU energy waffle, a bit of cake and some more juicy satsumas for dessert. A good feast was had. Eventually, 15mins longer than planned and an hour after arriving, I set back out with a change of trainers (Inov8 Trailroc).

From halfway I felt good. The change in trainers immediately helped my foot with the greater padding and support offered by the ever trusty Inov8s. The route crossed the road and onto a trail with an immediate short but very steep sandy decline. I was covered in stand as gravity pulled me down at speed I shouldn’t have after 60 odd kms of running. Great. I needed to stop and take off my shoes already. I found what looked like a rock and sat down. It was just a mound formed of the sand/dust though and it collapsed under me. I picked myself up, carried on and tried another rock with more success.

I remember running passed some cows in an enclosure as this section of the route led us more ‘off path’ and we ran through many fields and farmland. A few times we crossed back and forth over a small river. For a short while I was chatting to a guy from Cardiff as we spurred each other on through the lumpy terrain. We joked about the derby game that would happen on Sunday and I teased that we can’t be friends or run together as I dashed off ahead. The route then took us up the river we’d been criss-crossing. I ran up the river by following the narrow banks and jumping side to side trying to avoid getting wet feet. It was a long and smelly stretch that required a bit of focus as I didn’t want to step in the water as it didn’t seem all that clean and I was thinking of the open wounds on my toes which I’d sliced up at the halfway mark. I was glad to be navigating this in the light which was now diminishing as the sun was setting,

For a long time the moon lit up the path after the sun had set

I was beginning to feel stronger now and able to run consistently with no pain in my foot any more. As I ran I passed a woman and few guys together as we climbed another of the few smallish inclines this section had. They cheered me on and shortly afterwards we reached another town, Mustafapasa, as the moon took over now the sun had set. As we left the town and ran back onto the trail I put my torch on and gained pace on runners ahead who were still struggling with the low light or stopping to search in their backpacks for their torches. One guy clearly tried to keep up with me, probably knowing we weren’t far from the next aid station, and piggy-back on the light from my head torch. I was having none of it though and picked up the pace. I could hear him grunting as he dropped further and further back. I didn’t do it purely out of spite, but more so because of the sound of his poles. The sound of other runners’ poles tip-tapping on the ground really annoys me in races.

From here I ran all the way into the next aid station. It was a smallish one just off the main path. I sat down and began drinking Coke and eating pieces of apple. The volunteers here were very friendly and supportive. One volunteer asked if I wanted salt. I didn’t, but I did think it was a good idea as my legs were very tender and with the cramping I suffered at half way I dived straight in, pouring the sachet straight into my half drunk Coke. Ew. What was I thinking. Salty coke was not pleasurable. It was knocked back though.

As I left the aid station another runner caught me up and asked me if I wanted music. I absolutely fucking did not want any music. I like music. I hate it on a trail run though. I hate it even more at night when running and it was a beautiful night so far. Peaceful. Clear skies. Glistening moon and stars with the lack of light pollution. Nope, I didn’t want that spoilt with some tin-cup music out of a phone speaker. I think my blunt reaction made it awkward as we were then walking/running together in silence. He also had poles tip-tapping on the floor, so I used a small climb as a chance to take a piss and let him go on ahead. Thankfully that worked and I never saw him again.

We then began a monstrous climb. I knew this was coming, but was secretly hoping one of the many smaller ones leading up to it was actually the ‘big ‘un’. Sadly my attempt to count the hills had failed. Although this was one of the biggest climbs on the course, at 500m it shouldn’t be particularly troublesome. But, unexpectedly it was like a sand dune. So dusty/sandy. Every step my foot would submerge to the ankle. It made the climb slow and difficult. Nothing else to do though other than keep trekking along. The subsequent descent was no better and the run down very sandy also. I gave in to the pain and discomfort and let gravity take control and I just ran it all (it felt superhuman at the time, but it was only about 3km), kicking up sand everywhere. I was constantly coughing and found it difficult to breathe and see as I made my own mini sand storms (the light from the head torch struggled to penetrate through all the dust). I passed Sarah on the down hill and powered into the aid station.

I felt good. For a while I’d been thinking that a sub 20 hour finish was possible. I was averaging around 9min 30 per km throughout so had about 30 minute buffer on a 20 hour finish time. However, each climb would eat away at that average and we had three big climbs to get through in this second half. The run down after the first one had a big impact though and I clawed back nearly 10 mins. However that soon vanished… As I sat down at the aid station and emptied the sand out of my shoes, I asked for soup. I still needed to keep fuelling properly to sustain the final 30km push. The soup was so hot though that I had to wait for it to cool a bit. As I did I got very cold sitting there so dug out the arm warmers. Those minutes gained were ticking away so I used the time to plan ahead and rearranged my bag making sure I had more food accessible and also changed my head torch battery now so I wouldn’t have to do it again later on. As I was faffing, Sammy arrived and shortly afterwards Sarah did too. We all moaned about the ‘sandy bastard’ and got excited for the soup!

With my soup consumed I set back out, accepting that a 20 hour finish was probably now out of reach and distracted by the cold. I was hoping I’d soon warm up from running/hiking which, thankfully I did. Although I immediately then had cold feet when the route took us across a wider/fuller river section which I spectacular mis-timed my attempt to jump across. Dammit.

I began the second of the big climbs. This one about 400m. It was a decent path though with a wide track and it was not as steep as the previous one. I was thankful it was more forgiving than the last climb and hiked up quickly. Up top was a longer flattish section than the previous mountain. I powered on in full ultra hike mode. I was averaging 9 minute kms when walking. This was faster than my average pace and faster than the 10min kms average I needed to sustain a sub 20 finish. I stated to believe a little again but couldn’t be bothered to run and didn’t need too – as we joked the next day, I’ve a pretty good power hike and I teased its all inspired by Shakira and ‘hips don’t lie’. I was in a happy state now and was content with however it would finish from here. Two more aid stations to go and still enough time for ten mins rest at each. I believed it was back on.

As I walked this whole section I vividly pictured a flip-book cartoon of my inner body system functioning through races. I’ve often described to friends how I visualise the ‘boys in the command centre’ who run the show from the inside. This time I saw them all. All the internal body parts and their controllers, the conversations and messages flowing through the command centre. The instructions being followed to process the food, to engaged the legs and run, power up the power hike mode and so on. It kept me entertained for quite a while. Maybe one day I’ll attempt to draw it out.

I ran the descent and once more made up some time. I pushed it for another 3 km or so until I arrived at the aid station in Karlik. It was so hot inside the building. I took water and left straight away. I felt strong and I didn’t need a rest nor the sweltering heat of the aid station. There was 20k left to go and I felt surprisingly good. I had everything I needed after my bit of prep at the last stop and knew the soup would kick in sooner or later, plus I had Kendal Mint Cake ready to eat and get a sugar high from. So I just cracked on.

There was one big climb and descent left to the final aid station. My optimism after leaving Karlik was soon diminished though. The climb was off path. It was very uneven underfoot with lots of rocks, uneven lumps of foliage and dirt and at some points quite steep climbs. It was not going to be as forgiving as the last section. I kept on walking. I passed a few runners and a few familiar faces passed me. One couple I’d caught up with were running very consistently. We leapfrogged each other now on and off for a few km as when I hiked a climb I’d power passed and they’d eventually overtake me on the flatter parts running. I gave into the temptation to keep playing this game and followed in behind them as we began the descent. It was technical. Not super technical but rocky and steep none-the-less. It was rather painful on the now very sore feet. Clearly they’d left one of the hardest sections to the end of the race! I wasn’t in a happy place any more.

It felt like a lifetime to get to the final aid station. But eventually I did. There was nothing here to entice me to hang around as it was just a tent on the mountain. So I filled my water and joked with the volunteers. Next stop, the finish line. 10 km to go. I’m outta here…

The first task was a final, shorter climb up the mountain again. From here a short stint along the top once more before descending down the other side. Once up top I began running. It was still rocky terrain, but everything was falling into place again. There is always a point in a race, no matter how far from the end you are where you know you’ll get to the finish. I’d passed that point and was full of belief. The energy levels and confidence were high. After so much caffeine over the last 20 hours I was wide awake (all the Tailwind I’d drank since 5pm at halfway was caffeinated!). I caught up a lot of people as I began to descend, confidently whizzing past them. Another guy up front looked familiar. It was Paul! I wasn’t expecting to see him but here he was. I screamed out to him, terrifying him in the process. I carried on running the downhill and he soon fell in line and began running with the momentum too.

A short while later we came off the trails. We were somewhere in Urgup now. Maybe 3 km to go. Here the route twisted around the town as we’d make our way back to the start. A long gradual climb through the streets was not an exciting finish. Even less so was the very, very steep but short hill as we went through a building site and some back ally near a fancy hotel. It was probably the steepest climb on the course! Thankfully though it was then downhill to the finish as we hit a cobbled side street down to the start line.

Unplanned, we crossed the finish together. Maria and Ale, the legends, were there at 02:30 in the morning to cheer us in. Their support at this ridiculous hour was incredible after their own exhaustions of running their own races earlier too. Shortly after finishing we heard the sad news that Yvette had withdrawn at 100km. An incredible achievement to get so far on a very difficult route and enduring her own struggles over the 20 hours. We grabbed our stuff and finishers merch and headed back up to the caves (great, more climbs!) where we found her waiting in the cold outside the rooms.

Cappadocia was done and, for Paul, redemption after his DNF (did not finish) a few years earlier. I finished the race in 19 hrs 24 mins. Far faster than I was expecting and a strong finish in 76th position sharing joint second Brit with Paul hahah.

On reflection, I’ve no doubt that my strength in this event was my adaptability and able to think forward. I was acutely aware that it’s a long game. It always is. I’d mentally settled in for 20-24 hours of running. So when it was all a struggle early on I could think clearly that what I did now (at that moment) would affect me later on. It wouldn’t help immediately. There is no secret pill or easy fix in ultra running. You can enjoy the moment but you have to be thinking ahead. Hours ahead. In this case knowing after a troublesome first 30km a bonk was inevitable if I didn’t address the problems and start fuelling properly. I’m proud of myself for this one and turning it around before it got the better of me. All hail the boys in the command centre!

Looking back over the data from my run, I’m impressed with how my second half pace and speed per section didn’t drop off too much from the first half, despite factoring in the elevation, difficult terrain and general fatigue. The second half was very consistent. The chart of my race position ranking constantly improving after my early difficulties in the first 30km also brings a smile to my face. A satisfying end to the race indeed!

Lake District

Published on September 9, 2021September 10, 2021 by runwithdai1 Comment

As a UK-based runner and self-proclaimed lover of mountains and the outdoors, the Lake District is often described as the place to be. I’d never been. That all changed and finally, after a few failed trips, I made it to the Lake District for the first time. Of course there was a race involved – what better way to spend a weekend and to see as much as possible than with a race. Enter the Grand Tour of Skiddaw.

It was August 2021 and I was a little blue. The cause is known to me. A combination of the elation of achieving and finishing the Val D’Aran by UTMB was always going to result in a downer as I awaited the next adventure, that coupled with an ongoing niggle to my Achilles which has left me running just once a week (yeah I know, that should probably be zero not once…) and then the cancellation of the next big adventure – the Stranda Fjord – after being unable to travel to Norway. So when I found out a few mates were heading up to the Lakes for a race on bank holiday weekend, I quickly signed up for the adventure too.

The Grand Tour of Skiddaw (GTSs) is a 45 mile loop taking in two of the Wainwright’s – High Pike and Skiddaw. The course profile looked mild on paper with a circa 2,000m of elevation over the 45 miles. It also looked fairly down hill and runnable from the final climb to Skiddaw around half way.

Unfortunately, Jules had to pull out of the race a few weeks before, but kindly drove us up and dropped Jon, Yvette and I off at Lime House School (and a grand school it was!) where we soon met Al and Livvy (who Jon was coaching for the race) at the start line. It was fairly low key with a little over 100 runners towing the line.

Gaynor, the Race Director from Pure Sport Events, gave us a pre-race briefing, dibbed us all in and shouted “go” through the microphone. The small crowd of runners started trudging off out of the school and on to the wonders of the Lake district.

The first section was relatively flat (by the race profile anyway!) as we meandered through lush green fields of farmland with freshly compressed hay bails, passed by the impressive building of Rose Castle and followed the river towards Caldbeck, where the first (and last) aid station would be.

The terrain was varied as we followed each other in single file along the narrow track paths. Yvette quickly started to disappear in the distance as Jon, Al and I chatted and trotted along. We’d formed a little pack with a group of others who caught us up and were happy not to pass by but to keep the pace we were doing.

Those 7 or so miles to Caldbeck whizzed by quickly as the cool morning started to warm up. The brief stop in Caldbeck saw me stash up with Jaffa cakes and crisps as we prepared for the first climb to High Pike. The climb was fairly forgiving. Wide switch backs breaking up the steepness of the hillside. Jon and I settled into a solid hike and powered up. By now the field of runners was starting to spread out.

Before long we passed the boothy near the summit and grabbed a quick photo at the Trig point. My first ever Wainwright! I won’t be trying to ‘bag’ all 214 of them! We were soon picking up the pace as we began to descend between Drygill Head and Great Lingy Hill. Way off in the distance, we caught a feint glimpse of Yvette with her bright yellow Salomon pack acting like a beacon in the fells.

The descent took us down a few hundred metres alongside a stream. The route, although expertly marked, was tricky to follow as it was lumpy with wild growth and slippery from the wet ground near the stream. It wasn’t the quickest descent and I was glad to see the end of it with my ankles feeling rather tender by the end. I’d gotten a little ahead of Jon by now but carried on running as it felt good, knowing he’d catch me up sooner or later.

The next section wasn’t particularly pleasant despite the incredible views it offered. It was a very gradual incline path that was visible all the way off in the distance as we ran towards Skiddaw House Hostel. It was also a little rocky, so the ankles didn’t quite get the rest they were hoping for. I kept running. Here I caught up with Yvette after a good period of consistent running and then we carried on together passed the Hostel and up to the next aid station at the base of the climb to Skiddaw. As we refuelled, Jon arrived just moments behind us.

A tiring run along the slight rocky incline

The climb to Skiddaw was by far the biggest and steepest of the course. It was without doubt the main point and highlight of the race, pretty obvious seeing as the race is named after the peak! A rocky/gravel track zig zagged up the mountain. It was fairly steep in parts and made for slow and steady going. It was a good workout for the legs that was for sure. The further we climbed though, the more the mist obscured the no doubt fantastic views.

Posing for Jules on the climb to Skiddaw

We passed two guys who were running as one of the ‘pairs’ – a category of two people entered together and would run entirely together through to the finish. One was suffering cramps quite badly. Yvette stopped to help as Jon and I carried on. I thought that might be the end of them!

It wasn’t long before we were reaching the summit. Here we’d have a slight out and back section to the Trig point and an opportunity to ‘ring’ the race bell. We each took our turn ringing the bell before turning around to begin the descent down towards Longside, Ullock Pike and Barkbeth Hill. This descent was fast, steep and slightly daunting. The misty mountain summit made visibility slightly difficult and the loose scree made the descent slippery. A lot of concentration was required with a steep drop off on one side. I sped down and looked back to see Jon and Yvette as small dots on the mountain side.

The descent continued as we rolled up and down past Longside where, just as I reached Ullock Pike, I stopped and laid down to enjoy the view over Keswick and Bassenthwaite Lake just below as I waited for Jon and Yvette to catch up. They stopped for a little bit too and we persuaded a hiker to snap a picture for us before we carried on. As we approached Barkbeth Hill the descent became a little steeper and technical once more. As we eased down, the pair of runners caught us up. A solid recovery from the cramping. As we bottomed out we all ran into the farm together for the next aid station and a welcome break to top up food and liquids.

Enjoying the views (and a waffle) from Ullock Pike

From here we encountered what I thought turned out to be one of the harder sections of the race, mentally at least. It was a 5 mile section along the road from Orthwaite as we made our way back towards Caldbeck. The roads were very straight and undulating and offered no protection from the sun which was now intense in the mid afternoon. It was slow and arduous progress as we ran and walked in equal measures. After what felt like an eternity the road gave way and we climbed the last of the ‘major climbs’ near Fell Side along well maintained hiking paths to re-join the route back where we began the climb to High Pike many hours earlier. From here we knew it was just a km or two back to Caldbeck and the final aid station. We trudged on and had the aid station to ourselves.

Here we had plenty of attention from the volunteers and enjoyed a few good chats and plenty of laughter. We stayed a while and begrudgingly decided we’d better leave and begin the final 12km back to the school. Leaving the aid station we passed Gillian and Jules who’d come outside their accommodation of the Oddfellow arms to cheer us all on. This was the only time I was glad I wasn’t staying with everyone else here (I was closer to the finish, staying near Rose Castle). Running 12km away from the accommodation was not something I would have enjoyed!

Before long we were back on the trails and winding along the river and fields once more. Jon and I had left Yvette slightly behind us in Caldbeck and gone on ahead of her. I felt bad. We kept going though. Mostly alone just the two of us other than one runner who caught us up and passed us. Running along side the river we felt we’d gone wrong. We had. We’d missed a turn into the final field somehow (there was a sign pointing back against us, we’d assumed it was from earlier in the day). We back tracked, adjusted the sign, and were on course again, not far to go, just to small climb out of the field and into the school grounds remained. Back to where it all began.

We rounded the school grounds down to the field the the rapturous applause and cheers from the volunteers. Jon and I ambled over the line and celebrated with a hi five as the volunteers took our trackers and gave us our medals. For a moment they also thought we were the first ‘pair’ as we’d run together. If we’d entered as a pair we would indeed have won that category! Shortly after us the pair did finish which was the two guys (Mike and Andy) who we’d shared much of the section after the Skiddaw descent together. We cheered them in and bought them a beer to celebrate. There goes probably my only chance to claim a podium spot! Behind them, Yvette followed in and together we all celebrated with pizza and beer as we waited and cheered in Al and the Livvy too.

The finish line vibes were excellent as the volunteers all cheered and celebrated with the runners. They fed us incredible home made sweet potato and coconut soup (made by Gaynor!) and had set up their own pub – The Stagger Inn – at the finish line for runners to enjoy. I loved the friendliness of the event and all the staff and the organisation was top notch. The route was expertly marked and as far as I could tell everything ran smoothly. The finishers medal was also great with a high quality medal made from local slate. Another first for me.

What a great way to end a fabulous adventure and running with friends in a new place. An incredible first experience of the Lake district. It certainly helped lift me a little out of the blues.