UTMB

Giraffe, Frog!

Published on April 16, 2024 by runwithdai1 Comment

Istria100, a 100mile course on the Istrian peninsula in north west Croatia. A race I heard about shortly after I got into trail running and which peaked my curiosity. There are several distances on offer as part of the event, but it was only the 100 mile race that I wanted to do. I’d contemplated the race a few times in previous years but it seemed to never work out with other plans. Thankfully Matt was keen to do a 100 mile event in 2024 and liked the sound of Istria, so we signed up.

Leading up to the race I was starting to feel more confident and optimistic. My persistent leg injury seemed to be under control (probably thanks to the Physio I’d been seeing and being more consistent with some rehab and strengthening!). Running Letecka Stovka a few weeks earlier was a huge confidence boost and the planning for Istria was complete, so all was good. Then, a week before the race I rolled my ankle (on the other leg – the one I broke back in UTMB 2022!) badly at the end of a simple run just as I was approaching home. It hurt like hell at the time and continued to ache for the rest of the day. It wasn’t one of those ‘it hurts but is instantly fine a few moments later’ kind of rolls. So the injury anxiety and worries came back along with the constant ice pack. Trying a run a few days later it was still achy and although I was concerned, I wasn’t going to stop now. I’d do the usual hope for the best and ‘deal with it later’.

I met Matt at Venice airport and we drove over to Umag in Croatia by passing through Slovenia. Thankfully for me Matt is super organised and had sorted all the race logistics. We were staying in a hotel affiliated to the event in Umag not far from the finish line. The hotel also had a regular shuttle bus to the sports hall (where bib collection and drop bags would be) and would also be the venue for the post race meal for runners. We’d planned to be running for over 35 hours so made two separate bookings for just the night before the race and the night after. Trying to be smart and not pay for accommodation for the two nights we’d be running through. Given the time of our flights landing, we didn’t make it to Umag in time to collect the bib the night before the race, so we checked in to the hotel and went for food and then straight to sleep.

The next morning we checked out and used the shuttle service to go collect our bibs before returning to the hotel and getting ready for the race in the hotel grounds near the tennis courts (tennis is big in Umag! They host an ATP tournament don’t you know!). The start of the race is in a town called Labin on the eastern side of the peninsula. There was a transport bus from Umag at 16:00 so we had plenty of time to spare. When we were ready we took the shuttle service back to the sports hall and made our way into the town centre to get some lunch. We forgot the race centre was closed over lunch so couldn’t drop our bags off until we went back for the bus to Labin after we’d eaten.

A few hours later we’d completed the bus journey and arrived at the little medieval town of Labin perched high up on the hill above the city of Rabac. There was an initial mad rush to the toilets as all 7 buses unloaded and then a short time of hanging around waiting for the race to start. Thankfully it went quickly and there was a good atmosphere as the host shared information over the loud speaker, a samba band provided entertainment and the organisers arranged a group photograph of all the female participants. Scott, another runner from Wales who I met on an UltraX event years ago, found me and said hello. Then, Before we knew it, Thunderstruck by AC/DC was pumping out and the countdown began. We were off…

Section 1

For the first section we left Labin on the main road, leaving the old town through the archway and down hill. Naturally people bombed passed us from all directions. We we cautious and knew we couldn’t get caught up with speeding through the first downhill section so ran sensibly, even as we saw runners chasing each other up the initial little climb straight out of town before we turned off for the trails. The first trail was a narrow, single track trail that led down to the coast and towards Rabac. It was scattered with very loose rocks for most of the way. At the bottom we ran along the promenade of a the beautiful coastal city of Rabac (with its humongous resort perched on the side of the hill) and enjoyed the gentle sea breeze. We then turned off the sea front and up a lot of steps as we found the single tracks of the forest and wide, gravel roads that made up the first incline. It was rocky.

The climb was fairly short and didn’t take long to ascend. There was a brief peak with a view point (one of those random man made picture frames you’re supposed to take a photo with?!). But I was more fascinated by the massive chimney from a nearby industrial site in the the valley below. Despite being about 450m high at the view point, this chimney looked like it towered almost all the way to the same height as us.

From the peak we began the descent. It was a very long down hill on loose rock and gravel tracks, following large swooping switch backs down to sea level. The whole way the towering chimney occupied my thoughts. I know now that this is from the Plomin coal-fired power station. At the bottom we crossed a water channel connecting to the sea and made our way into a massive car park and the first aid station – Plomin Luka. Here we did a quick stop, the highlight being paprika flavoured crisps. I love paprika flavoured crisps. We checked out the profile of the next section and Matt set the strategy noting this was an important section to get right. It was the longest section of the race and also had the second largest of the climbs. It was about 7pm so we took out our head torches ready for sunset.

Section 2

We set off from the carpark and began the ascent of the big climb of almost 800m. It started ‘off track’ with lumpy, rocky ‘steps’ as we climbed a short way to the old village of Plomin situated on the hill. Here there were lots of enthusiastic supporters cheering. They were particularly vocal in cheering on the ‘chica’ who was in front of us. It was great to feel the support. The climb then took us onto some very steep, wide gravel tracks. It wasn’t known at the time, but this would be the most prominent of surfaces we’d run the whole race on – wide tracks for vehicle access that weren’t anything more than just loose rock and steep gradients. As we climbed the sun set rapidly. We were treated to a fantastic orange sky with the power station chimney getting smaller and smaller in the valley below us.

The climb eventually levelled out. At the top was a very short but steep downhill on the same terrain then a few kilometres of undulating tracks. Already I was conscious of the terrain and my ankle and verbalising (moaning) to Matt. I’d rolled both my ankles numerous times already. I was a little concerned the impact this might have on my increasingly fragile body over the rest of the race. For the last few kilometres we descended sharply for about 500m back down to sea level again. It was a little quad buster but we tried to descend sensibly. Toward the bottom we ran alongside a river and crossed the water. Here the rock was very slippery and we were glad it wasn’t raining. The course would be infinitely harder in wet conditions like the previous year. The next aid station was in the old town of Mošćenička Draga – a small fishing port of the town of Mošćenice – and we could hear the atmosphere from the pumping music. The vibes and volunteers were excellent here. After more fuelling (paprika crisps!) we studied the next section’s route profile. Up next was the biggest climb of the race. We had about 1300m of elevation to climb in one go, roughly split up into a 900m and then a 400m climb, as we’d make our way towards Poklon.

Section 3

After leaving the town, the first part of the climb was steep gravel tracks (it’s becoming a theme now isn’t it.) with the terrain being very loose underfoot. The gravel tracks were intermittently broken up by steeper, more rocky climbs. We powered through with a nice consistent pace taking it steady. The darkness of the night helped not being able to see the trails and summits ahead. Occasionally I’d try second guessing our direction, pointing out the silhouette outlines of mountains looming around us in the night sky.

We conquered the first 900m without any concerns and had a long, surprising flat and down hill wide trails to enjoy for a a little section before climbing again. Now we climbed steep trails deep in the forest before a rather exposed section to the summit after we left the shelter of the trees. We could see the blurred glow of head torches disappearing into the darkness above us. We followed them into the unknown. With the exposed mountain the icy cold temperatures were initially refreshing after a tough climb but soon we realised how cold it was as the mist and clag of the summit set in. It was so misty that it was difficult to see as we traversed the final section to the summit along a short but very rocky ridge. Without being able to see more than a few metres ahead, we were shocked when a brick building of some sort of building appeared next to us out of nowhere. We were at the top of the trail, it was the Vojak Tower at Vojak – the highest peak on the Istrian peninsula – which then instantly turned to a pathed, stone pathway. It was glorious. A few hundred meters of rest bite from the rocks.

We began descending pretty soon and we kept moving to keep warm. With the moisture of the night we found the (now) rocky descent hard going as it was slippery. We followed the tracks down as the switch backs took us quickly down a few hundred metres to Poklon and the next aid station. This was the 50km mark and the first cut off point. We arrived about 2 hours ahead of our estimate. We were happy but both acknowledged how sore and achy we were. After 50km it felt like we’d run a lot further than what we had. My lower hamstrings were surprisingly tight and our quads ached. This was a significant milestone in the race though as we’d now completed the three biggest climbs, the first cut off and almost half of the total race elevation. Looking back, it’s a challenging 50km!

Section 4

From Poklon to Brgudac the section was fairly straight forward. There was a Little climb on road and trail (yeah it was mostly rocky). Then pretty much all long wide gravel tracks with mostly gentle downs and gentle ups for the undulating terrain. It was pretty slow going though and fatigue was definitely kicking in. Our feet were sore and we were seriously starting to dislike these gravel trails. We left Poklon about 3am and we were tired now and holding on to the thought that it would start to get lighter from around 6am. Whilst I moaned about the rocks, my ankles and feet, Matt started to get very sleepy and was weighing up the thought of a quick trail nap. He fought through the tiredness though and we got to the aid station just before 6am. As we were leaving the sun started to rise and the trails were visible enough without our head torches. We were starting to get excited about the day ahead and seeing some views after the darkness of the night.

Section 5

We left the aid station and followed the gravel tracks for a few kilometres before reaching some forests. It was a refreshing change of scenery. We crossed dried up old streams and passed a man made fountain(?) collecting water from the mountain side. The sunrise fully completed as we went deeper into the forest and the sun shone through the dense woodland. It created beautiful patterns of light and enjoyed the serenity of the moment. The field of runners had spread out and we enjoyed the peace and quiet of the forest. The climbs took us to a summit marked with a big Red Cross on it. We took a moment to enjoy the views which were panoramic. The trails then took us down through the forests with short sharp steep descents on loose soil. We enjoyed it despite the increasing quad fatigue we began to feel. We were 70-80km into the race now and had missed a nights sleep so fatigue was to be expected.

We were trying to keep each other entertained and were playing word games. We took turns naming countries beginning with the letter that the last country finished with. Matt was kicking my ass, badly. He kept hitting me with double ‘A’s and I was useless. So the game didn’t last long and he wasn’t having any of my excuse of “but we have another 25 hours of the race to play” as I attempted to stall. We switched the game to naming animals and I faired equally badly. Actually, worse because I kept replying “frog” to Matt’s play of “giraffe”. He kindly put it down to tiredness and not me being stupid. It did however give birth to the “giraffe, frog! game. A simple game of naming different animals, but any time someone says giraffe, the next person must say frog, if not they lose. Simple. It popped up a few times throughout the rest of the run.

Thankfully I was spared any further embarrassment as a new distraction soon graced us – the 100km runners. We knew the courses joined but weren’t expecting to reach the join before the majority of the 100km runners. We thought we’d maybe get the mid/back of the pack. Out of nowhere Matt heard a noise and turned to find the leading pack of 5 males (and not far behind them the leading lady!) right behind us. We stepped aside and cheered them through. One of the pack was Pau Capel (a big name in trail running) and we had fun cheering him.

The excitement soon subsided though as it made the next few kilometres a little frustrating as we carried on through the forests. For a few climbs and descents we had to constantly step aside to let all the speedy runners passed. It’s not needed, but it always feels the right thing to do (to give way and step aside). But it does mess with your momentum. And momentum is so important on long distance endurance runs. Thankfully most runners acknowledge and thank you for the consideration. Many however don’t. It was amusing how my ‘trail humour’ and attempts at heckling the runners falls so flat. Dad jokes like “don’t let us catch you up” and “you can beat him” just didn’t hit the mark. They never do but I can’t stop myself.

When we reached the next aid station we took a bit of a longer rest to give more of the pack a chance to pass us (as this aid station was about 40km in to their race, many of the 100km runners didn’t hang around for long). We also saw Kaito, who we briefly met at registration the day before. He was flying on his first 100km event. We sat down and enjoyed another course of paprika crisp sandwiches (the best combination) which had been our primary fuel at each aid station. We were loving it.

Section 6

The next section was the final bit that would take us to the 100km mark and our drop bags. We’d pretty much done half the race now and gave ourselves a hi five as we left Trstenik . We had more, long roads/gravel tracks and forest to overcome as more 100km runners passed us. We were aligned with the mid pack of the race now which gives a different vibe. The elites and faster runners are so focused that they fly passed you and from most you get a simple thanks or acknowledgement. Further back in the pack the runners speak to you a bit more as they pass and many go out of their way to acknowledge the 100miles and express a little bit of awe at your achievement. It’s a a real confidence and morale boost. It spurs you on as you converse with these strangers and encourage each other. Something I really like about the sport.

In this section I recall a road crossing that led to a short steep climb as we reached another summit. This was the last climb we’d do at the higher altitudes. For the last 40km or so we’d been fluctuating around the 700-1100 m of altitude. After this summit we would descend and would not climb to more than about 400m again for the rest of the race. After the climb the descent was pretty straight and direct for a few hundred metres of elevation loss as we passed near Brest before a short undulating section through Slum. We then dropped the last 500m or so on rocky forest trails to Buzet. We could see the town from the trails and were second guessing where the aid station might be. We could see little dots of runners crossing roads and roundabouts and then disappearing into the town. Eventually, after passing over the train line, it was our turn to be the guiding dots for the runners behind us.

Here we grabbed our drop bags and put our race strategy into action. We’d spent the last few kilometres adjusting and refining our plan – We’d get our bags and grab some food. Start charging our devices and sorting our kit as we ate. Then get changed into fresh clothes before going for a sleep (there were camp beds and planned sleeping areas at this aid station). After which we’d finish preparing our kit for the next section. This plan was based on our previous experiences. Firstly we thought it best to sleep where there was space to do so rather than waiting until we were more tired / later in the day. So despite it being around 1pm we decided a quick sleep now would be beneficial and hopefully postpone any tiredness deeper into the second night. We’ve also decided that it’s best to not go straight to sleep when we arrive at an aid station. We’ve done this before and we think the downsides outweigh the positives. Firstly you are normally wet with sweat and warm through adrenaline. As soon as you stop your temperature starts to plummet. It can be hard to get to sleep if cold and shivering. So always change clothes before sleeping. Secondly, eating first gives your body a brief rest from trying to process the food whilst on the go. And sometimes after you wake up you actually want to eat again!

So we did just that. We ate pasta with beef stew and sides of fried chicken. Istria100 is known for its great food and aid stations. Whilst I wouldn’t say any of this was great, the beef stew and fried chicken was definitely improvements on the options available at most other races! We then went for 30 mins of sleep. We were 2 hours ahead of our schedule and had plenty of time before the cut off. Plus, we’d planned on finishing early in the morning on Sunday and didn’t have anywhere to go as our hotel booking meant we couldn’t check in until about 2pm. So we didn’t care what time we actually finished. We had all day Sunday to do nothing and if we finished earlier we’d just have to sleep in the sports hall somewhere. We went upstairs to the sleeping area and found camp beds with no one else about. Perfect peace and quiet. We set an alarm and went to sleep. Before we knew it the alarm was waking us. I don’t think I really slept. I dozed but felt I was conscious the whole time. Matt did sleep though which was good as he’d been carrying that tiredness through from the early hours.

We had a few more snacks and decided to take a bit more time before leaving. I think in the end we rested for about 1.5 hours which is loads of time, even by my standards. There was another benefit here which came into our thinking. It was now very, very hot outside. The more time inside at Buzet meant the less time we spent outside in the heat. Not that it helped that much…

Section 7

As soon as we left Buzet we trotted down a road section towards the trail. I was pumped with energy from the rest and we moved quicker than we had for who knows how many hours. As we hit the start of the first climb, a muddy forest trail, the lack of shelter from the heat hit hard. Matt particular felt the heat as we started climbing and we made the decision to slow down. It’s good Matt recognised the impact of the heat as I think I would have pushed on and exhausted myself on the climb. The first climb was maybe a 150m section then a brief flatter bit before a final 100m push. We started to climb in the forests before we encountered some vineyards and wonderful little villages and farms on the hillsides. As we reached the top, a farmer directed us to a tap outside the house we could use. We wet our hats and faces and were so glad of his gesture. We then continued along a short road and more gravel tracks connecting the different vineyards which we followed as they took us back to the forests.

Somewhere around here we crossed a huge cliff with a drop off on the side of the hill before hitting the forest. The down hill took us deep into a forest that was wet and muddy. We were surprised. We’d heard how muddy the course could be but didn’t expect this would be the case with the warm weather. Yet here we were trouncing through mud. We navigated down and followed the sound of water as we joined up to a river and then crossed it numerous times in a short distance. It was fun at first then annoying as it happened so often. The stones crossing the water we slippery from all the runners before us. Further down though the river was fascinating as it carved incredible shapes and formations in the rock.

Once we completed the descent we were greeted with our favourite gravel tracks again. These were steep and we started to climb back up. I think it was about 300m or so. It was dull and we were hating the rocky gravel tracks by now and it was so warm. We were both running low on water and still had a long way to go before the next aid station as it wasn’t until a few kilometres after we descended the other side of this hill. So it was another slow and steady climb of using momentum to keep heading forward. Very few people passed us now but occasionally we’d overtake runners from both races. Everyone was feeling the heat. After a while the gravel track gave way to solid hard stone. It was marginally more enjoyable but the heat seemed to reflect back up at us off the ground. We sought out every inch of shade we could find as it was so exposed.

We were talking about different races and the types of support you get at villages. Commenting that on this race we’d seen very little from locals/the villages in terms of people being outside and cheering/helping runners. We also commented that sometimes races acknowledge the warmer than expected weather and pop up extra water stations. We wished that was the case here. Then, like some sort of mind reading miracle, as we reached the top of the climb in the village of Vrh a local welcomed us to his house to use his outside tap. There was already a collection of runners outside sitting in the shade and drinking. We both drank a 500ml of water and I refilled both bottles and encouraged Matt to do the same. A wise decision as I drank the extra litre before we got to next aid station!! All hail the water king of Vrh!

More rocky trails on the descent before Butoniga

From the town we had another rocky forest decent into muddy trails leading towards a lake. We could see the aid station (Butoniga) way off in the distance on the other side of the lake. First we had to descend, then climb again passing through the small village of Sculci before crossing /round the lake. The muddy trails made the climb a little hard at first as it was slippery. After passing through the village we then headed down a long road to reach the lake. Here we walked the whole length on the flat footpath. We simply refused to run on anymore gravel track. My feet were on fire now and despite being only the first aid station since the big stop at Buzet it felt like it took us an age to reach it and we had been moving for over 4 hours again. I told Matt I was worried about some soreness in my feet so wanted to spend some time trying to patch them up a little. Thankfully I didn’t have blisters but I felt the soreness and redness of hotspots around my heals. I put blister plasters and tape on the affected area and immediately felt better knowing I might have prevented some bigger issues and made my feet more comfortable. I was pleased with my decision making! As we left Butoniga it was 7pm. So we had our head torches at the ready…

Section 8

We left the aid station and had a 2km stretch along a river before re-joining the trails and starting to climb again. Like before the trail was surprisingly muddy and steep. It was slow going as we climbed through the forest and left the sticky mud behind. Before long we emerged on what seemed like a very new tarmac road. It just appeared out of nowhere and kept climbing. It was very steep. A long old slog as we kept plodding along. As we looked up in the darkness we saw a few head torches descending quickly. We tried to figure out the route and where we’d go. It was confusing (looking back I’m wondering if we even saw headtorches!). We seemed to circumnavigate in the opposite direction around the town on the hill and then back into the forest. A short and steep shortcut up to the village at the top. Despite it being dark and cold again the climb meant our temperatures rocketed. We were hot. A small group of runners had formed around us and I could see we weren’t the only ones who felt that climb!

From the village we went along a long straight track that confused me so much. It felt like a bridge sticking out from the side of the hill. My mind couldn’t process how the long path existed where it did. Must have been some sort of ridge or saddle in the hills. We led the pack of runners as the trail started to descend and become increasingly more narrow. Immediately I caused Matt to almost fall into me as I slowed down as the trail became saturated with deep sticky mud and large rocks buried in them. It was so slippery and we carefully had to navigate. Matt tried to get the next runner behind him to go first but he was not having any of it. I joked that we wanted to watch him fall over but the truth was he was right up Matt’s backside and breathing annoyingly loud. So instead we moved a little quicker, well as much as the terrain aloud us too. We were twisting in different directions on the descent and we lost all sense of orientation. I had no idea where we were heading and in which direction Umag was from here.

As the mud gave way to gravel we had resorted to walking again. It’s all we’d been doing pretty much since we left Buzet many hours ago. We walked along a few roads as we tried to figure out where we were going and which of the few villages/towns lit up on the different hills we’d be climbing too. Then the next hill then came again as we started out in more forests. Matt was very tired now and struggling to keep his eyes open and decided he couldn’t wait to the next aid station which was over the other side of the next climb, maybe close to 2 hours away. He wanted a trail nap so laid down on the side of the trail and gave me a strict instruction to give him just 2 minutes. I don’t no how he can get such energy/recovery from just 2 mins of sleep, but it works for him. As he laid there I bent over my poles and confirmed everything was ok to the other runners who passed us and checked that we were all ok.

2 mins later I resisted the urge to kick him and instead gave him a gentle shake from the shoulder. He sprang up on his feet, he was back, he was energised. We made good progress up the rest of the hill as we climbed to Motovun. We caught up and passed some of the runners before the trails turned to road and then to cobblestones. The cobbles hurt as we made our way through the historic old town. There were loads of them and the climb to the town was very steep. At the top we caught the rest of the runners who passed us when Matt slept and we fast walked away from them as we began the descent to Livade. Thankfully this descent was less steep than the ones before. But it didn’t make it any easier. We were just too tired and sore to make use of the gentle terrain. I think it was here that was the last time another runner went passed us running.

Before approaching the town there was a long flat gravel section alongside a major road. The sound of our poles tapping on the stone and stones crunching and rubbing each other was, for the first time, drowned out by another noise. The swooshing of cars passing. It was kind of nice to hear something different. At the end of the track we needed to cross the road. Thankfully nothing was coming because it was wide and we were slow. What faced us now was about 1km of straight road to Livade. It felt like 10km as we slowly walked the road. We’d already agreed that we’d sleep here again. We were both tired and it was 11pm. There was a long night ahead of us and still over a marathon to go. We believed there were more camp beds at this aid station so agreed to sleep for 20 mins if there were.

Once we entered the aid station I couldn’t see anything so I was getting ready for a ‘head on the table’ nap. But Matt being more authoritive just asked the volunteers and there were indeed beds for us, situated in a room next to the tent. We went in and had a slight wait for a bed to be freed up. There was probably less than ten beds cramped into a small room and the medics were treating other runners in the main room. fortunately we both got beds at the same time and asked to be woken in 20 mins. Matt slept through it all and woke naturally just about 20 mins later. He woke me but I think I just dozed and didn’t fall sleep again. I was a bit spaced out now. We went and had some warm soup and spent another ten mins composing ourselves and warming up under a heater. When we left the aid station we were very cold. We expected the second night to be warmer than the first as we were at much lower altitude. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t consistently cold but every now and then we’d get these icy blasts that would shock us.

Section 9

Leaving Livade I was moaning about how we still had so far to go. Matt however was the ever optimistic and sensible one. He verbalised the profile and put it into perspective to keep me focused. We had one climb of maybe 400m then a more gradual descent and gradual shorter climb of about 200m, the final proper climb. Once through this section it was pretty much down hill to the finish.

It was just as he described. We did a long climb in the forest in the cold. I think it passed rather quickly considering we were now over 130km into the race. We began the gentle descent that then felt never ending and the stones irritated our sore feet as we progressed along the long winding switchbacks. There was a short, steep and muddy descent as we then crossed a river before starting the final climb. It had it all. Gravel and stones, steep sections, twisting and turning tracks. Matt was talking away to me but I wasn’t talking back. I was drifting and struggling to keep my eyes open. He was using his experience and asking me questions. Loaded questions to make me talk and describe things. He’s wise like that. But I wasn’t helping. I wasn’t responding in the way that was needed. I wasn’t giving conversation, just grunting. It was having an impact on him too and he was starting to get sleepy also. A troublesome situation to be in and I wasn’t helping with my lack of communication. We managed it through a few micro trail naps. The 2 minute timer was back. It worked and sharpened us up a little. And I certainly slept this time. I had some vivid dream of Matt and his wife managing their laundry with some super fancy and advanced smart washing machine they operated from anywhere in the world. No idea where that came from.

We got to the next aid station Groznjan and it was stereotypical of the sort of aid stations you see towards the end of big races. The buzz and excitement has gone. The music and upbeat vibes are no more. It’s replaced with a sombre dark mood. A few runners spread out, some sleeping, some lost in thought, some just emotionless. Everyone exhausted. We needed sleep. We found a bench, got out our phones and set a timer for 10 mins. We placed our heads down on the table and tried to to get more sleep…

This was the one for me. This one worked and I got some rest. That and knowing it was 3 am and the sun was start bringing new life to us in around 3 hours and, as Matt said, we’d broken the race now. We just had the last 20 or so kms to go so were looking at 6-7 hours left. We’d probably finish about 2 hours later than we first thought. So not bad.

Section 10

From the aid station we found ourselves on a very long straight horrible gravel road. We passed through a number of tunnels. Matt commented that it must have been some old railway perhaps. I looked it up and we were on the ‘Parenzana Trail’ – it was indeed an old narrow-gauge railway that closed in 1935. It stretches for about 130km from Porec in Croatia, through Slovenia to Muggia in Italy. And yes, I’ve already found there is an ultra (various distances including an 88km one) held in February each year. And no, I’ve absolutely no interest in that. We didn’t enjoy this section – It was so straight, frustratingly so. We hated it in fact as it was so boring and the gravel wasn’t enjoyable to run on. Matt made a point of how crappy the 20km race must be if this is the route. After an eternity (yeah I know, it was only about 3 kms) we turned off the Parenzana trail. But what was to come was somehow worse. The trail became rockier with larger loose rocks. I had memories of Trans Gran Canaria (on a smaller scale).

The rocky track after leaving the Parenzana Trail

Sometime later we entered some forest tracks. The path was very twisty and narrow. I was now kicking my own ankles trying to avoid the rocks, but it was a very gradual downhill and I was speeding up though much to Matt’s frustration. I wasn’t trying to get a faster time but I really did want it (all of it, the race!) to end as soon as possible. Thankfully this was the shortest section of the whole course and we were soon breaking through the rocky forest as dawn started to break on our approach to Buje as we found ourselves ascending a road section to the final aid station. We sat under a heater and ate a little, lost in contemplation that we now had one final section left, 13km all of which was down hill apparently. But we knew that wasn’t the case…

Section 11

Of course we climbed in the town as soon as we left the aid station. Yeah not anything to really moan about but it’s just obvious and amusing when the aid station signs show and elevation profile with climbs and also state ‘0m’ of elevation gain. Sack the artist I said. Anyway, we passed through the town to the other side and had a little down hill on roads as we made our way to some fields.

From here we spent some time with some slight climbs in farmland which was again surprisingly very muddy. Eventually we left the farms and found ourselves running a few km along a river. This is where we were lucky as the weather meant the fields were dry and compact with just a thin sticky layer of surface mud. More fields and riversides tracks awaited us as the sunrise gave way to morning and we got progressively hotter again. The fields felt endless as we could see so far ahead and the outskirts of Umag started to become visible way off in the distance. Still so far away, it was a long time before we reached it. We left the fields and found ourselves on a cycle path leading to the centre of town.

Leaving the farmland and removing stones from my shoes

We slowly reached the seafront and small gatherings of people clapped and cheered us over their morning coffees (and beers for some!). I pushed back on Matt’s urge to run the final stretch. I gave in when we were just a few metres away. We walked across the finish line and turned for a big hi-five for the cameras. Relief set in and amusement followed as the MC announced our names followed by “oh you’ve done a lot of these” clearly seeing our UTMB accounts flash up with all our details. A lovely lady then gave us our medals (which are quite significant and weighty!) and took our photos for us. It was over. We were so glad that there were no more gravel tracks to be run!

Post race we walked back to the sports hall, had a shower and used all our free time to relax. We went to the massage area and had a complimentary massage and I sure got the works. A ‘four hands’ full body massage. The two guys worked my legs great, easing out all the tightness that had accumulated over the last two days. I was worried about how tender I was but the massage was great. The shoulders and back too, very relaxing. They even massaged my glutes and stretched me out. I really hit the jackpot!

We then caught the shuttle bus back to the hotel. It was still too early to check in but we took advantage of the post race meal which was a full buffet that we could help ourselves too. So much better than the usual post-race offerings. I filled up on Potatoes, fried chicken, beef stew and vegetables on repeat . After which we headed outside to the seafront and lay on the lounge beds and went to sleep. A timer set to wake us up ready for check in. Before we knew it we’d recovered a little, checked in and went about the next step of our pamper treatment – the spa. Swimming pool, saunas, steam rooms and Jacuzzis. We had a great few hours before it was time to eat again. Post race done well.

On reflection/ looking back…

Something I’ve not mentioned that surprised us was that there was so much rubbish on the route. It was clearly from runners and far too much to be accidental. From early on and more so in the later stages (which would have had all the races/event participants) there was discarded sports food wrappers everywhere. I’ve not seen so much dropped litter on a race before. Not sure why this would be the case. Oddly, we also saw a load of clothes discard on the trails. Not from runners though. But generic waste. It was a constant stream across the whole 100 miles and we noted enough to get fully kitted out at least twice over include rucksacks and hats and all. We thought it was odd as the trails are all quite isolated and don’t really go anywhere unless you cover a fair ol’ distance. Odd.

In terms of the race itself, for me it didn’t live up to my expectations and the hype. It’s clearly a lovely area and place to visit. But the nature of the 100miles meant it was all a bit meh really. Firstly we spent more time in the darkness of night than the day. So I assume we missed out on some probably excellent views, particularly the first night when we would have been at higher elevation. Secondly, there was a a real lack of variation in the trail. As I’ve moaned – the vast majority of trail is just gravel road. It’s far from enjoyable or interesting. The bit we enjoyed the most was the lush forest section after Brgudac. You also hear a lot about the amazing food at the event, but we didn’t think it was anything that special. All the aid stations were the same generic UTMB aid stations setups with bread, crisps, chocolate, pretzels, cheese, meat and sponsored sports stuff from naak. The hot food offering at Buzet was certainly better than most races provide but hardly anything worth raving to your mates about. That said, the volunteers were excellent and the event was exceptionally well organised. There was more than enough food for everyone, the link with the hotel with the shuttle bus service and post race meal was very good. It’s certainly a great exemplar for organisation and would be excellent for a experience for a relative newcomer to such events. The course markings were also some of the best I’ve experienced. No chance of going wrong on this course.

Course markings were obvious and plentiful

Overall though, as it goes for me, if I were to try and rank all the ‘milers’ I’ve done (which I’ve clearly gone and ranked) then it’s probably down as 4th in the list of 5 ‘milers’ I’ve completed (and I broke my ankle on one of the higher ranking ones and another gave about 900 runners the shits afterwards!). I just didn’t think the route and the trails are that enjoyable.

Other than that, I am quite pleased with how we came out on the other side. Neither of us had any problems, and after the massage were both walking fine. My ankles also seem to have held up ok, so my initial worries are no more and although my feet are very raw, I’ve only a few tiny blisters. Taking time to stop and empty stones from my shoes and apply plasters and tape definitely helped! So I’m pleased with my decision making mid run!

Published on September 4, 2022September 4, 2022 by runwithdai7 Comments

Buying into the hype and getting kitted up at sponsored advertisement boards

UTMB, the Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc, has a certain pomp and air to it. For those less familiar with the brand, it’s one of the largest trail running races across the globe and the organisation recently partnered to Iron Man with mixed public reaction. Think bigger brand, bigger costs, new sponsors and processes including a new series of ‘by UTMB’ branded events across the world that form the qualifiers for a “World Series”. The final of the world series being the UTMB events in August. Basically it’s changed. For good or for worse, that the Brand will decide. Either way, some 10,000 punters show up for one of the many races of the UTMB:

UTMB – 171 km (106 Miles)
TDS – 147km
CCC – 100km
OCC – 55km
MCC – 40km (for locals)
PTL – a Whopping 300km team event
YCC – various distances for youth ages
Les Mini UTMB – for the little ones
And now the ETC – 15km

I’ve been very fortunate to have previously completed both the CCC and the TDS. Now, after completing Val d Aran by UTMB through which I gained a one-off guaranteed entry to UTMB, I find myself towing the start line at the main event, the 100m ‘Series Final’ that is UTMB.

Years in the making, finisher of the CCC, TDS and now UTMB

Running 100miles in the mountains takes a long time for mere mortals like me. Over this time you think of so many things and also decide to explicitly not think of so many things too. I’ve recapped and recalled long races before and I find it’s often as exhausting as the race itself. So I decided I’m not going to put myself through that pain and recap mile by mile of my UTMB experience. Instead, what follows is a dump of thoughts and recollections with a shorter summary of the event. The 45 hours of running will mostly stay between me, Paul and Matt.

The Event

I mentioned that somewhere in the region of 10,000 punters show up for the UTMB races. Granted this is staggered over a week with the PTL beginning the proceedings and closing it along with UTMB on the final Sunday in August, but, add in family and friends along with the usual number of tourists and the small towns the races pass through are bursting at the seems. Chamonix in particular is very, very busy during race week (and leading up to it). If you don’t like crowds and the pomp then you probably won’t like this event!

On the plus side, big crowds add to the atmosphere and vibes. Watching finishers of other races and supporting runners from all over the world is incredible. Watching the true greats of the sport ‘competing’ with people like me is fascinating and exciting. Although I imagine it is less exciting for the pros as they get mobbed in the streets and have to partake in all manner of commercial appearances before and after the races. The towns really are a little mental during this time. On our race, hitting Les Houches in the early evening on Friday, and Saint-Gervais a few hours later was a crazy experience. Saint-Gervais in particular was pumping with loud music and people lining the streets cheering and supporting runners for hours on end.

Finishing early afternoon on Sunday was quite a surreal experience too. The last of the finishers would be just an hour behind us and the crowds had gathered ready to cheer them home. So we benefitted from a great finish line atmosphere with thousands of people in the streets cheering and clapping runners across the line (you run a good km through the town, past all the pubs and restaurants, to get to the finish line). Having experienced an early Saturday am finish on the CCC and a midweek, midday, finish on the TDS, this UTMB finish really was on another level. As a participant in the ‘main event’ you really are put on a pedestal and cheered like nothing else I’ve experienced.

The course

The UTMB takes in three countries as you loop around Mont Blanc from France, into Italy, crossing into Switzerland before reaching back into France and approaching Chamonix from the other direction. The route is 106miles, covers 10,400m of vertical gain (and also descent!) and crosses through a number of major towns including Chamonix, Courmayeur and Champex Lac. With 15 major aid stations and many more checkpoints/timing points along the way. It’s a military operation. And that’s just one of the races!

The Alpine trails are stunning. For much of UTMB the trails are very, very runnable. There are, inevitably, some rocky sections and some of the climbs are tough. But on the whole the trails aren’t technical on the UTMB (unlike it’s sister the TDS, which takes in some more technical routes from Courmayeur back to Chamonix) nor the climbs/descents too long. In my experience, the terrain alone makes it a very straight forward route and one which shouldn’t be feared. Combining with the distance and elevation though makes for a far tougher beast and it is fair to say I underestimated just how hard this course is.

Stunning trails on the UTMB
Night fall
Views all around
Valleys

There are many climbs and summits and at a few points, including the Col de la Seigne (where you cross from France to Italy) and also Grand Col Ferret (where you cross from Italy to Switzerland) you reach an altitude of >2500m. You’re high up in the Alps. The mountains don’t care about us humans, we are just visitors riding our luck at anytime. The weather will turn and the mountains will serve you your ass on a plate if you’re not ready. There is extensive mandatory kit for the races (and in the exception of ‘cold’ weather or ‘hot’ weather there are also additional mandatory kit lists that can be activated the day before the race begins). For us, in 2022, it was thankfully just the normal kit list that was activated. Although, for the first time in my UTMB experience the Organisers didn’t check everyone’s kit on registration. There were subsequent kit checks during the race though.

The 106 miles of the route is a long way. I thought about this alot over the 40 hours. It is the 4th time I’ve run 100miles and I’m beginning to accept what a challenge it actually is. As time ticked by we carried on flirting with cut offs. We were never in danger of being ‘timed-out’ but I was very aware that time could easily be against us at any point. I also wondered how it was so comparable (time wise) to Val D’Aran which felt far harder with more technical terrain and bigger climbs. Truth is, it’s because 100 miles really is a long way. It will take a while to cover on foot regardless of where you are. And so it did take a while for us to cover on foot, we can’t escape that. 100miles in the Alps is also, unsurprisingly, not comparable to 100miles in the UK (although only one of my four 100 mile runs have been in the UK!). I should have already known that 100 miles is a long way. After completing UTMB I think I finally accept that it is!

Our Race

We expected rain and bad weather as, in the lead up to the event, the forecasts had predicted rain and some light storms throughout, we were preparing for a soggy two days. Come the day before, these forecasts had changed and it was looking increasingly likely that we’d have a dry run. I can’t explain how much this would have helped. Thankfully that is how it stayed and, other than some light rain at the start whilst we waited to begin, we avoided all bad weather across the course. If anything, it was a little hot during the day time and on some of the climbs where shade was limited! We were very fortunate.

Together we were stronger. Matt said after the race that there were points he wondered if he’d enjoy it more alone. I already know the answer to that. I wouldn’t have. I enjoy the company and the distraction from the task. All three of us started together and finished together. That’s a wonderful thing. Over 45 hours we never left each other’s sides. We could have. Mostly Matt could have left me and Paul behind (like we’d left him at Eiger), but he didn’t. Early in the first night Paul went through a tough number of hours of nausea and sickness. He struggled through it and came out the other side (picking up in Italy!). From Courmayeur onwards I moaned about my ankle/leg and could barely run. This slowed us down a lot! Courmayeur is roughly the halfway point and the guys could have left me many times but didn’t. I’m thankful for them sticking it out with me and sacrificing a quicker finish time to help me through. Again, without them I’m not sure whether I would have succumb to the darker thoughts that taunted me over the last 24 hours.

Leaving Chamonix was mental and the first 8km to Les Houches flew by, as did the first climb over Le Delevret to Saint-Gervais with the sun setting just as we came close to the end of the downhill. The town was one giant party. It was full on and very noisy. It was great and the atomosphere was a talking point amongst runners. For me, the first night was mostly enjoyable. After a flying visit through Les Contamines we were running through the Hoka ‘light show’. The sponsors had errected a big tunnel of light and covered the surrounding area in further lights. It was a bit odd and very cheesy. But it was different and for as few moments the night was alive. We ran through the darkness, over La Balme and Col du Bonhomme (where we unfortunately witnesses someone being airlifted from the course) and descended into Les Chapieux at around 50km in the early hours of the morning. It was a long climb from here which, despite feeling my ankles hurting I rather enjoyed as we reached the Col de la Seigne into Italy just in time for sunrise. The sunrise was beautiful. We stopped for a moment and enjoyed the subsequent climb to Pyramides Calcaires which was rather rocky and more technical than the previous 60km we’d run. There was a long descent into the morning to the next major aid station that was Lac Combal. However, things were starting to become far less enjoyable by now.

After enduring a difficult night, Paul was back to his ‘normal’ self as the day began brightening up and generally we were all running well. We had one plan which was to get to Courmayeur without being screwed up! If we could reach halfway with our quads and ankles intact we were all confident for the second half of the course (which follows pretty much the CCC route which we’d all previously completed). So far everything was going to OK but the plan started to unravel slightly as the morning heated up and we began the steep descent into Courmayeur. The steep and dusty trails were hard work and my left ankle was now constantly in Pain. My form had gone out of the window and I was lumbering downhill whichever way I could. The dust the runners were kicking up was unavoidable and we all arrived into the halfway point with dry and dusty throats.

Out of Courmayeur we began the CCC route albeit with a different climb to Refuge Bertone. Rather than the longer route via Tete de la Tronche we went the more direct way, pretty much straight up. It was tough in the heat as we slowly climbed through the forests. By now there was a lot of pain in my left ankle/shin. I was struggling to run but knew I wanted to keep going, it wasn’t even a question I would entertain, I was finishing this race. From Bertone we ran the ‘balcon’ to Refuge Bonatti and again further on to Arnouvaz from where we would begin the climb up to Grand Col Ferret (aka ‘Grand Colin Farrel’). I recalled this section and that it was stunning and enjoyable. It still was, although I wasn’t able to ‘run’ too much. We were also starting to tire at this point and took a moment at Bonatti to lay in the sun and close our eyes for a few mins (being woken by ants biting us!). The climb to Col Ferret was easy going and this was the first time (on my third visit) where I could see the Col clearly. It was visible towards the end of the climb with the wind quickly blowing the clouds away before they could settle.

Now in Switzerland, it was a long downhill to La Fouly. I knew it would hurt. And it did hurt. I was struggling badly now. Climbing was ok, and I knew I could cover ground at a faster than our average pace when going uphill, but the descents were too much for me. Paul and Matt encouraged me when they could but I was starting accept though that I simply could not move any faster, physically it was beyond me. It wasn’t just the pain, but the range of motion I had in my left ankle/foot was now very limited and I couldn’t push off my left foot. I was already thinking about the three big descents still to come later in the race and I couldn’t believe we still had 60km+ to run and so I was a little bit deflated. We’d agreed we’d try and sleep at Champex-Lac for 20 mins so the initial goal was to get through La Fouly and cover the 14km to Champex-Lac. The slog there was very slow (yep, because of me). I remembered I liked this section on the CCC as we ran through the forests and mountain tracks to Praz de Fort, which I really liked, and also the climb to Champex-Lac through Sentier des Champignons with all the wood carvings. Paul didn’t enjoy it so much but we were all decent fast-hikers so, despite my inability to run, we we still covering the ground at an acceptable pace and eventually reached the aid station with plenty of time for the planned sleep.

We dived dived straight into the sleeping tents. Selfishly I found one and went to work. As soon as I laid down I was shivering. I couldn’t stop it. I should probably have changed into dry clothes first but was so tired I could only think of maximising the sleeping time! Once awake, but very spaced out, Lisa, Martin and Mike went to work fixing us up and sending us back into the night. First up it was the monster climb to Refuge Bovine and we summited deep into the night. Struggling down the descent to Trient (passing through the shithouse party stop that is a barn at La Giete) we then reached Trient just as day was breaking. Mike was there again and over saw another 10 minute power snooze. With the morning chill on our side we powered up the climb to Les Tseppes. We then lost a lot of ground on the ‘nice’ downhill to Vallorcine. We were feeling it now, I was broken and in constant pain and Paul was feeling his quads due to all the downhills. Matt seemed absolutely fine. We were in a good place though knowing that we finally had one ‘climb’ and one ‘descent’ left to conquer. We didn’t stick around too long at Vallorcine and began the climb to La Tete Aux Vents in the midday heat. It was of course a bastard. A rocky climb with no shade and a rocky traverse over to the checkpoint. It wasn’t easy. But I was more worried of the final descent from La Flegere. A whopping 800m downhill to go back to the finish line in Chamonix. The traverse to La Flegere was frustrating and the downhill excruciating. Somehow though we were moving quick enough to be passing more people than whom overtook us. Jana, Paul, Jess and Mikkel came to meet us near Chalet De La Floria and to support us for the last few kms. And then it was the ‘km’ run around the town. The crowds. The cheers. The elation. We’d done it. It happened. We were UTMB finishers.

The people

I’ve saved it till last, but most importantly, this race was all about the people. Firstly Me, Paul and Matt. We were running it. It was for us, by us. We all had our different reasons and motives for being there and the race meant different things to each of us. We’d all worked hard to qualify and prepare ourselves to be at the start line. So it was our race. We were doing it our way. We’d discussed various potential finish times, but these were scrapped pretty much as soon as we started. We were all of the same mindset though and we had one simply mantra we shared from the “it’s happening”. Nothing was going to stop it from happening that’s what we said going into it. It came up several times during the two days and in the final minutes the mantra shifted tense to “It Happened”.

Then there’s the crew. Unexpected, but absolutely essential and critical to us completing the race. Matt’s family – Dad Mike, wife Lara and son George along with Lisa and Martin were on crewing duties. Not always arranged or planned but they were popping up everywhere when we needed them most. They were all dotted along different places at the start in Chamonix and at the first checkpoint in Les Houche. Lara and Mike went to Courmayeur (80km in). Lisa and Martin showed up in Champex-Lac (120km in) with Mike and again on the last climb to La Flegere. Mike also made his way to Trient in the middle of the second night (and had to be sent home to get some sleep and ordered not to show up in Vallorcine too!). Of course they were all then at the finish line to see us finish.

Crewing is a crazy tough ask. The amount of travel, stress, lack of sleep and general thankless nature of following a smelly miserable runner around a race for hours on end is exhausting. Never mind doing it across three different countries! But without them, the outcome of the race would have been very different. From tending to our needs, making us eat, encouraging us, timing our sleeps (and in my case Mike stopping me from pouring coke on myself as I slept!), to giving us extra food and supplies, and so much more. All these things altered the outcome of our race for the better. We couldn’t have done it without them all. This really was a team effort. Whilst three of us ran, a team of us worked tirelessly to achieve the goal. I can’t thank them all enough.

Then there’s everyone else who was out in Chamonix, racing or supporting, who popped up to cheer somewhere along the way from the start line all the way through to the finish. And also all those who contacted us and sent messages of support. These acts of generosity and kindness meant so much to us and helped lift our spirits more than we could express. Big thanks to Jana, Jess, Paul and Mikkel who ran out to see us on the last descent and to all of Paul and Lisa’s family and friends spread across the world who were actively following and messaging us (we’d all spent a weekend together two weeks prior at Paul and Lisa’s wedding!).

Other thoughts

Starting UTMB near the back was a bit shitty. It was a slow start and we had bottlenecks on pretty much all the climbs and descents. We did what we could though, embracing the crowds and using them to our advantage to keep our pace slow and steady.
The Finish line time of day vibe is key for UTMB events. There’s very little after race love and attention at UTMB. It’s all about those few minutes as you run through the town and up the finish line. Time it wrong and finish too early and it’s a lonely, anti-climatic finish.
Chasing cut offs is not fun. It’s stressful. We weren’t as tight as last year during the VDA but I was constantly aware and calling them out, running the numbers and doing the math, re-evaluating are progress. It saps away at your spirit and makes you feel like you can’t do it.
Matt is the king of the power nap. Ten mins at a time and he’s refreshed. Me and Paul need to work on it.
The drop out rate as always is huge. 800 runners started but didn’t finish. For us it was perfect conditions. But there are so many reasons that could change that for each individual.
The aftermath – I talked about the pain I was in during the race. One week later and I still cannot walk. The swelling has subsided and the X-rays were clear (no break) but the diagnosis is still pending. Until then I’m in a support boot and still in pain. This time I’ve done something serious to my body. Right now I’d say it was worth it, but I can’t quite understand how I managed to keep going until the end!
The course record was smashed and for the first time the winner went under 20 hours. So did the second place finisher this year. To put that into perspective, there was a longer time between the first finisher and us finishing, than the time taken for the winner to complete the race. I can’t understand how they can cover the distance so quickly!
For perspective, Matt ran the whole race in brand new kit after his luggage was lost on route and didn’t turn up in time. How he didn’t stress and lose the plot I do not know. Most of us runners are meticulous in our planning and preparation, but Matt just accepted it for what it was and went with it. He’s such a calm and level-headed guy!

Animo!

Published on July 18, 2021September 4, 2022 by runwithdai4 Comments

The Torn dera Val D’Aran by UTMB, aka the ‘VDA’. This was the first edition of this event that has been franchised under the prestigious UTMB banner. The VDA being one of a handful of events as part of the weekend. A 162km (100 mile) circular route around the mountainous Val D’Aran region in the Pyrenees.

Our journey began back in the summer of 2020 when the first edition was postponed to 2021 and they reopened registrations. Paul was the mastermind once more and it took very little to persuade myself and Darryl to sign up too. Later on Paul C also signed up, but 2020 wasn’t finished with us just yet…. I’m not sure how many flights were cancelled, how much additional money we spent nor how many times the travel rules and restrictions changed in the weeks leading up to the race, but I do know it led to many, many sleepless nights spent stressing over deliveries, tests and forms. Paul C had to drop out the week before and I was left guessing until I woke up just 5 hours before the flight was due to take off. Until this point I still hadn’t received the negative test that was now required to enter Spain and I was prepared to go to the airport and hope for the best with numerous, less than ideal, alternative travel plans. For those who know me well, you know this isn’t how I like to roll. I like to deal with greater certainty. I thrive in a process and I struggle when I can’t control aspects of that process.

Arriving at the airport with all my barcodes and forms, I already felt like a winner. Now, with a little over 30 hours to go to the race start, I could finally start thinking about the race itself… I wasn’t alone though. We went as threesome and we planned to run together. We are all now experienced ultra runners. We know each other well. We also knew and recognised that we are getting into some big league running with this event. 100 miles. 10,600 m of elevation. The Spanish mountains. It was an ultra that would push each of us beyond our comfort zone and redefine our boundaries once more.

It’s been a while since I’d run fuelled by a little fear. I think it is a good thing. It’s needed. We arrived not knowing how we’d cope. We were realistic that it will take us very close to the 48 hour cut off mark. We were accepting that it is going to hurt a lot and hurt in new ways we’d not yet experienced. But, mentally we were focused. We broadly knew what we’d face and why we were there and that, together we were stronger. Together we stood a chance of getting to the finish line.

Lining up on the start line along the main street in Viehla, the pre race jitters kicked in a little. This wasn’t like any other race in the last two years. This was a mass start, just shy of 1,000 runners bunching together at 18:00 trying to remain in the shade as ‘Conquest of Paradise’ (The song adopted as the UTMB signature theme) blasted out of the speakers. The MC was gearing up the crowd and initiating a final countdown. It’s hard not to feel special in a moment like this. Before we knew it the countdown was over and we were shuffling along through the town, about to begin the first of many climbs.

I cannot recount two whole days of trail running. It would take me longer to write that much never mind that I’m sure none of us have the time to read a two day long recap. I do broadly remember the sections though, the feelings and emotions and I can stitch together the adventure with what I can remember…

The first 20km or so was an absolute delightful. For the first few hours we had the sun with us, as we took in some beautiful climbs between Pomarola and Geles which presented us with incredible views and a mesmerising sunset behind the mountains from Montpius. All along this section we were like children playing. We had complete freedom. We were so pleased to be where we wanted to be, to be in the moment that we were laughing and joking non stop. We didn’t contain it to ourselves either but extended it to others, whether they liked it or not. Every time a runner went passed us, we made ‘fast car’ noises. Vrroooom. Every single time. It went down like a led balloon except for one guy who stopped in a fit of laughter and offered a fist bump. We liked him. We never saw him again though.

Somewhere along the first climb there was a point where we all came to an abrupt stop. Runners waiting impatiently as the wide fire track converged to a single track path. We were at a physical standstill for a good five minutes. Those behind us would have waited longer. Oddly, after this, the etiquette improved and runners no longer tried to squeeze past each other and gain places along the narrow tracks.

As darkness settled in, we arrived at an aid station (Geles) which was manic. Runners were everywhere, grabbing what food and drink they could, layering up, shuffling through. There were chocolate spread sandwiches available which we snapped up and ate as we too started adding layers. Now the Sun’s heat had been replaced with the chilling mountain wind, a few moments break was enough for us to get very cold very quickly.

The next section saw us run towards the French border and soon after Antiga de Lin we crossed the wobbly suspension bridge deep in the night and began one of the biggest climbs of the course. The darkness here was our friend as it hid from our view the absolute monster of a climb. It was exhausting. The darkness masked the beauty but illuminated the ‘snake’ or runners by their head torches lighting up the trail. Every turn we took exposed more of the snake. It appeared to reach to the stars. One thing was clear, it was going to be a while to climb to the summit of Cap dera Picada (2400m).

The snake of runners was like a continuous train. Each runner was a carriage being dragged along by the momentum. Pulled from the front and pushed from the back. One would step to the side of the trail to break. The train would form up and fill the gap. Other times as runners re-entered the train it would adjust to accommodate them. It was an ongoing process. Every time I raised my gaze from the floor I’d see runners stepping aside or re-joining the train. We did it ourselves too, many times. At one point we stepped aside and sat down. We turned off our head torches and just sat there in the darkness. Above us was the Milky Way was visible, crystal clear. A beautiful sight worth stopping and taking in!

Eventually the trail became rockier as we approached the top. Above us runner silhouettes were all along the ridgeline, lit up by the Moon behind them. The Moon reflecting the Sun’s light and guiding us, showing us the way to go. Along the top the trails continued to undulate. The first of our collective low points hit us somewhere here during the night as Paul pulled up and vomited pretty severely. After this there was no stopping him and we struggled to hold pace and keep up with him. He’d struggled for a few hours during the night and was now emerging from his inner battle with the breaking of the new day.

We arrived at another aid station (Coth de Baretja) located on a long down hill section. We took some hot broth to warm us up and sat outside the tent in the chill. Already vans were collecting runners who were dropping out. The climb had claimed some victims. We were about 45km in at this point. We knew the next time we’d stop would be at the 55km mark. So off we went, heading into the day break as the morning Sun started to break through the darkness of the night before. Experiencing a day break on a trail run is an amazing and powerful experience. The energy it brings is difficult to describe. Your tiredness gives way with a freshness that only the Sun’s rays can provide. We were moving freely again and soon found ourselves approaching the aid station in the school at Bossost.

This was a significant milestone. The 55km mark. It sounds insignificant but, besides being the first of three aid stations with hot food and about a third of the race, it meant we’d now covered over 4,000m of elevation gain. Over 55km that is quite a lumpy run! The rest of the 6,000m was more spread out with a lot more downhill to cover. Before the race we’d aimed to get to this point without being completely broken. If we could do that, we knew we stood a good chance of getting through to the end. As we sat there, gathering our thoughts, we were hustled by a volunteer telling us that we had an hour until the cut off at 08:45. We knew this and weren’t bothered. We knew we were capable of completing the race and were currently way ahead of schedule with a projected finish around 40 hours. But, suddenly, we felt a little on edge. We were now aware of how tight these cut offs actually were. It felt crazy that with so much time in the bank we were being hurried at just the fifth aid station and first thing in the morning. It was now very apparent to us that a lot of runners would not be making this cut off!

After Bossost came Canejan and from there Sant Joan de Toran. Both of these were fairly short sections and didn’t include too much climbing. One of them was a 6km stretch and I remember thinking it was one of the hardest 6km I’d ever done. There was an initial part that ran along side some industrial factories and then the paths took us through some forest sections along a cycle/adventure track next to the main road. I remember signs for UTMB all long here. Then we began to climb, crossing over a dam and a massive waterfall. Each section had maybe 400m of climbing, but it felt like so much more. I was tired!

Being tired now was not a good thing. As we approached midday, with the sun getting hotter and hotter, we embarked on the next huge climb towards Tuc des Crabes (2,400m). Here we’d climb 1,500m through a valley. We started off through some lush green forests before the path opened up in the valley floor. We stopped at a river where some runners were completely submerging themselves. Paul and Darryl filled up some fresh water, I stuck with the 2 litres of Tailwind I’d prepared at the last aid station.

We met an Australian, Matt, and chatted with him as we climbed. Like the runners around us, we’d break frequent and often, sitting in the shallows of shade on the mountain paths. Often you’d stop when there was a chance as runners littered the path seeking out the shade spots. By now we were seeing familiar faces that we’d been leapfrogging with throughout the night (and would continue to do so with until the finish!). Stephen another Brit, David from Scotland and two Spanish guys who we could barely communicate with other than make fast car noises at – like the guy early on, they saw the funny side in it. We’d clearly done it to them when they’d passed us and sometime later they repaid the favour to us. It was now a running joke with them and we loved it. Every opportunity the five of us would ‘Vroooom’ each other and laugh.

The climb was exhausting. It was the midday heat. It sapped our energy. The higher we climbed though, the better the views became. After the climb came a descent into Pas Estret. By now our mood had changed dramatically. All three of us were now feeling the toils of the climb. We were hot, tired, thirsty and hungry. the terrain over the last 50km had been very rocky and our legs and feet were feeling the blunt of it. We were looking forward to a break at the aid station and were disappointed when we reached it. As he shuffled in, we saw four vans fill with runners who were dropping out. Inside the tent, runners were laying everywhere. It was struggle to reach the food as runners rested in the shade under the tables. The food was sparse with the aid station having run out of many things and the rest was simmering in the sun. Sandwiches were dry and stale, chocolate was melted in the trays and the water was warm. Luckily I’d been fuelling well so far and still had plenty of food on me that I’d sourced from Xmiles before the trip. Some more Stroop Waffles and some Kendal Mint Cake sorted me out as we stopped to rest. We then had to force ourselves to leave knowing we had another climb to do.

We knew we had to keep going. We also knew that, after the next climb we’d be treated to the views of the old Iron Mines. We’d read about and seen glimpses of these in various YouTube videos we’d watched to recce the route from afar. When we reached them, they didn’t disappoint. First we ran through some tunnels on the edge of the mountain with the old cart tracks still in place. Through the tunnel, panoramic views of Lac de Montoliu in the valley floor greeted us. Further up the old mining structures, dilapidated and left in ruins. My mind whirled wondering all the scenarios for how they were built this high up in the mountains in such a remote area. Before descending we encountered a group of guys with a trumpet. They played a tune for each runner and cheered us all on. We loved it. We sat with them for a bit and cheered along with them. They entertained our requests and even played the UTMB theme for us when Paul emerged on the summit. This section of the route was very rocky but it was an iconic section for sure. The rocky trails back down were difficult to run on and jabbed at my feet as we covered the 1,000m decline into the next aid station.

Before long, night was closing in once more and I powered on ahead of the others knowing our drop bags at 104km were waiting for us. To my horror, when I arrived I was told we were only at 98km and the drop bags were at the next aid station. This was Montgarri, not Beret, I was mortified. Paul and Darryl asked the same when they arrived behind me. The only good news was that it was 6km to Beret and it only had 200m of incline and 40m descent to cover. We layered up again and pushed on. A quick pose for a photograph we trekked on into the forests.

We continued on and reached Beret as the night descended into darkness. We made a joint call to try and get some sleep. A micro sleep. We had a long way to go and another full night to endure. We knew there were some ‘technical’ (let’s be honest, by now we’d realised that the majority of the trail was very technical!) later on. We gave ourselves an hour at the checkpoint. Eat, freshen up and use whatever time we could to sleep. Darryl found a deckchair, Paul laid out on the floor and I placed my head on a table. None of us really caught any sleep, but I’m sure the rest and moment to close our eyes helped more than we realised.

As we headed back out, still maybe an hour ahead of the cut off times, it was howling. Since we’d stopped, the wind had picked up and the temperature had dropped rapidly. As we walked on, we were descending again when we were joined by Rodrigo. A Portuguese gent living in Cambridge. He’d come alone and, like us, had never experienced running through two consecutive nights without sleep of running. He asked if he could stick with us to ensure he was safe and didn’t fall asleep in the night. We obliged and acknowledged we weren’t moving that quickly anymore but he was happy to stick with us.

I was hitting a lull here and was very happy in my own little bubble just head down and plodding onwards. My feet and legs had been hurting for a long time and I was really feeling them now. The 700m descent into the villages of Unha and then Salardu were slow and painful for me and I didn’t enjoy the cobbled streets or rocky trails along the river. Each turn in the villages seemed frustratingly familiar even though we’d not be here before. In the depth of the night, Paul was sick once more. Each of us were battling in our own ways and all we could do was grind away at the terrain in front of us.

The cut offs were once again looming and were now very much at the front of our minds. We knew we’d be fine and that the cut offs would be more lenient later in the race. But, for now, we were shuffling to ensure we made it. We left Salardu about 45 mins ahead of the cut off and left with a purpose. The next aid station was at Banhs de Tredos with a cut off at 05:00. It was 12km away with a whopping 800m climb (the fifth biggest single climb of the race). We were so confident that if we made it there in time, we’d no longer have to look over our shoulders at the cut offs.

We had a quick turn around at the aid station and formed a plan to put some speed in over the next 12km. We kept it simple and simply set out to once more beat the next cut off and hopefully bank a little time along the way to attempt another sleep. So we did. We left with a brisk pace. Powering up the roads before tackling the 800m climb through the dense forest. We worked as a team. Sticking together and clearing a path up passed other runners. We took breaks to rest and fuel every 200m. Ticking them off. Hard and fast. We were up the 800m climb in what felt like no time at all.

At the top the hills evened out and the vast forests we were in became visibly more clear. We descended back down a little and made it to the checkpoint with plenty of time. We all went straight into a position to sleep. Paul and Rodrigo on the floor laying on cardboard boxes. Me and Darryl hunched over on chairs with our heads on the table. It was cold in the tent and so we all had emergency foil blankets draped over us. We all woke a short time later when we were shivering. A volunteer asked us if we were leaving. I acknowledged we were and rallied the others. We all seemed fine and we had plenty of time before the cut off. Now though we had more climbing to do. It was time for the ‘technical’ section and another 1,000 meters of ascent…

As we left Banhs de Tredos it was very cold and dark. The others dug out more warm layers but I opted just for the addition of my windproof smock. I figured that I’d soon warm with the exertion of the next climb. I wasn’t wrong. Almost immediately we started climbing. Here the terrain was wet and muddy and the trails that were littered with huge boulders to overcome. There was a lot of lunging movements as we climbed. It soon dawned on me that there would be no let up, it was going to be like this all the way to Colomers…

Eventually the darkness started giving way to the light of Sunday morning and the sheer beauty of our surroundings started to reveal themselves. We were 2,000m high and, glistening ahead of us, the stillness of lakes sat in wait. We could see the head torches of runners skirting the perimeter of the lakes up ahead and we followed the paths they created. The further we went, the lighter it became, the more surreal the surroundings became. Each bit of climbing brought more lakes to trek around, each more majestic than the ones before. However, the terrain was truly brutal. With 130km in our legs, I was in no place of mind to enjoy the beauty. It’s a shame. Being miserable with the demands of the course I purposely left my GoPro in my drop bag back at Beret. I had no interest in the effort of turning it on anymore. Looking back, this was my one regret. However my brain cannot undo what my eyes have seen and I’ll never forget watching the sunrise over these lakes surrounded by jagged mountain ranges on all sides.

As morning continued to dawn, we were still climbing. It made no sense. We were each in our own spaces now and I was plodding on ahead. I’d somehow wriggled myself to the front of all the runners in the area and was pretty much leading the way. I couldn’t figure out where we were going. I was desperately seeking the orange marker flags amongst the grey terrain. Occasionally I’d see a glimpse of a runner way off in the distance but I could see no obvious way out of the mountains.

Bit by bit the route would reveal itself and we ended up climbing, literally rock climbing, our way out as we reached Tuc de Podo (2,700m). This was by far the most technical terrain I’d ever experienced. I can’t hide the fact I was quite scared at numerous points. I wasn’t alone feeling this way. As I reached the top, there were a few volunteers and we were scanned in. We’d been climbing for 3 hours solid. At a decent pace. Still aware there were cut offs looming at the stop after the next aid station. I sat and waited for Paul and Darryl, absorbing it the views and resetting my mind. Shortly after me the ‘fast car’ Spaniards arrived. One was fuming. I could see him berating the volunteer who scanned us in. When he saw me he joined me and found the words to communicate to me his frustrations. Basically that he thought it was dangerous. Tired runners who hadn’t slept for over 30 hours and who had already covered 130km should not be exposed to that terrain. I found myself agreeing. There were no real qualifying standards for the race nor prerequisites for having experience on this sort of terrain. Added to that, not once was any of our mandatory kit checked by the organisation (another frustration I’ll come to later…). He calmed himself down and carried on. I sat and waited.

We had another 6km to the next aid station (Colomers). All down hill. But all rock and boulder fields. We were hustling. Stephen was near me and asked if I thought we would make it. I recall my response to him was “if we run”. So I kept running. Darryl and Paul were exhausted. Rodrigo seemed quite energetic. I told him to help me make the others hustle and move a little faster. I felt we needed to use the downhills to our advantage now. As we were running I had a disaster, one of my poles slipped down between to rocks and my momentum snapped it clean, breaking the lower section. Bollocks. I’d become so heavily dependent on the poles and knew I’d be using them for the rest of the route. I recalled earlier on a runner talking about carrying Gorilla tape. I said this out loud and Rodrigo responded with “it’s me”. Amazing. He patched up my pole with the tape and we continued on catching up with the others again. Sadly though it didn’t last and there was nowhere near enough tape to secure them properly. One pole it was going t to have to be then…

The downhill was tough. Darryl bonked and needed to stop and get some fuel in. As was the theme, runners we’d passed now passed us back. Back up and running I hustled us along. Looking back, I hadn’t picked up on the signs of how Darryl was suffering. I was so focused on getting us down to the aid stations. We bottomed out and with 1km to go crossed a dam at Lac de Major Colomers. Descending further we eventually arrived into the aid station we went. I was with Stephen again and he too was carefully watching the cut off times but had mistakenly thought the next cut off was here. It wasn’t though. It was Ressec in another 9km or so where the cut off was. We had time to make it for the 12:45 cut off for sure. We would make it. I was sure of it. If we made that then I was also sure we’d have no issues of finishing in the final 48 hours. I thought we’d get there by 12 and have 6 hours to finish. We made sure Darryl fuelled more here and I gave him some food from my Xmiles stash. The KMC recharge bars were particularly refreshing now. Then, in a small group with David and Matt in tow, we gathered our things and headed back out. Rodrigo had vanished before we reached the checkpoint. we assumed he was good now the night had passed.

The next climb was a bit of a shock to the system – it was an incredibly steep climb for 400m. I struggled with only having one pole and found it hard to support my body and pull myself up. The rocks were loose and we were all conscious of them moving and falling under our foot movements with runners above and below us. I reached the top and sat and waited for the others who I’d seen not far behind me on some of the switchbacks. As I sat I started dwelling on something Darryl had mentioned earlier on – We no longer had the few hour buffer we thought we did. Those early calculations we had of a 40-45 hour finish didn’t include the few attempts we made at trying to sleep during the night nor the sheer demand of a 3 hour climb through the rocky lake section. We had no spare time banked any longer. For the first time I was really concerned that there was a strong possibility we wouldn’t make it. We simply had to move faster than we were, there was no alternative.

I briefed the others when they arrived. All four of them acknowledging the situation. I took charge and led us down. Running where I wouldn’t normally run. I was powering us passed other runners. We were our own train now and we were shifting. A strange thing had happened to me. Normally in races, when I’m in pain then that is just the end of it. I endure and succumb to it. I accept the pains and hobble on. This time though, with the pressure and reality of being timed out, I somehow found a way to block it out. I described it like a switch that numbed the pain. I was able to run and ignore the pains. I was using my frustration of the event and the difficulty of the route to focus my effort into finishing. I was focused, this was going to get finished.

Darryl however was suffering. He wanted to finish, I knew that, but his anger and frustrations were only adding to his pain. He was hitting a very, very dark place. We were struggling to pull him out of it and find a way to to foucs him once more. After we had descended the next mountain, David continued on whilst I waited for the other three. They were further back than I thought and several other runners came passed before them. Darryl looked bad. They were all chatting though and carrying on what I thought was a bit of a leisurely pace. I walked ahead. I thought I’d wait for them at the next aid station, Ressec, and try again there to hustle them once they’d rested.

On the trails to Ressec, I later heard my name called out from behind. It was Paul and Matt was with him. No Darryl though. Paul said he was in a bad place and was walking slowly. Paul was feeling the urgency now too. We felt that there wasn’t much that could be done here and we continued to the aid station where we’d wait. We hoped another rest and more fuelling would do the trick so we carried on. We arrived at 12:05. 40 mins ahead of the cut off. I thought we could have got here around 11:30 but we’d dropped off the pace. It was still enough time to have a decent rest though despite meaning we no longer had 6 hours for the final two sections (a plan we’d discussed back at the last summit). At this rate it would be more like just over 5 hours. It was going to be tough now. Very achievable but we’d have to hurry ourselves along. One thing was certain was that we couldn’t make the time if we continued at the pace we had been going at over the last few kms.

We waited, expecting to see Darryl maybe 5-10 mins behind us. The clock kept ticking. We found some pizza. He still didn’t show. We were worrying now. Then, with ten mins to go, he showed up. He was exhausted and had been hallucinating. In hindsight we shouldn’t have gone so far ahead of him, we shouldn’t have left him. He was slurring his words explaining the hallucinations he’d been having. I don’t think he was fully aware of what was happening. I asked him what I could get him and he asked for water. I needed his cup, but he didn’t respond when I repeatedly asked him for it. When I eventually came back with water for him, we pushed him. He had just 5 mins remaining before the cut off and he needed to make a decision. He either dropped here, now, after 43 hours of running. Or somehow turn himself around in the minutes remaining and pushed harder than he was. Deep down, me and Paul knew the answer. But Darryl had to decide for himself. If he came, and we wanted him too, we’d stick together. But he had to be sure he could move quicker. He called it. He knew. I went outside to tell the volunteer that we would be leaving but also asked if there was a medic. If we were leaving without him we needed to know he wasn’t alone and was going to be ok.

And so, after 150km, the 3 became 2. Paul went to the toilet and I became emotional as I waited. It hit me hard. I was shaking and trying to hide it when a volunteer started talking to me and encouraging me to finish strong. I wanted it so much. But I didn’t want it this way. I wanted us all there. Darryl and Paul C too who was stuck back in London. Darryl had worked so hard. 150km! It was cruel. Paul pulled me back together and we set off. We now had a new mission. Two sections. 15km or so. 5 hours. That’s all that stood in our way. The first section was to be a 700m climb and a 300m descent. The last section a 400m climb and a 1200m descent. Not an ordinary 15km to overcome! This was not going to be an easy way to end a race…

We set off with a renewed focus, straight away we were passing people. We were moving with a (relatively) ferocious pace now and were completely comfortable with it. We passed people who left the aid station a long time before us. We acknowledged them. Those we’d been chatting to along the way asked after Darryl. Each time it made the goal more important. We had to finish now.

The first climb I kind of enjoyed. It felt like the most forgiving of the many we’d done over the past two days. A long looping fire track, long gradual single track switch backs through lush forests then a slightly steeper section climbing through the grassy mountain summit. At the top we rested on the crown. Staring at the descent down. 2km to drop 300m. At our pace maybe 30 mins. We’d absolutely annihilated this section. We ran the steep grassy descent and into the final aid station. We completed the section in 1hr 30. We’d planned for 3 hours for this and 2 hours for the last section. We knew now with certainty that we’d finish. The impact this had mentally was incredible. The relief and pressure dissipated and drained out of us. There was nothing but smiles at the finial aid station. Runners looking at each other knowingly, acknowledging the job was done. However, as the pressure drained so too did my ability to block out pain. As quickly as the power ‘switched on’ the same switch now flicked off. I was a spent force. There was no way to turn it back on.

The next climb was unforgiving. It was more direct and steep. I had to stop very frequently to sit down and breathe. Eventually we reached the top and began to descend. An huge descent to drop and a nasty way to finish off an already destroyed body. I felt everything. Every blister. Every stone. Every blade of grass. I walked. I only ran when gravity forced me to move faster than I could handle. David was with us now and as vocal about his pains as I was. We supported each other. Paul was far more spritely and high off the knowledge of the pending finish. He was on the phone arranging a live stream video of the finish for his fiancé and family. How he never tripped on the sharp downhills I do not know.

The trails gave way to the cobbled roads of Viehla. We’d ran this very section when we started the journey two days earlier. A few people were out clapping and cheering. One group had a shower hose spraying water into the street. We took turns performing for them and basking in the refreshing chill of the water. A few streets later we turned one last time and were now on the main road, the home stretch.

Darryl was there getting the ice creams in. We’d joked about this for days. A joke stemming back to when me and Darryl finished the TDS – we saw an ice-cream shop as we approached the finish line. We went to get one but we’re put off by the size of the queue waiting. So we said we’d finish here with an ice cream. Sadly, the ice cream man was rather slow and lacked the purpose we did. Darryl told him we’d be back and we told Darryl to run with us. The three of us reached that line together. We rang the bell. We rang the damn bell. It was over.

I know one thing for certain, running together we were stronger. We may have set off together and not quite finished together, but if it wasn’t for Darryl and Paul I wouldn’t have made it. We each supported the others, dragged us through our dark moments and made this adventure memorable for what it was. We did it together and the achievement is a shared one. He may not have physically rang his own bell at the end, but if Darryl didn’t make the hardest decision of the weekend, me and Paul may never have rung ours. I can’t thank these guys enough!

After Thoughts

Running is a bit of a conundrum. It isn’t easy. There is always physical and mental suffering involved. You achieve what you set out to, whether it’s 10 miles or 100 miles. Sometimes though you question whether it’s worth it. I’ll look back on this experience one day and maybe the thoughts will be different. But right now I can’t say I enjoyed that. It was tough. Far tougher than I expected and I expected it to be the toughest thing I’ve ever done. I think there is a very good chance that this will will actually be the toughest thing I’ll ever do. I’ve no desires to be in that ‘place’ again. I don’t really like the 100 mile distance. It’s a beast to conquer. This race is very though. Looking at the stats, the first finisher came in at 24 hours. The top runner took an entire day, that is 4 hours longer than UTMB! 50% of the participants did not finish. Nearly 500 runners set out and never made it back to the finish line. That tells you all you really need to now… it’s tough.

Throughout the run we moaned about the cut offs. We felt they were very tight and unforgiving. In hindsight though… we finished in the ‘golden hour’ so, arguably, the cut offs are perfectly good. If we’d been an hour later for any checkpoint, we wouldn’t have finished on time. On the flip side, without arrogance, I’m not a cut off runner. I’m always comfortably mid pack. So the entry level of the race is something to consider if you are thinking about signing up!

Overall, I also felt that the event didn’t carry the prestige of the UTMB name. The organisers acknowledge they have a lot to improve and that should be commended. But, the feeling out on the course was one of anger and frustration. The grumbles about the dangerous sections and cut off timings were common. Despite the language barriers, people were sharing these feelings. For me, two things stood out that fall well short of expectation for a UTMB branded event. Firstly the lack of mandatory kit check and secondly the aid stations.

Let’s start with the mandatory kit… there’s a big list, and rightly so. When playing in the mountains you need to be prepared. We were blessed with great weather for two days. However, the night we finished a thunder and lightning storm hit the region. It was an incredible storm that came on in no time. When we went to collect our bibs, that is all we did. Despite bringing everything, no one checked or asked for anything. They simply took our runners insurance, gave us the bib and that was it. I even asked if they wanted to see my kit and they said ‘no, tomorrow’. Tomorrow they never did neither, nor the next day. That’s right. Not once did anyone ask any of us for any single item of kit. At one of the early aid stations during the first night I did spot what looked like a table set up with paper lists of kit items. No one stopped us nor asked as we walked passed. The table was empty there was no reason not to ask at least one of us…

Given the severity of the consequences and the recent examples of when things go badly, I’m shocked that there was not a single item of kit checked over the two days. I thought this was very poor from the organisers.

Secondly, the aid stations. There were plenty and there was plenty of food. But… for a 48 hour race, there were some issues. There was a lack of variety and questionable quality controls. Most aid stations we arrived at presented us with discoloured fruit and dry bread that had been out in the sun for so long. Many food stations had trays where the food items, like chocolate, had melted and none of them offered any hot drinks other than some very cheap and bland broth. The exception to this was the pizza at Ressec. This felt completely out of place though and I’d be surprised if this wasn’t reactionary rather than planned. Either way though it was very much appreciated. Most concerning though was the quantity. We were arriving into checkpoints that were running out of food. That should never be the case. Especially not with the early pace we were keeping! Thankfully I had so much of my own food from Xmiles that this wasn’t really a problem for me. This was meant to be supplementary though, and not my main source!

In the days after the event there was another twist in the saga as, after travelling home we each felt rather unwell. Soon after we discovered a Facebook group where over 500 runners have identified as having come down with the same symptoms of illness. The organisation are investigating the cause, but it has left a rather sore feeling for many of the participants!

Chasing Pounamu

Published on February 23, 2020April 12, 2020 by runwithdai

The Toki pounamu for finishers of the Tarawera 100 mile endurance event

‘Chasing Pounamu’ is a short documentary about one runner’s quest to complete the Tarawera 100 mile endurance run. Runners completing the event are gifted a Pounamu – a local Maori gemstone made into a necklace. It’s a heart warming and emotional watch (you can find it on YouTube). One I watched a few weeks before I headed out on my own quest to ‘chase the pounamu’…

Last year, when Kirsty left the UK to return to New Zealand, a few of us said we’d come and visit sometime. Little did I realise a few months later I’d be signing up to my first 100 miler in New Zealand. 100 miles was never on my to do list. However, over the past 12 months my running distances had been slowly creeping up and 100 miles suddenly became the next logical step. Although It wasn’t until I was on the sign-up page for the Tarawera Ultra Marathon (TUM) that the decision was made as, unlike the other events at TUM, the ‘miler’ finishers are gifted with a pounamu. I signed up immediately.

Fast forward some 8 months later and we are reunited with Kirsty in Rotorua. Like many events I didn’t feel as ready as I could or should be. Especially for tackling my first 100 mile event. A recurring pain in my ankle/shin had kept me from running for the whole of January (with the exception of the Maverick race in Amberley). My mind was focused though. No way was I not starting. No way was I not finishing. No way would I be leaving without that Pounamu! For weeks my mind had been consumed by the race. I’m not sure why. Maybe because of the costs. Maybe the extent of the adventure I was embarking on for 6 weeks. Maybe because I was nervous. Either way it helped me to focus and visualise on the end goal. I was determined and would be relying more than ever before on the experience I’ve accumulated from running ultras…

The day before the race we went to the Maori Powhiri at Te Puia. A traditional welcoming ceremony which welcomed the runners to the event and officially opened it. With talks from the race founder, Maori leaders and the town Mayor as well as singing and dancing it ended with a hongi – a significant expression performed by rubbing noses. It was , to a ‘Westerner’ unusually special. I’ve never felt so at home at an event before. The runners were told that we were now part of their community. Their family. That together we’d see success in the event. It was all rather touching. We then went and registered and collected our bibs (and do the weigh in for medical reasons). This was the quickest of processes as we’d already passed our mandatory gear checks – the event had a unique collaboration with Macpac (an outdoors retail chain) where you could visit any store in the days leading up to the event, do the mandatory gear check in store and receive a signed certificate to present at registration instead of taking your kit with you. This made the whole process so much slicker, how any of it is actually governed come race day I do not know though! The afternoon involved some relaxing in the heated hotel pool and then as much sleep as I could possibly get!

It was time. After a few hours sleep I found myself creeping around in the dark at 2am. The 3 others in the room were still sleeping, squeezing in an extra hour for the later start of their 100km race. Final preparations and checks completed and it was time to leave, just as it started to hammer down with rain. Hugs and high fives all round. Andy kindly drove me to the start back in Te Puia and Jorge, being the ever generous and supportive friend he is, came along too. We rocked up in a very empty car park. Jorge sported Adrian, the man at the centre of ‘chasing Pounamu’ and I followed him inside the cultural centre to the start line right up by the active Pohutu geyser – Pohutu happens to be the largest active geyser in the southern hemisphere and erupts once or twice every hour, sometimes reaching heights of 30 metres!) which was erupting magnificently in the darkness. The start line was covered in the spray and mist from the sulphur activity. I sat on the hot rocks nearby and waited patiently. I did one final ‘body check’ and mentally confirmed all was good – nothing but the normal few amber warnings flagged up. I was as ready as I could be.

The Pohutu Geyser in Te Puia at the Start of the miler

As the MC started to welcome the runners and brief us on the journey ahead we congregated behind the start line. Our welcome climaxed in a traditional Maori Haka and traditional singing. With Pohutu erupting behind us it was a truly surreal and magical moment as the race director and crowd of supporters counted us down and sent us off on our challenge…

For a moment I was overwhelmed as I crossed that start line. To cheers and applause I realised this is the moment of races I like most. A sense of awe from the crowd. Respect and appreciation as they spur on loved ones, family, strangers. There’s no competition, only encouragement. the beginning of an epic challenge and adventure, however it turns out. At this moment I feel invincible. I smiled and clapped back, as I always do. I wish this feeling would last more than a few seconds!

We ran through Te Puia and very quickly found the trails as we made the first 13km to the first aid station. The first set of paths were hard and dusty. Uneven but nice to run. They led us into the first of many forest tracks we’d run this day. It was still raining but as we entered the Redwood forest the rain was but a light mist/spray that was cooling in the humid morning. The head torches lit the way as we traced the winding paths through the woodlands. The pack of just under 300 runners was already beginning to spread and I found myself following a group of maybe six runners keeping pace together. Before I knew it a sign screamed out at us “aid station 200m ahead”. Little did I know how much I’d look forward to these signs later in the day!

Leaving the aid station we were immediately back into the forests. These paths were different though. More single tracks. The floor littered with roots. A few times I tripped but thankfully never fell. Areas of steps provided extra challenges in this part as we navigated the trails in complete darkness due to the thick foliage and cover. The smells were incredible and so vibrant and I was smiling as I wound my way through moew twisty tracks. Another aid station came and went and I then found myself running alongside the Green Lake. The sun was starting to rise and the paths navigated ran alongside the lake as the sun began to glisten and reflect off the water. The trails were undulating with little stretches of running broken up by short climbs. We burst out of the forests and ran a section along a sealed road. Cones marked the way and signs encouraging the runners to keep inside the cones. I felt the road. It was dull and tedious after the trails before it. Thankfully though the Buried Village soon appeared. The third aid station and one of historical importance – a heritage site persevering a village buried under rock, ash and mud following the eruption of Mt Tarawera.

Inside the Buried Village the atmosphere was electric. Loads of supporters welcoming the runners in to the aid station and a lady on a mega phone cracking the jokes and encouraging everyone on. I had some jam and Nutella sandwiches made for me by the volunteers and cracked on to the next section which would be the second longest stretch between aid stations with about 15km until I reached Isthmus. I did stop very quickly for a picture at the view point and then again to take off my arm warmers and pack them and the head torch away.

This section was by far my favourite part of the race. The Buried Village was beautiful and the trails undulating along the rock face. Fauna surrounded us and we were soon presented with incredible views across lake Tarawera as the sun continued to glisten and reflect off the water. The paths then opened up as we reached the lake. The soft grassy trails which followed the contours of the lake were a joy to run on. As we closed in on Isthmus I noticed some odd signs warning of zombies and that ‘any zombies chasing humans would be shot on sight’. It took me a while before I realised the it was a sign for the aid station and that all the aid stations were themed. This one for a Zombie apocalypse. I thought it was a great way to raise a few smiles and provide entertainment.

A bunch of runners came in after me and I didn’t hang around too long. It was just over a km until I’d reach the ferry crossing to get to the other side of the lake Rerewhakaaitu. I didn’t want to end up in a queue for the boat so I stepped on it a little. As I arrived at the jetty there was sadly no boat waiting for me. Two ladies, Sue and Femi sat waiting with mocktails. The volunteer was preparing juice and ice mocktails for the runners and they were an absolute treat. I picked one up, clinked glasses and sat down to joined them. As we waited he explained there had been an issue with one of the two boats. By the time it arrived 12 of us shuffled onboard to get to the other side. A few minutes later as we unboarded the runners fled off into the distance and running through the private farm roads. We then hit a long road on a gradual incline. I briefly chatted to sue as she ran a steady pace running to heart rate. She gradually pulled away as I was adamant I was walking it all. I didn’t want to burn out so soon!

The road continued for about 5km before we reached the next station at Rerewhakaaitu. It was still morning but getting very hot now. I took advantage and lathered up with the suncream available at the aid station before hitting the road again. And that is what it was. More road. More tarmac gradually climbing as far as my eyes could see into the distance. I hiked on. I was amazed by the persistence of runners who ran it all. The farmer themed aid station of Okahu broke up the road briefly but more was to come. By the time we left the road I think we must have covered somewhere between 10-15km. It was soul destroying. The return to the trail was most welcomed.

A small section of the seemingly never ending road

The trails were now long and wide gravel tracks worn over time by vehicles. Again the paths were undulating with gentle inclines and down hills alternating. A good section for running and getting into the flow again. That was until towards the end of the section where a climb of about 200m was lurking. As we reached the top and the aid station at Wihapi the volunteers apologised for the hill. I laughed and said it was easier than the road. It certainly was for me!

From here the wide gravel paths continued. Only down hill. The longest section of downhill on the route and I thought it was as soul destroying as the road. Why? Because it was so straight. You could just see the path continue into the distance and never ending. Mentally I found it tough to keep moving at pace. Somewhere around here I’d started talking to another runner – Thomas. We’d been leap-frogging each other for a while and had settled into a comparable pace. He seemed fine with it when I kept pointing ahead and indicating where and when I’d start walking or running. Puhipuhi was the next destination and one that marked where the route would join with that of the 100km runners. Those runners would be well passed by now though having started 3hours after the miler and having just 20km to run to get to the same aid station. Hopefully that would mean the trails would be quieter for me for the rest of the day. The volunteers offered me plenty of ‘crippies’ and ‘lollies’ as well as the option to lay in their paddling pool. I declined the later but did discover Mountain Dew. Something I’ve never tried before. I thought it was ace, even though it is probable a chemical concoction I do not want to know more about! As I drank the Mountain Dew, it was the first moment that it dawned on me how far the race was. 80km in and we were only half way there. Halfway! Shiiit. That thought would linger for a long time.

Chatting away to Thomas I completely zoned out on the way to Tiktoki. I remember the trails were still long and wide but now more grassy and more dirt like rather than gravel. Some woman also joined with us for a short while. She was memorable because she was completely soaked (somewhere she’d gone for a dip in the lake!) and because she shared insight and knowledge as the was her second time. She encouraged us to reach Hhumphries before dark as that section was technical. She vanished before we reached Tiktoki and was no where to be seen when we arrived. As we sat and ate at the aid station we chatted with several other runners. One explained he was done with the sweat food and a volunteer overheard and brought out bacon and egg pie. Woooah. This was great. Back on it now! 10km until the 100km mark and a key milestone in my race because (1) I’d mentally split it into 3 x 50 kms. I knew if I got to 150km I’d finish. So 2/3 of the race would have been completed when I reached the Outlet. (2) it was where my drop bag was located. So time for a longer rest and mid-race maintenance. For me this means a wet wipe shower, change of socks, t-shirt and shoes. Reapply Squirrels Nut Butter to prevent chafe. Swap out and refill my nutrition stash and dump any unnecessary items. This time I got rid of the Gopro, sunglasses and running belt (used to carry my phone but I was no longer in the mood for photos so in the backpack it went!). Before I reached the Outlet though it was more windy forest trails. The highlight of which was a section running along one of the clearest rivers I’ve ever seen. Somewhere hidden here is the Tarawera Falls. You could hear it for a long time before we reached it. The water was gushing out of the mountain through many holes. We took a moment to enjoy the view before continuing.

As I was going through my drop bag routine I told Thomas to crack on. I was going to be here for a while and didn’t want him waiting for me longer than he was prepared for. As is the case with these races you often see people again at different stages. We wished each other well and I got stuck into some more hot noodles. I was all about the hot savoury food now! Loads of runners came and went in my time at Outlet. But when I left I was born again!

The next section was the technical bit to Humphries bay running alongside the northern side of lake Tarawera. Crazy to think I’d been looking across the lake to this area maybe ten hours ago after I left the Buried Village! It was Only about 7km and I was feeling rejuvenated so I ran. I ran well. I passed maybe ten runners on this section as I leaped and bounced around the roots and lunged up the rocks and powered through. It was fucking humid too. As the day started to end the humidity In the forest increased. My fresh kit was quickly as wet and stinky as the stuff I’d changed out of. Despite the running it took a while. A good 1.5 hours for such a short distance before I emerged into the scout base of Humphries bay. Here I persuaded a volunteer to make me a cheese toasty using the volunteers sandwich maker. She wasn’t too eager but how can you say no to someone running a 100 miles?!

Leaving Humphries it was a similar story as I made my way towards Okatania. More forest paths. Less technical thankfully but still many roots and fallen trees to climb or duck under. The legs didn’t appreciate those lunges now! It was still very bright as the sun set over the lake but as soon as you turned back into the ‘bush’ it was pitch black. The headlamp had to come out. It felt odd as I could look up and see the light beyond the foliage. It just wasn’t reaching the ground. I found Thomas again and we carried on into the darkness for the several km remaining of this section, which felt so much longer.

I lost him once more at the Okatania aid station. This one was pumping. Okatania, with its circus theme, was a hive of activity. Not only was it another drop bag and support aid station, but it was where miler runners could have a pacer join them for the last marathon. Yep. Three back to back marathons done, one remaining. I sat down with some soup and more egg and bacon pie and a woman started talking to me. She was waiting for her husband and was asking how it’s going and if she could get me anything. So kind. I was sorted though. Warm belly and more fluids taken on board as well as a third water bottle filled up – the next section was 16km. I’d been drinking a litre between aid stations and despite it now being night, the humidity, length of the next section and the imminent climb meant I should be wise and prepared. I had noticed that despite all the fluids I was still not fully hydrated though after all this time and it did bother me a little and was on my mind.

Stocked up I set off to make the climb. Maybe a little over 500m lay ahead. This didn’t phase me and I was ready for a good walk. I’d also picked up my poles at the 100km mark ready for a lot of walking. After bringing them all this way I at least needed to make some use of them. So out they came. And off to the Blue Lake I marched.

It was a lonely old climb. I thought I’d see groups of people encouraged by their pacers storming past me but it never happened. What did surprise me though was that on the climb I began overtaking some 100km runners. I didn’t think I’d catch the ck end of this event. They were in high spirits though and with each one I passed we congratulated each other’s efforts and called bullshit to the climb and pains. As I broke the back of the climb the descent began. It was runnable. Single track easy underfoot. I ran on. After a few km though the ran became a hobble. Whilst I’d been blocking out the pains in my legs (particularly my ankle/shin pain and my destroyed quads) I couldn’t block out the pain in my left foot. The sole was raw. A blister for sure on the padding. Pressure was rather uncomfortable but there was no choice but to keep moving forward. The slow progress then began to make me tired and I was wobbling a little for sure.

Before the Blue Lake there was another section. Coming out of the long trails from Oktania we reached the aid station at Millar road. A smallish aid station but one busy with volunteers. I asked for warm food but there was none. They did have coffee though. I needed it. The long walk had made me sleepy. I needed a kick. I sat down with more jam sandwiches, a cheese scone and some ‘chippies’ whilst I drank the coffee. I noticed runners coming in and either layering up or being wrapped in blankets as they sat. Mmhhh. I realised it was cold. I took my arm warmers back out. It wasn’t cold by UK standards but I was beginning to shake a little.

As I left Millar road I walked with another guy. We talked a bit but I forgot his name. I was spaced out now. I overheard a volunteer tell another runner about long sections of road and another 1.5km of technical forest tracks. As we walked the first part of the road the pain was too much for me to fully engage in conversation. I also kept needing to pee. So I’d dropped back from the runner before we reached the technical part. In the bush it was so dark. The paths were windy with twists and turns. I kept having to stop and look which way I was going. My head torch died and I needed to change the battery to see (thankfully it died in a small clearing in the bush and the moonlight was enough to see in my bag for the spare). The bush was spectacular in the dark. But I was getting sleepy. So very sleepy.

Eventually we left the forest behind and emerged onto a road. Back at Blue Lake. To my right was the aid station, lit up a few hundred meters away. To my left, arrows and cones marking the path. Ah. Shit, I forgot we had to do a loop of the lake first. About 4km. We ran this as a group a few days before in the opposite direction. I at least knew what to expect. But this wouldn’t mean I’d enjoy it. 4km hobbling took a long long time.

I rocked up 2 hours later than estimated at the Blue Lake aid station and I only had one thing on my mind… “is there a medic or someone who can treat a blister for me?”. Thankfully there was. A running coach went to work and gasped when my sock came off. “We need to drain that one!” Much to the shock of the volunteers who’d gathered round. It was probably about the size of a watch face on the padding of my sole. I drank more coffee whilst she went to work and then taped it up to relieve the pressure. Immediately I felt better and that I could hobble a little faster at least. I thanked them and set off on my way. As I left the aid station Jorge, Kirsty and Andy were there to cheer me on. I find this level of support and friendship incredible – after running all day, 100km for 14-18 hours with minimal sleep they still put others first over their recovery needs. It’s so generous. A short chat and I was back moving. 15km to go via the Redwoods back to town…

From Blue Lake to Redwoods was a tough 9km stint. It started with some twisty gradual climbs on loose gravel paths. Any thoughts I had on running were gone again. The loose rocks ached the raw skin on my feet. As we continued we ventured back into the forest trails. This time surrounded by the huge redwoods all around. My watch kept beeping as it lost signal. The darkness was pure. Above us a super moon shining bright in the sky. Towards the end of the section we climbed again. I passed more runners from the 100km and a few milers on the climb too. Each one questioning when it would end. Each one with a different understanding of how long the final section through town would be, it ranged from 2km to 9km. Naturally I hoped for the former! As we levelled out the town lights were visible in the distance. Like all ultras though I questioned how far further this last stretch would be and when we’d descend to town level and how/where we we going. It looked so far. What goes up must come down though and soon we did. Rapidly. Steps. Heaps of them. Deep earth packed Steps with un-level wooden breakers. I limped down them all eventually reaching a road and volunteers each egging me on the final few hundred m. I arrived at the Redwoods aid station to be treated by a Mexican day of the dead party. The sun beginning to rise and two familiar faces – Paul, the founder of the Tarawera race (who welcomed us at the Powhiri) and a gentleman I’d seen many times throughout the day supporting his wife. He chatted to me each time. He’s had just 5 hours sleep in the last two days and looked exhausted now. I assured him his wife Billie was just behind me. They pushed me on for the last stretch with encouragement. It was close to 7km to go. Damn. I wanted more coffee but there wasn’t any. I was no reliant on the rising sun to bring some life back into me and keep the eyes open as I left the aid station

Into finish now. 7km. 2 hours. It was happening for sure. Even if I slowed down further the sub 30 ‘Western States’ qualifier would be achieved. I believed more than ever before. A few runners ran past me. They clearly believed too. We followed some park paths for a little while before hitting the geothermal valley area. Woah. Besides being hit in the face with the heat and sulphur smell, it was beautiful. Natural rocky landscape steaming from vents. I expected to run through the main streets of town. Long straight blocks of buildings. Nope. We’d loop through parks and wooden walkways surrounding the thermal areas all the way to the lake. It made it far more manageable. I plodded on. Billie and her husband ran past. It was about 7am. The sun was shinning. I reached the last sign saying 200 m to the finish. There were a group of people standing and clapping. I stopped to talk. We joked about running the last bit. The only bit that matters. A few moments later I started again. The plod became faster. I was shuffling now. The crowd gathered at the finish line began to cheer. The MC announced me as I entered the finishers area. I shuffled over the line with a beaming smile. I didn’t know what to do and the first words that came out to a volunteer were “where do I sit down?” I was so spaced out. Exhausted. A lady came over and apologetically encouraged me to come and get my gift, the Pounamu. Yes!!! A table was laid out. There were loads of Pounamu in boxes on display like a jewellery shop. They were massive. Far bigger than I expected. Each one different. Different colours. Different shades. She explained the purpose, the shape and meaning and significance of the ‘Toki’ design. She explained that we were to choose our own. It was personal. It took me a while but with a little help I found my Pounamu. The dark green jade called to me. She put it round my neck. I asked her to get a finish line photo. A videographer took pictures and filmed and asked if he could have a few words. Before she left the lady asked me if I wanted a hug, “fucking right I do” and at that moment I felt the sense of achievement and closure from the race. As the videographer asked me questions I realised how spaced I was. I’ve no idea what I answered. I was led in to the recovery zone to be weighed – we were weighed at check in and on finishing to check we were medically ok. They advised they were looking for a weight loss/gain within a 4kg tolerance to ensure we hadn’t taken in too much or too little liquid. I’d lost about 1.5kg. Perfect he said, go get some food and relax in the recovery area. As I went in I saw Femi from the boat ride some 14 hours earlier?! Then Jorge, Andy and Arlene arrived. They’d seen me finish as they were parking. They helped feed me and get me home. They updated me on everyone else’s races and achievements.

100758-d0c4d1-1006575117 — Crossing that finish line as a 100 mile finisher!

Final thoughts

Milers are hard. It’s a long ass way
I once again broke it into thirds. The first 50km was a breeze. The middle dragged on and on and the final was a slog. The realisation at 80km that it was only half way was horrible.
The generosity of friends. Tracking and following, supporting. Its incredible at the best of times. Its another level of generosity when they do it after running 100km themselves!
The sheer size of operation – around 690 volunteers and 150 permanent staff. 200 kms of trails across private land, public land, Government land and tribal land. There is a huge amount of organisation to such a successful event.
The generosity of the event. There was something very psecial in the Powhiri welcome. I’ve never experienced that before. Also starting in a cultural site and the Haka at the start. Incredible. The amount we got out of it too with entrance to cultural/heritage sites such as Te Puia and the Brried Village, the race swag, the support throughout the race and the huge pounamu. The expensive race entry was fully justified this time!
It takes a lot of coffee for me to get going when I’m tired.
The morning is a very special time when running. The light from the sun is powering and what goes before it is soon forgotten when the day breaks.
Rotorua is special. It has so much. Tens of lakes. Woods and forests such as the Redwoods. Mount Tarawera and the geothermal valley. Any one of those alone would make it special, Rotorua has them all!
The pounamu. A medal I’ll wear for sure.
I’m a miler man now.

Further, Higher

Published on December 28, 2019January 3, 2021 by runwithdai1 Comment

2019. Growing up in the 80s, “2019” sounded so futuristic. A utopia world of hover boards, homes in the sky and intergalactic travel. Not quite. I spent it doing (no surprise here) running. One of the oldest and most traditional of movements. Some fancy technology in the smart watches and tech fabrics etc., but otherwise pretty basic. Just me running.

The year started with some good news – a message confirming I’d been accepted onto the Tailwind Trailblazer programme. What even is that? – it’s an ambassador programme. A mutual partnership whereby I use and promote the product and in return I get some support from the brand. I’m happy with that as it’s a great product (see what I did there?!) and one I was using regularly. First impressions were that the support was great. A collective of varied members with a diverse, multi-discipline background and huge amounts of personal experiences. It made me think a little and I decided to end a few other associations that were no longer right for both myself and the other companies.

Despite the positive start though, my mind was in overdrive. I’d carried into the new year an injury which was lingering from a night run back in December. I’d come up with two plans to manage it, plan A was ignore it and carry on regardless. Plan B was to start pulling out of races. Thankfully I found an suitable plan compromise and was able to continue running enough and not have to resort to any DNS.

I’d continued my involvement with the team at MyCrew and managed the plan with my injury, mixing it up with some local hill training as a result. Tuesday’s weekly hill runs became a thing for two months as well as some regular night runs. I met a few new friends through this process and got to know some others a little better too. This showed the values in some of the partnerships we can strike up with companies and brands.

Race wise, January started with the Country to Capital. The early year opener. One many runners do to get ready for other events. I almost didn’t start due to my foot (I’d had a few physio sessions by then and received plenty of advice advising me to DNS). But I did. I went in with a ten hour finish in mind. Faster than the cut off but fairly relaxed. I finished in seven hours. Fairly fast. It was a lovely day, I felt comfortable and I kind of just just went for it and kept going. Not racing but pushing. A highlight was a brief encounter with Paul (who I’d go on to share many runs with throughout the year) and the lowlight was definitely towards the end with the flat, dirty canal paths. I just wanted it over.

February brought the first of the big ones – TransGran Canaria. The one that scared me a little. Other than the CCC I’d not run in the mountains. Now here I was preparing for a 129km run. I’d heard the stories. The rocky river bed. I hit my lowest point in my running experiences out in Gran Canaria. My mind was lost to the rocks and I became an angry bastard. I ended up Walking the last 26 miles. 8 hours pounding on. I finished in 23 hours. A huge finish on my estimate of 27 hours. Yvette and Jorge followed me all day along like the absolute heroes they are. Along with Matt and Ale they showed me what incredible friendships and support I had found through running.

March was the first of the little ‘breather’ periods in my year. Early on I headed to Maverick Liphook and popped my Maverick cherry with the Wild TR bunch. It was a lovely break and intro back to running after TGC. The ice cold wet mud was so soft and refreshing. I loved it.

Country to Capital

Trans Gran Canaria

Maverick Liphook

April was another international escape with the same Wild TR group as we headed to Italy and the Cinque Terra region for the Sciacchee Trail. For me I used it as a test in my mind ahead of events later in the year. 50km, with a few km vert thrown in and a heap of steps. It was two weeks before Madeira and the one I was focused on. This run was all about seeing how I’d recover in that two week period. Again I loved it. It was a super hot weekend in Italy with great company and many memories gathered. Nothing low about this one but I’ll always remember the miles shared with Kirsty and Maggie.

Soon after it was time to head to Madeira and tackle the MIUT 115km. This was the one I wanted. The one that terrified me. The one I’d looked at a year ago and thought hell yeah, I want some of that. Almost like a ‘dream race’ if you like. It lived up to expectations. The hardest run I’ve done for sure. But by far the most spectacular. The difficulty of the race was balanced by its beauty. The last few miles will always be remembered as it seemed to never end, but my word the climbs and the views were simply out of this world. My favourite place I’ve run!

May became the bonus month with the Three Forts Challenge and Maverick x Tribe ‘run free’ events. The planned rest for the month was not realised. Instead on day two of the month I was already doing a marathon (ultra technically). Rest was clearly going well! Running it with friends though made it a very enjoyable experience. Likewise for ending the month with the Maverick run which again was a very social event and one in inadvertently turned into another ultra by running 6 miles from the bus stop to the race start!

Sciacchee Trail

Finisher

Lou, Elisa, Kev and Martha

With Paul

June. Four more events this month – Luxembourg, Samoens, Lavaredo and the Salomon festival at Boxhill. It started off with a return to road. Pacing Nick to an enjoyable (for me) first marathon. Without question one of, if not the best road marathons I’ve done with incredible support and entertainment around a beautiful city. Topped off with a lovely little photo book memoir for all participants (and which I made the cut!). An impromptu 50km at the Salomon Fest followed where I supported Tom Wake in leading the guided run. Bonus here was finally meeting Mark, someone I’d been in contact for a while with through a mutual friend. He only went and completed the Dragons Back a few weeks earlier! The Samoens soon followed which was more about getting away with a wicked bunch of runners than the run itself (a modest 33km but with some fruity elevation!). This one hurt. I was faster than normal as it was a shorter race and the quads felt it. Also I had some weird issue with my insoles where they kept scrunching up on the downhills after getting soaked as I ran through several rivers. A great weekend though! Then the next one – 120km in the Dolomites. It was stunning. It was brutal. So hot. So rocky. It broke me like no other. I thought TGC broke me the most, physically it was Lavaredo. Mentally I was fine as I had Paul (another Paul that is) with me. It was 4 weeks later and the skin from the blisters and trench foot still hadn’t fully healed. Might be a reason why that was…

July. The week after Lavaredo I headed to the LoveTrails festival in my hometown of Swansea. I didn’t run much, but I ran enough to make things worse. I felt something in my foot. Something bad. It hurt and a yelled out. Yep, dickhead move. Anyway, the weekend was still decent and my highlight was being one half of Sonic and Tails with Nick. Overall I thought the festival had quite a forced feel to it and I know I shouldn’t have run. 40km the week after Lavaredo was not smart. 15km after I fucked my foot further mid run was not smart either. I did go to A&E two weeks later. Only to receive a bollocking for not having been to a GP and then I walked out rather than wait the 4hr wait period. I bought some ice instead. Worked out OK in the end.

Taking Nick’s Marathon Cherry

Pre-race

Salomon Trail Festival

Paul the Finisher

August. Panic began to set in. August was the big challenge. 3 ultras in two weeks. Two of them in the mountains of the Matterhorn and Alp regions. One of them 145km just 3 days after the last one. With concerns over my foot still, I returned to running after three weeks off. It seemed to work…I headed into the SVP100 for the third time. Determined to get my black 3 star finisher tee. This time I was running alone and approached it cautiously. A course pb for me boosted the confidence ahead of the next challenge – the Matterhorn sky race. I travelled alone, extending my trip for the UTMB festival. The race is one of my favourites to date. Challenging but oh so beautiful. Expertly organised and a hell of a lot of fun. Two down. One to go. The TDS in sight. My biggest challenge. The longest distance. Highest elevation gain. Most technical of courses I’d run. Longest time on feet. Over 35 hours I damn well earned that finishers gilet. I made a friend along the way too! A few days spent chilling and running around Chamonix with friends followed to top off an awesome adventure.

2 years of medals

You’d think that would be a good place to stop and rest huh? Nope. Somehow I succumbed to the fear of missing out and had signed up to the Estonia Marathon in Tallinn the following week. The flat roads weren’t too kind on the body so soon after the TDS. At times this felt harder than the run the week before! Thankfully James was there to keep me going and motivated.

There was a little short break then. I carried on running, although not much. The one unexpected adventure was when Nick and I hit up the trails in Co. Mayo in Ireland after a wedding. We had the best of times running the Foxford Way Loop, found a dog and bagged ourselves a Fastest Known Time in the process. Hilarious. Next up in October was another ultra, one which would top TDS for distance – the 150km Lemkowyna ultra trail. The one I wouldn’t really know what the expect. Would it be muddy or not? It was. And I got through it in a tad over 24 hours. Everything went like clockwork and it was another fantastic weekend spent with incredibly supportive friends.

Estonia with James

Foxford Loop FKT with Nick

Lemkowyna Ultra Trail

Lemkowyna, like Lavaredo, broke me physically. Not literally. But my feet were smashed up. The left foot had a huge blister on the padding of the sole that 4 weeks later still hadn’t healed. The right foot bruised up similar to after Lavaredo and caused issues with my big toe. Another three weeks of no running followed. Maybe I should avoid races beginning with ‘L’ and ending in ‘Ultra Trail’!

Three weeks later and I eased back into running. I was itching. My mind was all over the place scrambling at plans for 2020 and I couldn’t contain it any longer. More on the plans another time though…

November was race free. I filled it with social runs instead. A group run in the Surrey hills. A jaunt to the Cotswolds. Volunteering at a Maverick event in Kent and a burger run. Then it was time to get going again as 2020 had a countdown that was well and truly underway! Underway it was but immediately my achilles started hurting. Too much too soon again no doubt. I just ploughed on though. Same old approach.

December wasn’t what was planned. I felt a little odd as I’d been telling people I’d be doing it. The intent was to go to the Cheviot Goat. A challenging off track event on the Scottish border. It’s easiest to just say the plans didn’t materialise and leave it there. I took advantage though and signed up to a more local event – the Hurtwood 50 and would run it with Nick. What a great day this turned out to be with a group of friends sharing an experience. I then followed it up with my own 8 week training plan ready for the new year’s adventures. I hit some big mileage in December including two self made ultras over Christmas week along the South Downs and running home from the Black Mountains on Christmas morning. Happy days.

Hitting the Surrey Hills

Cotswold Explorers

Dream Team

What else went on with my running in 2019?

– Stairs. These became a regular in my training. Leading up to MIUT and TDS I hit this hard. Weekly sessions climbing stairs for an hour. I Definitely felt the benefit from this and felt strong hiking the inclines.

– Xendurance. Something else which became a regular for my nutrition and health. I was lucky enough to get introduced to them earlier in the year before Trans Gran Canaria and I’ve loved using their products ever since. I definitely feel they give me a marginal gain. Working with Team XND has been a delight and a included a fruity lil’ trip to the New Forest with some filming too which was a whole new experience.

– Later in the year Maggie asked me to get involved with Wild tr as one of their support runners. Whilst I’ve not quite made it to that many hill sessions, the long runs are something I look forward too. Being able to support and help out the leaders on occasions is a great responsibility and a pleasure to be asked. I do love running at the back of groups too.

c0434522-c356-43db-8234-7fdd3be2c12f — Some of the Wild Trail Runners

– A job change. Nothing major, but It was a little disruptive and it has taken some time to readjust to the new routine. Changing life conditions, no matter what, present new obstacles to your training. Thankfully this one has worked out great with a wicked bunch of colleagues who are very understanding to my needs. They also listen when I bore them about running!

What did I learn this year?

– Not sure this was a learning, but I kept thinking ‘just get passed this next month’. But then I went and back loaded that next month with more races. I thought August was hard enough with three races including two 3 days apart, the later being the new TDS. So then I went and booked the Estonia marathon for the following week. I seem to like making things a little more difficult for myself. I recognise this but still need to work on preventing it.

– Learning to not run. It’s hard. It’s frustrating. It messes with your mind. A few injuries throughout the year saw me take a few weeks off running here and there. Without doubt I benefited from this and have been quite impressed with my body’s healing capabilities. That being said, I struggled with it. The desire to go out and run. The mental challenge. The paranoia, it’s all in your head but that can be so tough to deal with, especially when you use running to control your headspace!

– The misconception. It’s all around us. People think what they want. They assume. They thrust thoughts and opinions on you. With running they make assumptions. Remember all is not what it seems. I’m not running that much really. Just long distances when I do. People ask if I run all the time. Far from it. Maybe once it twice a week!

– I can’t stop signing up to things. That has continued. So many races I want. I’ve been planning 2020 and was trying to avoid races and to do something else instead. Already that’s failed and I’ve signed up to my first 100 miler in the process.

And so 2020 beckons. 2020 fills me with so much excitement – The 2020 plan is forming and its bigger and bolder than the years before it. More running, more adventures. more travel. More races – the one thing I said I wouldn’t do in 2020. Races and running events were not on my mind. Those initial plans are now on hold though. Signing up to a 100 miler and looking to turn it into an adventure abroad, the flood gates opened and suddenly 2020 is filling up with more of the same. Planning for 2020 continues. It’s definitely big at the start and I do want to do more UK based races now I’ve signed up to so many overseas!

So 2020 beckons. 2019 is over and its the end of a decade. So let’s sum up my 2019 year with my best bits:

Best views

Madeira – the ‘sea of clouds’. Pico Ruivo. Bliss. Madeira stole my heart. Never have I had so many jaw drop moments in a race.
Lavaredo – stunning scenery around the Tri Cime is a beautiful sight.
Matterhorn – Speaks for itself. That view with the waterfall. Wow. I’ll never forget that one.

Pico Ruivo & Sea of Clouds

Matterhorn

Tri Cime

Hardest races

Transgran Canaria – mentally the toughest. I learnt a lot here. Physically it was tough too but this is still the race I’ve hit my lowest ebb in.
Lavaredo – possibly the toughest physically what with the heat and the battered body I had afterwards. I needed a break after this one!
Madeira – time per distance it was beyond anything else I’ve done. Says it all really. It’s fucking hard! Steep climbs. Temperamental weather.

TGC – Roque Nublo

Dolomites

Madiera Sea of Clouds

Best achievement

TDS – A beast to conquer. What a finish line atmosphere. I’m proud of this one.
Being there with Nick as he popped his marathon and ultra cherries. What a boy. He’s thrown himself into the running and is going from strength to strength and it’s wicked being at his side when he achieves.
Three in a row at SVP100. Wouldn’t have foreseen that 2 years ago when I lined up for the first time. The bug bit me hard

Best kit I’ve bought

Inov8 Trailroc – Damn these shoes are tough. Multiple technical ultras finally beat them down though.
Omm jacket – A post Christmas sale purchase. The sonic smock is possibly the lightest and smallest item I have. Great wind protection and a lifesaver during the cold night of MIUT. It’s so packable I literally take it everywhere.
Inov8 jacket – I love this jacket, the Thermoshell. Another super lightweight item but with more insulation and perfect for cold and windy nights on the trail. I’m not sure I would have lasted in Poland without it!

OMM Sonic Smock

I’ve used the TrailRocs on all sorts of terrain and they handle more than well!

Inov 8 Thermoshell

Most overused bit of kit

Inov8 Trailroc – They got me through all the big ones – TGC, MIUT, Lavaredo, TDS. I might not have feet left without them!
Salomon S-lab Ultras – I’m still wearing them with their holes, tears and completely worn out lugs. They are my go to every day trail shoe. Still great though.
Stance socks – I’ve so many. So many of them are now completely holey. My fist fits through holes on one pair. I still wear them though too.

Straight out of the box. Who doesn’t love a bit of colour co-ordination!?

SLab Ultras and Stance Socks

Favourite race swag

Trans Gran Canaria arm warmers – best arm warmers I have. Nice warm, stretchy material. No rubbery parts that itch your skin. Wicked design. So functional.
Three star SVP Tee – I wanted this one. I love it.
Lemkwoyna Ultra Trail – A cowbell medal and Columbia finishers top. Both just awesome and high quality.

The Black finishers Tee

Best dog

There is only one – Sam

a3cedc6a-61a1-4a10-abe4-6cfdd1fdaaee — Sam

Most repeating thought

“Fuck that”
“I ain’t running that”
“What the fuck is that?”

Favourite trail snacks

Tailwind especially now the cola flavour. Tailwind is my base nutrition. I constantly sip it between aid stations in races and use real food to provide the goods on top. Essential to be fuelling
Chicken noodle soup. In particular that served during MIUT. So tasty. So salty. It was simply the best and I had so much of it.
Oranges – juicy and refreshing.

Best medal

Matterhorn Sky race. It’s different. A hole in the middle. Simple design.
Schiachee Trail. It’s local wood. It has meaning.
Maverick original. It’s a solid weapon of the highest quality.

Favourite moments

Being Sonic and Tails at LoveTrails
Flooded rivers with the crew in December. Waist high in freezing waters. A whole new experience
Cheering and supporting at events. Its been great to be able to give back to those who support me when I race.

Lovetrails Festival

Getting wet

Giving back

Most beneficial training

Stairs. Vert in the city. Perfect.
Hills. Regular. Irregular. Anyway you want them
Night runs. People always question why. They say “it messes your body up”. I like to think of it as acclimatisation. Guess what people – what do you think ultra running does to you? Yep. It fucks your body up. So find a way to prepare for it.

4e980b55-2b18-4dab-92b5-b1e686d001ed — Train for it

To all those I’ve run with. To those I’ve promised but not yet delivered. To those who supported me. Cheered me. Assisted me. Believed in me. I thank you all. You’ve made this year extra special.

2019: 3 Marathons & 12 Ultras latter – one hell of a stash.

I’m not crazy

Published on November 3, 2019January 3, 2021 by runwithdaiLeave a comment

4bcd69a9-f11b-4830-a204-e845f330811c — Me not crazy

I’m not crazy, I’m privileged.

I’m privileged that I can. That I’m capable of running.
I’m privileged that I have the means and motive to run. That I want to run.
I’m privileged that I don’t have any restrictive illnesses or impediments to running. That I’m able to run.
I’m privileged that I’m supported by friends and family. That I’m encouraged to run.
I’m privileged that my lifestyle enables me to run. That I enjoy running.

But why am I telling you this? It’s a reaction. Life is full of comparisons, expectations and assumptions. Sometimes they are frustrating. I can’t deny that on occasions they’ve frustrated me a little too. Conversations with strangers, acquaintances, friends and even loved ones become repetitive and frankly a sometimes a little annoying.

There are words, phrases, sentences and the way conversations are constructed that, whilst well intentioned, can have a negative connotation. “You’re crazy”, “you need to slow down”, “you’re going to hurt yourself”, “how do you do it?”, “how many races have you done now” are a few that have that effect on me.

‘Crazy’ is a word bandied around like other sayings that I think can play down achievements and come across (to me) as sort of negative and backhanded compliment. Almost like you have no belief in someone’s ability, that they are naive or stupid, that you are questioning what they do and what they are capable of. Sometimes I wonder if they are they covering a person’s own insecurities, failings and fears? That’s the critic in me thinking. They are similar to phrases like ‘you’ve lost weight’, ‘you look skinny’, ‘you look tired’. They can go so far the other way from a compliment that you give the recipient a new complex.

So, I’m not crazy.

No one knows their own body like one’s self. It’s true. We all know when something is not right or actually when we feel fantastic. No doctor or diagnosis can tell you that, it’s a gut feeling. No one knows the strength and depth of our own mindset. Our own determination to achieve and succeed is limited only by our minds. Not someone else’s.

So I’ll just say that, whilst I’m still very inexperienced as a runner, I know what I’m doing.

I know what the consequences of what I’m doing are and I’m at ease with them (one example being I believe that, as a runner, injury is inevitable at some point regardless).
I know what I can and cannot do.
I know where my strengths and weaknesses are, and I utilise them both.
I know what to do to empower myself and set myself up for success. I’m not doing this blindly, I work hard and I prepare.
I know it can’t last for ever, that it isn’t sustainable, so I’m doing what I can, what I want, while I can.
I know all those privileges I have can change at any time for reasons of my own doing or those out of my control. So I’m doing what I want before I have responsibilities and life changes that impede me.
I know one day I’ll lose the love. Lose the passion. So I’m enjoying the ride (run?) Before that happens and before I stop enjoying running.

Why am I so confident? How do I know I can with such certainty? Because my approach is different (although not original, it is probably different to yours anyway). My mindset is different too. I live a very active lifestyle but I don’t run that much really. Not in terms of frequency anyway, once maybe twice a week if that. And the intensity is low, very low. I don’t push myself, test myself or challenge myself in that regard. I run slow. I run consistent. I run relaxed. I run to enjoy. I run with a smile on my face. The strain on my body is far, far less than you’d probably think. The recovery involves many more ‘off’ days than any plan you might follow. There is no intense training cycle.

I think we should all think a little more before we respond to someone with a potentially disbelieving comment. Caring is great and welcomed but think how the message is portrayed and delivered. You don’t know me. I don’t know you. We don’t know what the other can or can’t do. Advice is great, advice based on experience and wisdom is greatly appreciated and heeded. But the worrying and throw away comments, they aren’t so great, they aren’t empowering. So be positive in how you respond to someone. Be encouraging.

I’m not crazy. I know what I’m doing…

Kurczak, Ziemniaki, Chleb

Published on October 21, 2019April 12, 2020 by runwithdai5 Comments

In the week leading up to the race, conversations with colleagues and acquaintances have typically gone…

“See you next week”

“Oh, are you going away?”

“Yeah, to Poland “

“What are you doing there?”

“Running”

“How far? Are you doing a marathon?”

“No, it’s a little further, 150km”

“Oh, nice. How many days are you doing that over?”

“One”

“…..”

The conversations tend to just end there. That’s been fairly typical this year. If you’re not interested in running you won’t know. You won’t understand what is feasible or not. It may sound ridiculous but 24 hours is a long time, you can achieve a lot in that time and in the world of trail running, covering 100-150 km of mountainous terrain is very, very feasible. You don’t even have to run that fast or even run that much and can walk a lot of it. Much of it is in your head and, as always, I think it comes down to mental strength.

The Polish town of Krynica-Zdroj. Where the 150 km started

And so, off to Poland I was. To the Beskid mountains. I came here last year, to the Lemkowyna Ultra Trail, and did the 48 km was event. Now I was back for the big one, the 150 km… Last year was a treat. The event is billed as a muddy one with the strap line “enjoy the mudness”. In 2018 though freakish weather meant we had a glorious sunny dry day and very little mud. All that was to change on 2019. The weeks leading up to the event had seen plenty of rain and mud was once again on the cards.

This posed a challenge. How would my legs cope with the fatigue induced from running in mud? What kit would I need, What shoes? How long might it realistically take? It’s a 3 hour bus back to the start once I’m finished, what else will I need when I’m finished? I left the planning there. Things mostly out of my control. I’ve more than enough kit to cope with the majority of situations now so I decided not to worry anymore.

The race itself, it drained me. In a different sort of way. I was tired. I enjoyed it. I didn’t think and recall the journey as I normally do. I didn’t put the effort into mentally tracing my steps. It was all very similar and so I can’t recall and write about the adventure like I have in many other races. What I do remember though is many of the thoughts I pondered along the way. The things that came into and out of my mind…

As I left the house at 11pm, the group sent me off with one final Polish lesson. Kurczak, Ziemniaki, Chleb. All I needed for the aid stations!

The start was subdued. Runners casually making there way out of the meeting point and to the start. Whilst I chatted with fellow English speakers Mike and Alice, the race just started. No music. No countdown. Just a casual movement which became a run.

The polish countryside is stunning. I thought this last year too. Covering 150 km is a great way to experience it. Rolling hills. Views of idyllic castles, churches and houses. Little farming villages, streams and fields were the order of the day.
It was peaceful. Very peaceful. Less than 500 runners started and were out on the 100/150 km course. I was alone for a long time and I liked it.
There’s always a point at night where you stop, turn around and gasp at the trail of head torches behind you. This race was no different and the moon was glowing with them. beautiful.

There are different levels of mud. At some point no amount of grip or technical footwear will help you. Slipping and sliding is inevitable and managing how you do it becomes critical.
I slipped about 4 or 5 times. I never trip or fall when running. The mud got me and I was hands and bum down more than I liked.
Hot soup is great. Hot chicken soup is greater. Hot chicken noodle soup is the greatest.
Spiced pumpkin soup is special.
It was cold. Very cold. I ran the whole of the night sections with a jacket. I’ve not need to do that before.
The Inov8 Thermoshell is an incredible piece of kit. I bought it a few weeks earlier and this was the first run I’d done in it. It was very lightweight, warm and breathable. I put it on again the next night and was immediately snug once more. Possibly my new favourite piece of kit.
Warm fires at night are bliss. Having a few minutes at a checkpoint camp next to a blazing hot fire is lush.
Polish runners are so considerate and thoughtful. I didn’t have to ask anyone to let me pass them and no one tried to kill me with their poles. They were keen to chat and understanding when I couldn’t reply.
Muddy steep hills were challenging, especially to descend. Trying to do that in wetter conditions would have been terrifying. We were lucky it wasn’t wet during the race itself.
There was a long climb at the top of which was a wooden structure. It reminded me of the church Sandor Clegane helped build in Game of Thrones. I sat on a bench and looked at it for about ten minutes.

Hallucinations. First time I’ve had it. Only briefly in the last 30 km. I saw the most spectacular crystal chandelier above me glistening in the light. As I got closer I realised it was the moon and the trees flickering in the wind!
Caffeine kick. For the first time I drank coffee during a run. 15 km from the end I was drowsy and nodding off as I hobbled along. I knocked back a coffee and then doubled up on caffeine (Tropical) Tailwind. I was buzzing and ran most of the last 15 km or so. I was wired. I ran through the pains I had.
Apples. I’ve not had them at a race before. Smashing stuff. Crunchy. Juicy. Tasty. Easy to eat. Sugary. I like apples. My forth favourite fruit (after pineapple, strawberries and passion fruit if you just know).
Cup of coke? I went for a bowl of coke. Game changer. Fuzztastic. Gulp gulp gulp. Belch.
Polish churches are architecture masterpieces. Sounds like ‘costu’ in English.

The ‘middle’ sections of these long races feel like the longest parts.
I constantly checked and tried to trace my way using the elevation profile on my bib. I mis-judged it so many times. Hills don’t look like hills on a 150 km route profile picture!
The silence of the night was disturbed only by the mass barking of dogs locked up away from the runners. Miles away from villages you could hear the dogs!
Memory is an incredible thing. The last 48km was so clearly memorable to me. Only the order of trails/sights/memories was a little jumbled.

I don’t remember these dudes being there last year though!

Damn windy. Head winds whilst hiking up mountains is not easy. I was pissed off when a group of runners clearly used me as a wind shield. I didn’t blame them though.
Pictures – I took less. Whilst it was beautiful to see all around, the landscape was similar and too darn cold to keep fishing out my camera.
The last 48 km I latched onto a group of four runners. I used them (it might have been those that used me in the windy parts?!) My mind was going and collectively they were strong. I sat back and when they ran, I ran. When they walked, I walked. I used them. Until I took the coffee and my mind fired up again and I left them in my caffeine trail.
I visualised my body working. Buses driving messages from my brain to my body. Loads of tiny workers shovelling the food I consumed into a burning fire engine like a steam train. My legs like two grumpy trees telling me they were in pain. Functioning.
I visualised the finish I always do. I could see myself crossing that finish line. Celebrating. This time I saw exactly how – A chicken dance. I did eventually do the chicken dance I thought about for so many hours.

Tamas running passed me before 70 km. So strong. He started an hour after me! What a legend.
Runners drinking beer at 82 km. How?! Talk about stereotypes.
The realisation at 60 km that I was no where near halfway through. That was tough.
The disappointment when my Suunto went bezerk and at 82 km I thought I’d done 86 km.
The count down by comparable races. Only a TDS to go. Only a TGC to go… A Lavaredo to go… A MIUT to go… A CCC to go… A Brecon Beacons to go… A Cinque Terra to go… A marathon to go… A Wild TR weekend run to go… A run to work to go… A park run to go. I don’t even do park runs. Fuuuck when will this end.
Running 100 miles is an incredible achievement. I’m still 15 km off that. Wow. So much respect for those achievers now. Those who have the strength to even start and those who persevere to the end. So inspiring.
Leaving a message for Julian and Astrid whose wedding I was missing. The words were in my head but I’m not sure what I bumbled down the phone.
At the finish I was shattered. Momentarily I fell asleep on a bench.

f2297401-b871-4801-9fbc-eb59b5e62e59 — snooze

I like polish food!

The race itself…

It’s is exceptionally well marked. Tape and reflective signage every few metres. You can’t get lost (although others somehow did!?!).

It is superbly organised (just like the year before). With 5 different races starting and ending at different locations, this is not an easy feat. Lemkowyna make it seem effortless. As a non-Polish speaker, it’s very easily negotiated (OK, we had Polish speakers in our group but I’d be comfortable attempting it myself).
The volunteers went out of their way to help you. Not only filling bottles and serving you but sitting you down and fetching you things. All things.
The volunteers and support were amazing. Big shout out the the man I met at the 82 km mark and chatted too and whom came to find me at each checkpoint there after to talk to me and see how I was getting on. So thoughtful!
The bell medal. Unique. Now I have two.

The finishers top (150 km finishers) is great too. High quality Columbia kit.
Finish line food – an abundance. Healthy, vegetarian, meaty, local specialities. They had it all.
The trails were mostly forest paths. Soft and not too ‘rooty’. There were a lot of long road sections also.
The aid stations are about 20 km apart which is longer than most races. There’s nowhere to get water in between. I carried 1.5 l at all times and was thankful I did.
There were two ‘bonus’ aid stations with water and some other supplies towards the end. A very welcome surprise!

ab5a3438-a50f-4f58-8d47-91664af92826 — LUT runners!

What else do I remember? Support and friendship. That’s what. I’ve said this a few times over the last year. Friends and companions on such adventures is a huge boost. The joking, the laughter, the shared panics and emotions. The common understanding of what you need and don’t need. The different approaches, advice and learnings. Not being alone. The achievement of succeeding is one thing, but sharing it with others is something else. I was spoilt with such a special group. They took control. They looked after me. Cooked for me. Cleaned after me. Ordered for me. Drove me about. Waited and cheered me. Travelled 50 km in the wrong direction and waited for hours for me. Forever and constantly I am in their debt. Their support and friendship is mind blowing. Daisy and Claire called it out, making new friends as adults is strange and often not easy (the innocence of childhood friendships is lost as you grow older…). But through running I’ve met people with similar characteristics, traits and mindsets and we’ve bonded over the most memorable experiences together.

e65dab38-69b6-45da-baa9-c49baa9d424c — Friends on the trails

Whilst I was out in the polish countryside, there were a lot of other runs and running achievements happened the same weekend and conversations I had with others summed up my own experience this weekend. This snippet from Sarah said it all… “...Like a roller coaster, so many highs and lows but we rally through to the end. The things we put ourselves through for fun, and I have to say it was fun…“. We find our enjoyment…

The Enchanted Adventure

Published on October 7, 2019October 9, 2019 by runwithdai1 Comment

Whilst In Ireland for a wedding, Nick and I wanted a run. He was two weeks out from the Amsterdam marathon and I was flying out to Poland the following week for my next and (once again!) biggest challenge to date – 150km of the Lemkowyna ultra trail. Nick plotted a route of about 20km along the roads and we were set for Sunday morning, the day after the wedding. I wanted something different though. I wanted onto the local trails. So we did the run on the Saturday morning, pre-wedding, and I planned to go and do the 33km of the Foxford Way Loop on the Sunday. After such a great run on Saturday, Nick wanted in too, despite needing to be at the airport for 14:00.

Saturday running vibes – the day before the adventure

With heavy heads and tired eyes we woke early and set out about 7am to follow the. routed I’d plotted on the Suunto 9. We drove to the nearest town, Foxford, where we could leave the car with our checked out luggage and loop back at the finish. We weren’t 100% sure of where the route should start so we parked up near the Centra in Foxford and set out in an anti-clockwise direction. We picked this direction as we knew the last 8km so from the run the day before and, if struggling for time, this would be useful knowledge and experience. A short jog along the main road and we were able to turn off onto the tracks…

The trail markers for the Foxford Way Loop

The Foxford Way is intermittently marked with a trail sign – a yellow arrow and human hiker-figure. Mostly found on fence posts and markers about waist height. I say intermittently as they didn’t mark specific turns or intersections. Sometimes we’d go for a few kilometres without seeing any.

We set out up the N26 and soon turned right after a Mother of Mary shrine on the side of the road. The path began to climb and morning began to break. The climb was a wide, semi-pathed track and it wasn’t long before we reached the top and the path continued rolling across the hills and countryside. It was a chilly but dry morning and we could see we were going to in for a treat with spectacular views over West Ireland.

The view looking back to Foxford as morning broke

After a few Km we reached a Lake (Louch Muck) and followed the path to the right passed some beautiful houses with unobstructed views of the lake. The path was again wide and semi-pathed as it led around the lake, into some forests and beyond.

After a little while we reached the N26 again, crossed over and continued up a country road for a little while. We soon encountered our first challenge. As the route led us off the tarmac track and onto some wild and un-maintained tracks. The trail markers reassured us that we were going the right way and we took a moment to enjoy the stunning views as the sun began to shine. We were then presented with a very overgrown route.

The thorns and hedges, soaked with the morning dew, dew reached our knees and thighs and running became almost giraffe like. With high knees. The ground and foliage covered with a white layer of spider webs glistening in the dew. We were slowed to a fast walk. Maybe a km of this path was enough to frustrate us but I was hopeful it was a one-off and just a little used section of the loop.

The route followed some clear track again and we were walking up the road munching on flavoured KitKats when we noticed we were a little off course. Back tracking we found the path again – another overgrown route. We sighed and high-kneed it onward.

56a0de90-72fc-4f75-a077-926e721e5e9a — The ‘enchanted’ forest

We came across another trail fence post with the way markers indicated. But we were momentarily confused as there were two different ways indicated. One across a make shift wooden plank bridge across a stream into a forest, the other straight on behind a tied up rusty cattle gate, into a tree-lined path, shaded from the sun’s reach. The watch said forward and so we climbed the gate and continued.

We soon cane to a halt as I exclaimed “Fuuuuuuck” and stopped. I’d lifted my head and glanced forward and saw, what looked to me like, a little girl, standing there in high-white socks and her long blond hair covering her face and shoulders. Just standing there, silently staring at us and not moving. Nick stopped and swore too as we quickly realised it wasn’t a little spooky girl but a small stumpy pony. As I went to photo it it ran towards us. It ran funny and looked a bit poorly cared for. It loved us and the attention though.

After petting the pony we realised we’d run passed the ‘turn off’. There was no turn though, so I started jogging back to the gate and the pony started chasing after me, excited to play. Nick leaped over the stream and escaped to the forest. I carried on slowly.

As I climbed the gate and headed across the wooden plank bridge Nick acknowledged he was stuck the other side of a farming ‘rope’ fence and another stream. We carried on along our separate sides and the pony ran off and left us. The route was on track, but it was no path and we just stumbled out way through the forest!

The forest looked enchanted and was littered with farming rope as the sun shone through the trees in the distance. The ropes ran both parallel and perpendicular to us and we climbed over and ducked under to continue, Nick to my left navigating his own route. To my right I could hear the ‘tick tick’ clicking of the rope dividers. They were electrified. As I looked up I momentarily freaked myself again as the pony was up ahead galloping (in its own funny way) through the forest towards me. Where and how it arrived I do not know. I petted it more and carried on weaving through the electrified roping. A fence post confirmed the right way but oddly, it didn’t match the route on my watch.

As I climbed over the last rope divider blocking my way, Nick arrived, in style. As he ducked under a rope fence he slipped and became stuck. I laughed as he limbo’d to free his bag from the rope with his feet sliding apart in the mud. The pony didn’t make a sound. As Nick freed himself I warned him about the electric fence. He discarded it claiming it wasn’t and he’d been touching them. To demonstrated this he grabbed the rope and immediately screamed and jumped about. Yep. I was right.

We continued in the direction of the signpost and emerged into a garden, well, field (it’s Ireland!). But the rope dividers continued. The route said we needed to first go diagonally across the land before joining a more prominent path and head left. There was no path across the field though so we walked to the farm building and across the land. I was hesitant knowing this was someone’s property and was glad to climb the boundary wall and hop onto the main path. We sighed some relief and then a dog came.

It was an old dog. Wheezing. Not barking. It wanted attention. So much attention, sitting on our feet. It moaned and wheezed and pushed against us when we tried to continue. Then it barked a loud screechy wheezy bark and wouldn’t shut up. We ran on. I looked back as we ran and saw a figure behind us standing on the track and watching us run away. It was some form of ‘heritage centre’ (‘Hennigan’s Heritage Centre’) but seemed almost abandoned and lacking any Heritage (to a passer by!). Either way, a little freaked out by the figure and conscious our trail through the ‘enchanted’ forest had cost us some time we ran fast along a country lane whilst many more aggressive dogs barked from within their fenced gardens. Thankfully unable to get at us!

Get the trimmer out! The path was like this the whole way up

After a short incline the path again indicated a turn to the right and the start of the second highest climb of our run. Again, despite the sign posting, the path was not feasible. Overgrown and thorny to at least waist height. We couldn’t go up it so instead we climbed a wall into the field running alongside, cautiously acknowledging the sign saying “beware, bull in field”.

We stuck as close to the path as best we could but it was far easier to walk parallel to it in the field. Whilst we would have needed a machete to navigate the path, we instead had to navigate lumpy boggy fields as we hiked to the top. Our feet were already wet but now so too we’re our legs from the knees down. There was no way to avoid the bogs.

As we traced alongside the wall ‘up’ we contended with the water-logged bogs and lumpy divets. The climb was slow but we kept going, occasionally turning around to absorb the views behind us. The higher we climbed, the worse it became though and we’d occasionally go right back to the overgrown track to confirm the directions.

Eventually we reached a wall by some old ruins and climbed over onto the most mainstream of roads we’d seen for quite some time (still a country lane). We turned right and ran on. We came upon a collection of houses and ran passed another trail marking. It indicated the path would turn left sooner than the map on my watch indicated. Whilst I went ahead and checked it out, Nick made a new friend. Another dog, black and shaggy (like ol’ wheezy’ only much younger’). I came back as the point the watch was suggesting was far less accessible than the area indicated by the trail sign.

We spent a few moments petting the dog which was silent and attentive with these big dark brown eyes that pierced you. We decided to trust the sign post best and climbed a wall to get onto the indicated route. We were back up to our knees in foliage yet again. Then we weren’t alone. The dog had come with us. He bounded through the wet grasses and stopped up ahead as if showing us the way.

The boggy climbs were worth it for these views!

We kept trying to send he dog back but it wouldn’t. I was glad of the dog at this point. The route again was not clear and the dog became the marker. It was like he knew the way we needed to go and was helping to guide us. It was a little surreal but a huge insight to a dog’s mind. I believed it was telling us to follow him.

We continued on like his for the whole climb. A long climb. As we reached the top, soaked through from the waist down, we again tried to send the dog back. Sam, we called it Sam, was having none of it. So on we continued together. Again, I was thankful as we began to descend the hill as it was all off track and lumpy and muddy. The track was not clear or available at all. But Sam saw a way through and we followed. The last part of the climb was through a field covered and glistening with webs. Sam bounded through without a care in the world.

After what felt like ages of climbing and descending we reached a wide drive-able track. We tried to run on and recoup some time. As we struck a rhythm we turned left onto a slightly less mainstream track, still runnable though. We tried once more to ditch Sam. We failed. I looked back and saw the mountain (hill really) behind us becoming a distant shadow. I worried Sam wouldn’t get back. Nick was thinking the same and despite my protests was already planning how we’d return the dog. Whilst I was trying to put us first, I knew he was right – We had to get Sam home safely after the run.

The path opened into a small area of houses and buildings. Many being built. Many not looking that nice. A community. There were lots of dogs. Some looked aggressive. Some barked and began chase. Sam wasn’t phased. No comment. No sound. Just ran on ahead, guiding his “humans”. We were glad to get away from that area and all the dogs.

We hit a stream and whilst Sam refreshed we untied an old pallet crate makeshift fence and continued. I thought we’d lose him here, but to my surprise, Sam figured a way around and continue with us. At that point I accepted he be staying with us.

The path was over grown and we climbed gradually with the boggy, unclear track. Then a house. It felt once more like we were on someone’s land, but up ahead some metal steps had been built over the stone wall to guide the way. Once over, Sam was there looking at us wondering what went wrong and why we’d taken so long. Onward we went, to the right we climbed. A little more. Always a little more.

The track opened and we ran down. A nice section of wide trail paths that was very runnable. The views were beautiful. Sam up ahead. Every few hundred metres he was turning around and looking to see if we were following. At the bottom the biggest climb was about to begin. Now the green steps over the walls were marking the way. We went over, Sam went around. The route again was overgrown. My feet we’re wet and cold. My legs scratched to shit from all the brambles. We were embracing it though. Up and over this ‘mountain’. 200m. A baby. Head down and march on. Sam, diligently as ever kept stopping and waiting. Or running back and sitting at our feet. Eyes wide open, want a pat on the head. I desperately wanted to feed and water him but my fuel for the day was High5 isotonics and KitKats – not dog friendly!!

Eventually we reached the top and stopped to take pictures. Sam was all over this. Jumping on the rocks to join us and pose. A well deserved break and a moment to enjoy what the run has amounted too. A really off road adventure and a new friend too!

With time on our mind we cracked on. We now had less time than we’d planned. Whilst the run has taken longer than planned (with wrong turns, animal encounters and navigating around the unfeasible paths we’d added about 30 mins to our conservative estimate) we now had to taxi our new friend home also. We had no idea how long this might take but we knew we couldn’t abandon him now. He hadn’t left us for a close to two hours at this point. We picked up the pace and began to ran. Soon we were walking again though – the descent was very boggy and we were slipping all over the place.

Nick glad to be reaching the end of the boggy descent

Eventually we reached a pathed track and recognised the area from the previous day’s run. We knew where we were now. Soon the main road appeared and we had to control Sam as we crossed and ran a short distance along the country lanes with cars zipping passed.

Taking side roads Sam started to attract attention from more dogs (did everyone own dogs in this part of Ireland?!?) and took a particular shine to a dog being carried by two girls. Like a ‘dutiful owner’ I had to go back and drag Sam away. Whilst they were OK with the encounter, Sam didn’t look too impressed with me!

The final straight soon appeared and we knew we just had to run to the end of the road. One more obstacle though – the road was closed. Fenced off for building works. Bollocks. It was a bit of a trek back to circumnavigate around the road works so we made the decision to climb around the fencing, coaxing Sam to join us. We ran through the closed road, passed the Wollen Mill and arrived back where we started.

We realised we’d left the car unlocked (with all our stuff in it) and as soon as we popped the boot Sam jumped in. He didn’t stay long before leaping back out and seemingly wanted to play with the traffic instead, refusing to get back in until Nick picked him up. How he had so much energy left I don’t know – Sam ran with us for 18km and some 2.5 hrs!

Where he Ra

Where we met Sam

Where he ran with us too

Nick started driving while I sat in back Sync-ing the activity from my watch and looking for where I thought we picked Sam up. Thankfully the unclear trail turning and climb were giveaways and I found where I paced up and down looking for the path and where we zigzagged up the mountain following Sam. Found it! 5 miles later we were at the houses where we met Sam, near a place called Cornageltha. We picked the house we thought he appeared from and Nick knocked on the door…

A little old lady came out, confirmed Sam was hers and laughed when she saw him sitting in the car. We let Sam out and he sat at my feet whilst we talked to the lady. She told us his name was Rocky. She explained he always goes off with strangers and walkers and that neighbours normally call her when he is found and that her brother has to go out and collect him from wherever he has decided to stop. She thanked us for looking after him and bringing him home. He jumped up and hugged us as we said good bye. We got into the car and made to leave.

eb6875cb-5b99-4c8b-95bd-33464790ba6d — Reunited with Rocky

As we left I overheard her talking to Rocky. She said something along the lines of “why do you always do this” pleading with him not to keep running off with strangers. “what will I do without you”. She questioned. I almost cried…

d80b411a-e46d-42f2-85d4-a3056de114d8 — Bye Bye

Trail Notes / Directions (Anti-Clockwise Loop)

The route – Foxford Way Loop

We used http://www.mayowalks.ie to identify the loop and a visual representative from http://www.mayowalks.ie/media/Media,14140,en.pdf. A more detailed route can be found on Open Street Map – https://www.openstreetmap.org/relation/2859131.

The Foxford Way Loop is described as “a 33km long route, with the Ox Mountains on one side and the Nephin Mountain on the other; it is one of Mayo’s finest walks. Along the route a rich rich variety of flora and fauna and an exceptional archaeological and historical content is to be expected.” The terrain of the route will include bogs (wish we’d paid attention to that before hand!), mountains, rivers and lakes and breath-taking scenery to delight. This we can vouch for!

We decided to do the Loop in an anti-clockwise direction, although there seems to be no guidance as to the benefits of doing the loop in either orientation.

The Start / Finish – Foxford

Whilst http://www.mayowalks.ie describes the official start/finish point as being located in Foxford “beside the children’s playground in a car park just off the N26” we found this a little vague. So we parked up and started/finished on the N26 outside the ‘Centra’ shop, right in the middle of Foxford near the Wollen Mill.

We’ve split the trail notes into a few sections to provide guidance for anyone wanting to follow the route.

Section 1 – “Lough Muck” (Foxford to Lismorane). Distance from Start approx. 5.6 miles

From the Start in Foxford, the first section loops South from the N26, around Lough Muck before re-joining and crossing the N26 again just passed Lismorane.

From the Centra we headed East along the N26 in the direction of Swinford. The initial route ran alongside the N26 for about 0.8 of a mile. There is no pavement nor path for the majority of this section and we ran along the dotted lined/verge of the road. The turn off the N26 (on the right hand side of the road) was just after a religious shrine/monument and opposite “Noorey Park” road.

The trail here was wide and semi-pathed. It initially climbs to a height of about 400ft alongside the peak of Carranarah. The path continues in a South-Easterly direction from the N26 for about 1.5 miles before reaching Lough Much. From here the Trail continues South then in an Easterly direction (about 3.5 miles) until it reaches the N26 again. This whole section was well signposted with undulating trails. Easy to walk and run for all abilities.

Section 2 – “Cornageltha” N26 (Lismorane) to Cornageltha. Distance from Start approx. 11.2 miles

When the trail meets the N26 again just passed Lismorane, follow the N26 in an Eastern direction (again towards Swinford). Again, there is no pavement along this section of a busy road. Take the first left onto the ‘unnamed’ road after about 0.3 miles along the N26.

Follow the pathed road for about 0.5 miles (gradual incline) and turn right at the intersection. After about 0.7 miles of semi-pathed, down hill track, turn left. This section is single track and very un-maintained. The foliage was overgrown at waist height, the ground very lumpy and soft underfoot. The path continues like this for approximately one mile, emerging onto a small country road labelled “Graffy” in a North-Westerly direction.

Take the first right turn after about 0.2 miles along the Graffy. There should, almost immediately, be a trail heading off to the left of the path. This is signposted by the Yellow arrow/Hiker. Again this path is un-maintained and a little difficult to spot.

After about 0.3 miles the trail splits. There are two signs marked for the route, one straight beyond a closed and tied rusty farm gate, the other to the right across a small stream into a forest. Both probably lead to the same way, but the route to the right through the forest seems a better choice, if not a little ‘off-piste’. The forest is marked with electrified cattle rope and at the end you can see the yellow route / trail marker.

The route emerges from the forest into the fields/grounds of the Hennigan’s Heritage Centre. Leave the grounds and join the road ‘Rubble’. After approximately 0.5 miles, turn left at the road intersection onto Tiernunny. Follow the country road for 1 mile and then turn ‘Right’, shortly after the village of Derrynamuch, at the trail marker.

The section here is approximately 0.5 miles long. The official route indicates you should climb approximately 200ft along a marked route lined by a wall. You can see the route, however it is completely un-maintained and overgrown with brambles and (as of Oct 2019) not feasible to navigate along. We climbed a small, waist high, wall into the field (noting the sign warning “Beware of Bull” and made the climb through the field alongside the overgrown path. Whilst the field is easy to navigate (just keep heading ‘up’) it is very ‘lump’ and full of stream water and boggy. The Bogs in some places were knee height.

At the top of the climb you join the country road “Carrownedin” (just east of the village of Cornageltha) and head to the right/East for about 0.5 miles until you reach a small collection of houses on your right hand side and fields on your left. There should be a Trail marker/signpost indicating the route continues through the fields on the left.

Section 3 – “Carha” Cornageltha to Carha. Distance from Start approx. 17.5 miles

Cross/climb the stone wall into the fields inline with the trail marker. Whilst the path is not obvious and the fields are overgrown to about shin height with long grass, the way is clear – straight up!

Stick to the right-hand side of the field you start in and follow it for about 0.5 miles to a highest point of about 700ft. Be sure to look around and enjoy the views on this climb! There are 3 or 4 trail posts dotted along the climb that are visible and will aid directions.

When you reach the highest point, you should see a drop ahead towards a country road and a lake in the North-West direction. Again the way down is not particularly clear but you can see a feint boggy track leading down towards the country road and a few more trail markers will help reach it safely.

Once you reach the road the next part is easily navigated – Follow the ‘un-named’ road North and it will soon split. Take the left/West track and stick to it. The track here is semi-pathed and wide.

After a little more than 1.5 miles you’ll reach a (skewed) crossroad. Continue straight across (West direction) for another mile before reaching an intersection and turning left towards the village of ‘Muckroe’.

The trail markers will soon be visible, and you’ll take a left turn off the country road back onto single track trails. From here the route climbs to its highest point of approximately 830ft. The path is clearly navigated, first through boggy fields with occasional green metal step ladders to enter/exit the fields. After the field section the route continues up the climb through open countryside. Again trail markers are occasionally visible to navigate by. After about 1 mile of climbing you’ll reach the summit.

From here the path down towards Carha is visible and clear. Easy to follow with occasional trail markers the whole way. It is very ‘lump’ soft ground with plenty of bogs to enjoy.

After another mile and descending approximately 500ft you’ll reach a country lane (again not labelled) and turn left towards Carha about 0.3 miles away.

Section 4 – “Home stretch” Carha to Foxford distance approx. 21.8 miles

As you reach Carha, take the first left, continuing on the same unnamed country lane. Follow this lane for about 1.5 miles due South-West. You’ll reach an intersection of a main road (which runs parallel to the N26). Cross the road and keep left, taking the split of the road which heads further South-West towards the River Moy.

After 1 mile turn Right towards the village of Rinnaney. Follow the road left through the village then take the first right. After 0.3 miles turn left onto Green Road.

Follow Green road for just over a mile along the River Moy as it becomes Lower Main Street. Here you will pass the Foxford Wollen Mill, Leisure Centre and return to the N26 Swinford Road where it all started.

Blah Blah Blah

Published on September 9, 2019September 10, 2019 by runwithdai1 Comment

Earlier in the year James asked me if I wanted to join him for the Tallinn marathon. I was hesitant. A week after TDS, after a fairly jam-packed August. Hhhm. Maybe not. Then Luxembourg happened and it was frikken great. Bobby and Nick went and signed up to Tallinn immediately. I soon had the FOMO and was signing up to join them. After all, a trip to a new country and exploring a city whilst doing what I love…

Medal and Tee in traditional Tallinn emblems

Fast forward a few weeks and Bobby and Nick have both pulled out. Bastards. Suddenly I’m heading out with an unnecessarily expensive hotel booking (I could have shared a dorm for cheaper but I’m such a princess and don’t like sharing around a long run, I need some space!). James was still there but I’d missed the chance to jump in with him and his mates.

Anyway, August is done though, 3 big races conquered, all went better than I’d even hoped. Considering what I’ve achieved, I feel bloody good. Yeah sure, a few aches and pains and the ankles are still feeling a little brittle, but I feel great. I’m heading into Tallinn without a care in the world. My mind is clear and I’m ready to kick back, relax, run and enjoy the experience. No pressure. All I need to do is control it when I start running. I’ll ‘run to feel’ though and don’t imagine I’ll be feeling a fast run, so that’s good. It’s also a special weekend in Tallinn with celebrations to mark the 800th anniversary and it’s also the 30th edition of the marathon. So there is plenty going on.

It was a 9am start on a Sunday and I’m staying just minutes from the start . I’m not used to such luxury and take full advantage by staying in bed untill 8 and being very casual. I meet James and Chris just before 9 and we head down to the starting pens. We are briefly separated as they go to B and I’m ushered to C but some confusion just before the start sees the two pens merge into one.

There’s a lot of runners and, as we are given the green light to go, we start plodding down the cobble streets of the old town. Tallinn is a small place and the route will see us leave the old town, head to Seaplane Harbour, out of town with various bendy turns and switchbacks before heading back towards, and finishing in, the Old Town under the Viru Gates.

The roads were wide and many had been closed off for the event so there was no fighting for space. We soon settled into a rhythm of around 6 min/km and chatted away as we began our sightseeing adventure. It wasn’t long before we reached the first water station (and every water station infact as they were only about 3km away from each other!). We all made the mistake of trying the salty bread – dry traditional Estonian black bread sprinkled with salt. It was, of course, salty! Much water was then needed!

After passing through Seaplane Harbour and then several residential streets (with some fascinating architecture of old traditional buildings mixed with modern apartments) we ran through a long main Street. There was an old lady hanging out of her window banging a saucepan which made us laugh. We then ran through what would be the first of many parks and green spaces.

A little further on was a real highlight as, first noticed by the foul smell, we realised we were running through the grounds of a zoo. Whilst we didn’t see many animals there was a bear(!) inspecting the runners from his cage. Running the paths leading through the zoo was a whole new experience, and whilst sad and odd to see animals caged up, it was nice from a running perspective.

Shortly after the halfway mark we were running through some lush trails and forest paths with trees all around us before we emerged near the sea front. We felt good, but tired. The green spaces were welcomed though and thankfully we spent very little time on main roads with cars.

Around 25km in, Chris stared to struggle. He’d picked up an injury and, after about ten mins of slow walking and shuffling, James and I made the reluctant decision to leave him and carry on. At that point he was going to just walk back and pull out (he’d be able to skip through the various switch backs and take a more direct route back to town). Both James and I were feeling it too though – I was aching in my knees, which is a new one for me.

Despite most of the running happening out of town, there were pockets of support along the way and some great chants including “c’mon Brexit” and my favourite “blah blah blah” (or at least that is what it sounded like, I’ve no idea what it meant!).

The next section took us along the coast and had a few kms of long switchbacks which were painfully dull, seeing runners winding ahead of you. After that was a stretch around, then up into, a park before returning to the coast once more. With about 10km to go I started a run-walk strategy with a brisk walk after each water station just to take the pressure off my knees a little.

It soon quietened out and with the last water stop done James and I pretty much ran alone to the finish line. Tracing our steps back along the initial part of the route into town (without the loop around Seaplane Harbour). As we neared the finish line Craig casually called out “hello” to us and he was then at the finish line as we hobbled the last 200m along the cobbled streets of the Old Town and through the Viru gates.

Medal collected we headed back for a quick shower before returning to see Chris cross the line. Turns out that after we left him he decided to stick at it and he’d continued on to complete his first marathon (after covering no more than a half in his training and battling through the pain on the day!!). We missed him by about a minute!

119 Hours

Published on September 2, 2019April 12, 2020 by runwithdai7 Comments

119 Hours – Chamonix. Thursday, 15:00.

I’m hugging a man. His arms are around me. He’s wet with sweat and he stinks. I am absolutely rotten with sweat and stink too. We are both smiling though. The embrace is special. We are acknowledging over 35 hours of running technical Alpine trails coming to and end, most of that time spent together, supporting one another and motivating each other through. 35 hours ago this smelly man was a complete stranger, his mere existence even unknown to me. Now he’s not only a friend but someone I’ve shared an incredible journey with and whom will always be in my memories. His name is Darryl.

Moments earlier we’d crossed the finish line of the Sur les Traces des Ducs de Savoie (Aka The “TDS”) at the Ultra Trail Mont Blanc (UTMB). A 145km trail race in the Alps starting in Courmayeur (Italy) and finishing under the famous UTMB arch in Chamonix (France)…

5 minutes earlier – Chamonix

Somehow, despite hours of walking and persevering with the ‘ultra shuffle’ we muster enough strength to run the final stretch through the streets of Chamonix. Cheered on by the immense crowd, clapped through as the sea of spectators part to make way, we see many familiar faces of our friends. The moment is electric, so many emotions are pulsating through my body, my only reaction is to smile. A huge, wide smile. I don’t think anyone could experience that sort of finish and not have a smile on their face.

We are spent. It’s very hot. We are walking the final 8km into Chamonix. We are happy with this. I’ve run this path once before many years ago on a stag do (With another Daryl!), Darryl more recently did it on the TDS last year. “It’s flat” he claims and so he told another runner, Robin, a few kms earlier. I should know by now not to trust Darryl’s memories, he’s already admitted it’s hazy at the best of times. It’s not that flat (only in relative terms!). It’s undulating. We slow our fast hike back to a shuffle. We are in this for the long haul. 8km feels like 80kms and it takes almost two hours to walk to Chamonix. We eventually leave the riverside trail and hit the main road. We’ve not been alone on our walk and have chatted with several other runners who’ve walked it ‘home’ too. As we hit the main street we all look at each other and begrudgingly start shuffling faster and ‘performing’ for the crowd. Me and Darryl contemplate buying ice cream but are too afraid to stop moving again.

117.5 Hours – Les Houches.

We dropped off the winding switchbacks of the paved roads into the final aid station. For the last time we fill both our flasks and our faces and head back out on the trails. As we grab fistfuls of ice from a bucket, shoving them under our caps, I notice those around us. The volunteers – so supportive and encouraging, the runners – exhausted and many slumped on benches. We crack on. As the Compressport sponsored sign read, “finishing is your only fucking option”.

Descending from Col di Tricot wasn’t nice. The paths were littered with rocks and hikers. We’d run, stumble, jump and walk our way down. Eventually reaching a wobbly wooden foot bridge before climbing yet again. The rocky climb, however small, sapped our energy and by the time we reached Bellevue we were gasping. As we refreshed with water we questioned how that was only 4km we’d covered. 5km still to descend.

The next 5km were through the forest paths, shaded from the sun at least. We slowed to a walk. Our feet were hurting once more, raw and sore. The rejuvenating effects of the medical attention we received not that long ago had well and truly worn off now. Somehow runners were still running past us, we were impressed with their physical state. A familiar shout out from one was instantly recognisable. It was Alan. Supercharged and nimbly descending at speed. He called out to Darryl “Hey! How did Dai get on?!”, “I’m down here” I replied from around the next switchback. Alan was ready and willing to ‘walk it in’ with us and finish together, but I told him to keep going, he was on form again after a bad night and Darryl and I had each other. He vanished into the forest. We eventually made it to the road, a long stretch of paved switchbacks leading into Les Houches. The flat tarmac was a welcomed feeling.

115.5 Hours – Col di Tricot

We’ve made it to the top, finally. That climb was tough, the sun had done it’s job and I was definitely burnt on my neck. There was no water up top which we’d been hoping for. The timing point indicated 9km to go to reach Les Houches. 4km of which would take us to Bellevue where there would be water. All downhill, about 1,200m to descend in total.

Strapped up from Les Contamines, we left the aid station and were on the move again. It had been a long stop. About 1.5 hours. We were good again though and able to move quite quickly once more. The medics had worked their magic. We powered up past the church, up the roads and back to the trails, immediately passing many runners. Our power hike continued. Two more big climbs were left to conquer, the first barely noticeable and through the shaded woodlands we went. The second climb a bit of a beast with a steep zigzagging climb to Col di Tricot.

As we emerged from the first climb and descended we could see Col di Tricot opposite. It wasn’t small nor insignificant. It felt like a long time before we crossed the bridge, thread through the small hamlet and climbed to the switchback trails. The midday sun was bright and there was no shade on the climb. Darryl believed there would be water up top and I hoped he was right, whilst I had plenty now, the steep climb would be thirsty work.

112 Hours – Les Contamines

Once inside, Darryl went to find the foot doctor and I went to find the toilet again! After I had fun squatting and propping myself up against a wall, I found Darryl laughing and joking with the medics. It had already a while, and I’d eaten before finding him, but he was getting the full treatment both feet lanced, sterilised and wrapped in more padding than a winter jacket. I was jealous, so I queued up for a bit of foot TLC myself. I even got my ankle properly strapped and, whilst I was getting repaired, Darryl then went for a massage. We were smiling and laughing again and ready to get this race finished!

Leaving Col Du Joly, we wondered how we still had 24km to go. I do not know. Morning was breaking. The mist on the mountains was lifting and the the trails becoming lighter. Darryl was talking to another Brit and I cracked on. I was cold and needed to warm up – my body temperature had dropped significantly whilst stopping at the aid station. The head torch was soon turned off and we started a long descent. First the fields and ski paths before we hit the longer stretch descending through the forest paths.

As I hobbled down I was making the questionable sex noises. Oh, ee, ahh, fuck me, aaagh. I wasn’t alone and a chorus of squeals could often be heard. Many runners went passed, many we’d spoken too. Darryl was a little way behind now and I enquired after him to the Brit as he passed. He told me Darryl was moving but slowly. After about 4 km of descending I waited at the bottom. I found a bench and sat on it until Darryl arrived. He wasn’t looking good, he was stumbling and barely moving forward. His feet were destroyed and he was in quite some pain. He told me I shouldn’t have waited, I told him I’m not leaving him now, we’d done maybe close to 100km together and we had plenty of time to finish, I had no where to be in any urgency and I wasn’t going to leave him and potentially see him pull out. We walked on together. Slowly, very slowly. We hobbled at a pace slower than 20mins per km. It took around two hours to walk the flattest section of the race to the next checkpoint of Les Contamines.

110 Hours – Col Du Joly

Darryl’s hopes of medical attention were dashed when the medic told him that the ‘foot doctor’ was at the next aid station. Um, Ok then. We layered up as we left the aid station, it was still dark and cold. We refuelled on warm soups, re-jigged our packs and left for the final 24km.

From Hautelace we were confused. Very confused. We were still wandering in circles around the town and every now and then saw a trail lit up by tens of head torches in the distance. They were high. It was spread out and long. We kept questioning over and over if that is where we were heading or if that is the descent to Beaufort which we’d already completed. Every few minutes we’d have the same debate all over again.

The trails eventually took us in a different direction which did make sense finally. The climb was slow and a real slogfest in the dark. Sometime later we topped out on the summit and the open trails. It was windy and we could see the head torches both out in front and behind us. There was plenty of mud and my fresh clean shoes and socks (from the drop bag) were now soaked through. We ran along the ridgeline in the wind before we stopped to layer up and have some food. I was sleepy and hungry. I went into the chocolate reserves and came out with some chocolate coated raisins. They worked a treat and perked me up enough to keep moving with more clarity.

We continued on and the trails became increasingly more muddy and technical. We were ready for the next aid station now and Darryl was starting to struggle with pains in his feet. We looked forward to the opportunity for some medical attention and warm noodle soup. First though we had to navigate a steep descent and subsequent climb along some sharp rock faces in the darkness.

We were slowed to a plod as the runners started to back up under the difficulty of the terrain. At one point I yelled out and almost lost my foothold as I touched an electric fence that was stupidly close to the trail (on my other side was a drop into the darkness!). We laughed it off but I did question what I was doing here in the dark!

Over the last little climb, the music pumping from the aid-station could finally be heard.

105 Hours – Hautelace – 105 hours

Hautelace was a little confusing. Probably because it was 1am and we were tired, probably because it was fairly soon after the big check point and probably because of the route. This was also part of the new course and it felt like we were walking in circles around the town. I heard rumours afterwards about villages paying the organisers to be part of the route and I wondered, if true, if this was one of them – we were on a tour!

We finally pulled ourselves together shortly before midnight and headed back out from Beaufort for the third and final 50km. As we were leaving Alan showed up and indicated he hadn’t been so good and that he was going to have a sleep. I joked with Darryl that we’d see him run past us in a few hours time!

We climbed into the darkness and soon reached a town. After doing what felt like laps of the town we weaved into the aid station which was pretty much empty. We had a long stretch of running through the night ahead of us though so we took the opportunity to get some more food and water in before we headed back out into the night and up into the darkness.

102.5 Hours – Beaufort

Beaufort Aid Station. The long awaited, very much anticipated 90km mark. The aid station where we could access our drop bags, the aid station where the risk of dropping out (due to home comforts) increases. The one where hot food would be available. The one that marks the end of the “second” section (in my head I broke the race into three 50km sections) and the point where there is “only 50km to go”.

The entrance to the aid station was a a long walk. It felt like we were taking a detour around the aid station. I spotted the Live Cam and gave it a good middle finger. I was moody. That last 50km seemed to drag on and on and on (a bit like this blog?)…

After leaving Gittaz it all got a bit shit. Literally. One of the highlights for me here was the actual shit I had (it was surprisingly healthy for an ultra marathon poop!). But this whole section here was shit. Don’t get me wrong, it is another set of beautiful trails and the views and scenery was absolutely stunning (Exhibit A – The Black Lake), but it was shit because it was tough and it dragged. This was the section of off-track climbs, false summits and the beginning of the night.

The climb from La Gittaz was immediately steep and immediately lumpy. It was long, we were exhausted and it continued to deceive us. False summit after false summit and lumpy ups and downs were the order for 10km or so as we tagged Côte d’Ani and Pas d’Outray. Sometime around Côte d’Ani we took a moment. We sat down after the disappointment of reaching another false summit and we needed a few minutes to get ourselves over the disappointment of coming over the top and seeing the enduring trails and runners heading off into the distance. We weren’t alone. For every few runners who went passed, one would stop and join us. By the time we left there must have been about 7 or 8 of us grumpy bastards sitting in a circle laughing at each others miserable appearance. We also wondered if we could get the next long downhill done and out of the way before darkness. Spoiler – we didn’t. Not a chance in hell it would ever have even been possible. As we continued to descend the darkness enveloped us and and the head torches were back out and we trudged on.

The descent into Beufort was long, technical and difficult. This was the first section of the new route. Darryl wasted no time in pointing out that it immediately made the course harder than the old version (which he’d done previously last year!). After what felt like a lifetime we reach the aid station and settled down for a break and a freshen up with our drop bags. Whilst I fumbled through my routine, Darryl went off and had his knee tapped.

98.5 Hours – La Gittaz

La Gittaz was quite a cute little aid station. It stank a bit (think actual farmland) and there were plenty of small stone brick buildings in the area. The aid station itself was small, and the volunteers and support few but very boisterous.

We’d run down into the aid station through about 800m of descending trails. They were mostly steep and technical, but the end was a real treat. We ran down alongside a gorge and the sound of the water flowing below us was brutal. It sounded like high-speed wind battering you. The path was carved out through the mountain and winded down and around before dropping into open fields.

Before La Gittaz

The incredible Gorge

I’d left Darryl behind and we agreed we’d meet again at the aid station. Just as we descended the fields he caught up with me and we walked in together before I headed straight off to the Eco Loo for a very much needed good ol’ shit. What? It had probably been about 24 hours since my last one and that Lasagne and Burger was still bouncing up and down inside me!

96.5 Hours – Cormet de Roselend

I spot the Live Camera. I’d forgotten about these. As I ran into the aid Station I stuck the thumbs up and the tongue out for the world to see. I’m alive, I’m doing ok…

It had been a long one. 4 and a half hours had passed since I left the last aid station and I was certainly feeling a bit exhausted now (inevitable seeing as I’d been on the move for over 12 hours at this point).

Leaving Bourg Saint-Maurice I began the big climb. I didn’t feel it was as bad as people made it out to be. Perhaps because I was in a great place mentally and physically. In my mind it was split into a few smaller sections that I can recall. First off a steady climb on some soft and soily trails. As we climbed I could hear a deep voice bellowing out above “Alleeeeeee Hup Hup Hup Allleeee Allleeeee”. It was a great voice. Eventually I reached him – an old man with his wife ringing a cowbell. He was fantastic. “Merci, Superb” I called as I passed.

Beyond the old man the climb continued as we hit some open fields (and a bit of sun) and rounded an old fortress. It was here I was stunned to find loads of runners laying down and resting. And I mean loads, tens of them, everywhere. I couldn’t figure out if this was a strategic stop – part way up an exhausting climb, gaining some much needed sleep after an early start, planning for the future. Or whether it was because they were dead on their feet with exhaustion from the climb and they just had to stop. Part of me wondered if it is because the views were spectacular and it was just a wonderful place to stop and rest? I’ll never know, but for certain it looked far more enjoyable than some of the places I saw runners curled up in later that night!

I met Darryl again along the climb and we continued together chatting and catching up on the past few hours. We passed a short water station (by water station I mean a hose pipe filling a bucket) which gave a chance to replenish and soak my face and hat. It was also here that the famous 5 Euro soft drinks were on sale. I declined to get involved.

The climb continued and the terrain became varied. From muddy trails to razor sharp rocks. The fast hiking very quickly became slow lunging and scrambling! The views though were sensational and Darryl and I decided to take a little rest at the top of one of the peaks and enjoy a moment. Plus we were both starving and I wolfed down a few bars of food and Darryl rested his knee which was starting to cause him some pain.

We carried on up the rocky climbs before my balls almost detached themselves from my body and ran off back the way we’d come. In front of us were a group of volunteers, all happy singing and dancing, hiding from us what was a sheer drop of the mountain top. It also happened to be the way we had to descend. What the fuck? Down there? There was a rope. There were runners holding onto the rope and shuffling themselves down the sharp rock face backwards. Fucking hell I was terrified. I’d come to run, not to abseil with no equipment. The only way was down though, so I packed away the poles and headed on down.

Going down. I was too afraid to get the camera out until after the steepest part of the descent was completed!

We’d gone barely a few metres when a pair of poles went flying passed us following a shriek from above. A runner almost lost himself as he tried to head down using his poles and not the rope. Not worth it. Get a grip!

We made it. It took sometime but we made it to the end of the rope section. The path was still very technical and steep though and the run down into the aid station was painful. The memories of the pains in my feet from Lavaredo and Trans Gran Canaria all came flushing back!

92 Hours – Bourg Saint-Maurice

There is the slightest of inclines through the streets. I walk into the aid-station (which was the first major/crew-support aid station on the course). No running here. I’ve just been on one hell of a run. but I am buzzing. beaming. smiling ear-to-ear. “Dai” I hear as I look across the packed aid-station to see Ryan calling me over. He introduces me to his Wife Emma who gives me the biggest of hugs and gets a sweaty kiss before offering me potatoes which I happily take.

Ryan is a bit dazed. I caught up with him on the downhill which was a huge surprise (he is a speed demon!) before he turned and showed me his bloody face. A bad fall had left him a bit spaced out after taking most of the impact literally head on.

After another very long downhill, maybe about 15km and a descent of about 1,500m with much more running, more speed work, I remember looking at my watch and thinking I have no right. No right to be running 6 min/kms at 40-odd kms into a race, never-mind a 145km race! But I kept going.

I soon bumped into Ryan and then arrived at a water station where I proceeded to refill all my bottles ahead of the ‘big’ climb. A volunteer kindly told me the aid-station was in 3kms though and this was just a water station in between. So I legged it back out through the town and parks…

When I arrived, after speaking with Ryan I saw Darryl heading out and spent a moment talking to Alan who arrived just after me. We did a quick kit check reminder to fill all our bottles as the next climb was an un-shaded beast – almost 2,000m of climbing in the midday heat (not sun though as it was mostly overcast thankfully!).

I chatted to Emma a little longer after Ryan left (and ate more of his spuds!) before leaving myself. I spent very little time at this aid station as quite frankly, I felt great. I had energy and a smile and saw little point sticking around any longer. So off I went.

90 Hours – Col du Petit Saint Bernard

The Point of Col Du Petit Saint Bernard sticks out in my memory for one reason only. This was the French/Italian border crossing! and the technical, small stone descent before a much longer descent. Ahhhh wonderful. I did enjoy the little border crossing they’d erected for the runners though. That was nice.

The Italian-French Border crossing for the race.

Other than that, my mind has gone a little blank. We climbed together, the fresh smells of the forest, the morning warming. It’s about 10am but I can’t picture the scene. I don’t think Darryl was with me at this point. Maybe he was. A few hours have passed though and I don’t recall too much of where or what I saw in this time.

Sometime earlier though morning had broken, I put the head torch away and started to enjoy the grey misty morning as we climbed about 600m, from which we had stunning views of the valley and lake below. I was above hundreds of runners and I’m looking down, but also up. Hundreds more were above me and the climb continued to the cheers and sounds of supporters at a timing point. As I reached them I breathed a deep breath. I took a moment to absorb the views and point to the distance trail path leading off into the un-see-able distance.

From the peak at Col Chavannes I got moving again. Woaaaah boy do I get moving again. The path was very runnable, about 10km of shallow descent on fairly decent and wide track. It is fast. Another consistent period of running 5 min/kms. I knew my quads were going to hate this in a few hours, never-mind the next day!!

The long, runnable descent from Col Chavannes

There’s a short break in the rhythm as the path deviated sharply down and cross a river before ascending some forest tracks. At this point I first met him, the sweaty stinky man. I had no idea what would happen next and how a friendship would form. “Alright Mate” he says “How’s it going?”. As simple as that. A mere conversation starter. One runner to another, one human to another, one person looking to change their day. Thank you Darryl, you certainly changed my day!

86.5 Hours – Lac Combal

I’m running along a flat gravel path, It’s flooded with puddles of water and I’m zig-zagging along at close to 5 min/km pace. Crazy. Still, it feels good so I keep at it. I’m distracted by a ‘Full Kit Wanker’. A lady wearing head to toe in branded UTMB event gear. And I mean head to toe – Columbia UTMB edition trainers, Compressport UTMB socks, base layer shorts, shorts/skirt, Tee, Arm Sleeves, Buff and Running cap. She has it all. Maybe over 400Euros of kit right there. Wow. We all like a souvenir (I bought a Matterhorn race hoody just days earlier!) but that is a lot of kit to (potentially) try out for the first time on a 145km run!

The distraction takes my mind off the running and a big aid station soon appears. I grab some food, refill my water and am about to head out before I notice a sign saying about 19km to the next aid Station. I turn around, drink some more water, part fill a third soft flask and eat some more food before heading back out. I don’t want to be caught short so soon into the race!

As I continued on the climb I stopped for a moment and turn around to try and photograph the stream of head torches snaking back for miles in the distance. It doesn’t do it justice, but its an incredible sight – maybe up to 1,500 heads bobbing away. So far I’d not used my head torch. Like a parasite I was using the light from those around me and being a sneaky bastard and saving my battery for night time (even though I’m carrying four batteries!) I continued the climb before a nice easy descent into Lac Combal. I’m running (with the head torch on now!), I’m smiling. It’s been a good start, a fast start and I think I’m a little ahead of Alan, I last saw him just before the climb started and I couldn’t recall him storming passed.

85 Hours – Col Checrouit Maison Veille

A little over an hour has passed. Its 5 in the morning and still Dark. I’m about half way through a 1,000m climb (over 10km) and I’ve stumbled into the first aid-station at Col Checrouit Maison Veille, some 1,900m above sea level and its a little cold. Runners are in jackets and gloves, sipping hot drinks. I’m in a T Shirt with arm sleeves rolled down. It’s sweaty work this fast hiking! I fill up my bottle with the help of a lovely volunteer before heading out and swearing. Fucking Prick. He’s filled me up with sparking water. Why would you do that? The smallest of things, but it pissed me off. I’m not a fan of sparkling water. Regardless, I find a way to calm myself down and move on. It’s just a bit of gas.

84 Hours – Courmayeur

Hans Zimmer (“He’s a Pirate”) is pumping out. Hi-fives and fist pumps are exchanged. Cheers and whoops are let out. Screams of “Ale Ale” and cowbells ringing fill the main street of Courmayeur. The 2019 TDS is under way and my 84 hours of recovery comes to an end. It is time to run again. This time, further and higher than I’d ever been before. Time to push those boundaries and redefine myself.

Before the race began I was subjected to one of the random bag searches whilst in the starting pen. Great. Whilst I fully endorse and support this approach, it isn’t half a pain in the arse. When you pack and re-pack your bag and organise it in such a way, only to then be rushed to unpack in a crowded space to show you have all the mandatory gear is just a nightmare. Either way, I passed. I got my green sticker on my bib.

You really can’t fault the organisation of UTMB. from bag checks to bus transportation to the start line, it really is a military operation and you can clearly see where you 200 Euro entry fee has been spent. You are so looked after and accounted for during the event. I’ve almost forgotten its been 3 hours since I first woke, trudged to the bus and started eating croissants.

71 Hours – Chamonix

It’s about 3pm on Tuesday and I’m leaving the race registration tent. I’m in. I’m Done. I’m set to go. The rigorous testing and inspection of your documentation and kit has been passed. Phew. Time to head home, re-pack the kit and drop bag, eat more food and go to sleep. At 1am I need to be up and heading to the bus to Courmayeur.

That morning I’d skipped the organised morning “shake out” run so that I can head up the VK with the others (I didn’t want to do both). Most of them bailed on the second run, but Yvette showed me the way. We did about half way before turning back and heading home so I could register. Post registration I finally got to eat and rammed a lasagne down my throat before an hour later heading out for a burger with Alan. I was bloated now but heading to bed. 7pm, If it goes well I can get about 6 hours sleep before the journey begins….

45 Hours – Chamonix

Its a whole day later and I’m stepping off the Chamonix Express into Chambalama Town (Chamonix that is!). So far the trip has been fantastic and worked out exactly as planned and I’m where I want to be when I want to be there. I pick up the key to the apartment, meet Yvette and Jess and head into the main town to cheer home the MCC runners. There are a few friends running and due to finish within the next few hours. We grab a burger and make it in time to support them all across the infamous UTMB arch/finish line. The rest of the day is spent eating and meeting many friends before heading to bed and trying to get a semi-decent night’s sleep. I’m not sure how Tuesday will pan out but I know I want to get the legs moving a little bit and eat and sleep as much as I can.

21 Hours – Visp

Arriving in Visp I head straight to the hotel with my fingers crossed that I can check in early, I can. Result! I was staying at St. Jorden, which very quickly became apparent was some form of religious retreat (an ‘Education and Seminar House’ as they put it!). This didn’t bother me though and I was given some very helpful advice relating to the thermal baths and local buses before I set off out in my short shorts.

I get to the Thermal baths very quickly, pay my 25Euro for three hour access to both the pools and Sauna rooms and head on in. I’m immediately disorientated though. It is busy. I’ve a little armband to activate doors and lockers and straightaway signs are instructing me to remove my shoes. I wander on in and first stumble upon the ‘Grotto Bath’ – a pool maintained at 40 degrees. It is awesome. I follow it up with a stint in the ‘Cold Water Grotto’ which is so relaxing as it is in pitch darkness. I keep alternating between the two before heading outside (after a stop off at several steam baths of various temperatures and aromas).

Outside I find a series of swimming pools with jets, streams and water features. I enjoy a few trips around the ‘River Pool’ and smile as the water current pushes me round and round. I then head off to the slide. Yes, the slide. I’m like a child all over again and it is frikken brilliant. I don’t know how many times I go on it, but it is great fun. I must have been in here for about 2 hours by now so I head back inside to repeat my hot/cold water “treatment”, steam rooms and get naked in the saunas. I’ve one eye on my watch now as the buses aren’t all that frequent and I want to get the next one. Whilst in the Grotto Bath I decide to lay on the loungers – when you recline your feet are elevated. That will help with my recovery I think to myself. I’m sure it did too, because the next thing I remember is waking up and it is 45 mins later. Shit, I’m late. I rush out, in a panic realise there is a bus in less than 10mins, but I can’t find the changing rooms. I dive into a disabled toilet and start getting changed but am disrupted by someone banging on the door. “Hold on” I scream before grabbing my stuff and making to leave. Outside a cleaner is looking at me disgusted and starts yelling at me pointing at my trainers. I try to explain I don’t understand and am lost and continue the long walk of shame to the exit, to many tuts and disapproving eyes along the way.

Outside I try to leave but the armband flashes red and buzzes every time, after some time the receptionist realises it is because I am “late”. Ten mins overdue, I’m instructed to a machine to pay a fine. 5 Euros, phew, that’s OK. I run out and jump on the bus just in time before it leaves. I slept very well that night!

15 Hours – Zermatt

Morning has broken. My legs ache. I feel well rested but my quads are definitely a little tender. The Matterhorn Sky Race was faster than I expected and I was already feeling it. After a relaxing evening and a good long sleep I felt like I’d lost a big chunk of my recovery. That wasn’t the case though, sleep is what I needed. I just didn’t need tender legs!!

I finished packing my bag and headed down to the hotel breakfast bar. I had a casual day ahead with no rushing. My trains were booked and I had plenty of time. I ate, and ate and ate at breakfast. I didn’t really eat a proper meal the night before and I was pushing in the calories now. Plus I didn’t know when I’ll get a chance to eat next that day, so I relaxed and ate a shit tonne of food.

As I sat on the train from Zermatt to Visp I did a quick bit of research on what Visp had to offer. It wasn’t long before I came across the Thermalquellen Brigerbad – Thermal Baths and Spa. Sod exploring the mountains, this was the best Idea I’d had in a long time.

0 Hours – Zermatt

It’s about 16:00 on Saturday. Moments earlier I crossed the line of the Matterhorn Sky Race. Now I’m sitting down eating the post race meal with Jason and Pritt, two runners I met along the way. “What’s next?” they ask. “The TDS at UTMB” is my response. “When is it?” they ask. I take a look at my watch. “It starts in 84 hours” I tell them….

After thoughts

Lets rewind (or fast forward? I’m so lost with my own writing now!) a little. The race is done, completed. I’m wondering why I thought I could do it? With such technical terrain, I’m not quite so sure I thought I even could do it. But I did. And I did it well (I’ll modestly say). I felt OK afterwards. Probably the best I’ve ever felt after an ultra. It was just a long ass slog.

It was very much a three part race. The first 50km, the middle 50km and the last. I loved the first 50km. I felt free and ran more than I’m used to running in mountain races. The middle 50km dragged on and seemed to take a lot longer than the first 50km. Then the last 50km was all about survival and perseverance, as many ultras often are.

I was fortunate that, unlike many runners, I had no issues (other than sore feet). That I also found a companion to support me through. I keep saying it, ultras are far far easier with friends!!

It did make me question the distance though. 150km is a lot. It’s long. When you’re telling yourself, “only 50km to go”, “only another 12 hours”, and when you’re OK with that, it should be questioned!!

Last year’s CCC left me underwhelmed. The finish in particular was a let down, but this year the TDS gave me the full UTMB experience. Finishing midday with all the exceptional support was a phenomenal experience. It was an electric atmosphere unlike last years finish and one I’ll never forget.

The TDS was modified for 2019. Increased from 120km to 145km with the additions through the Beaufort valley. Those I spoke to who’d done the ‘old TDS (Like Darryl and Alan) now claimed it was too much. Too hard. The additions unnecessary. Many say its harder than UTMB which, whilst longer and has a little more elevation, is far less technical. There’s only one way for me to confirm, let’s see what the UTMB ballot God’s have to say about next year…

To all those who helped me achieve, supported and believed, thank you!