Last year I ran the Stour Valley Path 100km (SVP100). I found it tough going. This year I went back for more. There was a slight twist this time round – I already knew other runners and I’m far more experienced (where as the SVP100 2017 was my 2nd Ultra, the SVP100 2018 was my 5th of the year!). I Met Chris on the course last time out and we were both going back and we’d been in touch about running it together from the start. I also knew Ged (when we met at Race to the Tower) and had talked him into joining us (he was way too easily convinced!).
Ged
Chris
Prep wise, I knew I was ready after a few months of Ultras and that the distance was a given. But I remember the course being tough and my mind has jumped forward to The CCC in just 3 weeks time. I didn’t want to get injured!
Much of the day had blurred into a few memories. The three of us started together and ran 13 hours together to the finish line together. Naturally there was a hell of a lot of chat and laughter as well as silence and the low points. Over the course of 100km you pass many sites and trees (and along the SVP route also churches and bridges!!) and it becomes difficult to process them apart. So I thought, as this is the first time I’ve completed the same event twice, I’d revisit and compare the memories from last year to this….
Why I ran the course
(2017) Post RTTS I had the craving, I’d sampled something I liked and I wanted more. I wanted it soon. I started looking and I found this local(ish) 100km and didn’t hesitate to sign-up. Race day just 3 weeks away.
(2018) I enjoyed last year, I want to work towards a black t-shirt (as I’m a simpleton!) and as part of my 12 month challenge the race slotted nicely into the month of August without too much hassle or cost.
The Organisation
(2017) The SVP100 had under 100 competitors – that said, the amount of effort and input to organise such an event is still mammoth undertaking. There is no doubt a greater reliance on support and volunteers to make the event go to plan (which a number of local running teams support). The team did a great job with information, route planning, training guides and support throughout the day.
(2018) Somethings had changed, there were close to the limit of 200 entries this year. In addition, for the first time there was the SVP50. This meant that there was a single starting wave for the SVP100 and far more runners (and grouped together along the course). Despite all this, the organisation remained slick and ran perfectly. Without the volunteer’s enthusiasm and support this wouldn’t be possible!
We arrived at the start to an immediate count down to begin. This was the attempted pre-race group photo!
My Race:
(2017) There was pretty much no training for this one. I was counting on the fitness I’d built over the past few months and the fact that I’d continued running since RTTS.
(2018) Again there was no specific training, although over the year I’ve run further, fast, harder than ever before and had already completed 9 races ( 5 marathons and 4 ultras), so I was in great shape. More importantly, I’m more experienced and wiser to the challenge of ultra running.
(2017) Once again I met a fellow runner, Andy, on the train out to the starting point. Andy and I set off together, both with the intention of making a certain train we’d booked back to London later that evening.
(2018) Whilst Andy wasn’t here this time, I was already setting out to Run with Chris and Ged. More people, more fun. I’d still booked a train home, although I was more calculated this time with a 13 hour target and enough time to wash and eat afterwards!
(2017) I started out with a little niggle in my right knee felt from a run the week before. Whilst I felt comfortable starting the race, within 10 miles I could feel some discomfort as a result of the hard ground and grooves from tractor ruts (there was plenty of ankle rolling this day!).
(2018) I was ready for the terrain this year. Having been through it before I knew what to expect. The scorching summer was going to make the ground very hard and challenging, but two days of rain before the day was a blessing! Limited ankle rolling this year as I’m now more accustomed to my foot placement when running!
(2017) As the miles ticked by, Andy powered on, I was now out on my own, head down, miles to go until the next checkpoint. This race was a real learning curve for me. There were long, lonely stretches where I went almost whole check points without seeing other runners.
(2018) this time, whilst the miles ticked down, there was no loneliness. The company was ever present and besides running with Chris and Ged the course was constantly peppered with runners. Through the early single track paths, to the gradual scattering of the field, after halfway through the course, on leaving Sudbury we ran into (literally into) a large group of runners from the SVP50. This added to the vibe and atmosphere and gave us all plenty of opportunity to chat away the miles and take out mind off the run.
(2017) It dawned on me that I entered the SVP100 with preconceptions. Incorrect expectations even. I had the mind set of “I did the RTTS in 11 and a half hours, I’ll beat that time here”. Wrong. Different race, different place. No two are the same as I was about to find out. I realised that the course was flatter (I think) than the RTTS so without noticing I’d spent more time running and less time walking and recovering. I’d exerted myself more and thus tired sooner.
(2018) No preconceptions this year. I knew the race was tough. I knew the challenge it would bring. I did however learn once again that it is probably tougher than I think. It is a very very flat course with minimal elevation gain (just c 2,000ft) over the 100km. Whilst that means there are few hills to force you to walk, rest and eat, it also means you are for long stretches running and using the same muscle groups. The fatigue is more noticeable!
(2017) I also didn’t adapt as I ran. One example that came back to hurt me after the race was when I felt some discomfort in my back, something had shifted in my pack and instead of stopping and addressing it, I decided to continue to the next checkpoint to sort it out, some 7 miles later. Mistake, I was in agony for days afterwards and it was only two months later on a holiday that a friend (qualified physio) noticed the lump in my back and massaged it out!
(2018) History almost repeated itself here. Once again I felt something in my back. My hydration system was causing me hassle (sometime after the 4th Checkpoint). This was the first time I’d experienced it. Whilst I was too stubborn to address it straightaway, I did eventually sort it out before it was too late. I decided to drink all the water and remove the bladder. There was some discomfort as a result from the content of the bag but I’m not expecting any lasting pain this time round!
(2017) Later in the day I met Chris shortly after the half way checkpoint. We ended up sticking together for the rest of the course, both tiring and relying on each other to get through what was left.
(2018) Well you know what happened here! I met him before the start and crossed the line with him! Impressively Chris received his 5 Star black t-shirt this day!
(2017) Come the final check point the sun was setting and the temperature dropping. we’d slowed to a hobble and decided that we were both happy to walk the final 4 miles (it was probably faster than we were running at this point).
(2018) The final checkpoint was a little demon for me. I didn’t want a repeat of last year. I wanted to know how we went wrong and to run it in the day light. We reached the checkpoint with the sky starting to darken. An attentive Pierre refilled my bottles, received a sweaty hug and sent us off on our way. The last five miles were covered in day light, with what felt like a strong pace and desire to get to the finish. There were no wrong turns this year but I still couldn’t understand how we ended up going so wrong last year!
(2017) Eventually we reached the finish to a great welcome from the volunteers still working through the night.
(2018) The finish didn’t feel like an “eventually” thing this year but an “inevitable”. We started together, and we finished together. We came in just under 13hrs, a target I had in my mind before we set off. This couldn’t have gone any more to plan!
Start Together, Finish Together
On reflection, 2018 was more enjoyable than 2017. Not because of the faster time, the better feel of the run, but because of the company. It is so corny to say it, but it makes a difference. I enjoy running, but I’m not competing with anyone (the winner popped a sub 9hr time!!!). The achievement is the completion and the journey you take to get there. It is such an amazing thing to share with someone and I enjoyed every moment of the day spent with Chris and Ged. It was challenging, it was tough, but together we got through it. At different points in the day we all felt great and we all felt low (I hit a particular dark place just before we reached 30miles), but the camaraderie of each other dragged us out of those holes each time.
Besides those two, there were a plethora of familiar faces around the course. From Matthew (the race Director), Mark Parry (whom we ran with shortly after checkpoint two before I vanished into the distance), Steve Skinner who came bounding past with a smile on his face later in the race, Clair on the SVP50 who was fighting her own battles and wining, Pierre the bearded wonder manning the final checkpoint, Lenny who popped up in a field with his camera at hand to snap some race photos and also James Poole who I got to meet for the first time – whom casually popped out a 50km after smashing the NDW100 last week and then preceded to appear at every single checkpoint supporting through the 25+ Advent Runners out on the course! (not to mention those familiar faces of Coren, Dan and Sophie who I didn’t get to see on the day).
The memories of last year came flooding through thick and fast as I recalled the wrong turns we took, where something happened, where I met chris and so on. The corn field I remembered so vividly was missing though, nothing but a waste land of spikey bastard foliage this year. A shame. Chris was determined not to get us lost this year and expertly navigated us through the course with the occasional subtle acceptance of “off course” before we strayed too far in the wrong direction.
The one concern I took away was the amount of chaffing and discomfort I experienced in this race. My inner thighs, my waist, my nipples, my watch rubbing on my wrist and the awkwardness of my bladder in my pack all raised concerns in my mind. They were dealt with, but I don’t understand why these all caused me hassle that I’ve mostly never experienced before. A slight concern I need to think about before the CCC!
Towards the end of the race, as the comments of “not far to go2 and “Last mile” were muttered by passers-by, I knew we could stil achieve that sub 13hr. It was meaningless really and second to us all finishing together. But the determination we all pulled out to step up and rise to the challenge was incredible. Crossing the line together was the finishing touch to the achievement and personal victories!
My final thoughts, the SVP100 is tough. Very tough. You get 4 UTMB qualifying points from this race and they are very much earnt! You run endlessly, the terrain is hard and uneven (not rocky, ridgeway uneven, but dried mud uneven) and your legs take a pounding. I definitely ache more after this event than many of the others I do. Don’t under estimate the Stour Valley Path!
Back in January I opened an email that told me I’d secured a ballot place in The CCC – A mountain race that is part of the Ultra Trail World Tour (UTWT). I shit myself. I was scared. Why? because this is a race that spans 3 countries over 100km, >6,000m of elevation gain and has a strict 26 hour time limit to complete it. That, is The CCC!. Luckily by this point I’d met some amazing trail runners who were there to support me. Jana, who will also be doing the race this year after having to defer entry from last year, and Yvette, who soon volunteered to crew me. I’ve also received much support from Jack and Maggie who have both also completed this gruelling challenge.
After much persuasion, Yvette convinced me to get out to the Alps and experience the course. I’m going to write separately about some learnings from the ‘recce’, but for now I shall recap the weekend. A weekend I’d planned around covering as much of the course as possible, whilst not taking any time off work. I’m wise like that.
The plan seemed straightforward enough – Fly to Chamonix (France) after work on Friday, stay overnight before getting a bus to Courmayeur (Italy), running approximately 40km to La Fouly (Switzerland), staying overnight before running another 40km to Vallorcine (France) in time to get the last train back to Chamonix. I’d then fly back to London first thing on Monday to go straight to work. Simple.
The plan made sense to me. Yvette did all the hard work in arranging the accommodation and logistics. I set my mind to breaking down the run based on the actual route of The CCC, checking the regulations and timings of the different checkpoints I’ll experience on race day. This is when I first saw the flaws in my plan. It was going to be very tight! The weekend was about the experience and that also means enjoyment. I was now introducing an element of pressure by setting time targets we simply had to meet, (If we didn’t make it to La Fouly in time, we wouldn’t get to sleep, if we didn’t make it to Vallorcine in time, we’d be stranded and face an expensive taxi back!), these targets were based on the cut-off times to be allowed to leave the checkpoints and continue the race. I was confident it would be OK, Yvette was a little concerned, and rightly so – I’d been training for this. She hadn’t. Regardless, it was the only plan we had.
The plan: Get to CP 4 on day 1 and CP 7 on Day 2. Simple.
So here is how the plan unfolded and the adventure that we went on, one experience, from two different perspectives….
Day 1
We were supposed to get to Chamonix well before midnight. Rest up ready to tackle the run. Severe weather in Geneva though meant our flight was delayed by over two hours. There was one final transport bus from Geneva to Chamonix departing at 23:59. As we disembarked the plane at 23:45 we were already deflated and acceptance of the almighty taxi expense we were facing. Dammit. This wasn’t on my expected list of issues we’d possibly encounter. Having been to Chamonix numerous times before, Yvette rushed me to where the bus normally departs. It was 00:06. Remarkably it was still there. Our deflated emotions picked up as Yvette caught the attention of the driver as he was climbing into the cabin. Some pointless and aggressive gesturing later, he let us on to the bus. Crisis averted. Yvette to the Rescue.
Nearing 02:00 we arrived in Chamonix and made our way to the lodge, let ourselves in per the instructions left and proceeded to arrange our bags and get ready to depart. With an 08:30 bus to catch we’d be up at 07:00. Geez, we were going to be shattered. Before we knew it, the alarms were buzzing, we were bumping into each other trying to turn them off. Quick breakfast of champions (two twinkie type cakes and a coffee) and we were off. We left out bags in the storage (we’d stop here again on Sunday night also) and took with us everything we’d need to be autonomous for 2 days of running (with the expectation of a meal in Switzerland later that night!).
Yvette: Successfully passing through security with our poles packed in the hand luggage, we faced a 2-hour delay. This meant missing our 10:30pm EasyBus pick up and potentially missing the very last bus of the day heading into Chamonix. Not a great start to our trip. Once we made it through Geneva passport control, it was already after midnight, but we tried our chances and rushed to the bus station hoping to see the tacky orange rundown looking EasyBus. Wahoo…it was still there. Relief! Finally arriving at Chamonix at 1:45am, feeling very sleepy walked to Chamonix Lodge, darkness everywhere apart from the odd streetlight. Pretty certain Dai asked what that dark thing in the distance was…err it’s the silhouette of a mountain. Not sure if he was messing with me or if he was genuinely clueless and baffled (Dai: Just ignorantly naïve!). We prepared our gear and went to bed at 3am.
Our bags were heavy and stuffed full. Yvette’s more than mine as she’d borrowed a bigger bag from Jon. We arrived in Courmayuer and set about finding some bread for the journey. There was only one thing we could do to carry it – flatten it and stick it in an elastic side pocket on my Montane Jaws race pack. This was going to get sweaty! A quick pause to take in the village, a picture taken by a local and we started ‘running’. I say ‘running’, it wouldn’t be for another 5 hours that we’d do any actual running!
The start in Courmayeur
On leaving Courmayeur, the first 10km is all up hill, or up mountain rather! Starting at about 1200m, you run along the steady inclines as the roads wind up until Ermitage (1500m) before the trails begin. From here the path takes us into a forest trail and the climb continues until it opens onto the bare mountain at Suche Damon (about 5km in and 1800m up). We’d been following the GPX on the Sunnto watches, and so far, so good. Carrying on around the path though we were soon deviating from the route. Tracking back and searching around the building revealed no other routes. I was confused. Back and forth we went before eventually a local runner came down from the path. Yvette knew enough Italian to have a conversation and he led us back to the building and directed us through the outhouses to a path. How confusing! This worried me a little, the ease at which we were lost.
Yvette: First 20min of the CCC route takes you along the residential streets before you hit the forest. I don’t think there was one point where we ran this; it was a long uphill road. Then as you enter the forest you realise how steep it quickly gets.Despite having the GPX route on our watches it was still confusing knowing which way to go, and immediately we couldn’t make out whether we had go through someone’s back garden or continue along this trail path which did not look right according to our watches. I took the opportunity to ask a runner coming towards us and in my broken Spanish/Italian managed to figure out that we did have to go behind the house.
All Smiles at the start
Onward we continued, and the path required us to climb down and cross several glacier streams. I’ve never seen anything like this before. The Ice carved into the mountain, frozen solid but leaking water underneath. I soon slipped on my arse. Luckily no damage was done but a wakeup call served!
Yvette: We reached a section where you cross over rocks with water flowing through it. Not sure how, but Dai slipped and fell on his arse, not quite so gracefully, but had to laugh.
What is this?
As the climb continued, the path again opened, and we were presented with some incredible views. There was also this wooden structure from times gone by. It was a great photo opportunity, but I genuinely do not know what it is (any ideas?). Continuing on, we misread some signs and ran the wrong way. Only we hadn’t realised for quite some time and, once again, some other runners and Yvette’ Italian came to our rescue and took us back to the signs. We struggled to keep up with them running back down but did have time for a quick chat. One of them revealed he has entered The CCC 5 times and failed to complete it 5 times! He claimed it was the mental challenge the beats him. Again, worried? Yeah, a bit! Anyway, with an extra little climb added to our trek, we continued, being sure to keep to the left path and the next intersection as advised.
Don’t trust me, I’m pointing in the wrong direction!
We were now facing a climb of about 600m over 2km. It was steep! It was vast and open with a dirt trail littered with rocks and boulders, winding its way up the side of the mountain. I powered on ahead of Yvette and had my mind focused on the summit. I reached it. It wasn’t the summit. Damn. I’d actually reached Col Sapin at 2435m. This was an intersection of many paths and mine would continue up further to 2571m and Tete de la tronche. Oh well. As I continued I past several other hikers doing the TMB (Tour du Mont Blanc – an 11-day trek of the region) and I chatted with an American Mum and daughter. Whilst I waited at the top for Yvette I messed around with some Instagram stories, my own sort of video journal of the trip. It mostly involved swearing. I’d just climbed over 1200m across a 10km.
The views at the top were breath-taking. I could see down into the distance and the path we’d take. A nice steady downhill all the way to the Refuge where the first checkpoint would be. The weather was suddenly questionable, but the waterproofs stayed in the bag. Finally, after 4 hours we could run.
Yvette: On track, we then came to the first beastly climb, Tete de la Tronche (2584m), winding up, a slow hike to the top, with my head down and not focusing on where Dai was (he was like a little tiny black dot in the distance getting further away from me, damn him!) finally made it. As the saying goes, ‘the best view comes after the hardest climbs’ and it certainly didn’t disappoint. A few videos and selfies (including a peeing with a view pic in the middle of the mountains, standard) we could see the weather starting to change, spitting rain it was time to move and head to Bertone. What was really cool was seeing where the trail path continued from Tete de la Tronche. You could trace it with your finger right across the mountain until it disappeared.
Finally freedom to run.
We hit the Refuge Bertone (1970m) shortly after and it was full of people on their TMB treks. We refuelled on the soggy (sweaty!) bread (on which I nearly choked inhaling it!) and set off again. On to the second Refuge on our path. We left after nearly 5 hours which was pretty much bang on my target for this weekend. Not bad considering we’d stopped a few times and been lost twice! As we ran we soon started passing people we’d spoken too at Bertone. There was some cool stone structure someone had built, and we passed the mum and daughter again coming back from another path that they would have taken at Col Sapin.
Some Well deserved soggy bread
Stones!
To our left were more incredible scenes of the mountains and the valley as we ran along the path Strada Del Villair. Eventually a short uphill climb took us to what I called “The Pub” – Refuge Bonatti (2025m). More refuelling and a moment to compose ourselves. We filled our water from the water fountain. It was so cold and refreshing. It was and is the best water I’ve ever had. I can’t wait to have more of this when I go back. Next on our list was Arounouz (Arnuova di Mezzo, 26km done and 2000m). Along the way we passed several derelict buildings and many river streams to cross. A few were fortunate to have wooden bridges over the. The route was still fairly flat but single track and we encountered a lot of people we needed to pass. Of all the people though, we weren’t expecting to see 3 young boys. They asked us the time (it was nearing 6pm) and we were a little concerned that they were heading in the opposite direction to us and were dressed in nothing but shorts and cotton shirts.
Amazing views
“The Pub” (Refuge Bonatti)
Views over to Aiguille de ‘l’Eveque
Amazing views
Stones!
“The Pub” (Refuge Bonatti)
Arnuova Di Mezzo wasn’t open. We sensed now would be a good time to put some layers on. It was getting very windy and overcast. Out came my bum and willy on the mountain as I squeezed into my Skins leggings. Just as we were layering it started raining, Phew. Well played. I was pleased with myself. As we were doing so, the 3 young boys reappeared, again asking the time. We questioned them. They were local. We followed them down the path, winding down to Arnuova Desot (1780m) which is where the 3rd checkpoint will be on the CCC. At the bottom there was a party. Two drunk men had starting the climb looking for the kids. We assured them they were just behind us and they were grateful. The locals sure are relaxed about the mountain! With the Rock tunes blasting, Yvette did a little trail dance and we charged our watches. Next up was the climb to Grand Col Ferret (2537m) and the crossing to Switzerland!
Layering Up!
Yvette: The route between CP1 – CP3 is so runnable you can make up for lost time. The weather changed quickly, temperature dropped and started to rain. Dai with his weatherman predictions was right to make the call on chucking some extra layers on and wearing waterproofs. Out of the blue we came across 3 kids, they weren’t wearing any sort of hiking gear and what was stranger, they were alone. No sign of parents or some older, responsible looking adult. They were dressed up in smart shirts and fashion trainers. As we made our way down, we could hear music, then 2 men appeared on the trails, dressed in suits, both quite drunk and smoking cigars. It was obvious they were looking for the 3 boys. There was some kind of big party, sounded like they were playing Queen’s Greatest Hits album. Had a bit of a dance as we walked by, banging out some air guitar moves, Dai looking at me like I’m crazy.
Can’t argue with that!
The beginning of the climb was another open and steep trek. The sound of cow bells rang strong and we saw a field(?) full of cows and bulls which we’d have to walk through. There was a farmer at the top sitting chatting on his phone. As we walked and joked about the smell of shit, we saw a pool of manure, and as we passed it stared to gush with fresh shit from the buildings. lovely. The smell really was horrific. Around the building we went and to a steeper climb that was very exposed. Then we stopped to layer again as it was starting to rain. Carrying on up we took the decision to stop again and put every layer that we could, up ahead there were dark clouds forming and within seconds we could see nothing. very limited visibility to just metres ahead of us. We powered on. Yvette was focusing on the ‘plinth’ she’d read about at the summit. I arrived first. It was very cold and very windy up top. We stayed a very short time, long enough for a few photos and then we were on the move.
Yvette: Our next big bastard of a climb lay ahead of us, 754m climb with 2537m total elevation and approx. 32km into the CCC route. This would also be the point in which we’d cross the border onto the Swiss side. Clouds were rolling in fast and visibility pretty much zero, Dai who was always ahead of me by about 5 minutes or so disappeared into the mist. It was kind of spooky. All I could see was the path in front of me for a few meters, with no idea where it was leading to and how much further I had to climb until I reached the summit of Grande Col Ferret or where he had wondered off to. I just kept thinking, surely that bloody signpost on a rock that I’d seen on Google images and blogs is around here somewhere. There it is, made it!! Damn I wanted to hug that rock. I bowed to it and rested on it. It felt great knowing we smashed the 2 biggest climbs in 1 day. Hugging and smiling, and a quick selfie to remember the moment we didn’t delay and carried on. Shame about the clouds as we missed out on the panoramic views from the top.
All the layers
Grand Col Ferret 2537m
We knew it was downhill from here for about 10k towards La Fouly. The freedom to run was immense. Our bags were so light at this point as we were wearing everything. It was a great feeling. We were full of energy as we’d not run much yet and had great fun running the trails. We were the only people on this section. It was liberating. All around us the views were amazing as the mountains were scattered with white snow and glaciers punctuating the green slopes. As we got lower we winded down and through some fields and saw some villages in the distance with street lights flickering through the trees. We felt close. Maybe 15-20 mins away. It was starting to rain and we were thinking of food and sleep. Then we hit our first real obstacle. A cow in the path. We tried unsuccessfully to move them along. Nothing happened. A slow walk. More cows. Then a bull step forward. Fuck. 38km in and still 2000m, up we didn’t know what to do. It was as if the cow had told the bull we’d done something. The evil stare was very intimidating. He wouldn’t move. Yvette wasn’t comfortable. We checked the map. The path would continue and then U-turn around the cows and the buildings. So, we took the dodgy decision to leave the path and cut the corner. Downhill through vegetation. It was very risky, but slowly we successfully descended and re-joined the path.
Cows in the way!
Yvette: Trying to pick up some pace on the downhill, we had 3miles to go, when we come to a sudden halt and saw a cow on the trail path. A big cow! Literally blocking it. Munching away on grass, it turned its head to look at us and then continued munching away totally ignoring us. We were shooing it, waving arms around to move it on and I was clapping. Nothing. What a stubborn cow. I kept telling Dai not to go too close, he was as stubborn as the cow not listening to me. You just don’t know how these animals would react. For some reason I was a little scared, so I was looking around to find another way to cut across. Thankfully the cow slowly plodded down the path, and as it moved off the path we then noticed this black bull further down blocking it. Fs!!! It had sharp horns and just stared at us. Dai was determined to walk towards it but I wasn’t chancing it. Plus, I realised I had a bright red Salomon vest pack on. Bulls charge when they see red right!!? I mean I was a target to them. Just like the running of the bulls/bullfighting, they see bright red/pink moving around and they practically blow smoke out of their nostrils ready to charge. I did not fancy being chased by a bull, not that I would have had anywhere to run to but uphill on dead legs. Dai said that was a myth and that it wouldn’t happen. Whatever! We couldn’t stay there all day, we were wasting time, and so I made the call to cut through an overgrown grassy section going down a steep hill. I think, this the only point in our trip where we had a disagreement as he warned me not to go down there, it was too risky. I didn’t listen (ok, we’re both stubborn) and with my poles, poked the ground to see where it was stable and made my way down. The path was looping around to the right anyway, so it I would reach the same path eventually. I left Dai behind me, and he would either follow me or somehow negotiate with the bull and get through. He decided to follow me. Ha-ha.
Down into a forest we ran, our energy levels drained. We were soaked through from the vegetation and continuous rain. Darkness was setting in. We thought we were close so didn’t get our torches out. It took longer than expected though for us to reach La Fouly. As we continued further we went off the path and emerged onto the main road. Checking where we were looking for the accommodation. It must be close. Sign spotted. It was done. Nearly 10pm and very dark. We walked up the hill (dammit) and found the hotel. It was all closed. A message to Yvette to “let ourselves in”. A room with no key. Shared showers. No towels. Fuck that’s annoying, a shower was second on our “most wanted” list after food.
We headed straight out for food. Everywhere was closed (it was 22:30 in a very small village after all). The one open bar agreed to sort us out with something. They offered us some cold cuts. I was very happy with that. We ordered one each along with a pint of coke. When it turned up, it was massive! The most packed cold cut plate ever with fruit, nuts and cheese. It was epic! Yvette was struggling to eat but I couldn’t stop. We stumbled back to the hotel, had a shower (and a pat dry!) and went to bed. It was gone midnight, we’d be starting it all again in the morning. We wanted to leave by 8am….
Yvette: Out of the mountains and onto the road we reached Maja Joie hotel at 10pm, pretty dark. They had left a sign on the door we managed to figure out that we could go straight to our room, there was no key. Weird. Dumped our vest packs, didn’t bother to shower and went straight out to find anything that was open. We followed the sounds of people laughing and music playing. A place called Auberge des Glaciers. Everyone was getting on it, and we turned up looking sweaty, tired, dirty, smelly, and dazed. Annoyingly the kitchen had shut, and despite begging he said there was nothing he could do. Our eyes moved towards the crisps and nuts hanging behind the bar, if there was nothing else available, we had a backup plan at least. I would just opt for every crisp flavour and a pint of coke for dinner. He mentioned another place further up the road, somehow my legs moved quicker than my brain and I sprinted to this other restaurant. Ergh damn, kitchen closed. Rushed back to Auberge des Glaciers, ready to buy every crisp packet they owned, the man could see how hungry and desperate we were to eat. Knowing we had run 41km from Courmayeur, he felt sorry for us and said he could serve us cold meats and bread. Perfect!!! How many platters he asked….’we’ll take two’!!!
That pint of coke tasted so fucking good! I’ve been hearing how coke is the way forward for post long runs, or even flat coke in the last stages of an ultra-race. Something about the sugar, caffeine and carbs that reenergises your body with a boost and settles the stomach. I don’t drink fizzy drinks at all but if this is part of recovery and feeling human again, I’ll try it. The platters came out; yep it was obviously a sharing dish looking at the size of it. I took one bite of bread and I swear it took me 5-10min to chew on it before I could swallow. I had no saliva to break it down, I felt slightly nauseous. I was hungry, my body was screaming for food, but I just couldn’t eat it. I was watching Dai and he was demolishing that platter. He’d finished it while I was still on the same piece of bread!
Day 2
07:00, the alarms are ringing. It’s time to get up and go. First stop, the breakfast bar. We head down stairs to the packed dining area where there is a table laid out with Yvette’s name. We chat to the Hotel staff and sort all the admin before tucking into another breakfast of champions. We have bread. Dry bread. Toasted bread. Just bread. But lots of coffee too. As all the other hikers gear up and head out we are lagging behind, it’s 08:30 before we make our escape. Ahead of the plan, behind the intention. But we are out.
Smiling Again
Hello Switzerland!
The first 10km of the day is a nice and steady run. After leaving the road in La Fouly we hit a path along river that was rocky, but downhill. It was a busy section as we caught up with all the morning hikers setting off on their journeys. On Occasion we needed to pass several large groups, everyone was in good spirit though. We were fresh and smiley, the rest had worked wonders and the crisp morning air was a delight to breathe. I was conscious of the terrain. Whilst flat and downhill, the rocky paths were a slight concern, it could well be that I might be running this section in the dark next time. That could be hazardous. I was recalculating my ability to get this section covered before the sun goes down next time!
Swiss Villages like Praz De Fort were beautiful to run through
About 7km into the run the path took a sharp turn and opened into a beautiful elevated path lined with trees either side. It was like a tunnel of nature. It felt endless as we ran through, the morning light piercing through the gaps in the leaves. As we came out the other side we ran through the Swiss villages of Praz De Fort, Los Araches and Issert. These villages were quaint with wooden cabins, lush gardens and quirky decorations (Gnome village!). After running through nature for so long it was a weird sensation to be on the road and weaving through picturesque man-made structures. The villages were small and soon came to an end, as did the running. It was time to begin the first of 3 climbs this day, we were re-entering the Forrest and the Sentier Des Champignons (~1480m) that would lead to Champex-Lac.
I Loved this section!
The trail is littered with wooden carvings, some representing creatures of the forest, some were mythical. All were unique and special. The path was undulating and occasionally we could run, skipping and jumping the tree roots as we went. We interchanged with a group of other runners, joking occasionally as we passed. Laughing as the group stopped one of their runners from eating a bunch of berries she’d picked from a tree!
Creatures of the Forest
Yvette: 9am start and 14km to the next destination, CP5 Champex-Lac. Perfect flat trails to start off with, easy on the legs, beautiful section through the woods, took us through a quiet village in Praz De Fort, charming wooden cabins. Then as you arrive to Issert, the 3rd out the 6 climbs begins. The route takes you through a steep forest path; this is when you see wooden carved sculptures every few meters, quite amusing. I think I stopped paying attention to it while Dai made the effort to take photos. I just wanted to reach the top. I think by this point, I was getting frustrated with the running vest pack. It was weighing me down (I may have carried more than I needed to) and starting to rub my skin. No matter how much I tightened the straps it would become lose and bounce too much. My mood started to drop a bit.
We briefly met the runners again as we arrived at the bottom of Champex-Lac and said our goodbyes. As we entered the town, we saw the lake – Lac De Champex – we’d heard so much about. It was beautiful. We stopped briefly to admire the scene and soon pushed on after I challenged our timings. We had a long day ahead and a tight time frame to make the bus! It is true that I was pushing Yvette. She hadn’t enjoyed the climb and I was conscious it would be difficult if the negative thoughts consumed her focus so early on. She’s so strong and led us off again, around the lake and through the town, where a local event/festival was taking place. There was music and food and all sorts of entertainment. We were offered what looked like Vodka shots which we were happy to decline!
A different Kind of View!
Yvette: We reached Champex-Lac (first of the assisted checkpoints) and I remember from a blog I read that you would run beside this beautiful lake. That it was. Stopped for a moment, refuelled beside some Harley Davidson bikers. The town was buzzing, some festival event with market stalls and such a nice vibe I could have chilled here for a bit. Dai would always check up on me, and I guess he was also aware that I had never run this far before and I think he noticed in my eyes and the expression on my face that I was slightly off. It wasn’t so much my feet or legs, thankfully. Dai would reassure me, would offer to swap vests, hug me and give me a bit of encouragement. He didn’t have to tell me, but I knew what he was thinking and trying to say. “Snap out of it, we need to stick to the plan and keep going. There is no way out now. We have a train to catch so work those little legs”. He was pushing but I needed that push.
We were presented with a short downhill along some wide trails for a brief rest before the start of the second climb. The ground was again rocky, and we took a moment to stop and refuel (I was expecting the climb imminently, but we still had some way to go). And then it begun. in the peak of midday, the sun shining high, the heavy sweats of the power hike would take over as we made our way up to Refuge Bovine at 1987m…
The Climb to Bovine…
was probably the most technical
The climb started off on a wide paved road and we passed many hikers in both directions. Then the incline started. Some incredible views climbing a gravel path. We passed a lot of people. Behind us the views were vast, mountains and glaciers as far as we could see. As the path turned and the incline increased we paused to absorb the views. Then, far away in the distance we saw hikers climbing. They were a looooong way up. It looked like it would take an age to reach where they were. We continued with our power hike, crossing several streams flowing down the mountain side (at one point a wide section of the path was submerged) and were momentarily disheartened as a runner ran past (fair play, he was nailing this!). We continued climbing, stopping every few turns to catch our breath and swear. Eventually we reached that point where we were the ‘people high in the distance’, which surprisingly didn’t take us as long as I thought it would.
We came from down below my right shoulder!
The path opened into more, lush green vegetation and fields as we continued upward. The sound of cowbells ringing in the distance grew ever so slightly louder, until we passed a small wooden cow shack. Then you could really hear the cow bells. After last night’s encounter I was slightly worried and also for Yvette, she was a little way behind me. As I reached the top I could see a larger building, packed with hikers, a restaurant. Besides the hikers, were bulls. tens of them, everywhere, amongst the people. This was daunting. I slowly walked passed as they eyed me up. They were very tame though, most just sitting there, enjoying the sun. I went and sat down in the tabled area to await Yvette (whom I almost missed as she appeared so quickly!). We spent a good 15 minutes eating, drinking (more fresh, cold water!) and admiring the bulls. We then set off again, threading between the bulls and climbing what remained of the path to the top, where the next downhill section would begin. We were ready to run again!
Yvette: There was refuge called Alpage de Bovine, surrounded by cows. These ones had a ginger mullet, I stood next to one and only then realised the size of these bells hanging from their necks!! They were like 5kg kettlebells. As we took a break, this cow walks over towards me, gets a little too close to the fence, curious, almost touching me. I jumped up to move away and said to Dai “Seeeee it’s the red vest’”. He rolled his eyes at me.
No longer afraid of the bulls
What a hair cut!
The run down was very technical. There were a load of people on the path and large rocks and routes to navigate. It was an instant quad burner and the legs were on fire, but as with the previous day and morning, the freedom to run after the power hiking was a much-welcomed relief. By now I was appreciating the need to run when the opportunity presented itself. If I’m to make the cut-offs during the CCC I’ll need to make the time up on the downhills and flats!
I waited at the bottom, we were just outside of Trient (1285m). The walking signs indicated 30mins, so it shouldn’t take us long. We used the moment here where we had phone signal to make some arrangements and estimates for our evening arrival, and for me to film and load more stories to the ‘Gram! Before long we arrived at a campsite and took the opportunity to again refuel, drink the always present cold water and use the facilities on site. There was one mountain left to climb (and about 10km to go). It looked the steepest of them all, a right fucking bitch to overcome…
up there we go
What a tree
The climb certainly felt like the steepest climb. We only saw one person all the way to the top (He powered past, coming out of nowhere with an epic power hike!). Initially I thought the route was taking us straight up the mountain. Maybe I was delusional and imagining the paths ahead, but thankfully there were switch backs leading up and up. There was this a amazing tree which caught my attention, initially I noticed the criss-cross texture before realising there were no branches. It was solid and tall and stood out amongst the others. Looking back, it formed an exception view with the mountains in the backdrop. I waited for Yvette, making sure she saw this tree!
Up I continued. It wasn’t walking or hiking really. It was more an endless session of deep lunging. This was definitely the steepest of the climbs. I was ready for the summit before we’d barely begun. Up ahead, straining my neck I saw some mountain bikers. They were heading down. I understood the word “cinq”, the lead biker was indicating there were 5 more to come. Ok Ok, I understood his hand gesture, not the language.
The final climb came with exceptional views!
The summit (Catogne, 2050m) never felt like appearing. Eventually though the path flattened and to my right were sensational views. I carried on a little and tested the path, it was beginning to descend. So I tracked back and intended to enjoy the views and recharge my watch and wait for Yvette. I’d barely sat down before she arrived. She was emotional, we rested and absorbed everything our eyes could see (including Barage d’Emosson in the distance which was a real confusion for the eyes, to see a dam so high and so far away). The joy of knowing we were one downhill and less than 10km from the end was sensational. So onward we went, one more time, all downhill.
A moment to enjoy the views
A moment to relax!
Yvette: This was our final climb of the recce route; I can’t actually tell you if this was harder than the other climbs. I lost sight of Dai…again. I kept looking up wondering if I was close to the top, nope…stop looking up…keep going. This was the pattern throughout the route; now and again you would be teased into thinking that the highest point was so close but then it would continue winding further up. Legs were dangling a bit! I’m sure at one point I hallucinated, but I looked up and saw a dark shadow of a person for a few seconds and then suddenly disappeared. I’m sure it was Dai having one final look down to see if I was close.
I then found Dai perched on the edge of a rock. That was actually quite a memorable moment to capture. Your eyes are usually fixed to the ground as you run, rarely getting a moment to look up and admire your surroundings. That was one thing we took the time to do, we made sure to stop and take photos and just embrace the unbelievable views. It’s the only chance Dai had to appreciate the route he’ll be racing. Plus from La Fouly to Chamonix he will be running this section in the dark and by the time he gets to Chamonix it’ll be sunrise. We had 10min to sit together and look around us. I think I had another cry in front of him. With 6km to go until we arrived at Vallorcine, it was all downhill to the end.
Momentarily I had a mild (internal) panic as I saw a path going up. It suddenly felt like we hadn’t submitted, but thankfully as we neared a sign we were directed away from the peak, we had indeed reached the highest point (circa 2070m) on this section and would be continuing down. Ahead of us, all around we could see beautiful paths weaved into the mountains. We were energised, light footed and excited. We bounded down and before long hit a section of wider gravel switchbacks. They weren’t too rocky, but they sure were hard underfoot!
The path back down to Vallorcine
Another sign saw us eventually take a step off the path, we were entering Then a turn into the green forest – Foret Verte. The ground was softer here. But no easier to run as it was so uneven. Then, out of nowhere a sense was triggered, one that felt forgotten on this run, one that had become a repetition of wind, cowbells and the thumping of our feet hitting the ground, we heard a sound. A hoot hoot. A train. A fucking Train. Yes. We were close. Very close. We were so far ahead of schedule, we’d be home before we knew it now.
The Green Forest
We came to the end of our journey soon after, a bridge symbolised our finish as we’d walk from here across the road and to the station. Time for a hug, hi-five and a quick trail dance. We were done. We were well ahead of last train but unsure as to how frequent they might be. We had just mussed on of course. it was 17:59 as we reached the station and Yvette saw the lights go out inside the ticket room. She kept knocking the window until answered. The kind lady advised the next train was due in any minute and we could buy tickets onboard. Result. We walked around to the platform and like perfect harmony the train arrived. We were so happy.
Yvette: We did it! Dai did his celebratory trail dance. We completed 83km of the CCC route just before 6pm, and we were ahead of schedule by approx. 1hr 30, according to the last train. Day 1 – 41.5km, took us 12hrs and Day 2 – 41.5km, took us 9.5hrs. Vallorcine is the final assisted checkpoint and with 19km remaining, we’d be reunited again at Chamonix where he’ll cross that finish line. There was a train arriving as soon as we got to the station, perfect timing! Back to Chamonix.
Finish with a Trail Dance
It was now back to Chamonix, time to check in, collect our bags again, go out get some food and meet with Jana, Maggie and Ali who’d been out running some of the GTR route. As we reached the hotel, we were super excited to find our room had a bath. So of course, a bath was had!
Within the hour we were clean and heading back out. First stop, food (we went to a Pizza restaurant and saw Max, another friend of Yvette’s) and then a stop at “the Pub” to collect a present for Jana. Finally, half an hour later than we agreed, we arrived at the hotel to meet the others. We shared stories of our journeys. Received advice from Maggie and feminised about her race last year before accepting it was time to leave. It was nearly midnight and we had a wakeup call for 03:30 to make the flight back to London.
6 Hours later and I’m at my desk in work, many of my colleagues still not in. But I’m smiling, exhausted, but smiling. Acknowledging to myself that this is just the beginning of an epic story!
I can’t thank Yvette enough for this trip. Coaxing me out to the Alps and making me realise I needed this, the arrangements, the positivity and fearlessness of attempting such an adventure and not least the support. Ever since I found out I’m running the CCC she has had my back. I know I’m in safe hands for next month!
It’s 5am on a Saturday. For fuck sake. Why. A world record attempt, that’s why. I go through the usual pre-morning run routine. I snooze. I shuffle to the kitchen. I get the porridge on the go and neck some coffee back. Half an hour later I’m on my way. It’s the burger run today and we’ve coincided it with running a leg of the The I Move London Relay – which is an Official Guinness World Record attempt for the longest not-stop running relay. Run in 10K and 5K loops, in central London, repeated for 30 days and 30 nights and covering 4,000 miles by 2,500 runners. 1 Baton to rule them all.
At London Bridge I meet a few of the other pacers and we make our way to Potters Field and the relay base camp. We check in, drop our bags, don our I Move Relay t shirts and the masses start to appear. We have about 30 runners today. Awesome. The plan is to pop the 10km leg of the relay before continuing as per usual burger run style, this time to honest burger in Greenwich. As we are joking and waiting, the relay runner from the preceding leg rocks up with Rod (the baton). It’s an awful reception he’s 20mins ahead of schedule, we aren’t all here yet. We barely notice him arrive. I feel bad. Oh well. Sorry stranger!
Dana warms us up, Tommy gives us a prep talk, it’s time to go! We’ve discussed running as a group. It’s unusual for us as we accommodate several pace groups. But this is different. It’s a social relay party! Immediately this goes to shit as the faster runners leg it into the morning. It’s so hard to control and contain a wide varying set of abilities. That said, the 10k route (from potters field to Westminster along the South Bank before taking the North Bank back to tower bridge) is a hoot. Loads of pictures and videos and posing with the baton (don’t drop it!) and we do manage to regroup occasionally. Tomorrow is the Ride London event and many roads are already closed as part of the weekend’s activities. This is a London Runner’s dream. It’s surreal to pound the streets freely and safely and without all the pollution!
The 90s tunes have been pumping and, as we come off tower bridge for the final straight back to base camp, we sing and dance to Europe’s Final Count Down. We done it (We did it?) Collectively we’ve brought Rod home and each and every runner. After handing the baton to the stage 623 runners We are treated to some Trek bars and some Fitwater (which is very funky and not particularly nice!).
It’s time to prep for the next 10km. A few more runners have joined us for the next 10km (and a few more had to leave us). As the burger run grows in strength we’ve gone down the T-shirt route. Pacers now have t shirts and runners can buy some too. We kit up. Pose for more photos and head off.
I’m taking the 9:30-10min mile group today. We loop back over London Bridge and along the Thames path on the north bank. It’s a scenic route of part of London I always find is less frequented (by me at least) with some great views across the river. The finale of the route sees us cross from the Isle of Dogs to Greenwich using the Victoria foot tunnel. This is always good fun.
Emerging the other side we reform with the earlier pace group and head to the burger joint. It’s earlier than usual but burgers and meat are had. A group of us stuck around for a beverage in Greenwich where the smutty laughter continued.
If you’d like to know more about the London burger run, what we do, where and when and if you’d like to join then get in touch with me or @ldnburgerrun on Instagram. It’s an open group for any and everyone of all abilities. We just want to have fun and company and it’s a great way to take your mind off running on longer runs!
6 months have passed. 6 whole months already! It feels like yesterday I first sat down with Daryl and started planning what runs I’d do in 2018. It was all pretty shoddy that first attempt, but shortly afterwards my “12 month challenge” was born, although I can’t remember why I decided to do this.
I thought I’d stop for a moment (not literally though, the running continues) and look back on the first half of the year. Take a look at what the challenge has become, what I’ve achieved, what I’ve learnt (and still haven’t learnt) and generally take stock of what’s to come in the next half of the year…. plus it will save me in 6 months time when I try to remember everything that has gone on and recollect all the adventures and memories!
2018 in a plan
Firstly the task itself. 12 marathons in 12 months, or at least that is what it started as. I soon realised that road marathons didn’t excite me as much as I thought. As the year got underway I was introduced to trail running and started to do this more and more. I was also greedy, as I’d started sampling the Ultras and being tempted by some of those more exotic races and struggling to say no to some others suggested. In some cases I couldn’t choose between races in the same month, so booked them all. As such I’ve ended up with a year that features 6 marathons and 9 Ultras. It kind of grew out of hand.
So what has been run already? 5 out of 6 of those marathons – Muscat, Malta, Limassol, Brighton and Helsinki. It all kicked off in Oman with an incredible trip (which I still mean to document someday) and a reunion with Angela and Stephane from Myanmar in 2016. I PB’d big time, first in Oman and then in Malta before spectacularly blowing up in Limassol in March. More to come on that later… April saw me run with Alex and embrace the atmosphere of Brighton and I ran Helsinki care-free.
I’ve also now completed a third of the ultras with the challenges of Brecon Beacons Ultra Trail, Race to the Tower and Race to the King all overcome. The Brecon Beacons ultra was particularly grueling and my first real taste of running in the mountains. It’s fair to say I enjoyed it and will need to get used to it as there are more mountains to come in the next half of the year! The Race to the Tower and Race to the King saw me complete the Threshold Trail series and as per race to the Stones last year they were incredibly well organised and a lot of fun.
What have been my highlights so far? let’s break these down…
The people – I could go on and on about a lot of people here, those I know closely, those I’ve come to know through Instagram, my family and strangers encountered along the way. But a call out to the old friends reunited through running – Angela and Stephane who I had the company with for a few days out in Oman, and Sandra whom I’d not seen for nearly a decade until Helsinki! Running brings you back together. A shout out to the new friends made on the way, and there are many of them, but Ged – 33 miles shared on the Cotswolds Way…what a great way to meet and get to know someone. And the squad, the crew, the gang that were there when I needed them most. In the darkness of my DNF in Cyrpus Daryl, Brigita, Yvette and Barnadas were there for me. I’ll forever be thankful.
Heros! (and of course Brigi behind the camera!)
Exploring the UK – I’ve seen very little of the UK in truth. I’ve probably seen more of it in the past 6 months than I have in the 33 years preceding them! It’s no surprise to say you cover a lot of ground when running Ultras. Through a few different races (and general runs) I’ve now spent a fair amount of time down on the South Downs and South East Coast. Race to the King saw me cover a lot of the Cotswolds and at the Brecon Beacons Ultra trail I covered a few laps of, yeah, Brecon! Each place is so different. Each has its own uniqueness and tranquility. I’m looking forward to exploring more. Maybe a venture North should come next?
Travel experiences like Oman
Travelling – It’s always going to sound like a dating app cliche, but I love to travel. I’ve been fortunate to visit nearly 50 different countries and have made some amazing memories along the way. Combining this passion with running has been a great experience. Seeing such amazing cultural differences (such as Oman) and landscapes has been a blessing. Oman, Malta, Cyprus and Finland have all been sampled so far.
The lack of training – I don’t “train” anymore. I kid you not. I just run. Is that weird? I’m now in (and have been for a few months) a perpetual state of marathon fitness. Sounds awesome doesn’t it! It’s odd in that its become such a normality that my weekly mileage feels small (somewhere in the 30-40 miles) but its more than enough. I should clarify that, when I say I don’t train, I do actually workout and put effort in (I still go to the Never Stop London Tuesday training sessions and have started going to the Wild Trail Running Monday night sessions for example). What I mean is that I don’t have, nor follow, a routine or plan. There is no tempo session, no hill session, no speed work, no easy run, no long run, no fartlek nor intervals. Every run is just a run. No set mileage, just time on my feet. Each run will vary in distance it is true, but no run has a goal or an aim other than being a run. And most surprisingly of all, this works for me. I’m getting fitter and stronger from ‘just running’. What I particularly like is the freedom it gives me, there is no pressure to miss out because a run doesn’t fit into my ‘plan’ or schedule.
The regular experiences – Through others and the Internet I have become involved in several groups. There’s the Cool Cats – A collective of like minded runners of all sorts organised through Facebook and the amazing Jana. The Never Stop London group – Run by The North Face and through Jack. The Wild Trail Runners headed up by the enigmatic Maggie and the London Burger Runs put on by Tommy ‘Texas T-Dog’. Yeah that’s not his name but whatever. Whenever I can I will go to these runs and events put on by these guys. There are a lot of great people involved and I’m guaranteed to have a smile on my face running/working out with them.
The support – Closely linked to the people, I’m constantly amazed by the support and advice I constantly receive. Through the many many people I’m in contact with on Instagram to those I’ve been fortunate to meet and become friends with. There is support everywhere. Nowhere more have I received such support as from Daryl, Jana, Yvette (and her generosity also!), Jack, Alex, Maggie, Jon (and many more, the list really does go on). These guys have followed my every move, supported and advised, encouraged and challenged me and continue to push me forward. Then there is the huge community of supporters who turn out to volunteer or cheer participants at events, you are amazing!
And what hasn’t been so high? Well, the low points exist too…
The DNF – this was always going to feature. Blowing up in Limassol was an experience I never want to have again. Not so much the DNF, but the effects it has on the mind. Looking back I’m fortunate. I came out the other side without a single scratch nor lasting damage. Others aren’t so lucky. It is however on my mind….
The Fear of injury – With so many races, each one exciting and challenging, I’m afraid. I’m afraid of something happening (like an injury) that will prevent me from getting to the starting line. That will be the worst. I can deal with what happens on the day, but not getting the chance to attempt something, that will mess with me….Every little niggle I feel is magnified and feels like a big deal.
Running is hard!
The Enjoyment (or often lack of) – Running is hard. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise. No matter the distance, your ability or objectives, running is tough. Even on those glorious days in spectacular surroundings it is hard and requires physical and mental strength. When I head out into a marathon or ultra, nothing is certain. Don’t get me wrong, I’m confident and go into races prepared, but that doesn’t mean they are easy or a sure thing. Anything can happen. But what doesn’t help is putting pressure on yourself. I’ve done this a few times now. I chase the times. That changes how you run. It saps the enjoyment out of a run. When you are running somewhere new, somewhere special, the last thing you need to be doing is staring at your watch all the time. This does mean there have been runs I’ve not enjoyed as much as I should. Which is a shame.
The psychological effect – This one I’ll struggle to explain. But its the lasting impact of the DNF, combined with the fear. I realised recently when I unintentionally muttered the words “I’m afraid of being afraid”. A dawning moment. In particular the effect I’m feeling is related to not getting a sub 3hr marathon time in Cyprus. No shame in failing. I’m fine with that. But, now I’m afraid of trying again. What if it happens again? what if I’m not so fortunate next time around. What if I can never hit sub 3? Can I be bothered to train hard for it? Lot’s of ifs and buts, all of which are meaningless. What does running a set distance 3 minutes faster award me? Absolutely bugger all is what. I get to say I’m a sub 3 hour marathoner. It’s meaningless. But I’ll dwell on it for some time to come I’m sure.
The Planning – I’ve booked so many races that I can’t think of them. I need to look at what is coming up immediately. I need to prepare, I need to plan and I need to focus. At best I can look 3 races into the future perhaps. But even this is getting harder as the weeks in between are packed full of other fun runs I’ve planned. As such I don’t give each run the attention it deserves nor do I respect them as I should. I’ve the CCC quickly approaching (it’s now number 3 on my races coming up), but before then I first have to navigate 2 x 100km trail runs, 3 x runs I’m pacing/leading, a trip to Chamonix for some mountain training (which I think needs to involve a serious amount of elevation over 2 runs and a night run in two days) and hopefully a trip up to Northumberland. One race at a time, everything blurs into one. It’s surprisingly stressful.
The fear – again, more fear, and it probably isn’t the last I’ll say on this topic. I’ve mentioned being ‘afraid of being afraid’ and I’ve mentioned the training trip to Chamonix. These are related. Everyone rightly tells me to go to Chamonix and get some mountain running before the CCC. In truth, I’ve delayed it so long because I’m afraid. I know it will be tough, but I’m scared it will be so tough that I dwell on it too much. As opposed to realising when I’m out there doing the CCC and knowing my stubbornness will just drag me through it. Regardless, I’m going. I’ll have to deal with it now. Embrace the fear!
This is turning out to be a long old post….So what have I learnt over the past 6 months (I’ve re-written this after realising the “what I haven’t learnt” is the flip side to each!)?
Run with a smile!
I’m not to bad at this running malarkey. I’m getting faster and stronger and for the most part I run with a smile on my face. What this means though is that I am constantly looking for that next challenge. More isn’t always a good thing.
There is inspiration everywhere. Every person I meet on the trail has a story. Everyone has their experiences. There ambitions and goals. It’s so good to share these with people and be inspired by their journeys.
I’m a stubborn bastard. When it hurts I carry on. When I need to do something, I do it. I’ve always been this way only it has become blatantly clear to me through running that this is how I work. Pros and Cons I suppose. The downside of the stubbornness… Well, it means I’m ignorant. I don’t listen to my body. I sometimes push myself too much and risk things that are unnecessary.
I’m also a greedy bastard. I love a freebie. I love a good time on a run. If I like something I want more of it. Whether its more running, more flat coke or whatever. I am prone to over indulging. This couldn’t have been more evident than at the RTTK where I’d stashed a shoe box worth of food into my bag which I had to run with for the last 20 miles. Greedy Bastard!
I don’t do things correctly. I still don’t stretch or foam roll enough. I don’t get proper sleep. I don’t rest. Event the rest days I have tend to involve a couple of hours of cycling as part of my commute. My nutrition, hah, its all over the place.
Race tactics. I sometimes have them. Sometimes don’t and don’t always stick to them. I don’t know what to do, if anything, about this? I’m trying to adopt the ‘run how it feels’ approach, this requires a lot of listening to the body!
The Runner’s ‘Highs’ but also the runner’s ‘Lows’. Certainly a new experience I’ve come to acknowledge. We all so easily get the buzz from completing a challenge and finishing a race. The Adrenaline is pumping and the sense of achievement can be all encompassing. But when it wears off (and I’m afraid to say it will), the feeling you are left with can make you swing completely the other way. In the days following events I’m finding more and more that I’m on an emotional downer. It is weird, given that I have so much else to look forward to and get excited about, but that ‘hole’ that you are left with can suck you in way too easily. There’s a challenge ahead in how I adapt and learn to cope with it better. I think remembering your motivations for doing what you do will play a key part in the coping mechanisms we can put in place.
What else has been going on?
As I write these words I also recall I did a 30 day run streak in January. I’d forgotten about that until writing this post! That was something I found a lot harder than I expected. The motivation and desire to run all the time is a big ask. I find it easier to keep running once I’m moving, but doing it day after day for shorter distances is a whole different experience entirely. Respect those who have completed streaks and to those who have streaks going on.
Blogging! This has also happened. I started the year running. Now I write and run? I don’t even like writing. But. it has helped me channel my thoughts and reflect on what I do. Who knows where the blog will head, more kit and product reviews for sure.
Realisation of the financial impact of running! As I continue into the next 6 months the other thing I’ve realised is that this isn’t cheap! Besides running I’m becoming addicted to buying running kit. So many trainers, so many tops and gadgets and tech. It’s great. But it costs a lot! Each race entry, the logistics and planning, it all costs. I used to say that running was great because its free. It is if you don’t get “too into it”!
Running isn’t Cheap!
So what comes next? What has the second part of the year got in store for me?
Well, for a start, it gets hard now. My next three runs are all 100km in distance. The CCC is the big one which will put me on a whole new level in terms of experience and I’ve so much to try to learn before then (running when tired, sleep deprived, mountain running, running in the dark etc.). Then there is the Berlin marathon. Part of my original aim for the year was to run a good for age qualifying time at Berlin. Then I obtained a place in the CCC just two weeks before. So that needs re-evaluating. I’ve no idea how I’ll feel when I fly out to Berlin. How my body will feel or even my mental state. However, I now know a lot of people who will also be out there, so the atmosphere is sure to be electric! I also obtained that GFA time in Malta (wooo) only for the bastards at the London Marathon to then move the goalposts a month later (Pricks). So I’m not sure if that goal is even valid anymore? Either way, Berlin is now turning into a bit of a party event. I now know so many people going that its going to be a great time no matter what I decide to do on the day. Then the remaining Ultras are all going to be shared with other people too. Different groups, all social in someway, including heading back to the Brecon Beacons, this time with Jon, Tommy and Kieron. Who knows how that will turn out!!
What am I going to change heading into the next 6 months? Hhmmm… right now, not a lot! Things are working right now so I won’t upset the balance too much. I’m becoming more involved in the social and community aspects of running so there will be more ‘running’ and more planning (runs, routes, meetups etc.). That will serve me from a training perspective. I’m keen to be more focused on the enjoyment and help remove the pressures I place upon myself, and I don’t intend to book any more events for this year! I do need to start thinking about 2019 though…
So to finally stop mumbling on…Looking back, I find it hard to believe that in such a short space of time I’ve become so passionate and involved in running. Taking the time to stop and reflect is going to become essential as the journey continues. As I acknowledge my goals, whats been achieved and adjust to what can be achieved, I sometimes think I need to be slapped with a trout and brought back to the reality of life! So onward to the next 6 months. Onward on these trails as I get ready to embrace the adventures, memories and more friendships that are coming my way!
Yesterday I ran the Race to the King trail run, part of the Threshold Trail Series. I’m getting straight on the blogging for this one as I’m finding that not only do I very quickly forget most of the run (probably through exhaustion) but that I’m needing to beat the runners-low which will inevitably kick in soon (more on that in a separate post to come).
The day started off with a super-early 4:30am alarm and I did not respond well. I was not interested in waking up and running all day, not yet anyway. What annoyed me most was, the first thing I could feel as I woke was that I’d developed a cold sore. Yep, I’m a carrier. I hate these bastards. They come out of nowhere. Always overnight and the make you feel disgusting and grim. It put me in a bad mood to start. Alas, I had a job to do. A couple of trains and a bus later and I’m pulling up to the starting village in Gaston Farm.
I was initially due to be in the first wave at 8am, but due to the summer train times and and a revised shuttle service, I was moved to the second wave at 8:15. I knew what to expect and was ready to go, all I needed was to fill my water bottles and bladder, drop my bag off and get that nervous piss out. The bus dropped me off at 7:55 and I was ready by 8:05. To my luck the first wave was just setting off, so I tagged on in at the back and as I did I saw some familiar faces. There was Tom and Derrick who I’ve met a few times, Elisa who I’ve also crossed paths with from time to time but never managed to say more than a passing hello to and to new faces in Anneka and Kelly (who welcomed me to the gang with a huge hug!). We were off.
And we are off…
The route immediately led us through a gate into the wideness of the South Downs. It was early, sunny and hot. It was going to be a long day. And I’d forgotten my sunglasses and, in my haste to start I hadn’t lubed up either. A runner’s error! I had a brief moment to chat to the guys over the first two miles as we thread pretty much single file along the paths before hitting the first of many hills to come. It was long, but not steep so I kept on plodding upwards. Before I’d realised I’d pulled away from the rest of the group and hadn’t said my goodbyes nor wished them happy paths. Doh. Onward I continued.
In my head I had a goal. Two weeks previously I finished the Race to the Tower Race to the Tower 2018 in 10 hours and 40 mins. This was a similar distance race but slightly hillier route, so I thought I might be able to run this one in under 10 hours through less longer walks, less time at pit stops and a slightly faster start. So I kept going. I soon got chatting to a guy called Jack who was with a group of others and he too was looking for a similar time to finish. Our time running together didn’t last long though as he found some supporters waiting to cheer him on. Together though we did run a section of the route that was trails through forest paths, the type of course I’m really growing to love. The shade, the variety, the colours of the trees and the sun breaking through. I love it. Apart from all the flies! There were alot of flies out on the South Downs yesterday!
The first two checkpoints came and went fairly quickly. With them they brought another two climbs, one of which was quickly following a short down hill stretch just after the 10 mile mark. Then, 5 miles later we encountered what I dubbed the ‘foot fucker’. There was a steep down hill followed by an immediate climb back up, both about 300ft of elevation. The down hill was steep and the ground was rocky and loose. I’m not sure how big stones need to be classified as ‘rocks’ but these were hefty. They would hurt if you were to kick them. Add this to the general un-evenness of the ground and the gravity and momentum of the run and it was quite frightening. The speed you are running with increases, you are looking down at your footings, simultaneously trying to plot your path down whilst grimacing at each rock that pierces your sole and each bashing your toes take as they crush forward in your shoes. There were a few unhappy faces at this point. And it continues as you power back up the incline.
Towards the top of the climb there were a lot of spectators sitting down, enjoying the views with the picnics. Cheering on the runners as they climbed slowly to the top. One of them was more devious than the rest. I man sitting in a camping chair at the top slowly pulled out his large camera to reveal himself as one the official course photographers. There was laughter from the crowd as I called him a bastard and started playing up for his pleasure. He was probably the most hated man on the South Downs that day.
What the Camera shows on Social Media
The reality behind it
The next few miles saw some undulating paths through a varied terrain before a short climb through the forest to Winchester Hill and an amazing view. The checkpoint just after the summit was the 23 mile mark. The Basecamp. Halfway (almost) there. A bit of a mental bashing to be at the basecamp but not quite being halfway to the finish. 30 Miles to go is not quite a distance you can break down in one chunk like saying “just a marathon to go”. It doesn’t work that way. As per the Race to the Tower I didn’t stop for the cooked food. Chowing down on Chocolate and Watermelon (not something I normally eat!) and changing my T-shirt before I was off again.
The checkpoints were, for a short time, now closer together than before. With less than 6 miles to the next stop it was easier to compartmentalise the run into smaller chunks. and the next part, winding through Queen Elizabeth Country park was fairly easy going. Refreshed from the basecamp stop the route was fairly down hill and continued along the lowest elevation of the course until pit stop 4. But what goes down must go back up and before hitting the checkpoint there was another large climb to come. Tactically I’d been consistent on the course, eating on all the ups to ensure I kept fuelled along the way.
Arriving at the pit stop I continued to do what I’d done at all of the others. Besides using the toilet when I could and knocking back a few cups of Coke, I took out my “food bag” and proceeded to fill it with goods that caught my attention. That’s right. This time I brought a bag to collect food as I ran!! I know. It doesn’t make sense. But I’m a greedy bastard. It was the forth checkpoint and my bag was now full. and I still had about 20 miles to run! The other thing to note at this pit stop was that I was chaffing! Damn, I’d come to regret not lubing up with the Bodyglide in my haste to start. Right between the legs I had two lovely red-raw patches of glory. Great. Lube on, too little too late.
Plodding onward the rest of the course has become a blur to my memory. What I do recall is as I caught up with other runners, to my surprise there were very few who wanted to chat, never mind even acknowledge my “hellos”. This was disappointing as I’ve always found the camaraderie on the trails to be great. Who were chatty though were the people met along the route. Everyone is always so happy in cheering you on and commenting on the run. What I’ve found great is the response to these interactions. In particular the question of “am I winning?” always goes down a treat and generates some laughter. That and ‘play-acting’ and running funny in response to their comments. You have to have some fun along the way, no matter how much it hurts!
There was another guy of note. Who’ll I’ll always remember as the ‘spray-mist guy’. he was everywhere. I must have seen him about 5 or 6 times along the later part of the course. Including once as he appeared from a pub garden with the shout “alright mate?! want some more?!”. I had a good laugh with him each time. He’d rocked up with a garden water pump and was willing spraying each and every runner who wanted a quick cool down. Whoever you are, thank you. For the spray and for the entertainment and support!
I blasted through Pit stop 5, only stopping to ram some more food into my bag! and I was soon approaching Pit stop 6, which would be about 10 miles from the end. This pit stop was supposedly only water and hydration as it was only 3 miles to the final pit stop. But what a welcome they were rolling out for the runners. They could see me approaching in the distance and the cowbells and cheering began in earnest. By the time I reached them there was great noise from the volunteers and to my surprise a range of goods on offer, alas, my bag was stuffed! I did stop though and filled my bladder. My thoughts were I’d refill my bottles at the last check point and what was let in my bladder would be my reserve water just in case. I also realised leading up to it that I had a stone in my shoe that would need removing. Foot fixed I carried on. A few hundred meters down the road though I had to stop again as somehow I seemed to have introduced more stones into my shoe than I’d taken out. For a short time afterwards I ran with a chap called Matt who’d set out quite fast and was now feeling it a little. We soon parted and the final Pit stop loomed ahead.
As I arrived there was yet again a strong welcome from the team at the pit stop. It helped being the only one there at the time. They filled my bottles as I noshed down some orange slices and checked the football scores they’d conveniently drawn up on the chalkboard. I probably spent too long at the checkpoint chatting but I felt good. and I was off again. The last section….
Throughout the run I’d been keeping an eye on my average pace. I was trying to run an average of 11 min miles and I was pretty much bang on. It’s quite tough over such a long distance to run this way as, with each period of walking, you have to run faster than the average for a much longer duration to keep on track. And those hills and pit stops very quickly pull the average down! I then made the mistake (not really but often feels wrong to do it) of switching the screens on my Garmin and seeing what the time was and how long I’d bee running. I had about 63 minutes left to get a sub 10 hour time. There were around (probably just under) 7 miles to go. It would be tight. At the average pace I wouldn’t make it, but I knew the last section was predominantly downhill. All I needed to do was keep moving. Keep running. I was going for it.
There were a few small hills that needed walking and one biggish one that played on my mind as it felt like I was walking for a long time. I kept going though. The running at this point became a process. The fun was gone. I was chasing times again. I don’t like it when I get competitive like this, I forget why I run. The enjoyment I get from it. It gets hard. Throughout this stretch though I passed quite a few other runners. Each one becoming a target in the distance that I chased down and passed (including Rachel who wen’t on to finish as third female, amazing!). There were markers for 2 miles to go and final mile. Each time I calculated the time, I was doing this. without hills or walking I’d come in well under 10 hours. Before I knew it I’d entered the town of Winchester and was running around the roads surrounding the Cathedral. Rounding the corner the Winchester Cathedral towered over me. Camera in my face I acted like a dick again. Bounding down the stairs and over the finish line. 9 hours 49mins on the clock. A big smile on my face.
I’d been a long time follower of Run Talk Run. Instagram brought the group, and Jessica (the founder) to my attention. I love the simplicity of their message and intention. It’s not a running group. More like a support group. Like minded people being there for one another. Running is just the vessel they’ve chosen to deliver their message and actions.
They usually run in London on Thursday evenings (now also Tuesdays) which hasn’t been convenient for me. So when they announced a weekend run I was straight in there.
Sunday morning would be a visit to Epping Forest. A place I only recently experienced and am glad to go back to. Even if it does mean two trains to get to the start of the tube, sitting on it from end to end and then another train the other side! The scenery in the forest is spectacular. So many shades of green line the paths, its hard not to have jaw drop whilst running amongst the freshness and colours.
I arrived super early which gave me a chance for a little wander and to see a section of Epping Forest. Upon returning to the station Jess, who organises RTR arrived. Whilst chatting about the running community and how small it is two connections became apparent. Firstly Derrick who I know from the Burger Runs (and whom I saw yesterday!) was coming and had planned the route for the run and secondly Cat (a RTR regular) who also came along was also at the NSL trail run in Hampstead Heath a few weeks back. I keep saying it, it is such a small community. Its Awesome!
We set off running and chatting and were immediately welcomed by the wonderful wildlife of Epping. Firstly horses and then tiny (baby?) frogs which were littered all over the path. The route we took was largely familiar to me from the run I did here a few weeks back.
The run itself was very pleasant. It was such a great vibe as we ran and talked. No pressures. No expectations. No barriers. Just company and people to share motivations with. I liked it. The concept works so well in practice.
It was clear to me that everyone who’d come along was similar. Determined with a strong sense of self-awareness of what works for them and what doesn’t. Over a coffee/juice/hot chocolate we shared stories from running and aspirations, not necessarily about running. World put to right we headed back to the station, energised from a morning of smiles.
Last year I ran the Race To The Stones as my first real trail event. As I look back, I loved it. Besides the trail and the day and event itself, I loved how well Threshold Trail Series had organised it. Besides the stones they organise a Race to the Tower and Race to the King trail series. So I signed up to the other two (ok ok I also wanted the ‘free’ hoody!).
I’ll ignore the training for this run as, like the last few months my training has all been unstructured and just involved running when I feel like it, no pressure. Just running. A lot of running. What I will mention though is the logistics. Threshold Trail Series put on a number of shuttle bus services for their events, however for the Race to the Tower, the services weren’t what I expected. In short, I couldn’t easily get to the start and, once finished, there was no transport to the nearest train station. So to my annoyance I had to book accommodation nearby the night before and (being a tommy-tight-pants) predict my finish time and book a train (an taxi to the station) at the end.
The night before the race I stayed a few miles away in the village of Stonehouse. A picturesque little place on the Cotswolds Way. The room was in a characteristic looking pub. That should have been my first learning! Don’t book a bed in the only pub in the village the night before an ultra. The local Friday night ‘Sparta’ wannabes were out in their numbers. This was Stonehouse. Not Sparta. No matter how many times they screamed the quote from the movie ‘300’ the joke never got old. And I never got to sleep…
I woke early on the morning, had my breakfast and jumped in the taxi to the start. I collected my gear (Hoody and Tshirt for doing more than one of the series) and I was good to go. The race director was hyping up the first wave, we had our briefing and instructions, given insight into the 160 gates/stiles and landmarks awaiting us on the run. Then we were off.
Single filing through he first few gates I soon spotted Ged. Someone I’d been chatting to on Instagram. We said hello and started chatted as we ran. The short story of a long story is that we ended up running 33 miles together! That’s a good 6 or so hours of running and chatting so you can imagine we covered a lot of topics along our journey. For me this is the perfect example of the community of running on the trails. You meet people and get to know them, sharing everything along the way. You don’t get that road running!
The first section of the course was, I felt, fairly flat with a few lil’ hills. All very runnable I thought. Within what felt like no time at all we were at checkpoint one, it was about 5 miles in to the course. Ged’s family had come up with him but weren’t at the checkpoint as expected. As he was joking that they were probably still asleep and now in his bad books, across a golf course his kids came bounding. Sweaty hugs dished out, we carried on and were soon welcomed with more of a hill. I challenged the hills. They didn’t seem all that big to me. It would be something I’d repeat over and over. “Call these hills?!”. Checkpoint two also soon came about and the first very much anticipated dose of flat coke. You just can’t fault it on an ultra! As expected, the volunteers at each checkpoint were awesome and upbeat. Threshold really do such a great job. I new this, I knew the checkpoints would be stacked not only with enthusiasm, but with treats and goodies everywhere. And I was taking advantage, I was collecting an unnecessary amount of food at each checkpoint. I knew I’d do this. I can’t resist being a greedy bastard.
With each subsequent climb we were treated to amazing views of the Cotswolds. Having someone to chat to makes such a difference and we both felt strong as we happily ran between the inclines and hiked to the view points. Such a good time we were having that we were physically having to remind each other to eat and drink. Checkpoint three came and went and the heat of the day increased as we approached midday. It was getting very hot and very very sweaty. The heat wasn’t helped by the humidity of running through so many ‘forest’ paths. I hadn’t realised that the course would be this diverse and was loving running amongst the trees. Except, I kept rolling my left ankle. After the first few times it started to get very annoying. This was the downside of tree roots and the uneven-rocky path. It was beginning to frustrate me and I started to verbalise it as it did actually hurt each time. My mind was soon distracted though as Basecamp was approaching and the oportunity for a slightly longer rest.
We opted to avoid the full base-camp experience, and instead of going to the full on food court and pasta and taco buffet just to grab some food from the ‘run-through’ pitstop set up for the non-stop runners. Whilst Ged spent time with his family, I stocked-up (overloaded my bag more like) on the free food and changed my T-shirt from my Evossi Elevate to WTR Salomon agile. I’d always planned to do this for a bit of a mental boost. I love the Elevate. It’s so functional. But with the heat, the thinner Agile T would be much quicker drying. Something I’d welcome in this heat.
Have a tree
Re-fuelled we ploughed on and I soon rolled my ankle again. Ged suggested getting it strapped. A wise idea. At the next check point (number 5, beautifully contained within a barn!!) I asked the medic for assistance. Knowing strapping wouldn’t stop me rolling it, it would give me the pseudo-effect needed. My mind would be a little more at ease feeling the tape on the ankle. James happily obliged, strapped me up and gave me some sun cream also! Back out we went.
We’d overheard that the elevation of the second marathon was a bit different to the first, and it was true. There were less inclines in the second half, but the four hills we needed to climb were bigger. A good 500ft elevation on each. With one done, as we hit mile 33, I was feeling good and kept running. Me and Ged said our goodbyes and I continued onwards. As the miles ticked down, I realised I needed a Paula. Yep, a Radcliffe. It was the focus I needed to keep running. I knew there would be a pit stop within the next 4 miles or so so I didn’t stop. But neither did my gut. It was getting touch and go when the Checkpoint 6 popped into sight. Running through the gate I was heading straight for the portaloo!!
What a weight lifted. Literally. Is stocked up on water, Reloaded the isotonics, stashed yet even more free food and was back on it. Now alone, my thoughts started wandering into competition mode. With the acceptance that the course was now less undulating, more flats between the hills, I wanted to run. So I did. As long as I felt good I set out with the intention to run between the hills. I also had one eye on finishing with enough time to relax before my taxi was due. I also wanted a shower badly. The amount of sweat was, well, stinky.
I felt strong though and passed a lot of runners. Chatting to many before carrying on my way. Before I knew it there was just a half marathon to run. A very doable chunk. It all becomes a blur at this point, but I do remember the amazing tree. The Purple one and the desolate looking one behind it. What a sight! The trees on this route were something else.
Pit stop 7 came about and with it came the best flat coke. The best. I don’t think it could have been flatter nor warmer. I couldn’t get enough. I think I had five cups. A chat with the girls holding the fort (huge shouts to the girl, whose name I forget, who came down from Scotland to volunteer!!). I was surprised, but chuffed, to see a sign saying 5 miles to go. It felt like there should be longer left to overcome. This last stretch was all down hill then flat before the final mile all uphill to the tower. So really I had about 4 miles to run! This realisation was a massive boost. I set off passing more runners along the paths before rocking up in the town of Broadway. The locals were all out in good support (in fairness everyone encountered throughout the day was brilliant!) and I shared a few laughs with those enjoying a some drinks on the high street as I played up to their cheers. I’ve always got some energy to interact with people along the way. It just puts a smile on your face!
I entered the final fields, the final hills. Sheep everywhere. Only one way to go. Up. Straight up. And up I went. There was one more person in front of me someway up the hill. I soon caught up with them though as they stopped for a rest. Checking they were ok and good to finish, I carried on. Rising up through the last gate to be welcomed by claps and cheering, the cowbells ringing and the locals cheering me on for the last few hundred feet. round the last turn and into the finishing zone. I was done. A double marathon and over 7,000ft of elevation gain complete. it was time for shit food and a baby-wipe shower.
Job done. To the tower I ran.
Looking back at the splits, I positioned 64th on the first 26 miles and 16th on the second half. A good indication of how much stronger I ran the later part. To say I’m happy with that is an understatement!.
This must be the furthest I’ve travelled for such a short period of time just to go for a run. I arrived into Helsinki at midnight on a Friday, ran the marathon the next day and flew back out on Sunday. My thoughts were that by running the marathon I’d get to see a fair bit of the city to know where I’ll come back too!
The story didn’t start here though. Back in 2017, Sandra got in touch off the back of one of my Instagram post of my 2018 races. Sandra and I briefly worked together back at the Energy Saving Trust around 2009. We didn’t work closely together, nor really know each other too well, but we did bond over a mutual appreciation of the ‘first nuclear powered South Korean’ – Park Ji-Sung. It was as simple as that. Some 9 months later and we’d both left and other than an occasional message here and there, that was that.
So when Sandra got in touch she basically said she’d like to join and run one of the races with me. Amazing!! We settled on Helsinki (neither of us had visited before) and a plan was set.
The reunion
Over the months leading up to the weekend we chatted and reminisced. Or tried too. We realised how little we knew of each other and our lives and also that, back when we did know each other, neither of us had any prior passions or interested. But here we were, reunited by individual passions for running that we’d since discovered.
Sandra’s journey to Finland was somewhat more complex than mine. Living in South Africa she needed a visa. She was also pending a move to Canada and was visiting family in the UK beforehand. So we met and flew together from Gatwick. On the way back she’s also be going back to South Africa to visit family. I on the other hand had it easy, fly out of and into Gatwick.
We arrived late Friday, getting to the apartment for about 00:30 on Saturday. Thankfully the race didn’t start till 3pm (I don’t understand why!!). So we had time to wake early, walk to the start, explore the expo and collect our kits. The registration was very simple and, due to last minute injuries, Sandra was able to swap to the 5km run rather than the marathon.
Dougie representing. Don’t ask
We decided to get some coffee and explore Helsinki. A few hours of walking around made us question two things. What is in Helsinki and where are all the people?! Other than some Asian food markets and cruise ships in the port, it was a ghost town! So back to the apartment we went to eat and relax.
Race time cane about pretty quickly. We had to go our separate ways due to different
The ‘Flying Finn’
start locations and arranged to meet at the finish line, where I was also starting. A quick walk over, dumped the bags (and sparkling water I’d mistakenly bought, yuk!!) and we were invited to line up in the road.
There was a great atmosphere at the race village as it was bubbling with activity from the half marathon which had just finished. Loss of spectators and runners lining the streets and the MCs were on good form gearing up the crowd.
We set off. I had a plan. I was intended to run 8min miles consistently to get a 3:30 finish time. There are a few reasons here. Firstly, in three weeks I have another ultra. Secondly, I have a few niggles in my feet which were concerning me (that pain since Brighton still!). And thirdly, the demons from Limassol are still there. But that’s for another time. As I set off I quickly changed tact. I decided 7:50min/miles would be my pace.
It was a good challenge. To stop me racing. To focus my mind. To help me enjoy the day. It isn’t as easy as it sounds though. I felt good. I wanted to run harder. I wanted my space and didn’t like being crowded in. I also wanted to compete when people over took me. It was a case of constantly checking my pace and adapting. I was constantly aware and constantly thinking of my pace.
The course started off at the national stadium and we headed our towards Vanha and along the roads. There were water stations almost imminently. Damn cups. This again. I stopped. I knew I’d always have to stop to drink now. So I did. Each water station though had Sportyfeel isotonic and water. I took both. And carried on. There were a few little hills to deal with. Hilly enough that many runners were walking them, but nothing I’m not used to!! It wasn’t long before we hit some trails and paths in Lehtisaari Lovo as we started crossing some of the islands. In around the second park was an ice zone. Volunteers with ice spray no made a mental note to stop on the second lap.
We crossed several little bridges which offered amazing views of Helsinki. My mind was changing. I felt now I was seeing Helsinki. And from this aspect it’s beautiful. I couldn’t stop smiling. I was full of energy and trying to contain it. We continued through the streets of Lauttasaari Drumso
I needed the toilet though. It was on my mind. Then soon at a water station manned by clowns. A little scary! There were portaloos. Perfect. But, once I emerged, the road was heaving!! Runners everywhere. The 3:30 pace group had caught me up. And there were loads of them. Not just runners. But pacers no counted 6 pacers with 3:30 on their vests. All running together. Completely unnecessary. Why?!! Spread them out surely. I had to sprint and weave to break free of the crowd and avoid getting stressed by the them all!
As we reached the part of Kaivopuisto Brunnsparken. There was a lot of activity. People in parks, lining the streets cheering and supporting. As always I made sure I acknowledged and thanked each and everyone of them. I had the energy to spare to clap and cheer. We reached Kaartinkaupunk, near where we walked in the morning, I recognised runners coming the other way. It was sometime before I eventually hit the turning point. At this stage I was running in sync with another guy. We’d be running together for a while and He looked strong and I sensed we were likely to stay together for sometime.
We were heading back to the city. A loop we wouldn’t need to replicate second time round. We reached an underpass that was a maze of of tape and directions. We’d been here once before and were now directed in a different direction. There were also signs for the 5km run and the second lap of the marathon.
Coming up out of the under path we were in an open public space filled with locals cheering and supporting. Such an uplifting moment. I was racing ahead of my time and needed to reign it back in. We then ran along a path passing under all the main roads. Filled with street art and passers by. The guy I was running with pulled off to go to the toilet and that would be the last time I’d see him.
I enjoyed this section of the race. It was shaded and varied. You emerged into the ‘Garmin PowerZone’. The what?! Hardly a PowerZone. It had some young girls with Pom poms cheering. Riiiiight. I cheered back and carried on. I soon recognised the road, we were near the start. So nearing lap two. We’d done over half a mararhon at this point I think. Coming along the final straight to the finish were more supporters who I cheered and hi-fived and continued on for lap two.
I won’t go into the details here, it was the same as lap 1 just not the whole loop. I was eagerly anticipating the ice spray though so I stopped when it found it. It wasn’t as good as I hoped. Yes it was cold, but it just left my legs sticky.
I was full of energy and could easily have run so much faster. I was conscious of my target though and was on average 1 second per mile too fast. So I had to slow down. I was overtaking so many Runners. As a tactic it was clearly paying off in terms of racing. Slow and steady!! I passed people I saw way back ahead of me in the other direction of lap one. One woman had her partner running with her, cheering and encouraging her. She looked in pain as I passed them both and clapped him. There was also a street full of kids where I had great fun getting the hi-fives out. I always find I run faster after a burst of crowd enthusiasm!!
Before I knew it we were back at the underpass of directions. Shorter route this time. I was still feeling so strong. The challenge really was slowing down. I was still slightly ahead of my target pace. There was an elderly chap nearby with a 100+ marathon club t-shirt, he was on my mind. The admiration. The thought of the sheer amount of effort and dedication to hit that many. And how strong he was running. ‘I could have him’ I thought. I don’t want to finish behind an old geezer. Not my target though. Not today. I did speed up through the “PowerZone” taking the piss and mocking the cheerleaders and on into the tunnel of street art. A small kid (practically a toddler) with his father. The kid jumped off his scooter and started running. The old chap loved it. I loved it. The kid loved it. We were all cheering and clapping him along as he sprinted passed us. He kept going until a grumpy marshal stopped him. A bit unnecessary I thought.
The finish came up pretty quickly after that. I was slowing even more to hold my target pace. All those around me were also slowing, I assume more so through fatigue. We rounded the corner into the stadium. A short sprint across the turf to the finish. Some cheers from the crowd. I played up to the camera (not for the first time!). Puffing out the cheeks. Over the line and job done.
Time for the goodies. First up, Ice spray. I got it all over my lower body. Next, coffee.
Get in there
Yes!!! It was good. I had a long chat to the lovely lady serving. I got some water and went back for another coffee. Finishing picture taken, up next cake the goodie-bag. It was empty. Fill your own. Yes!!! Here we go. I got plenty of Water, Chocolate corn bars, Wasabi puffs, Raisins, Yogurts, Recovery milk drink, Icecream and Non alcoholic beer. I was pretty happy with that haul! Helsinki, you did good!!
This weekend saw the excitement of two group-based trail runs, first up a trip to West Sussex with the Never Stop London crew and then on Sunday popping the Epping Forest Cherry with a few of the Cool Cats runners.
Never Stop London – West Sussex
Every month the North Face community (Never Stop London) lead a free (yep!) trail run. Tickets sell out pretty damn quick and I usually miss out because I’m either too slow or not about on that weekend. This month though I managed to get a place…
We met at 9am outside the store in Regents Street where a bus was waiting and we were greeted by free coffee provided by the Workshop Coffee. Plug – it was bloody good caffeine. Jack, the community manager, gives the first of many prep talks and we board the bus heading towards West Sussex. There must have been about 30+ of us. The drive was a bore. Slow and painfully escaping London (and passing back near the area where I live on the way!) we arrived in Fulking around 11ish and assembled in the car park of the Shadow and Dog pub. Prep talk number 2, an intro to the team (Jack, Mark, Mathilde and Yvette) and an explanation of the route planned by Jana who’s leaving the team to start new adventures in Chamonix later this month.
TEAM NSL
Group photo taken and off we go, starting with a climb of approximately 400ft where we were presented with some glorious views and plenty of happy cows and hikers.
About 3 miles in, after some undulations and more breath taking views of the South Downs we were upon Devils Dyke, a spectacular v-shaped dry valley. Time to run down, wooooooooo. Jack as always was behind the camera, dashing ahead to capture the emotions and joy of each of us running.
Earlier in the week I’d agreed to meet up with a friend Jon and some others he knows through Instagram, I got my dates wrong however and had to bail for the NSL run as I’d already committed too. They were also out on the South Downs doing a 30km Trail, and then we met. Amazing that in such a vast space you can cross paths with so many familiar faces. A quick detour and I went and said hello, introduced myself to those I recognise from social media but hadn’t yet met. And then a dash back to rejoin the group.
A few more pleasurable and breath-taking (literally) climbs and there were more views to savour. I chatted a bit with Mark, who is a very experienced runner, about the different techniques for hill running. Now I just need to put them to good use!
Along the course we were constantly greeted by the wildlife. So many young calves and lambs out on the Downs, cautiously saying hello and minding their own business.
As we started to near the end of the 10 mile route we hit some mud (yay!) and it started to rain. Only ever so slightly did it dampen (get it?!) the spirits. But by now everyone was already thinking about the food in the pub.
Miles done and t was food time. We’d ordered ahead and the shadows and Dog were pretty good (I thought) with the group and the food was excellent. Now it was time to board the bus again and be lethargic. All in all a great day with plenty of laughs and memories and fun on the trail!!
Epping Forest with Cool Cats
The obligatory before ‘black and white’ mugshots
The shortest version of this story is that I took the responsibility to arrange this cool cats adventure. A group chat identified that Jorge and I had never been to Epping Forest. I put out the Facebook post and the Vesseys, Yvette and Verity put their hands up. Nick was going to come but on the day bailed. I didn’t have time in the week to look at routes so I begged Jana for some from her collection. What came next was the result of the group.
I opted for the shorter of the routes Jana provided, a 15km route. I had the NSL run the day before and the Helsinki marathon the following weekend so a shorter run was preferable to me. I’m also concious I’ve still some unexplained pain in my foot. There was some noise from the group as we were all travelling longer that what 15km would take, but we were easy. We could continue on the day if we felt like it.
On the day though we were all in favour of the 15km as a few of us were carrying injuries and niggles. So off we went from Loughton…
It was a greyish morning and we could feel the chill as we stood around setting our watches and bags. A quick mile or so up the road and we hit the ‘forest’ and you could immediately feel the humidity. We had the choice of a clockwise or anti clockwise loop as we’d be finishing in the same place. We went left and for the clockwise option.
Soon we hit the lake and had some great views and crossed some wooden bridged-path before rejoining the trails. We were all smiling and glad of the flat but spongy gravel track and talked a lot about our injuries, inability to heed our own advice and the technicalities of different running shoes (always fascinating with Dan’s insight as he works for Runnersneed!)
To our surprise the trail took a little hilly turn. We had some up and downs to contend with. As relaxing as they were, I wasn’t expecting them! This is pretty much how the rest of the run went. It was very relaxed and we were all smiling and together for the 9 miles or so and only took a wrong turn a few times!
It amazed me that I wasn’t alone in never having previously ventured to Epping Forest. I’ve intended too many times before, just never made it happen. I was blown away by the scenery and in particular the “greenness” (if that’s a word?!) of the place. so many shades and variations of the green, it really is a gem of a place, and despite the time, so easily accessible from London with the Tube!
Food. Was on our minds and we finished up and went in search of a pub. None were open yet so we opted for Cafe Rouge. I’ve no idea why I felt the need to devour a whole sharing platter. Oh yeah I do, because it had baked Camembert on it. Result. It was time to traverse back across London and Home!
This event was the first I’ve done as a result of social media shortly after I discovered Instagram and decided on my running challenges for 2018, A post by @lil_em_loves_to_run sparked my interest…
It would was to serve as a good training/baseline to kickstart my training for the Alps later in the year. The run was sold as a 32 mile ultra with a ‘strenuous ‘ difficulty rating. What does that even mean? Who cares, it was £55 which I think is damn cheap. I booked it and pretty much ignored it as it was so far in the future. Sometime later my sister was talked into signing up for the half Marton as part of the event. That would be fun with her.
May soon arrived I’d planned to do some hill training, but I hadn’t. I generally felt good, although I was intimidated by the elevation and climbs. I needed to experience some hills though. My parents had arranged to come up for the night so we all stayed in a hotel in Talgarth the night before and they’d be waiting at the finish line along with my sister. This would be the first time my family had joined me for a run, and also the first have done in my home country! The hotel had a tiny chip shop attached to it, so we prepped with some greasy fish and chips and a beer, got an early night and I headed down to the start to register at 6:30am.
Race T collected, number 39 for the day. Despite the predicted warm temperatures, it was very cold at that time so I’d layered up to keep warm. Soon I was spotted by Camilla and Dorota from the Cool Catz group. These cats get everywhere. It was the first time I’d met Dorota, she would also be running the ultra and Camilla the marathon (crazy cat had signed up just one week ago). We listened to the race briefing, From which I took “you’ll go up Corn Du” 3 times and “you don’t need the wet gear from the mandatory kitlist”, I had no choice at that point but to carry what I’d brought. The only other thing of note here was that the half marathon was actually 15.5 miles my sister would kill me when she discovered this!
Outside we went, a quick photo of the cool cats and we were off. Dorota and I started off together at the back, chatting and getting to know one another. The race started in Gileston farm in Talybont-on-usk and we headed out on the Taff Trail heading out towards the Talybont Reservoir. After about 4km we came across the first checkpoint, I thought this was a little early in the race, but it was also served in the kother distances so I’m sure the half and 10k runners would have appreciated it more than I did! We didn’t stop. Very soon after though we were upon the reservoir. A very picturesque scene indeed and many runners stopped to take pictures. This actually helped thin the crowds out a little bit!
We carried on along the Beacons Way (parallel to the TaffTrail Trail) and continued along side the reservoir which presented us with some incredible views. As we reached the end, probably around 6 miles in, I said my goodbyes to Dorota and we continued on at our own pace. I spent some time briefly chatting with a group of guys running together and we shared some stories before shortly after I hit the second checkpoint. They carried on but I I stopped for some coke, Yes, and a few jelly beans and continued onwards. At this point the ultra and marathon routes headed left, with the half marathon turning right to loop around the reservoir back to the start. I stopped to capture a picture of this sign, there was no ice cream. They lied. Briefly we were back on the Taf Trail before heading across fields towards the Beacons Way again. All around us were spectacular views of the mountains and the uncertainty of not knowing which we’d have to climb! I passed the guys again and carried onwards, smiling away and sing my little song that I had on loop in my head that went “gonna shit in a portal, dum dum, gonna shit in a portal, dum dum”. I don’t know why, and I don’t know to what tune, but it made me smile.
The path at this point was covered with trees and fresh smells, we were heading towards Rain Gauge and the old Filter House which is where we’d turn left, toward the first climb. We cossed the Taf Fechan and the climb was in sight. It was steep. I could see people going up all the way, runners and hikers. Out came my poles. This was the first time I’d used poles. I brought them to try out ready for the CCC. Mine are the highly rated Black Diamond carbon z. And damn they were light. I wore them horizontally across my back in a Salomon Pulse waistband. I hardly felt them. ‘Poling’ upwards I chatted to a lady from Leicester about her trips to the Beacons as a child and her running adventures. We got to the top, passed the tourists and off she went. I spent a few minutes thumbling with the poles and made a mental note to put them away just before I summit next time. I was now stuck in a narrow single file track, occasionally having the space to overtake. The views were beautiful. Ridgeway everywhere. Looking down on the gauge we really were being spoilt up high as we traversed the Craig Fan Ddu towards Corn Du.
Arriving at Corn Du it was getting busy with tourists, and the heat was getting intense. A picture of the Welsh flag and a sharp hairpin turn, it was time to go back down from Bwlch Duwynt. Now this was fun. Loads of people walking up, and me, free running down. I was smiling. I was humming and bumbling tunes out as I skipped and jumped all the little breaks in the path, weaving my way through the crowds and thanking the occasional cheer and supporter. I say it was fun, within a minute, I could feel the burn in the quads, and the pain of the impact in each ankle. I soon wished it to be over. I was overtaken by this dude who was flying down! When we reached the bottom and checkpoint 3 I commented so. He laughed, said the uphill were the problem. I stocked up on water, had some crisps and sweets, joked with the volunteers and headed off again, with a toilet stop in the public toilets I was good to go.
The route briefly followed the road before we turned back in on the paths and it was time to head up towards Corn Du again. We started off heading up, then briefly back down before the climb started properly and the poles came back out. I passed the down hill sprinter and joked that I’d see him on the next downhill (I did!) And up I went. This time I was huffing and puffing. Sweating like a bitch and I could feel the ache in my arms from using the poles. I was drinking a lot to combat the exhaustion and heat. The top looked and age away, and then I noticed the runners doing another sharp hair pin, we weren’t going completely to the top this time, as it was yet again time to descend. I took a moment to enjoy the views again and started chating to a guy from Wrexham doing his first ultra. We ran together and we’re soon in a little group of runners descending down Llyn Cwm Llwch. Most of them got ahead of me on the down hills. I was finding this tough and coming to the conclusion that I’m not that strong on the downs. I could feel my body fighting the gravity and I must have been afraid to relax into the ‘fall’ , the uneven terrain was a fear for me. We carried on along Cwm Llwch, getting closer and closer to ground level.
As we reached the village of Modrydd there would be a stretch along public roads. Narrow roads. This was undulating and I could see many runners walking the little inclines. I kept telling myself I’d go so far then walk also, but I kept moving the goalposts, deciding that I was fairly strong on this type of road and I’d keep going, racing, putting some distance between me and those who were stronger on the down hills. Rounding the turn at Three Rivers Ride, it was another steep incline to a car park (start of another public path), there was a runner sitting at the bottom changing his socks, he laughed as I looked up and said “fuck that” and started walking. At the top, Checkpoint 4. This was a biggy, checkpoint 5 was 15kms away, with only a emergency water at the top of Pen Y Fan. I filled the bladder and bottles, ate some stuff and moved on. I made some videos to share on Instagram to occupy my mind as I looked up at the biggest climb of the race, Pen Y Fan loomed in the distance. I looked at my watch, I’d been running for 4hrs and 20mins at this point. I was curious how long it would take to walk.
I was huffing and puffing away, occasionally chatting to other runners and hikers as I powered up. I thought we’d reached the top at one point and had a little run, but to my annoyance we were barely half way, ahead of me it was even steeper than before. I dipped into the babybel stash, I needed a salty pickme up. I was also conscious now that I was out of electrolytes. For some reason I didn’t bring any additional ones with me. I don’t know why. I no longer had the tasty escape from just plain old water. I wanted coke. Checkpoint 5 was a long way away. Nearing the top I had to scramble. Hands and knees over big rocky steps. I was there.
At the top of Pen Y Fan, the views were spectacular. I first sat and chatted to two hikers as I caught my breadth. Then I wandered around the top taking some pictures. Unexpectedly I could hear my name being called. What the…. It was Camilla! We hugged and laughed and enjoyed the views together before setting off down the Beacons Way away gain towards Fan Y Big. I was running and enjoying and I felt bad, I’d forgotten to say good by to Camilla, I looked back up and waved, she didn’t see me. I carried on, more down hill, but, in my mind, the last down hill, or so I thought. Before Fan Y Big, we turned off the main paths, we were going to go up again. I felt cheated. I accepted I’d misinterpreted the instructions at registration, running up to Corn Du three times did not mean only 3 hills to run. Stupid me. Oh well, up again I went up Craig Cwareli.
I passed two guys having a break and would see them again at the top when I decided to walk for a bit. We shared some chat about poles and equipment and I fell in line behind them as we ran the rocky ridgeway. It was tough underfoot, then the guy in front rolled his ankle and and yelled in pain. We stopped. He was alright, annoyed more than anything. I carried on out front. Then it was my turn and I did the same. We decided to walk through it, and enjoy the views.
Eventually the path was good enough to run again, heading along Flordd Las. It was soft and muddy. It was good. I felt stronger on this down hill than all the rest. I think it was the knowledge that the final Checkpoint and the coke I craved was just a few miles away. I could see runners all ahead, like individual targets to chase down and pass. And I did. One by run I sought them out and caught them. Until I got some serious cramp on the inside of my right quad. Normally in races, and earlier in this one, when I get cramp I power through. But this one was worse than I’ve felt before. I had to stop. A runner passed me and offered help to stretch have me, I told him it would be OK and I hobbled on behind him. I then felt so bad when he slipped in the mud and fell in front of me. It was funny to watch but I sensed it hurt and he was annoyed. He refused my assistance too and we carried on.
We crossed through some fields and painful climbed over some stye before the oasis of Checkpoint 5 presented itself. It was busy. We were all grabbing at the coke and sweets. Spirits were high and a lot of thanks to the volunteers were given. I checked, we had 6 kms to go, down hill and along the river. I text my parents, eta somewhere between 30-40 min. Onwards for the last time.
As we headed to Pencelli, where we’d pick up the Taff Trail back to the finish (start) I passed along and chatted to more runners. We were all on the high of knowing it was the final stretch. Along the river I picked some more targets and chased them down. A few would stop to walk and I felt like doing the same. It had been 7 hours. I was fatigued and my mind was ready to give up. I kept fighting the urge to walk. I was on race mode again, unnecessarily not wanting to lose a position in the final standings. Pointless, but that competitiveness kept me going. Up ahead another runner and a little incline as the path split, we were being directed off the path. I had the idea I’d stop st the top and have that walk. Only, I asked how long left a land I was told 300m. This changed my mind. There would be no stopping now!
The final stretch have winded down some farm roads. Plenty of supporters were out clapping and cheering. I clapped and thanked them all, rounding the bend through the car park entrance and to the finish line. I put on my pose, cheeks puffed, arms out and waddled across the line. Past my father and sister and cameras, passed the medals. Then they all called me back. I was in my own world.
I spent some time with my family who’d set up camp with their picnic of food. I went in and ate loads of crisp sweets and chocolate, chatter to runners I’d passed along the final stretch. Talked about the Ballache that was the third climb. Smiled and congratulated each othe. I also spent time getting pictures with my sister and enjoying hearing about her run. I was conscious Camilla could be finishing anytime soon, but it was time to leave. I went to the toilet, grabbed an Icecream, and there she was! I’d just missed her cross the line, I felt bad again!
We had a chat, then we left, she would be hanging around for Dorota who was up on the ridgeway, somewhere before Checkpoint 5.
The journey home was peaceful, I was so tired, but had had such have and around amazing time. I’d learnt around maxing lot, and now my sttention would switch to the next race (the Helsinki Marathon in two weeks) and the summer of ultras that lay ahead.
As I arrived there was yet again a strong welcome from the team at the pit stop. It helped being the only one there at the time. They filled my bottles as I noshed down some orange slices and checked the football scores they’d conveniently drawn up on the chalkboard. I probably spent too long at the checkpoint chatting but I felt good. and I was off again. The last section….
even more free food and was back on it. Now alone, my thoughts started wandering into competition mode. With the acceptance that the course was now less undulating, more flats between the hills, I wanted to run. So I did. As long as I felt good I set out with the intention to run between the hills. I also had one eye on finishing with enough time to relax before my taxi was due. I also wanted a shower badly. The amount of sweat was, well, stinky.
I entered the final fields, the final hills. Sheep everywhere. Only one way to go. Up. Straight up. And up I went. There was one more person in front of me someway up the hill. I soon caught up with them though as they stopped for a rest. Checking they were ok and good to finish, I carried on. Rising up through the last gate to be welcomed by claps and cheering, the cowbells ringing and the locals cheering me on for the last few hundred feet. round the last turn and into the finishing zone. I was done. A double marathon and over 7,000ft of elevation gain complete. it was time for shit food and a baby-wipe shower.
caffeine. Jack, the community manager, gives the first of many prep talks and we board the bus heading towards West Sussex. There must have been about 30+ of us. The drive was a bore. Slow and painfully escaping London (and passing back near the area where I live on the way!) we arrived in Fulking around 11ish and assembled in the car park of the Shadow and Dog pub. Prep talk number 2, an intro to the team (Jack, Mark, Mathilde and Yvette) and an explanation of the route planned by Jana who’s leaving the team to start new adventures in Chamonix later this month.
Soon we hit the lake and had some great views and crossed some wooden bridged-path before rejoining the trails. We were all smiling and glad of the flat but spongy gravel track and talked a lot about our injuries, inability to heed our own advice and the technicalities of different running shoes (always fascinating with Dan’s insight as he works for Runnersneed!)
our own pace. I spent some time briefly chatting with a group of guys running together and we shared some stories before shortly after I hit the second checkpoint. They carried on but I I stopped for some coke, Yes, and a few jelly beans and continued onwards. At this point the ultra and marathon routes headed left, with the half marathon turning right to loop around the reservoir back to the start. I stopped to capture a picture of this sign, there was no ice cream. They lied. Briefly we were back on the Taf Trail before heading across fields towards the Beacons Way again. All around us were spectacular views of the mountains and the uncertainty of not knowing which we’d have to climb! I passed the guys again and carried onwards, smiling away and sing my little song that I had on loop in my head that went “gonna shit in a portal, dum dum, gonna shit in a portal, dum dum”. I don’t know why, and I don’t know to what tune, but it made me smile.
Bwlch Duwynt. Now this was fun. Loads of people walking up, and me, free running down. I was smiling. I was humming and bumbling tunes out as I skipped and jumped all the little breaks in the path, weaving my way through the crowds and thanking the occasional cheer and supporter. I say it was fun, within a minute, I could feel the burn in the quads, and the pain of the impact in each ankle. I soon wished it to be over. I was overtaken by this dude who was flying down! When we reached the bottom and checkpoint 3 I commented so. He laughed, said the uphill were the problem. I stocked up on water, had some crisps and sweets, joked with the volunteers and headed off again, with a toilet stop in the public toilets I was good to go.
dipped into the babybel stash, I needed a salty pickme up. I was also conscious now that I was out of electrolytes. For some reason I didn’t bring any additional ones with me. I don’t know why. I no longer had the tasty escape from just plain old water. I wanted coke. Checkpoint 5 was a long way away. Nearing the top I had to scramble. Hands and knees over big rocky steps. I was there.
Run With Dai 