So yesterday I turned 38, not a particularly momentous day but the weeks between the end of August and my September 20th are uninspiring and make me far too contemplative. That rather internal monologue I have during this period is quite negative and I often need something to snap me out of it because my running always suffers.
Enter: The GingaNinja with a pair of freshly imported Altra Lone Peak 2.5 – say goodbye biscuits and over-eating, say hello ‘back in training’
Thanks GingaNinja.
Ed Catmur you say? was my reply to the tenacious Sasha…Well I’ll be honest at that point I shit myself but it wasn’t the first time that had happened across a series of recent events.
But let’s roll back a little bit. July 19th and there’s a rap on the door, it’s 8.30am – ‘stick the kettle on son’. It was Pops arriving in sunny Kent to do a bit of babysitting while UltraBoy dusted off the wetsuit and swam the Great London Swim. After a bit of a catch up we headed off to the train station and meandered towards the ‘swim village’. Getting to the Millwall docks was no easy feat with all the improvement work going on there and with a buggy it was remarkably slow progress but we finally cracked the nut and in font of us we saw a succession of Great Swim signage.
We ambled around the start line for a while watching a couple of waves hitting the water and saw that the waves of people entering the dock were rather smaller than I remembered from 2013. I spoke to a chap who had clearly just finished and he confirmed that the earlier waves had been much fuller but that the afternoon had been rather quiet. ‘Bugger’ I decided to head up to the finishing area and see if is was any busier and thankfully there was more happening and swimmers were bimbling about in their wetsuits or stripping themselves out of wetsuits. I sat down on one of the public benches outside the main arena and already having my swimming shorts on simply stripped off and jumped into my wetsuit (using my newly acquired knowledge of putting a carrier bag over my hands and feet to make getting into the wetsuit so much easier).
At this point my dad, UltraBaby and I headed to the start line but here my family rather than aiding me with my nerves got rather over-excited by the appearance of Brendan Foster, former champion middle distance runner! My dad became giddy with joy and started discussing running and swimming with him – he was a warm and genuine gentleman though and it was lovely to meet him – I just wish it hadn’t been while I was sweating in a wetsuit. I left my dad to his hero worship and entered the acclimatisation area in the water, the water was warm and pleasant and nothing like the last time I had done open water swimming, the concern was that the field of swimmers numbered about 20 and I was going to be slow as I had completed about 20 lengths of a pool since UltraBaby arrived. This mile of open water swimming was looking like an increasingly stupid idea.
Still I did the warm up, abandoned all ideas of pulling out and when the klaxon fired I ran to the water – leaping in and I put on my best ‘freestyle’ swim stroke – that lasted all of 50 metres and I began breast stroking my way to the finish line. Here it got both brilliant and crappy – the water was pleasant, the view was interesting and I’d picked up ‘Bridget’ on the safety boat as my conversational aid. This was the best and worst bit of my day – I was at the back and didn’t have the resources to catch the swimmers in front of me. Less than 200 metres I made the sensible call to adjust my targets. ‘So Bridget, success today is a) finishing and b) not needing to hold onto your kayak’ and then we chatted all the way round and thankfully she was a brilliant and lovely woman.
Without her and that awesome sense of humour I doubt I’d have made it but with the safety boat always within earshot I was able to push on even when the waters were against me. I was now about 1000metres in and I spotted my dad and UltraBaby on the dockside, they both waved enthusiastically and while my dad was more interested in chatting to the ‘lovely ladies’ he did get me a cheering parade all the way back and I could hear my name being called from far and wide.
With 50 metres to go Bridget and I parted ways – she had seen me safely home and all that remained was for me to haul myself up on to the ramp. I ran up to the chip timing station, waving at ‘my adoring crowd’, as quickly as my weary legs would carry me and thanked the lovely volunteers for their efforts.
There was little more to do now other than collect my medal and shower and as ever the guys at the Great Series had a nice medal and a decent T-shirt. What was missing was my own personal sense of elation, I was tired, I was sore and I’d been last in my wave – but with no training and bad prep what more could I have expected. Thankfully the Great Series of events really is well suited to the novice/under trained as it is to the elite athlete and the amount of safety crew about was s testament to the care they show to their entrants. I’ll be back for a fourth Great Swim next year because it’s a great event and I might even add in the Great Newham 10km which is where we are headed next…
Pops hadn’t just come down to the South East for a bit of gentle babysitting, no, he’d also come down to run the Great Newham 10km. To add a bit of history to this my dad raced at the Olympic Stadium at one of their 2012 pre games test events and to this day says he beat Usain Bolt by three months (the old ones are the best ones). Now it was 2015 and three years later – a lot has happened in that time, some good things, some bad but Pops wanted to run this one in sight of his granddaughter – UltraBaby. We set off nice and early and arrived at the Olympic Park with both time to spare and time to take some souvenir pictures, especially as both of us were proudly wearing our Virtual Runner UK shirts. As we meandered down to the starting area a voice called out to my dad ‘what are you doing here?’ In typical fashion my dad saw someone he knew – another runner and we all ambled down together to the main thrust of the event, chatting merrily about the run.
‘Tea?’ I offered ‘sun cream?’
‘Both’ was the reply.
It was a hot, sunny day and the start was still an hour away, we mooched around the Start Fitness store, bought a few bits and grabbed as much free lucozade, water and other goodies as our little hands could carry (it was a warm day after all). As the clock ticked down my dad headed to his wave (as he described it ‘the slow wave’). Thousands of runners lined up waiting for their final instructions, words of wisdom from my dads new best pal Brendan Foster rang out over the PA system and Paula Radcliffe offered some encouragement to those about to race BackToTheStadium. UltraBaby and I ran up and down the crowds in the buggy grabbing photographs and eventually waved a cheery goodbye to Pops as we stationed ourselves about 200metres beyond the start line.
And then it all went off – runners flying towards us – thousands of them in the shadow of the Olympic Stadium. I stood with my camera poised to grab the snapshot of my dad coming through but there was no sign, more runners came through and then more – still no sign. Suddenly in the distance I could see him wandering through – running gently behind a very attractive young lady and his eyes firmly cemented around her bum – it seems he’d found his inspiration to complete the distance. With Pops having passed us by we headed straight to the stadium to soak in the atmosphere. We were politely if inefficiently sent to the ‘buggy park’ were UltraBaby and I deposited the UltraMobile Mk II and then we went off to find our seat. We were housed near the runners entrance into the stadium and either side of us were the big screens displaying the runners names. Pops have indicated that he’d like a photograph of his name in lights – as the chaps back home would never believe him.
With baby on one knee and DSLR and giant zoom lense on the other we waited patiently. To fill our time UltraBaby and I tweeted several photographs under the hashtag #BackToTheStadium and sure even the dinosaur clad child appeared giant size on the screens around the stadium but with the race reaching the hour mark we needed to concentrate and wait for Pops. The problem now was that despite all the noise and the general hoopla – El Babio had fallen asleep on my arm and was resting like a dead weight on me.
Bugger. Still she wasn’t going to miss her Pops arrival into the stadium and when he came thundering around the corner I pulled up the camera – grabbed the shot of the big screen, woke up UltraBaby to join in with cheering and then photographed him ambling round the track to the adulation bring thrust upon all the awesome runners. UltraBaby went straight back to sleep. My dad collected his medal and joined me for a little bit atmosphere soaking and he described it as a fun and enjoyable race. It was well organised and well supported and he felt this was a good bookend to his ‘Olympic Park’ running career. I know there was some criticism (especially from long distance runners) that the course was a bit boring but it seemed that mostly people enjoyed it and especially the spectacle of coming into the Olympic Stadium – as Pops said ‘what a feeling, what a roar!’
He may well be back.
Thankfully this was not the end of July running – far from it – there was the little matter of the inaugural Twilight Ultra. The GingaNinja had already advised that I’d be out on my own for this one (especially in terms of getting there) but given the track nature of the event I felt this was a decent final event as I wait for the start of the CCC and so I signed up.
I headed out to Hainault nice and early with the intention of grabbing some supplies and breakfast and then meandering to the start line. However, a succession of train delays and a lack of suitable shops meant I arrived at the Redbridge Cycle Track having not eaten and with only a Cadburys fudge for company. I grabbed a cuppa from the track reception and then signed in. Martin from Nice Work (the organisers) greeted is warmly and advised there was a starting line of 12. Not a great number but substantial enough to make it a bit competitive. We were walked out to the start line of the course as 10am closed in on us and advised that the aid station at the start of each of our 31.5 laps would do there very best to get us whatever we required to finish the race and simply let them know and they’d arrange it for your next lap (a nice little extra I thought).
As the horn was fired to denote the start I saw the blazing sun rising higher and higher and wished I’d been more sensible and used sun cream but I hadn’t and by Sunday I was looking like a well cooked Lobster. I was running with Toby at the beginning and we got to know lots of stuff about each other – we’d never met at any race and had very differing experiences but he was a great runner and we powered well around the course together. At this point we were jostling between third and fourth place behind Ed Catmur who managed to lap us before our third running of the track (what a runner)!
The course itself was basically 0.8km downhill 0.5km flat and 0.8km bitchy uphill with some horrid switchbacks thrown in for good measure – if you followed the running line – I wasn’t quite so good at following the run line and managed to add a couple of extra miles but nothing significant. The real challenge for this was going to be securing your knees on the fast downhill and getting up the hill as fast as you could. Some of the runners described the surroundings as a bit dull but actually I found it an engaging, interesting and pleasantly difficult course with the added bonus of being able to see your fellow runners doing their thing. By lap 10 I was speed walking the top half of the hill and it was proving a mental drain knowing you would have to face it again. But interestingly by lap 10 the marathon runners were ready to join us and this made for a greater degree of enjoyment, it was also an opportunity to final meet the truly awesome Karen Summerville who was taking part in a weekend marathon double. At about lap 3 I was feeling a little queasy from a combination of heat and a lack of food and I decided that I need to solve my problem quickly. The food selection was decent and I chowed down on a couple of oranges for the juice and kept pouring water over my head and soaking my new ‘Anton’ buff but I needed something else ‘Tea please’ As of lap 4 I drank a cup of tea every lap – much to amusement of the awesome volunteers and spectators but this kept my race alive as I simply couldn’t eat anything solid.
The real problems came mid race though, I turned my ankle at lap 14 and this was quite unpleasant to run on, slowing me much more than I had hoped it would. There was also the added distraction of the queasiness I had felt earlier in the race which, upon returning, made me feel incredibly sick for a few laps near the 30 mile point but thankfully I shot through both of these with some deep breathing, clear thinking and bloody mindedness. As I was entering the final few laps we were joined by throngs of half marathoners, who all looked fresh and fast, but they soon slowed in sight of that bloody ascent! The arrival of fresh legs gave both the ultra runners and marathoners a bit of a lift and we all pressed that little bit harder for a while. I caught Toby up a bit and we ran together again for a while as he’d had a few rough and ready laps but was looking composed and in good shape.
At lap 26 I called for a change of liquid and requested a chicken cupasoup – which may well have been the stomach settler I needed because I hit the next lap faster and better than I’d run much of the previous few and from here I knew the finish line was infront of me. Soon I would witness Jools and Toby both finish and I wasn’t a million miles behind but as I entered the final lap I gave it some proper welly – even running the final ascent and offering up a sprint finish to cross the line. I quickly grabbed my medal and technical t-shirt (both of which were pretty good) and offered my unending thanks to most of the marshalling and medical team – all of whom had made my finish possible. I even got a little wave from UltraBaby as she had arrived just in time to see me complete the last few laps.
Now a few days later – the ankle is slowly healing and I’m feeling more prepared for the CCC and although I’m underprepared and still not quite right in the glutes I’ll arrive in France with decent self belief. These three races (and Bewl) have fuelled my desire to do well in my first attempt at an ultra on foreign soil. And thanks to a series of well organised events with lovely atmospheres I go in with a big dollop of positivity. If you get a chance do look up Nice Work they run races all over the UK and they are beautifully low key, local and fun races and of course if you fancy dipping your toe into swimming I can’t recommend the Great Swim series highly enough.
It’s day 18 of Juneathon and I’ll be honest I’m not really enjoying it. The chest infection I’ve been fighting for the last week has put a damper on the fun of running but it’s not just that – Juneathon for the first time seems quite isolated and I don’t think I’m 100% alone in that feeling.
I’m not the first to mention it but the Twitter community part of Juneathon seems a little lost – yes there’s lots of us posting times, distances and blogs but without any connection. Having done a couple of Juneathon and Janathon events before the thing I liked the most was the connectivity of it all.
I met ultra running legend @abradypus through Janathon at a time before either of us had started our ultra journey and I met the awesome @follystone through the same event. It’s fair to say that Jan/Juneathon very much started my love affair with the online running community and perhaps this is why I am disappointed by the online community aspect of it this time around, it has previously given me so much and this time it’s just not got going.
Now in defence of Juneathon it’s fair to say I’ve had lovely moments with people like @iRunSalt, @follystone, @drdavehindley and many others and we’ve been supportive of one another but there hasn’t been that big party vibe that was once the hallmark of Juneathon. I suppose it’s also down to me to bring the party along and in truth I haven’t – I haven’t tried to get near the top of the running part of the leaderboard and I’ve been cheating on the blogging by handwriting my efforts. I’ve also avoided the Facebook element of the event because I prefer the semi anonymous nature of UltraBoyRuns.
So is anyone but me to blame for my lack of exposure to the fun side of Juneathon? Sadly it would seem not.
There’s also the lethargy that’s kicking in with the postings in the last few days. I suspect that many of us who sign up to something like this believe it will be easy to run, log and blog for 30 straight days but they’d be wrong and we are starting to see sore knees, ankles and everything else as the effects are taking their toll. I’m including myself in the negative output as a chest infection is curtailing my efforts somewhat, but with my chest starting to clear a little bit I’m going to make much more concerted effort to congratulate, cajole and motivate people to finish Juneathon with a bang. I really wanted to feel the highs you get from community running and sharing and we’ve got 12 days to make this feeling happen …
So come on guys and girls – let’s make this happen, let’s get our totals up and not let our legs give in.
As part of my Juneathon experience I’ve also completed the running in the Soldier On Challenge with Virtual Runner UK. All the people entered are helping to raise funds for charity simply by signing up and by going as far as they can with an assault on the distance round the UK. The aim is that we all run, walk or cycle 26km (or as far as we can mange).
For me I would only be including my running efforts because this is the thing I do as my exercise and it can often be a challenge to find the time to run. The great thing is that I found ways of adding in extra kilometres all over the place – my journey to and from the train station became 1km sprint tests, I took the slightly crocked super spaniel on hill runs, UltraBaby and I not only buggy PB’d at Parkrun but also did only 20 odd kilometres together, I adored finding nooks and crannies to fill with running. There were lots of highs and very few lows during a fun week of running which has kept me well on target for a decent #Juneathon total and a reasonable return on mileage investment for Virtual Runner UKs Soldier on Challenge.
As I final point I’d like to thank Susan who organises such great virtual events and I would always urge you to look her events up and maybe even take part www.virtualrunneruk.com or find her on Facebook.
I may be a pretty rubbish ultra runner but I am an enthusiastic ultra runner and so when the opportunity to run a 10km road race came up I was bit ‘meh’. However, my dad was visiting UltraBaby and seeing as ultra marathons aren’t quite on his agenda at the moment the Medway 10km seemed like an ideal way to kill a couple of hours while at the same time earn another medal for the collection.
I normally research races to the nth degree but this one I had barely looked up the start time and by the time we arrived at the sports centre start line I still had shown a limited amount of interest in racing but parking was easy and there was lots of it and I found lots and lots of runners milling around heading over through the sports centre to the start line.
Being a hot, bright day both my dad and I ‘buffed’ our heads up as we are prone to suffering from the sun – his problems stemming from being a baldy and mine from the sun just fucking me over at every available opportunity.
We queued up to collect our numbers with everyone else (just a few short minutes despite the length of the queue), visited the loo (again just a few short minutes despite the length of the queue) and then went and stood at the side of the starting line (which was located on the local (and very nicely laid) running track. It was about 8.40am and the first of the children’s runs were taking place – one lap round the track – and it was absolutely awesome watching them thunder along the track. Ten minutes later, children’s race 2 and the slightly older children competed over two laps of the track, this was an exceptional race with some brilliant running and my dad and I cheered home those at both the front and the back.
Then it was our turn. Knowing that my dad was no longer the Speedy Gonzalez of his youth we headed to the back of the pack, hiding behind a mother and daughter combo who my dad had become fascinated with the younger of the pairs arse – if only he’d known that they were going to give him a pasting by some 15 minutes! I digress – we set off, pretty much at 9am and we started out round the track, I was going slowly at this point and having a brief chat with my dad, wishing him luck before a short handshake and I was off and not looking back.
It was typical of a track that most of the runners headed onto the inside but in order to make some headway through the crowd I pushed to the outer edge and started to pick runners off. By the time I had made it round to the start line again I had found my pace and was feeling reasonably rhythmic. I bounded up the little hill out of the running ground and onto the course. BOOM.
Here I crossed the road and headed straight over into the park, there was a single track entrance which we had to negotiate and was holding up runners a little but I had the foresight to simply leap the bollards and head up the incline. It was a beautiful day with a hint of wind to make it feel cooler and all around us were fields and blue sky, I was already feeling the love of this one – but also the heat.
As I trundled up to the top of the incline we came across the first of the many sights on the route, just a little lion encrusted monument which I took a moment to photograph before thundering along the gravel track and into the greenery of Gillingham. We were now into a local heritage park and there was a nice summer calmness on the course and being early the local populace wasn’t yet out in force but there was still a nice level of support.
We wound our way round the many twists and turns of the route, in and out of the many local military installations and along nicely maintained paths. By the time I’d hit 4km I as well into my stride and happy with my time but I’d realised that this hilly course was not going to offer a personal best but with my legs feeling lIght I continued to pass people as I headed back up the hill on the reverse to our starting point. The nice thing was that we didn’t just go back the way we came, we passed out along a different and well shaded path and then back onto the incline we had come up. Rather handily the park entrance was also home to the water aid station and here I grabbed a delightfully full cup of water that I splashed both over my head and into my mouth.
5km in – 22.5minutes on the clock – hmmm exciting and interesting given that I was barely over the effect of the Kent Roadrunner marathon the week before and I’d done about 50km of distance since then. This should be a properly slow race, especially given the hills… curious.
We ran along the outside of the track to the rapturous applause and cheers of the supporters and headed out to the other side of Gillingham and past the impressive looking Royal Engineers Museum (looks worth a visit). The real problem was that were were now on a downhill and a steep bitchy hill that I knew we would have to come up again. Again here the support was magnificent from both marshals and people on the street who had come along to wish us well. We dipped off the hill and straight into another incline and a lovely park, as we wended our way through to the maritime university buildings we knew that the end was in sight but that that hill was still to be conquered.
BOOM. Here I started my final quarter assault on a reasonable time. I hit the hill again and hit another gear as I willed my body to what I thought would be a final push. In the distance I could see my dad. I waved at him and he called out ‘I thought this was bloody flat!’ He was doing fine though and although slow he was still moving and more importantly still running and most importantly for him, not last.
I pushed hard up the hill and caught up to a couple of peoples had been keeping my eye on and then thundered along back onto the track but my legs were now a bit wobbly from pushing and I decided to ease off on the track. However, my mind would not let me do it and with more than 250metres left to go I kicked.
Holy fuck.
The problem was the kid next to me (aged about 20) decided he didn’t want to be beaten by an old, fat man and he kicked too. I passed him and then he caught me up with less than 90 metres to go, I heard myself say ‘go on kid, you’ve got me’ and he kicked even harder but then I remembered – FUCK YOU, I’M ULTRABOY.
I kicked again and with the crowd cheering behind me, the screams of come on, with less than 25 metres to go I opened my stride, let my legs go and went into a thunderous after burning autopilot and I went straight last him with mere metres to spare – me beloved sunglasses flying off into the distance.
At the finish I was hyper ventilating, I could barely breathe but I had made it, well under 50 minutes and finishing in the top 20%. I’d take that any day of the week – perhaps this proved to me that all my recent speed and hill work was paying off, something to think about.
Anyway the race was far from over – I had a dad to look out for.
The hour came and went, the arse he’d been admiring came in with what I assumed was her mother given they looked so much alike. And when the 1hr 10 came round in the distance I could see his buff and his trundling self still merrily making his way round. He might not be so quick anymore but he can still do the distance and he doesn’t stop when it comes to a hill or when he’s tired and this is impressive.
He began the long journey around the track and I grabbed a couple of photographs and then shot across to the 200metre point to grab a couple more. Heading back he started to build up a bit of steam and so I ran across back to the finish line and watched as he gave a bit of spurt for the final push. Very inspiring to watch my dad beat both the hills and the heat just a week before he takes on the Liverpool Rock n Roll half marathon.
Post race we grabbed some Jaffa cakes and fig rolls and headed to the stands to sit down and admire the last of the runners come in and also to congratulate some of the ladies that my dad had been flirting with around the course.
In conclusion This was an awesome race, truly brilliant atmosphere and a really good route – I can highly recommend this run and the people at Nice Work and Medway Council should be very proud of putting on such a great day. At £16 the race was priced very competitively and the medal was reasonable if not brilliant. I can’t fault this race and I’ll be going back next year to try and beat my time.
The first thing I wanted was for UltraBaby to be born healthy and the second thing was that she was curious, the third was that she wants to be active.
It was a glorious day in Central London (if you like sun), UltraBoy, the GingaNinja, UltraBaby and SuperGran all turned up to St. James Park armed with our numbers and racing outfits for the Bupa Westminster Mile – today we were going to be joining the legends of running.
We joined our pen on The Mall, listened to the likes of Tess Daly, Richard Whitehead and the legend that is Steve Cram all provide inspirational words of wisdom as we slowly baked in the ever increasing sun. This was the mood setting, getting us ready to compete, finding our ‘zone’. UltraTeam say already there and we were filled with purpose.
UltraBaby was not the only child in the family run, far from it, there were thousands but it did seem she was the only competitor who was front mounted to one of her parents in a Baby Bjorn… We drew lots of attention and ended up being captured on lots of people’s mobile phone cameras. UltraBaby smiled for them all.
As we approached the starting line I pulled down from her head the buff that had been protecting her from the sun – and removed my own – we then had a bit of a warm up, stretched our waiting legs and listened for the sound of the start.
We waved over at mummy and gran before the off (they were going to go at a more sedate pace) and then when the crowds moved forwards we leapt into action. I pressed the Suunto on as we crossed the start line and then began lengthening my stride in the crowd. Normally I would have opened the taps a little but UltraBaby is now reasonably heavy and even my overfilled Salomon race vest wasn’t balancing us out very well. I darted in and out of runners, making for the inside of the first corner and dipping in front of families who had started significantly in front of us.
Bouncy, bouncy, bouncy.
I felt compelled to offer some support to the ever bouncing UltraBaby but she simply played her part of waving and smiling at the infinite amount of goodwill that was waiting for her around St. James Park. 800metres in and I could feel the pressure of the run on my back but in the distance I could see the 400metre to go sign and there was no way I was letting these people over take me – so we entered a sprint to the next marker – a costly mistake I hear you cry? Not really as it afforded us the opportunity to have a little dance to the steel drum band playing on the route and it wasn’t long before we were back in the groove.
Another runner and his son overtook us as we hit the 200metre to go marker. Hmmm, I could see him drifting away from me in the distance and that wasn’t allowed to happen. In nearly 100 races I have only not managed to sprint finish on one occasion and that was the TP100 – UltraBaby crawled over the line with me there – today we were going to finish like legends.
Knees up, lean forward, forefoot strike and BANG. With 100metres to go we started to gain ground on the chap ahead of us – I could see his very step, we could hear the roar of the crowd, UltraBaby raised her arms in anticipation of a crowd pleasing finish.
And BOOM … We crossed the line hundredths of a second before our rival.
I apologised to him as we finished as I had shoulder charged him out of the way (lost control of my body a bit) but he just laughed and strode off to grab his medal. We accepted the finish line plaudits and then quietly waited at the finish line for The GingaNinja ands SuperGran to cross the line about 10 minutes after we had finished.
At the finish line we had lots of photographs and accepted our position as youngest entrant at just 264 days old, we had done it and in just over 8 and a half minutes – we were very, very pleased with ourselves. Both UltraBaby and I finished well within the top 500 of the Family Run groups which to me marks something of an achievement given there were around 2,500 starters.
A little note on the organisation and the event itself – it was pretty damn awesome, lovely medal, great goody bag and a brilliant day out. Yes £8 might seem a lot for a single mile but then getting the opportunity to run along the The Mall doesn’t happen every day and you don’t often get to race with your baby. The organisation as excellent, the. Olympic legacy and elite field racing was excellent and the takeover of Green Park with its family friendly zones was wonderful to see. We need many more things like this where parents and children are actively encouraged to take part in something together. Obviously I’m looking at this from the parent and child angle but as a running event it was also excellent and the single mile challenge should be given the respect it deserves.
I’ll be going again next year and so will UltraBaby (but I might double enter so I can see just how fast I can really go). Also many thanks to the Bupa Westminster Mile photographers from whom two of these pictures are taken.
‘I don’t feel well UltraBoy’ came the whine from UltraBaby, ‘look I’ve got big horrible spots everywhere, I’ve been crying all night, I’m full of snot and I look like a B movie monster on a reduced budget’.
She did look unwell, she sounded unwell and she moaned miserably, it’s fair to say that Friday had been a rough night on both the GingaNinja and I. At 5.30am we decided it wasn’t worth fight in her anymore and we all got up. Breakfast happened, puking happened and bath time happened. At 7.30am I said to the GingaNinja, ‘I’m going to take her to Parkrun, let you get some sleep and hopefully so will baby’.
Then it was race on – I hurled out the UltraMobile (or the Mountain Buggy Terrain to you), inflated it’s tyres, relocated the changing bag to the Salomon 14+3 vest, chucked in a bottle for her and a bottle for me and we bounded out of the house like a pair of runners possessed. I hadn’t decided which Parkrun we would be attending but I’d enjoyed Dartford a few weeks earlier and so we trundled along to the start line with just moments to spare.
UltraBaby was wide awake in the MB Terrain and as we started out we made our away from the back of the pack to sit quite comfortably in the middle, we even made a few sprints round people, taking in larger than needed cornering to let the ‘real runners’ through but by the time we had hit the end if the first lap we were fully into our stride and decided that we had the edge and would not be so generous in letting people past.
‘MeMeep’ I called out several times as we swerved round runners who had started to flag a little and ‘woohoo’ as we tried to stay ahead of the ladies who UltraBaby had decided were pacing us – Danielle (we left her at about 3.5km) and Jo (almost had us at 4km but we put a bit of a spurt on to finish just ahead of her).
UltraBaby crossed the line a little ahead of me as I pushed the MB Terrain forward a bit and we finished in a time of 27:28mins, not bad when you consider I’ve been ill for two weeks, she’s ill, my feet still aren’t recovered from TP100 and the MB Terrain as good as it is, is still a challenge to push.
Anyway we did post run chat with some of the runners, including the lovely @thayer who came to witness our inaugural Superhero Parkrun teamup.
So lots of fun had at Parkrun and despite being unwell UltraBaby felt like she had definitely been funning.
Saturday night though brought more and more tears, angst and spot related pain that would culminate in us attending hospital the very next morning. Thankfully a big dose of antibiotics and creams are hopefully going to help but once again the GingaNinja and I were pretty exhausted and with the baby in the house never of us could really rest. Then UltraBaby piped up
‘How about a trail 10km UltraBoy?’
‘Saddle up pard’ner’
Out came the MB Terrain again, we loaded up, added in some sun cream as it was bloody hot and then started running with explicit instruction to the GingaNinja to get some rest. We flew, fast down the hills, fast up the hills, bounced along the technical bits and thundered through the narrow paths cutting a swathe through the undergrowth. The kilometres fell and so did UltraBaby (but thankfully just asleep).
Interestingly on a weekend of outstanding results at Dukeries, the NDW50 and lots of other great races I found myself being grateful that I wasn’t racing and simply fun running with my daughter in the Kentish sunshine.
There really is something to be said for funning. Happy running guys and thanks to Dartford Parkrun for some lovely running pictures.
‘I’ll DNF at mile 58 and just party down with the awesome volunteers there’ I said this to several people and I meant it.
I knew before the TP100 kicked off that I was not ready for it, I knew that it was likely to give me a bloody good kicking and I knew that this would be me final Centurion event for a year or two while I explore other event providers and therefore potentially my final opportunity to nab one of those buckles that I have been coveting for the last year or so.
I prepared much of my kit on Monday as I was off work waiting to start my new job on the Tuesday and this afforded me the luxury of a bit of time, new shoes (Altra Lone Peak 2.0) also arrived in the post – but too late for any significant testing. I’d learned lots of lessons over the last few ultras, finally got my food strategy roughly right and trusted most of my kit.
Oxsitis Hydragon 17 litre was my first choice vest, my favourite old Ronhill vizion long sleeved top, Salomon compression shorts (teamed with OMM Flash 0.5 tights) and Runderwear thundercrackers covered my legs and my Snowdonia Marathon tech T-shirt was in play as my awesome base layer. I opted for Altra running shoes as I felt the width of the fit would play well with the constant pounding I believed my feet were about to take. Optional kit like compression calf sleeves and hiking poles were also added because I felt I needed to go into this race as secure as possible to ensure I finished.
So with kit sorted and nutrition done (mainly pulled pork pastries, chocolate milk and beef jerky) I felt in control.
Then the week started to unravel a little, the new job was excellent but exhausting and the 10hr days were a rough introduction to the company but I’d expected it to be a little bit like that, what really caught m off guard was the test run of my Altra LP2.0 – on the Wednesday (on a 3.5km run) I was thundering through Soho and while throwing fairing glances toward my reflection (to check out the Altra) I punched a street sign for a shop – and I really hit it. The sign lurched backwards, hitting and cracking the shop window and I in my cowardly way just carried on. In my defence the sign was taking up most of the pavement and it was an accident, however, the sign had the last laugh as it broke my finger! The worst thing though was the return of constant pain in my glutes – this was the most worrying because I’d never tested running above 50 miles … If it came back then this could be the W100 all over again …
Basically it looked like my good prep work would be unfurled by my own stupidity, however, I managed to get some sleep in the run up, UltraBaby managed to get some through the night sleeping, injury calmed down with extensive battering by my rumble roller and I was even sensible in my food choices up to race day.
I woke up on Saturday worried only about the race and nothing else.
The UltraTeam packed up the car and we headed over to Richmond once our youngest team member was fed. I’d had Weetabix and chocolate milk which was the breakfast of champions in my opinion but I topped this up with a Cadburys Twirl and some diet coke.
Arriving in Richmond I jumped out the car and the GingaNinja went to find a parking space. I darted into the check in point and looking down to my left I saw the legend that was Sarah or @mia79gbr – we’d never met and she didn’t know what I looked like – so as I approached her with a ‘Sarah?’ she looked at me with a pleasant suspicion, ‘hi, I’m ultraboy, just thought I’d introduce myself’. The suspicion was replaced with recognition but unfortunately I didn’t have time to stop and chat and given she had companions this didn’t seem the right time, I know I wouldn’t have wanted to be disturbed.
I ran up the stairs and joined the first queue of madness … Centurion had a great location but it was much too small for the runners never mind the bevy of volunteers, crew and family who had come along to help or hinder, but this was put from my mind by seeing the awesome Dan @ultrarunnerdan – both a gentleman and a bit of a legend in my eyes given his grand slam attempt. The queue moved swiftly and when James Elson joined in to move it along and thankfully my kit review was swift and problem free as ever.
With my ‘Permission to Race’ chip in hand I joined the queue for my number only to be joined by the awesome Louise @abradypus – another potential grand slammer and we chatted about stuff – mostly me apologising for being a dick at SDW50 – again. Finally I reached front of the queue and grabbed my magic number and darted out to see the sunny streets of Richmond and of course deposit my vitally important drop bags.
Outside I caught up with @RozGlover who introduced me to (at long last) @no1blakester and I caught up with the awesome Traviss and Rachel as well as meeting my potential duet partners in a ‘Wicked’ tribute medley @toks and @jillydavidson – I had intended to terrify them by approaching them singing but I didn’t want to make them shit themselves. Instead the start was a rich of meeting people, being nervous, having a pre-race dump and kissing your girlfriend and the baby goodbye.
I turned at this point to the GingaNinja and queried, ‘can I actually do this?’
To note, the ginger one is always honest about my race chances – for example she told me that Winter100 looked way to much for me given the way my training had gone and the way that my injury was, but today she simply said, ‘you got this’.
I stepped into the crowd and looked over the runners and thought, ‘maybe’.
We set off down the rather bright towpath and swiftly found our rhythm only for a small gate to prove our undoing. Hundreds of runners trying to squeeze through a tiny gate, many of the sensible ones drifted over to the side and either jumped the gate further down or went around. I was in no rush but in the midst of my moving the awesome @naominf managed to clip my heel with gate – ouch. She shouted out an apology but I wondered if I’d cut it open, thankfully my brand spanky new Altra had enough on the heel that they had taken the impact – phew.
The view along the towpath was actually really rather nice and as we passed through locks, weirs and little towns I could feel a really positive energy swelling inside of me. The positive feeling was enhanced at seeing ultra runner extraordinaire @cat_simpson_ on the course accompanied by what I assumed was her trusty Triban 3. The running was going well and I was running at a slightly too speedy 10kmph and so slowed down a little bit knowing that CP1 was still some miles away.
The speediness though had allowed me to make up a little bit of ground on other runners who hadn’t been quite so unlucky at gate one and feeling fresh I allowed myself to get involved in a conversation or two. What I realised pretty quickly was that the TP100 was going to lack variety in elevation and that it was going to be a slog rather than a test, you could feel that TP100 more than any other ultra I’ve taken part in, would be a test of mental mettle.
I came into CP1 feeling surprisingly tired, but the well stocked aid station was full of good cheer and laughter and I loaded up on Pepsi (5 cups) and reloaded the bladder (from which I had been sipping consistently) and also used the first of my quarter tablets of High 5 isotonic liquid using a 150ml Salomon soft pack. Pre-race I’d decided that on the whole I wouldn’t be eating the food that Centurion provide, I was trying to avoid sweet things as they make me feel sickly and the savoury selection is a little bit too tasteless. Therefore, I’d be reliant on my own supplies and as I left CP1 I allowed myself some beef jerky, a mini toad in the hole and a delicious cheese and bacon bite.
I was also looking at how much time I could build up, because I knew I might need it later in the race.
Aid 2 22m 16:10 Aid 3 – 30m 18:30 Aid 4 38m 20:40 Aid 5 44m 22:25 Aid 6 51m 00:15 Aid 7 58m 02:30 Aid 8 67m 04:45 Aid 9 71m 05:50 Aid 10 77.5m 07:45 Aid 11 85m 09:50 Aid 12 91m 11:30 Aid 13 95m 12:40 Finish 100m 14:00.
Between CP1 and CP2 there were two lovely things that happened, the first was that UltraBaby and the GingaNinja were on the course at the crew point. It was lovely to see them and it a nice viewing spot in Staines, I also got to meet several of the other crews (whose cheering and support through the night section was invaluable). At Staines I was able to refuel with chocolate milkshake (lifesaver) and Lucozade, which helped to lift my slightly flagging spirits. I also met for the first time Lynne, we only spoke briefly but it was cheery and lighthearted and I had no idea how influential this lady would be later in the race. Anyway I cantered off without her knowing that CP2 was nearby and so feeling energised I ploughed on. Arrival into CP2 was quick and leaving was equally swift with just a few words of flirting for the volunteers and then off to CP3.
I was keen to ensure that I was making up time on the cut-offs and so with each checkpoint I reached I made sure I knew when the sweeper was due. I was building a commanding lead over being timed out and my resolve was strengthened further when the route to CP3 and Dorney looked rather pleasant, rowers, walkers, hikers and bikers adorned the route and everyone was interested in what the hell we were doing. I continued to come across runners from previous races and this provide a different dynamic to normal, one pairing remembered me from my misery at the SDW50 and were pleased to see that I was in a much better mood and infinitely better form.
As the checkpoints fell one by one so did the daylight and one my way to Henley and CP6 the light was finally lost. It was a long slow road to Henley, the path looked gloomy and as I was concerned about my timings I chose to run without my headtorch. On the other side of the river was a large mansion or hotel and in it music was blaring out and was audible for most of my journey down the river to Henley – seriously kids, mind your ears.
I dipped on to the bridge crossing the river and was greeted by the drunken revellers of Henley at around 9.20pm and they offered a helpful suggestion that the route was ‘down der mate, keep going’ and I did as instructed finally pulling into the halfway point after 11hrs 31minutes – however, someone at Centurion must have been trying to predict my future because on the live timings somebody decided that I’d had enough and put me down as a DNF. Hmmm, naughty Centurions.
I was rather desperate for the hot food that had been promised but all that as available was vegetable chilli and I’ll be honest I’m an ultra runner that isn’t a friend of the vegetable and so despite being offered it by Batman, I had to turn it down.
Dejected I picked up my drop bag and looked for the chocolate milk and Lucozade. Swigging swiftly I began dreaming because I knew that if I could keep up this pace then I was looking at a sub 24 time. I looked at my food options and opted for some pulled pork pastries, beef jerky and dry roasted nuts – delicious, but not the hot tasty feast I was hoping for. Finally at Henley was checklist 1) are your feet fucked? 2) Are you wet? 3) do your socks need changing? 4) is your Suunto still charged? 5) is your phone still charged? 5) do you need to restock front pocket food supplies? I answered all my questions, threw out some general thanks and I was off – Lucozade in hand.
I’d plugged in my headphones for a bit to keep me amused in the dark – Smokey Robinson, Glee, Foo Fighters, Katzenjammer, Chemical Brothers, Moby, Fatboy Slim, Blur, Michael Jackson, James Blunt, Paul Simon, Elvis Presley ABBA … Songs from every generation and all super upbeat. I pulled my headphones out only when I needed a jimmy riddle, lucky I did as I only just whipped my cock back into my awesome Runderwear when Joanna came around the corner.
‘Ladies first’ as I held the gate open.
Joanna or Jo as she introduced herself was a young lady on a mission, not only did she make me look sane by virtue of the amount of long distance ultra she ran but she also made me smile at a time in the night when that as kind of obligatory. We covered lots of topics on our way to mile 58 and CP7 but the thing that will stock wi me forever and a day is out open and frank conversations about ‘turd’. Oh Jo … and I apologise for sharing this, it only got mildly weird when I ended up hanging round for you as you went and deposited your solid state number two into the undergrowth. The journey from mile 51 to 58 was a speed walk, Jo wasn’t in any condition to run as she felt pretty sick and I needed some respite from the running to try and conserve some energy for a pop at the second half of the race. It made sense that we would buddy up and it was a truly awesome part of my race, I hope Jo can say the same. As we departed the wooded area we came back to the river bank and in the distance we could see the steps that Susie Chan had been threatening us with but I was feeling cheeky.
I bounded up the steps in haste to see Shaun and Susie to offer my congratulations but also to offer my number up – 58miles was the furthest I’ve managed in a centurion race.
As I entered I slowly took in my surroundings – there were a lot of bruised and battered bodies and lots of sitting down, but I was feeling pretty okay, mainly buoyed by warm welcome from the volunteers, who to me appeared to be in slippers and PJs (deny it if you like Miss C). All of a sudden the crazy shit just happened, I started dancing with one of the lovely female runners, I was wiggling my bum in the air and I was leaving messages via Periscope to goddesses of running Susie Chan and Kate ( @borleyrose ). Between them Shaun and Susie were able to tell me that @UltraDHC and @naominf were running awesomely. @mia79gbr had pulled out early on due to illness and they hadn’t seen @ultrarunnerdan @toks or @jillydavidson.
They also insisted I wasn’t allowed to DNF – certainly not yet.
So I left, it was a great CP, it was lively, it was fun and it was everything I could have wanted and seeing the worlds best MdS running couple only made it worth the journey.
I left 58 feeling like the following 42 would be a challenge but ultimately very achievable and that with about 15hrs left I should have nothing to fear. But I could feel the first blisters arriving on my feet and I could feel them underneath silicon gel caps – I decided that removal would be the worse of the two possible options and moved on. Just outside 58, having lost Joanna I picked up Lynne and I think James. I’d met both earlier in the day and we decided that this would also be an easy section with running happening between the further checkpoints.
James was a youngish chap, desperate to finish, being ruled by the timings on his watch and not the faith in his ability and you could see he was chomping at the bit to get us moving but also didn’t want to lose us as he wasn’t sure how long his battery would last and he was very unsure about following the very simple and effective Centurion markers. I’d sworn to myself that I wouldn’t be affected by other peoples running this time out and for a while I stuck to my guns but my new young companion had a way of making me feel uneasy and panicked.
Lynne was the polar opposite and when asked if she was too warm replied that ‘I’m of an age where I generate an inner warmth’. Lynne was laid back and pragmatic, her approach to ultras was brilliant and I very much enjoyed yomping through the grass and the trail with her. We discussed Sesame Street and Fraggle Rock and every kind of topic and it eased the tension I was feeling from my other companion. To be fair he was a lovely guy but I didn’t want to be racing someone else’s race.
However, we all hit the hall at Whitchurch with relative ease but James indicated that ‘according to my calculations if we don’t pick up the pace we won’t make it, we need to be running’. He was of course correct but I decided to give him some rather stern advice, ‘listen fella, you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do, run your race and your pace, not somebody else’s. If Lynne and I can’t keep up then you’ve got to leave us behind’.
Whitchurch allowed me to reacquaint myself with several runners including the awesome Matt (may have his name wrong but don’t think so) – his knee had gone and was covered in a warm blanket. ‘You’re looking great fella, keep going’ he said. I wished him well, offered a few dirty words of encouragement to the volunteers about the power of masturbation and then off.
Lynne, James and I had agreed that this being a short section we should try and pick up to a running pace in the approach to Streatley but the hills were making this more challenging. For the first time since the W100 I cracked out the Black Diamond Ultra poles and used this strategically to get ahead of the other two and act as pace setter. Lynne quickly dropped back but James for a while kept pace and with me a few metres ahead we thundered along the dark and narrow path. Here it became a little more daunting in the dark with upended roots and slippery rocks underfoot, but my Altra coped with this brilliantly, I felt sure footed in my steps and happy to have my Lenser at full beam.
In truth this was probably the most exciting stretch of trail on the whole route and it’s a shame it didn’t last longer but then I saw a sign of what happens when things go wrong and in the darkness I saw a runner covered in a foil blanket with his or her pacer by their side. I called out ‘do you need anything?’ But his reply was ‘fine thanks mate just waiting for the medical support’. I asked again to make sure he wasn’t being polite as this was a very isolated spot and it might take the medics some time to reach them but he was categoric and so I set off again at pace – James now nowhere in sight.
The 5km and a bit into Streatley was a good run and I’d made up a bit of the time I had been eroding by walking. Crossing into the town itself was filled with slit lay distressing memories as this was where the W100 ground to a halt for me – however, I dropped into the CP and I was simply grateful for the opportunity to sit down and grab some more chocolate milk. As I sat there pondering the rest of the race I could see the procession of runners that I had been leading here – Lynne, James, Rob, Jo and more all came in with differing tales to tell but there was a look of determination on their faces – no drops here.
At this point I waved goodbye to Lynne, little did I know though that our story was far from over. James though – I couldn’t shake. He wanted to continue running and after my sterling efforts up to Streatley he’d picked me as his buddy. I did as I did before and set at the fastest pace I could manage. I was largely invigorated by two things here, the first was the knowledge that I still had good energy in the tank and my legs, nor my head felt fatigued at all. The second thing was that daylight was just around the corner and I’d be able to feel daylight breaking and that feeling is a good one. Despite being a night person when the dawn comes I know that I’m likely to make it. This was especially good news as there are a couple of points here were you had to take care because of the winding nature of the course, thankfully my W100 experience paid dividends and I was thundering along – even stopping for a few photographs along the way.
What was troubling me was that James was nowhere to be seen, I turned to look for him but I had clearly lost him further back at one of the turnings. What if he had missed a turn? I considered turning back a little to look for him but knew that time was against me and so continued forward.
Then something awesome happened: thick mud. Well yellow Altra here we go.
In seconds my beautiful Lone Peak 2.0 went from sparkling yellow to shitty black.
Thunder, thunder, thunder, I raced through the trails as quickly as I could then I had a ‘fuck me’ moment. A runner who shall remain nameless (but you know who you are) was perched over a branch, naked from the waist down having a poo. Wow, I never want to see a milky white arse and cock perched again, in fairness I didn’t want to see it the first time. As I flew by I decided to leave a little comment to his pacer, ‘well at least we know he doesn’t suntan down there’.
Thunder, thunder, thunder, at the moment I was in good form and when I came across some runners who were DNFing I felt smug, the pacer who was waiting there with them told me to keep going as I as looking good.
But I was picking up problems with every step and was discovering now that the Altra where not built for thick mud and in the grip the mud was gathering up. By this point I could feel the variety of blisters that now adorned my feet, on my toes, between my toes and underfoot, I made the call once again not to risk taking my shoes and socks off (as my support crew was safely in sunny Wiltshire) and decided that with not much more than a marathon to go that I could probably just drift this one in.
How wrong I was.
A little earlier I had been hearing the pinging of my telephone and so now took the opportunity to see what was going on in the world. The GingaNinja was showing signs of worry and Twitter was too – I had been pretty silent through the night. I didn’t reply as my panic about not finishing in time was growing and I was desperate to get to the next CP. With a bit of a thrust I pulled into Wallingford with the early morning, the volunteers here were awesome despite the cramped conditions and they had something magic that no other checkpoint had contained – houmous! Eureka! Smell the houmous! Finally savoury food at a Centurion CP that I could actually stomach. I had a couple of big juicy dollops of houmous and wrap with a hot, sweet tea. This was the breakfast of the gods, this was ambrosia.
I stayed here for a few minutes, just long enough infact for a couple of my fellow runners to catch me and then with a cheery goodbye and a check on the distance I set off for mile 85 and the home straight.
I returned to trundling down the course and prepared an answer to earlier text messages when a ‘supporter’ told me to ‘get off the phone and get running’. Cheeky fucker. Despite the advice I finished my call and cried down the phone to the GingaNinja – big weepy tears but she told me to get my poles out, eat some paracetamol and hold on in there, I was going to make it.
I hung up, I unfurled my poles and I started tracking down the runners in front of me. Bang, lift, shift, bang, lift, shift – this was the process I went through as I used the poles as my point of impact and not my feet – trying to save them for the final 15 miles. But I was now going faster than I had for around an hour and I was gaining on the other runners.
I continued to make headway through the fields but the mud was taking its toll on my speed walking and the poles became as much a hinderance as a help. I was churning up the pathway like so many of my fellow ultra runners over the last few hours and I was finding it heavy going. Without the support of the poles I was reduced to painful, tiny steps and I knew that with each slow movement forward the sweeper was moving to time me out.
For several miles the ground remained much the same, wet, churned and with long wet grass and my feet were in agony and then the first disaster came. Inside my beloved Drymax sock I could feel the hot bloody liquid seep under my foot – one of the blisters below my feet had burst. Raging, blinding hot pain erupted around the base of my left foot and I stopped moving. I looked around the great green expanse, there were no runners either in front or behind that I could ask for help – I simply had to decide whether this was game over or not.
In the now heavier rain I could feel the droplets forming the letters DNF on my Montane Minimus, I was going to have to retire, I wasn’t going to make it to Clifton Hampden.
However, after a few minutes I took a few steps forward and gingerly moved on, worked with the poles – even in the dense mud. This was a tough section and it was made worse by the feeling that the record of the distance was wrong. The distance said about 6 but my Suunto and several other peoples GPS devices read this as significantly more than that, or at least significant enough to make it soul destroying when the CP is where you are most desperate for it to be.
As I came into the town I was probably a bit rude to the lady giving out directions when she called out ‘well done’ but it felt far from well done and I told her so, but that was a mistake and when I finally went past her again to rejoin the race I apologised profusely.
Prior to me getting to Clifton Hampden there was a surprise for me and parked just outside was the GingaNinja and UltraBaby – while they were a sight for sore eyes they immediately made me burst into tears. I whined, ‘I can’t stop, I’m not going to make it’ and ran past her and straight into the CP. I called out my number – loudly and then ran straight back out, no new supplies, no coke, no nothing – if I was going to make this I needed to push harder than I had been.
Down the hill, speedy turn to the towpath and off and even when blisters 2 and 3 burst (one between my toes and one on a toe end) I didn’t stop, I just kept moving forward. Runners were starting to amble past me as my speed eroded further and in my head I was working out the calculations for speed and distance I would need to achieve to finish within the 28hr cut off.
As with much of the Thames Path 100 very little happened on the route, the path thankfully dried out a little and I was able to gather up some pace using my poles but it was turning into something of a final slog. Only the turning up of the sun made for a change and it was a burning sun, so the Minimus finally disappeared into the back of the Hydragon and there it would stay. I finally came into Abingdon with the GinjaNinja meeting me a few metres ahead of the checkpoint and she wished me luck, telling me I had ample time to do the remaining 9 miles. The problem was my head was a now a fucking mess and my feet were 100% fucked
I put on my best showing for running as I came into Abingdon and the crowd responded with the kind of cheers reserved for winners. Here as with the last checkpoint I called in my number and then ran straight back out again but my body was rebelling and once through the tunnel I stopped, started crying and then started hyper ventilating. Breathe UltraBoy. Breathe.
Managing to regain control of my breathing I set off and for the next 9 miles I prayed for the end to come, I looked long into the face of a DNF and contemplated it even as I passed through the final checkpoint. But I could now smell Oxford, I crossed a couple of small bridges, I admired the scholarly and middle classness of the people on the towpath and I cried slow super heroic tears as I realised I would finish.
Only one more thing happened that I need to mention and that’s my final on the course encounter with Lynne – it went like this.
‘I just won’t make it’ I said, ‘I’m done and in agony’
‘You’ll make it, we’ll make it’
I got the feeling Lynne was going to see me in and so I needed to push her on incase I didn’t make it.
‘You’ve come all this way … I will not carry the guilt of making you miss out on a buckle too. You need to go and go now, you need to tell the ginger haired one with a cute baby that I’m on my way’
‘Promise you’ll finish’ came her reply
‘I can’t promise that but I’ll do my best, now go and give them my message’
Lynne did give my message and her words to me, some of which are not transcribed here were the thing that would see me reach Oxford.
400metres before the end I was greeted by @abradypus – a lady with a magnificent track record at Centurion events and ultras in general and she calmed my desire to DNF at 99 – probably a Centurion first had I done it. She told me that the GingaNinja and UltraBaby were coming and in the distance I could see them, the pain drained away and was replaced with relief.
I smiled a little bit – though the photographs suggested I was grimacing and I asked if I could carry UltraBaby from the start of the home strait to the finish line. I passed my poles over for the final hurdle and replaced them with an inspirational bit of kit – my daughter.
We strolled down the finish line having very smelly hugs and kisses and to huge cheers. In the distance I could see Traviss, Rachel, the GingaNinja, Nici, Stuart (armed with his camera) and lots of amazing runners. I crossed with a baby and I’d done it.
Thanks Centurion.
Course Tough, flat, unending and despite the overall pleasantness of the surroundings a little bit dull. Perhaps that’s part of the challenge – forcing yourself to complete this when your body is crying out for a hill. The course was well marked and well marshalled in the places that it needed to be and you would be head pressed to go wrong. For my liking there’s a little too much tarmac and I felt it would be easier on your feet if the trail was real trail but then I understand this is the Thames Path and not the middle of nowhere.
Checkpoints The checkpoints are pretty evenly spread and the quality of them is generally very high in terms of locations, venues, volunteers and facilities. The food is a little ‘meh’. When I first started Centurion ultras I was told I was in for a feast of kings – well it’s not quite like that and it does vary considerably between aid stations. I’d urge more dips at checkpoints as they were brilliant and perhaps a slightly higher quality selection of sandwich filling and savoury. My other food gripe was the lack of a meat option at Henley for those running at a slower pace. However, these are minor grips and the Centurion remain pretty damn good.
Support and Volunteers You can’t really fault the 90 or so volunteers and you can’t fault the countless supporters who lined the course for up to 28hrs supporting their runner and every runner that went past them. Special mention of course goes to Susie and Shaun and mile 58 for being awesome but the truth is that every single volunteer was awesome, they all went out of their way to make sure that we did something spectacular with our bank holiday weekend.
Fellow runners I loved my fellow runners, I loved the conversations I had with them, I loved the stupidity, the poo stories and the shared experience. Everyone from Lynne, Rob and Jo right through to James all provided me with memories that stay with me until I die. Centurion has a kind of big family vibe to it and I hope as they get bigger and even more successful they don’t become more faceless and anonymous – that would be a shame
Goody Bag The revisions to the buckle made it one to have and the T-shirts are always reasonable quality from Centurion Running, although that said whatever the process they u for the graphic transfers means that as far as I’m concerned these aren’t shirts you would want to run in – but I’ll be proudly wearing mine this summer alongside my SDW50 shirt. Aside from that there is nothing else (bowl of chilli at the end?) but I’m not convinced you need anything else. So while the goody bag isn’t exhaustive I’m not sure it hurts the reputation of the race.
Conclusion The TP100 is a good race, I think it’s one that people underestimate because they think a flat 100 is easy – let me assure that the monotony of the flat is draining both mentally and physically and takes a lot to simply keep going. The route is a little too tarmac for me but it would suit lots of people and I think this makes a great introduction to the hundred mile distance. Centurion make excellent hosts and are well oiled as a team and keep things going even when it isn’t as smooth as they would like, it is easy to understand whey they are often people’s first choice for an ultra. If you decide to enter the TP100 then prepare properly for it, don’t take it for granted and accept that you might not finish – drop out rate was reasonably high – as it is on every hundred but if you apply yourself and have the stomach for it then you’ll have a great time here. I have no problems at all recommending the TP100
What have I taken away from TP100? 1. I’m a very ordinary runner, but if I could get my feet right then I might be an ordinary runner who runs much better times 2. I’ve finally figured out my nutrition and what I need to do to stay in the race 3. A support crew and pacers are so useful, you really miss them if you don’t have them 4. My body wasn’t tired even after the full distance but my feet were wrecked 5. The most severe aspects of my long term injuries is being brought on by hills 6. I need to have more faith in myself 7. I was better for mainly running my own race this time out and trying not to worry too much about what other competitors where doing
And finally thanks to … every single person who turned up, in whatever capacity you came, in whatever capacity you saw.
’It’s a bit achey’ I said ‘more than it’s been since I started running again’. The problem was I’d said this to myself and not to anyone useful. That was Saturday night after the inferno that was the Pizza100 tweet session (I think I’ve been generously excused the aftermath). Sunday morning and I’d had a cramp filled night and my glutes were biting but a warm shower and into my ‘thigh crunching’ body helix and I was ready to go to the …
Brands Hatch Half Marathon. 13.1 miles around a track – how sedate I thought.
Brum!Brum! It was a late start (10.30) so we trundled down to the course and were greeted at first by oodles of traffic and secondly by a cut up and hilly field that was doubling as a car park. ‘You’ll have to push’ came the expected words from The GingaNinja.
Out I got, and I launched myself behind the car giving it everything I (and my glutes) had. I was quickly joined by a couple of burly runners who aided our ascent up the hill and into position.
‘Bloody hell UltraBoy I’m never going to be able to get up that hill for the exit’ on the positive side that was a problem for later in the day.
UltraBaby decided that she would remain in the MiniUltraMobile today (aka Pram), it was windy, cold and Brands Hatch seemed to be acting like a magnet for both and the pram seemed like a good idea (wish I’d thought of it).
It was a reasonable hike to the TShirt collection point and it was in this journey that I caught sight of the route.
‘That’s a hill,’ I heard myself say, ‘so is that, but it’s track – for race cars… aren’t they supposed to be flat?’
It seemed that Brands Hatch was not the pancake flat route I had been expecting. Bugger. The idea originally had been to test myself across a half marathon distance on a relatively flat course, I’d already done one training half marathon earlier in the week, which had been moderately undulating, so I was after something fast and flat to give me a confidence boost ahead of further pushing up my distance.
Hmm – common sense should have dictated that I pull out but I found myself lining up on the start line (at the back as per usual) and when the group lurched slowly forward I joined them.
The course was fun(ish), hilly, lots of bends, twists, inclines and hairpins as you might expect, the scenery was pleasant and the atmosphere was very charitable (it was a British Heart Foundation event). It was crisp weather on the course, the wind, while often beating on your face, wasn’t cold – just strong and I ambled around taking it all in.
I’d give you the names of all the corners and hills but truth is I don’t know them and doubt I ever will, but it’s suffice to say that the track was tough. Weirdly as the race wore on it got tougher as we were then sent out of Brands Hatch and around the general vicinity of the track. Then over onto what I assumed was the motocross or bike track which was littered with more hills. Finally for the first lap, in a rather uncharitable decision, they made us run in a zig zag across some tarmac – by now I was actually a little bit bored and the knowledge I had to do it again filled me with dread especially as I could feel the onset of injury.
I made my way through the pit lane and slowed to a crawl as I could feel my hamstring biting under my body helix, depressingly I could feel my glutes burning and worryingly my ITB pain was burning right through my leg and into my foot – all by kilometre 14. At this point I stopped, looked around to see if I could see the GingaNinja for some moral support, but she was not in sight and so I decided to do some emergency stretching.
Twang: Stretching was not the answer and so I decided I could probably jog/walk it – it was only 7km after all. However, looking at my Suunto I realised I was now well outside my preferred 1hr 40 finish, a 1hr 50 finish was already creeping up and by the time I had hobbled 7km I would be lucky to get 2hrs 30.
I shan’t bother you with my tale of disappointment further other than to say I drifted home in a time I’m ashamed of and I should have had the mental strength just to give up. But I didn’t.
Instead I shall draw a few conclusions about the race.
Organisation: it was okay, the parking was stupid given the ground conditions and access to the ground was slow. There was also a long walk to the start and not enough people directing and fiving out information. The Tshirt collection was a bit of a free for all but the bag storage looked like it was running sensibly. 5/10
Course: There was a lot to like about the course – running through an iconic location, variable terrain, big uphills, big downhills. However, it was all very intricate – back and forth, in and out, mixing with the 10km runners, it felt messy. 6/10
Goodies: The medal was the standard British Heart Foundation medal and a bit poo. The Tshirt is okay but it’s a bit too ‘charity advertising’ for me to actually wear it and there was a bottle of water and a chewy bar – meh. I know it’s charity and they’re not likely to give away naughty chocolate goodies but still. 4/10
Atmosphere: For me it was a bit of a let down, the crowds were a bit sparse, in fairness runners were a little sparse too, the overly loud and annoyingly crap music couldn’t disguise a lack of race enthusiasm. If this were a stage show it would smell of amateur dramatics – nothing wrong with it but not exactly Broadway. 5/10
Marshals: Perfectly lovely, very cheery – probably not enough of them – as they seemed a little over worked, especially in the pit lane. 8/10
Overall: Even if I’d had a perfect RaceDay I don’t think I’d have come away going ‘next year, I’m back’. It was a little bit lacklustre and a little bit lacking. However, if you fancy a challenging pre Spring Marathon season that isn’t really expensive (about £30) then this is okay. 6/10
I was looking down at my bruised and battered OMM 25litre commuting bag recently thinking ‘it might be time to retire you my faithful old companion’. The elasticated cord on one side is gone, the other worn, one of the belt pockets has a hole in it and the webbing on one of the side stuff pockets is definitely the worse for wear. On the inside it looks tired – fabric that has been pulled and stretched in all directions and generally covered in sweat, blood and tears from dozens of races and thousands of miles. Strangely though it never gives up and my OMM bag reminds me a bit of my running journey.
1. We both started shiny and new in late 2011
2. We both started running just 3.24km per day until we worked our way up the White Cliffs 50 Ultra.
3. We both carry far too much stuff everywhere we go
4. We both look a bit the worse for wear
Late in 2014 I seriously considered retiring from running completely because of injury and my own stupid behaviour but much like with my much loved OMM running bag it just wasn’t time to enter the great running club house in the sky. I had the thought that it could be one last ‘hurrah’ a final year of running the ultra distance but as The GingaNinja reminds me ‘you become unbearable when you’re not running’. And I am unbearable at the best of times. So there can be no ‘last hurrah’ if running is what helps make me bearable!!
In hindsight I’ve come a long way in a little under four years I’ve gone from geeky designer and all round uncool dude to unbearable and geeky uncoolio ultra running designer. From not being able to run 5km without wanting to puke to going 104miles in a single hit and then back again.
It’s true that running has been my most frustrating time but it’s also been my best time and my strongest ally. I’ve improved my fitness, my interactions, my willpower, my energy and everything else – maybe that’s why my life is infinitely more settled today than when I wasn’t running. Running for fun rather than running from life?
So when I look at my OMM running pack and I see a piece of kit that’s had the shit kicked out of it I actually think, ‘what a ride’ not ‘poor bag’.
Injury, apathy and lethargy will pass but running (or whatever you love) can stay with you and help provide direction. I think my message would be ‘don’t give up’
So how far have I come?
A very long way in the time since I started running.
How far have I fallen?
Just the odd stumble really.
Why do I persevere?
Because the person I’ve become in the period I’ve been running is better than the one I left behind and I’m not 100% sure it was all the running but i’m sure it played its part.
It was a foggy day when I set out for Dartford yesterday morning, quite a cool beginning to the day, cool enough infact that the race top I selected was one of my heavier Ronhill long sleeved efforts. My dad drove us to the start as he would be entering the fun run later in the day and clearly with him he brought a cheery smile and the sunlight (it was therefore the wrong choice of top).
For those who follow this blog or those who stumble across it you’ll know that I ran this race last year and had nothing but good things to say about it. That opinion has not changed, here’s why.
New Course
The location is the same, the course is new – roads that we previously needed to cross have been removed and the route itself felt a little bit tougher. It felt a slightly more exposed course but it was a bright and warm day and that made it feel really rather pleasant. Add to this that the two lap and winding nature meant that you could keep an eye on those behind you or infront and so you were well served for your overtaking manoeuvres.
Price
A bargain! £16 on the day, cheaper in advance, decent facilities, great course, medal, the best volunteers lovely catering company and biscuits and pain au chocolate at the end. This was all topped though by some top notch organisation from the race director who says of the race ‘I just want people to enjoy themselves’. My belief is that you’ll need to go far and wide to find someone who didn’t enjoy themselves.
As for me I’m still in that comeback phase of things so I was glad of running in 54minutes and although the hamstring gave me crap all the way round I felt it was manageable, whether I’ll feel like that at the Winter100 is a very different matter.
And then this happened …
The race also had a fun run option … I’d suggested to Pops (my dad who was visiting) that he could run this with his son (UltraBoyRuns) and granddaughter (UltraBaby) – unexpectedly though we also had the GingerNinja join us so it became a real family affair. 1.8km or as my GPS read – 1.98km, easy.
UltraBaby would be using the UltraMobile while the rest of us were powered by foot and we set off quickly but soon decided that it’d be better to peg ourselves back for the sprint finish. UltraBaby took in most of the details of the day and gave serious eyeball to the other competitors.
We flew around the course, clearly unlikely to come first but having a grand old time with three generations of a racing family doing what they do best.
For the final 300metres I sent Pops on his way to ensure UltraBaby beat our nearest rivals and he thankfully pipped them on the line with a sprint finish and myself and the GingaNinja came home at the back of the pack but roared on by an awesome crowd.
But this wasn’t it!
To finish our day we discovered that UltraBaby had been the fastet baby of the day and therefore not only claimed her first medal but also her first trophy.
Thank you Dartford Bridge 10km – we will be back next year! And if you’re looking for a great PB 10km race course or just a great Raceday out in Kent then this it it!
My comeback from injury had been curtailed in the most part by my ongoing hamstring problems, I’ve brought back my training to a minimum and built my focus on strengthening and stretching the various affected areas. In practical terms this has meant much more cycling (about 120km per week) and about 30 minutes of stretching and physio ordered exercise with the occasionally doff of the cap to running (such as last weekends Les Witton 10 mile or running with UltraBaby- see picture above).
But the problem today isn’t injury the problem is that I just can’t quite shake this illness I’ve discovered I’m suffering with and its called The Running Bug.
Are you a sufferer?
Here are a few of my symptoms
1. You are grumpy when you don’t run
2. You buy new kit when you can’t run
3. You get green eyes when you see runners go past and you aren’t running
4. You enter races in the hope that you’ll be fit and well, despite all evidence saying you won’t
5. You turn up on race day and tell yourself you’ll run it off
6. You suffer with magpie-itis when you see other runners medals and wonder whether it’d be easier to steal their medal or just the race next year
7. Your sense of style eludes you as you go to work often missing key items of clothes such as thundercrackers or consider it acceptable to be sat there in neon all day.
8. ‘Normal’ people think you might have the kind of mental illness that requires therapy to cure you of spending hours and hours on a road or trail
9. You’ve stopped giving a flying fuck what anyone else thinks about anything (particularly running)
10. You often suffer with a rash round your gonads (that might just be me)
You may not suffer with all of these, infact you may not suffer with any of them but while I’ve been injured and on the comeback trail I’ve had almost all of the above – so much so that I’ve already signed up for two more ultra distances this week. If you suffer like I do then consider yourself lucky because running is just plain awesome – which makes you awesome and I’ll see you out there this weekend awesome runners.
It has been several weeks since I last posted here and that’s been for a number of key reasons – the primary one is that I’ve been injured, depressingly so and I really didn’t want to be one of those who was constantly banging on about it – which was something I could see I was becoming and that’s not a positive train of thought.
Therefore I have been extensively focusing on my recovery. Physiotherapy, strengthening exercises, swimming, cycling, stretching, dieting and a bit of reflection.
My enforced break also gave me the time to go and find a nice new job which starts in about 5 or 6 weeks, attend some music festivals and even try finishing the preparation for the arrival of UltraBaby so it’s all been pretty positive.
Obviously pulling out of the NDW Run, the NDW100 and (around an hour before it was due to start) the Race to the Stones I’ve been a bit upset but the benefit of the lay off is clear. My groin which was causing me all sorts of grief is much stronger again and although my hips aren’t sorted I feel like I’m on a sensible course of non-surgical action to resolve it.
This weekend I’m off to volunteer at the NDW100 and I’m hugely excited by this, I’ve just entered the Thames Path 100 for the first time, I’m back training – just in time for the Winter100, I’m tweeting again, I’ve entered the VirtualRunnerUK Sprint distance triathlon and 10km race and my new commute to work will include around 14 miles of cycling per day – which should be dangerously exciting.
Life feels like it’s all good and with UltraBaby just three weeks away there’s a lot of positive change (and a bloody giant dinosaur mural to paint).
Plus the sun is shining, so let’s go have fun. See you out there.
This weekend I stupidly entered the Challenge Hub 24hr.
Why stupidly?
Well this was my fourth ultra marathon in just 42 days, my sixth ultra of the year and thirteenth race of the year. I was exhausted going in and despite warnings from both my partner, running friends and my own body I had the desire to go for it because I’d heard so many positive things about the event organisers.
Now normally I would go on to talk my race through but I don’t really feel the need – we all know it probably went badly 🙂 however, I did pound out another ultra distance, claim another medal and have the honour of meeting some of the most amazing runners running today – you know who you are (Mal, Peter, Chris, Mike, etc).
What I would like to say is that Mike at Challenge Hub puts on events to rival anyone’s. You go to his event and it immediately feels like family, everyone involved in the set up (organisers, volunteers, medics) are amazing characters, and hugely friendly, as well as 100% effective. All the runners came away feeling very well looked after and having been put through a heck of an endurance event. If Challenge Hub comes back next year I will certainly be signing up to it. There was something beautiful and blissful about running around a multi terrain quarter marathon track as many times as you can with nothing but the sound of the frogs to scare you witless.
This was 100% awesome.
I learnt so much about endurance this weekend both in terms of how to treat your body but also how to keep running big distance into your 50s and beyond. This felt very much like a lesson in how to ultra. I’m so grateful to everyone. So for those that don’t get in to the North Downs Way 50 or some other equally interesting race can I recommend that you campaign vigorously (and sign up) for future Challenge Hub events and be involved in something truly special.
I’m finding my dreams to be a little disturbing at the moment and I think it might be something to do with the anxiety of becoming a parent.
Let me explain.
I get ready to go running
I hook around myself a harness
I place UltraBaby into the harness
I set off running with UltraBaby
I fall forwards and crush UltraBaby to death
There are variants revolving around other sporting activities but effectively in my dreams my actions are causing UltraBaby harm.
I’ve talked it through with the GingaNinja and she tells me it’s just a dream and probably a metaphor for the train wreck of a parent that I’ll make (thanks Ginge), but it is becoming a worry. It’s a bit like that sensation when you cross a bridge and you imagine what it would be like to just jump over the railing. It could well just be my fear of failure and simply accepting that I will worry about something so new and untested in natural – hmm.
In reality I know I’m being stupid yet it is waking me up regularly during my sleeping hours and that surely can’t be good for what little sanity I’ve got left.
Bugger.
After the highs and lows of the WNWA96 I was very keen to get back to running. It’s been a couple of weeks since I did much more than a couple of kilometres and the 100miler at the weekend has left me both physically and emotionally drained. However, to the rescue has come the Virtual Run and so this evening I strapped on the only shoes I could get on my feet – that’s right my old and very battered Newton Distance and decided I would do my 10km.
After about 4km I was very keen to give up, but with the deadline for entries only a few days away I knew that I needed to push this one out and so with a push I hit the first 5km in about 28 minutes. At the 5km point I dipped away from the rather sunny Regent’s Park and started my journey across London. The first five were much more like the warm up and I drifted perfectly happily between the streets of my city, stopping only occasionally for red lights and swift moving traffic. As I approached Piccadilly I added a bit of frenetic pace and hurriedly moved through the human traffic – even daring the odd raid through the cacophony of noise that was the road traffic. I blasted through Haymarket and down into Trafalgar Square were I completed the 10km in under an hour – which was the aim.
Thanks once again to the VirtualRunnerUK for getting me out there and a special congratulations for successfully completing the London Marathon as well as continuing to keep us all active!
I was sat alone in the large chamber of Lime Street Station when I decided I would actually review the WNWA96, I was tired and hungry and in need of being in my bed, I was done.
Before I start and before you read this there are a number of things I should say, the first I am going to get peoples names wrong, I am going to get some of the finer details wrong but this is an event like no other and so I’m going to tell it in the best way I can.
It was about 11.45am at Bluewater in Kent, my partner had wanted to return a few bit of a maternity wear to a shop because they hadn’t fitted and I had tagged along so that I could offer the opportunity to eat a dirty burrito. I figured what better way to carb load, I even had the mild salsa to avoid any serious complications in the ‘Paula Radcliffe’ department.
I trundled home and started to get changed, everything seemed to be going well and laid my kit in front of me before applying lashings of wholesome Vaseline to almost the entire of my body. I clipped my Hoka to the side of my bag and headed off to the train station. As we sat outside the station saying goodbye it felt very different from all the other events I do, infact there was a sense of dread about this one and the tension in my face was visible. I kissed each one of my home team, The GingaNinja, UltraBaby, UltraHound and of course Thunderpad and waved them goodbye.
I decided I would record the event in photographic terms, uploading them across various social media outlets, but the first would be Instagram and I would update on my progress in the event through blogging, Twitter and Facebook updates. I began snapping away on my rather uneventful journey to Sheffield and after a couple of trains, some short walks, a coach journey, tram ride and taxi hop plus a solid 8 hours in transit I arrived at Hillsborough.
I strolled down to the small car park where, in the glare of the lights, I could see the first of many friendly faces I would come across during my journey – Glen from Scoff Events. As I got down the stairs I said hello and he grabbed me a cup of coffee, what a guy. We chatted a little while and it all became clear that we had already met at the Great London Swim where he, myself and my dad had laughed and joked about life and stuff and now he was here making sure that we were all 100% fed and watered.
Feeling cheery therefore – although a little cold – I sat down in the car park and started to set myself up, compression sleeves on, buffs on compeed on my feet, Hoka on, water bottles filled, food compartmentalised, Suunto ready, iPod loaded. As I was doing this more and more people turned up including one of the event co-ordinators Cherie Brewster and they all set about the business of doing the things necessary to get us on our way. There was a nice air of relaxed panic about the place as people who clearly knew their places and hat to do worked hard to ensure that everything went off at the right time and in the right place and much of that is down to both Cherie and Steve Kelly whom we had the utmost faith that they would get it right on the day.
By the time 11.15 arrived the party was ready to hit full swing and I had the pleasure of meeting lots of lovely people. Gordon, on holiday in the Peak District had come over to support us. Owen, one of the walkers who had come on over from Houston – awesome. Nasher, gentleman, legend, poet and musician. Multiple Paul’s, a Debi, Brian, Des and of course Jimmy, the event mascot.
As time was ticking on we were all called over to the memorial at Hillsborough and here would be a reading of the family names and Brian Nash would read a specially composed poem about his feelings on the tragedy. There was a sombre silence as the words echoed around the memorial. Brian read his poem with a beauty and sincerity that brought many to tears – including myself and as I saw my dad again I could see him ready to break down, it was here that I realised that no matter what else this was an event about community and the value of retaining your dignity and humanity.
Anyway, we returned to the general fits of giggles and laughs that would become the hallmark of the event, this was scousers on tour, yes it was nearly 1am and yes we hadn’t started yet and yes it was in memory of those who were lost in the tragedy, those who had survived and those who had supported everyone through the years but that didn’t mean we had to be downbeat – this was a celebration of the human spirit.
And so at 1am in the cold of Sheffield we set off. The organisers had prepared a couple of support cars with medics and supplies such as water, there was also a sweeper bus that was intended to keep us on our toes for the journey. Unfortunately there were only four copies of the maps to be distributed between most of the walkers, which on the whole was fine but meant for safety purposes it was better to have a photographic copy of your route. However, the support vehicles were never very far away and they helped to guide us – something I would be very grateful of at around 100km in.
The group quickly dispersed into several pockets – the first of which had me at the front of it. I was joined by two chaps, Ian and Brian – both of whom were survivors of the tragedy and talked a little about the feelings they had and why they were so determined to do this walk. Their stories were remarkable and their pace incredible, especially given their relative ages combined with the incredibly hilly start we had it was a stunningly fast pace we were pumping out. We reached the top of the first hill in great time and slowly but surely I could see that Ian was dropping back a little, I checked over my shoulder to ensure he was okay and with that seemed to be a wave of his hand Brian and I pressed on ahead – safe in the knowledge that there were another 30 odd walkers just behind us.
I kept about 50 metres ahead of Brian for a little while as the darkness was all consuming and I needed to focus on my own walk, but I had broken up the lack of light with my own entertainment which was belting out Elton John and Glee songs at the top of my voice, there is nothing like the sound of ‘Don’t go breaking my heart’ with hardly a soul in sight – something quite liberating. Anyway at about the 20km marker Brian finally caught me up as I was keen to take a photograph of the sign for ‘Penistone’ – how true that sometimes the ten year old inside never quite grows out of knob humour.
It was probably now about 3am and together Brian and I set off at a fair old pace with the agreed intent of finishing it – the whole distance. For a little while I was feeling the effects of running through the night and at one point felt as though I was actually asleep standing up but then I sa the first signs of day break and we came through a little village and up onto another hill and we were greeted by the best sight of the night – Liz! Liz was the photographer who had been tracking our progress and ensuring we didn’t come unstuck for quite some miles and as she snapped at us I threw her a few of the UltraBoy moves and grabbed my own snapshot memento before moving onwards and sadly upwards!
The next few miles passed without incident and as passed by a place called Thunder Bridge Lane even I couldn’t help but feel buoyed by a renewed sense of vigour. This was of course all helped by the arrival of some chocolate croissants and the support vehicles giving us the clear thumbs up as they were sweeping some of the other walkers to the 24 mile point. Brian and I descended into Huddersfield in a great mood and in a great time – we were still under 6hrs and even with a diversion and getting a bit lost finding the Huddersfield Town stadium we made it inside 6hrs 20mins – not too shabby.
Both Brian and I had spent most of the first 24miles thinking about Bacon sandwiches and thankfully upon arrival there was a tray full of the stuff provided by Glen and Scoff – and scoff it down I did along with about a litre of hit delicious coffee and even more delicious fresh orange juice. This was a significant break with about 90 minutes left for everyone to play catchup and I used this as an opportunity to change from my ridiculously uncomfortable thunder crackers to something more pleasant and also add another tub of Vaseline to my nether regions.
The guys at Huddersfield Town were amazing and the grounds people who helped direct us in and the chaps in the sports centre were very accommodating and I can’t thank them enough.
I also at this point decided to change shoes and mvdd from my Hoka Rapa Nui Tarmac into my classic and much travelled Hoka Stinson Evo. There was something warming about putting on an old friend who has completed thee ultra marathons with you. I used the rest of my time to chat with some of the other walkers who had by now warmed up and were feeling a little more lively, albeit with a few more blisters. I met many lovely people including Tony and Owen and Des (one of the drivers) and also the outstanding Eric who had a lovely ‘feet on the ground’ mentality to the whole thing and declared he was amazed he had managed 12 miles in his Adidas Samba! There was also the coordination of the news reporting and some filming took place but all in all it was well organised here and this helped settle nerves.
It was then that we saw legend and all round hero Stevie Kelly come trundling round the corner and despite rumours that he was struggling he looked in remarkably good shape and when both Eric and I went over to join him there was nothing but good cheer as the first 24miles were done. There was a lot of truth in the phrase that ‘theres life in the old dog yet’ and he was living, breathing and hiking proof of it.
Anyway with everybody fed, watered and greased up it was time to go and a small group of us left Huddersfield and after some minor navigation challenges through the streets of the town both Brian and I once again headed the group and hit the hills with as much might as we could muster. It was a vertical climb, certainly as tough as anything that the SDW50 had thrown at me and probably a bit worse but my pace was strong and as we reached the top of the hill and crossed the motorway I was feeling in control of my own situation and knew I had the 96 in me. Then disaster started to strike
Bang.
I tripped and fell – my thigh straight into one of the motorway barriers – sharp shooting pains erupted down my right leg. I quickly thrust my hand down my running tights and checked for blood but it was okay, it was just going to hurt like nobodies business later.
We ploughed on at pace, Brian looked strong and for a while he certainly took the lead in keeping spirits high and maintaining the gusto with which we had started. What I knew was that I had to put this to the back of my mind and soldier on for a little while until the pain had subsided and before we reached the next checkpoint I was back in control and admiring the now beautiful scenery between Huddersfield and Oldham.
Our composure was fully gained and our tenacity growing as well as our confidence as we arrived at the next checkpoint – sadly there was no support vehicles and no supporters, curious. Suddenly the medical guys (Ian and Andy) rocked up and advised us that the bus had developed a problem and there would be no hand over of walkers. Within a minute or two my dad came thundering in and advised us that we should keep going and that some of the other walkers would do the next leg and more would join as soon as the bulk transporter was operational again.
For the first time I felt a weight of expectation on my shoulders – that we, Brian and I would just continue, so with a map photographed and a straight run to Oldham ahead we picked up the pace, waved a cheery hello to the other walkers who had managed to reach this stage and then flew onwards into the highly exposed and therefore windy hills. Brian had made the unwise decision to strip himself of his bag and extra clothing at Huddersfield and therefore was feeling more exposed than he needed to. We stopped briefly while I layered us both up with additional clothing and buffs to keep things like necks and heads warm. All of this proved sufficient for us to progress in the cool morning sun and by what would be considered lunchtime things were looking pretty rosy, the bus had passed us and the walkers were back on the road.
I, of course, being of a competitive nature on hearing that the walkers had been given a half hour head start proclaimed that ‘we’ll have them Brian’ and so from the second of this stages mini checkpoints we hit new speeds in our stride and launched ourselves towards the heart of Oldham. As we came across the hospital I saw the other walkers in the distance and called back to Brian ‘I can see them, lets take them!’ and so we began to run beyond them, giving them an enormous smile as we passed by. I was then in full stretch and I used the opportunity to widen my stride further and give me legs some release from the walking, this paid dividends as I hurtled into Oldham Athletics ground to be greeted by the grinning face of Desy the bus driver. Oldham was a bit of turning point for people I think, firstly there was a major stop – physiotherapist, hot food, rest, sleep for some and secondly it was a bit of a dawning for some that the road was coming to an end and that they needed to conserve their energy for supporting those that were going to continue walking or to save their energies for later on the route when it would be more important to have a visible presence.
Both Cheri Brewster and Steve Kelly showed optimal skills in the division of labours – for my mind Steve (or Dad as I usually call him) organised the human element, people and Cheri dealt with the logistics, this provided, for those that wanted it, the respite needed for the upcoming assault on the final 50 miles. The other big plus was that Oldham Athletic were simply amazing – the show of support they offered was unbelievable with both space and time afforded to this posse of Liverpool fans all making their way home – there was even a cake baked and most were hugely grateful to the two physiotherapists who gave excellent support to aching muscles and relief from blisters. Some bothered with sleep on the terraces, others chatted, I took time to get to know some of the people and discussed many things including impending fatherhood, the art of breaking down time, the relative greatness of Shanks compared to Fergie and lots of other exciting topics. For me personally the break was too long because my long suffering muscles were unable to rest, if I had sat down I know that would have finished me off and so I was required to continue my standing throughout and by the time we were all ready for the off I was really ready.
Before we departed though there was a little bit of time for interviews with local radio – including myself – which felt very strange, it seemed that my attempt on the entire distance had not gone unnoticed and I felt rather uncomfortable in the limelight – even if only briefly. However, I was keen to do my bit and so answered as honestly as I could the questions. The thing I found hardest was the question, ‘What would your uncle Mike think about this?’ The true answer was that I had no idea what he’d think, so I went we the only sensible answer which was that ‘he’d think we were all mad, then join us for the last half a mile’. I was also tired when I was interviewed and my emotions were sitting on the surface and I found this hard.
Anyway … we were off again … lots of us were off … ace.
This time I set off with Brian again and this time joined by Ian (what a guy!) – the Eithad our destination. Once again I took control of the directions and hit the full pelt button, stopping only twice. The first stop was to buy two bottles of Lucozade Sport as I really needed isotonic fluids and the second was to roar with laughter as Chelsea were beaten by Sunderland. That second stop seemed to give us a helluva lift and the walkers as a whole seemed visibly stronger. I found myself making to a little jig and telling our lovely medics that I was made of fairy dust. We pressed on to the outer ring of the stadium and started to make our way round. I waved my companions goodbye as I set off into the distance and around the far side of the stadium, running to the checkpoints was now becoming obligatory.
Waiting in the car park was the bus, the walkers and some sandwiches. Yum. I took the opportunity to refresh my water bottles and have a quick chat with my dad who was walking some of the next stage and then I kicked on knowing that time was very much of the essence. As I wandered out of Manchester City’s ground I could see what a behemoth it was and every bit as impressive as I had heard, what was going to be more impressive though was how the event was to turn on its head for me.
I was still pretty much with Brian but he was now starting to flag, the soaking he had taken in the first 24 miles looked like it as taking its toll and our latest comrade in arms was keen to push on but was unsure of the way. I had no choice but to mention to the medical team that I was a little concerned about Brian and they simply asked me to keep an eye on him and flag it if anything serious was going to happen – I suppose my main concern was hypothermia – despite my best efforts to get him warmed up, Brian looked cold and I recognised the face he was pulling because I had been pulling it the night before. However, Brian continued, as did the rest of us and then at 99.8km I was called over to the medical wagon.
‘You’re out of time’
The words echoed hard in my head and I looked at the map.
‘We can give you 10 minutes to get to the next checkpoint – it’s 1.9miles’
‘The others?’
‘If they can make it, if not they’ll need to be swept up’
I turned, handed the map to Brian, and then ran like I’ve never run before. After 100km of travelling along some challenging hills I was pumping out 6 minute miles and every time Andy and Ian would catch me in the support vehicle I’d hammer home another burst of speed. I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t think straight all I knew was that I needed to keep moving. I was hurtling beyond passers by, who at this time of night on a Saturday would be considering their social engagement option rather than being worried about my thundering body. The chaps in the support vehicle pulled up and called me back as the GPS had gotten them lost, they told me to start breathing and even as they did they started looking for a direction and suddenly they said
‘down there’
Once more into the breach and with with heart bursting in my chest I flew up the hill towards Bury football ground – passing my waiting dad – who would have to swiftly follow as I hurled myself face first onto the bus. I started looking for a change of shoes – goodbye Hoka and into my Inov8 Trailroc. As I was sat on the floor of the bus there was the sound of cheers and applause and much back slapping but I hadn’t achieved anything yet and I’d lost my hiking buddy. I called out for a couple of bottles of water and my dad passed them to me along with my much needed paper towel to dry the sweat from my feet.
I was still in the event and still on for the 96, but I was five minutes behind the other walkers and so with a rod of lightning jammed between my arse cheeks I hit the road again – roars of well wishing greeting my triumphant exit. In the distance I could hear that a medic was being sent to join me to which I could only respond with, ‘if he can keep up’. I bolted down a one way street and then down to the main road, I was being and feeling awesome and in the distance I saw other support vehicle and so slowed down a little bit – engaging in a little bit of a jig as I met up with Paul and a group of walking legends. I’d made it.
We set off at a respectable pace and where soon joined by ultra running legend Earle Jackson, who only a few days previously had completed the 96 mile Anfield to Hillsborough run. He rocked up without a care in the universe and simply started walking – Earle has the benefit of being one of those guys that is simply amazing and his calm and dignity shone through. And so the group ambled through the roads between Bury and Bolton, the problem was that despite a reasonable pace the timings seemed to be against us, I spoke once again to the medics and was told we were once again on the cusp – I urged the other walkers to go a little faster but it seemed we already had our foot to the floor.
I started to run. The medical wagon rolled along side me. Earle rocked up too. In my head I heard the sound of Brian, my dad everyone else who had shared a cheery smile with me this day and it was willing me on as I banged out each step downhill and then every step up the hill to the waiting bus.
Here Earle and I were greeted by more whoops but this time it was urgent – the two walkers on the road were 30 minutes ahead of us. I started to strip down, goodbye warm clothing, goodbye Ultimate Directions PB vest – I was going to run it, but I needed a pacer and support and that turned up in the form of Earle, who stripped down and said ‘don’t worry I can run in my hiking boots’.
And off we went and considering our exhaustion and injury status we went pretty well. Bolton was ablaze with the echo of our thundering hooves and as we entered the road to Horwich I knew we were going to make it. Earle had out me back on time and in fact Earle had put the walk back on time. After about 25 minutes of exhausting running we finally caught up to Cheri and Tony and although we stopped and started to hike again we needed to move at a swifter pace than the others because of our lack of clothing, water or anything actually useful. We therefore bid the others goodbye and set off to reach the wonderful Reebok stadium with more than 20 minutes to spare before the next break.
At Bolton we were allowed to use the wonderful facilities of the hotel and apparently even grab a shower, I saw people brushing teeth and catching their breath, lying down and catching up on sleep. I managed a brief toilet stop and had a gigantic bacon sandwich along with enough coffee to sink a battleship but time was pressing.
I reloaded my running vest, put my warmer clothing back on and layered up to try and avoid bringing my race to an early conclusion in exactly the same way Brian had. I greeted as many people as I could, passing on my congratulations to them because there was so much awesomeness going on that it was hard to keep up. I met some of the new walkers who had joined at Bolton and think I was suitably weird but I’m not sure that mattered now.
What I saw though now though was that some of the steel had been eroded from the walkers, everyone looked exhausted, but nobody looked ready to give in. As I stood on the bus packing my bits I saw the lovely Paul who had both of his feet on ice and advised me that he’d be back walking for the final few miles, I saw my Dad who was having his feet strapped up and offered me a thumbs up both as a confirmation he was fine and a need to get reassurance about my own health. Nobody was ready to get off this adventure yet.
I don’t remember much about the journey to Wigan other than I may have answered the question, ‘how do you feel?’ with the one word response ‘shit’. I do recall singing ‘row, row, row your boat’ once again and telling Sarah and Tara that I might cry unicorn tears and I may have been mistakenly pairing different people up – well adversity does bring people together 🙂
Wigan arrived and I came across a double yolker of a problem ‘Paula Radcliffe’ time and I had serious sweat rash in my arse crack – awesome. My dad found a McDonalds and I swiftly headed over to it as the walkers moved on, here I was able to have a moments comfort as well as jammed a very tightly packed square of soft toilet tissue between my are cheeks and use that as a buffer – genius. I left McDonalds, purchasing some orange juice as a thank you for the use of the facilities and then set off. The problem was that I’d been cut adrift from the other walkers and so needed to run the hill out of Wigan. Here I caught up with my dad and then several other walkers but the hills out of Wigan and onto the East Lancs Road were epic and I was really struggling, it was here that my Dad and I finally had a bit of a catchup, he helped me over the hills and more importantly down the hills which were actually the much more difficult thing. Of all the moments that I needed help this was the most important and while I am hugely grateful to Brian and Earle for their huge individual efforts in getting me to those hills, the irony is not lost on me that it was father who guided me over that final very difficult section.
Well I say final…
We hit the East Lancs Road and I think all the walkers were in various states of dilapidation but were continuing to plod on. Again though we were pressed with the threat of being swept up, with more than 2hrs before we were due to reach the Showcase Cinema we were being ordered to what I had now dubbed ‘the fun bus’ (mainly because Des kept making me laugh). I spoke to my dad and asked if he was capable of at least running to the bus and he said that he was – probably about 2 miles away at this point.
In my head I was playing the William Tell overture and I felt like I was the Lone Ranger upon my horse and slowly but surely the sight of Dad and lad started to draw other people into a gentle jog. It started to feel like Rocky as we collected more and more of the walkers – we were now the sweeper vehicle, but instead of draining hope we were filling people with renewed energy. I could see the support vehicles and the supporters ahead and my feet took over – blasting their way through the next few hundred metres – awesome. I ran past the bus, knowing that I was likely to be pulled but my dad caught me up and told me to head off, it was here that I was also told that the support vehicles would not be able to stay with me.
‘That’s fine’ was my answer as I turned on my heel and headed out to cheers from the crowd. I ran for a little while and then made a call to my OH, I needed to hear her voice and tell me that it as all okay and for a few minutes we stood either end of a phone crying to each other. She thankfully knew me well enough to tell me that there were only a few miles to go and that I was awesome. She also reminded me that when I am telling the story of the legend of UltraBoy to UltraBaby this will be the story that it won’t believe. It was a long call, probably 10 minutes and in that time I could see the bus had stopped and so I started a gentle jog again and as I got there the bus left and a support vehicle remained but what was also there was the most amazing sight I have ever come across.
Sue.
Sue, her sister and her niece were all there, I’ve only ever met Sue but each of them set about me with hugs and cuddles like we were lifelong friends. I couldn’t appreciate you guys any more – I soooooo needed you at that point. My medical support was now back as well and I stopped to chat to him
‘Your dad said I’ve got to stay with you’
‘What if I run across the field? Seriously go and get some ice cream’
He just laughed but together we pushed on and before 10am, with about 40 minutes left before the official leaving time I had made it to the cinema. Photographs, hugs, love, there was a massive outpouring both from and to me. Some people though I think thought that was it for me and it really wasn’t and I started out for Goodison Park.
My feet was sore, so very sore, my hips were destroyed, my ankles a mess, my head annihilated and I couldn’t focus. I slipped behind the group, I could no longer keep up and then something amazing happened, some of the walkers – I’ll never know who – left a breadcrumb trail of human beings all telling me it wasn’t much further, telling me I could do it and when I came across the fourth or fifth I said ‘I need to catch up’
‘No you don’t’ she replied, ‘you’ll get there whatever speed you go’
I however, decided the speed was going to be ‘fast’ and so I ran into Goodison Park and collapsed onto the ground. The group was there a little while and I avoided the photographs as I felt as though I had hogged enough of the centre stage and I just wanted to concentrate on the last mile or so. Goodison brought with huge positive feeling and an enormous swelling of pride from the city. It was here, more than ever, that you could see the immense respect that Liverpool had for the 96 and equally, the survivors. At this point I chatted with a number of the hikers, most notably Ian and Andy the medics and then Brian Nash who had read the poem at the beginning of our epic journey. It had seemed the wrong time to speak to him just after the reading in Sheffield but I wanted while I had the opportunity at Goodison to tell him how moving and how human his words had been to me. He gazed down at me on the floor and there was a moment where I thought we might both burst into tears but thankfully the moment was punctured by the guys from 96 footballs who are preparing an exhibition in honour of the 96 (details can be found at the link below).
Anyway our time at Goodison Park was short and we quickly moved on towards Anfield, the home of Liverpool fans the world over. The final leg was passing through Stanley Park, the barrier between the two great football giants and here I again slowed down but this time it was for the purpose of being interviewed, I’m not even sure I was making any sense but I did my best and then plodded on until I met up with a young lady called Terri-Anne (or Nish I think she may have called herself). Feeling rather positive that I was actually now going to make it I suggested that she could help me up the hill by having a little race and so after more than 160km I gave a 100metre sprint up the hill to lick Terri-Anne – poor girl! But I simply couldn’t let her win.
Anfield for me came and went, it was all about the celebration of the lives of the 96, the effort of the walkers and the legacy for the survivors. For me it was over, I walked over to the memorial, said ‘Hello’ to Michael and then disappeared into the crowd – waiting until the ceremonies were over. There was a huge amount of congratulations, hundreds of people all wanting to say thank you but for me that wasn’t the point – the point was I was saying thank you on behalf of those who couldn’t.
It was an unforgettable experience and there was so much to take from it, lots of positives and so few negatives.
A few notes and an opportunity to say thank you.
Thanks should go to Cherie Brewster for her organisation prior to the event and during, her commitment to both the walkers and the event was unwavering and I am sure all the walkers will of been happy to have someone like this ensuring they were safe and secure.
Earle Jackson will have my eternal thanks for his pacing of me for two rather hilly and significant sections, his contribution to this walk and the campaign as a whole will long be remembered.
I have nothing but wonderfully kind words for the Arriva guys, Des and Ian (if I’ve got your names wrong I apologise). These two chaps were amazingly chipper for almost the entire time and you can’t put into words how hard it is to keep your concentration over the time when you aren’t constantly focused – they also worked tirelessly to ensure that there was some transport for the journey, well done guys.
The photographer, Liz, who I only saw for the first half a day really but she provided stunning cover for Brian and I as we fought through much of the first 24 miles. She offered a winning smile and a regular thumbs up.
Then there are the walkers, some of whom I feel deserve a special mention for having kept me on the road. Debi and Paul – awesome, Paul with his ice packed feet – awesome. Both of the Ians – awesome. Poor Tara and Sarah for having to put up with my stupid unicorn tears – awesome and then of course there was Brian – 100km of awesome walking, he was and is a true gentleman and legend and also offered the best fun of the night when his hearing aid started going bonkers on the bus and the guys couldn’t figure out what it was. But ultimately all of the walkers made a huge impression on me, more than I can ever truly express in words and even if I haven’t mentioned you by name I will carry you in my heart and my memory for the rest of my life
All of the support vehicles crews were 100% amazing – these guys who crawled alongside us where pushing their bodies to the limits as much as the rest of us but I’d like to pay special tribute to Ian and Andy. These two guys had the measure of me, they could see my trigger points and whenever I was flagging they came along and gave me a kick up the arse. If I could take only one thing away from this experience then I would take a wonderful pair of friendships with the two guys who made this all possible for me personally.
The football grounds deserve huge thanks – especially Oldham Athletic though who opened up their ground and provided space for physiotherapists and food. All the grounds though proved very much that football is about community.
Of course, there was also Scoff Events (do look them up) who provided the food and ongoing good cheer. Glen and his team were amazing and his bacon sandwiches are ace, and his chilli, and his burgers… and his coffee… in fact everything he did turned to deliciousness
And a final thank you – to Stephen Kelly. Well done dad, you done good.
On other bits
Generally the event was well run and the best thing that my dad and Cherie did was get in professionals to help them – with the greatest of respect to both of them they aren’t professional event co-ordinators and they both have a daily lives to lead, so the addition of people like Scoff, the football grounds, Arriva and Home2Office meant that they could focus on the important things like the route and how it would translate as a celebration of the people who have supported the campaigns and the people over the last 25 years.
The route itself was hard and 96 miles (actually closer to about 101 miles) of tarmac was hard going even for an experienced ultra runner like myself and while the hills were all manageable there were a lot of them – even at the end and the timings offered little respite which was manly because of Everton’s game against Manchester United on the Sunday. i believe, in hindsight, it would have been better to have reduced some of the rest times and started a little earlier and that way I am confident more would have completed the entire distance. However, this is very much in hindsight and the event was an enormous success and we should pay tribute to all those who played a part.
And Finally
As a tribute to the memory of those who died and those who have survived as well as those who have campaigned this was a success beyond all measure – it has touched hearts and minds all over the world. As a symbolic gesture I can see how the 96 miles we have completed is nothing compared to the 25 year journey in honour of the 96 that the campaigners have endured.
I write this now having walked the entire distance and having learnt so much about myself and the tragedy, I am humbled by the people who surrounded me last weekend, humbled by the survivors, campaigners and supporters and I am honoured to have walked a tiny part of this road with you and for you. Thank you.
It seems I am destined never to run an ultra with some sort of fuckwit incident kicking me in the gonads and dancing a tango across my chest. You’d think it was just a series of excuses to make up for my lacklustre performances but sadly that’s not the case.
What’s gone wrong now?
My grandmother has managed to wind up in hospital with at least a broken ankle and possibly other bits (more tests to follow) and so tonight I’m going to try and do all my prep for the SDW50, then tomorrow I’m going to try and do three days work in one, while also taking a work laptop with me on my travels. This will be at the same time as seeing the physio to try and fix my own knackered hips and early Thursday morning I’m going to head to Liverpool, pick up my grandmothers things for her two week stay in hospital, then Friday morning I’m back to sunny Kent to try and get a few hours sleep before the arrival of another shitty performance at an ultra.
There are stories around the shit that is being mentioned above but at the heart of it this is being one shitty week and it’s only frelling Tuesday.
This will probably be the penultimate post I produce prior to the WNWA96, the walk is just 2 weeks away and everyone is starting to get excited, but it’s also a very difficult time for those more deeply involved with the campaign as last week the inquest into the Hillsborough tragedy opened, and this is a timely reminder of why people like myself are joining this wonderfully powerful and symbolic event.
It is perhaps too easy to forget, in the haste of preparations for the event, the reasons we are walking but that reason is as a thank you for the 25 years of support that have been given to the families of victims and to the survivors of the disaster.
I am sure that many of you who have read my posts about this walk will at least know something about the events of the disaster and will probably have seen the news reports that have been filling news channels and online services for the last few weeks – I am sure you, like I, can see how hugely emotionally and physically draining it is for those there.
Yet despite all of this there are a group of people who will sing, chant and make merry as they head from Hillsborough through to Anfield, via various northern football grounds. It’ll be a little bit like Scousers on tour – can you imagine it, dozens of Liverpudlians traipsing across some of the most inhospitable hills that Yorkshire and Lancashire have got to offer?
The walk obviously runs parallel to many of the other tributes being planned but this one has an air of joy about it and idea that my father could have not only conceived this lovely tribute to his brother and all those affected by Hillsborough but also take part in it, fills me with a pride and a joy that I will never truly be able to express. And so when he bangs out another old Irish folk song at 4am to lift the spirits, or tells one of his ‘classic’ jokes, rather than do my usual ‘sticks fingers in ears’ I shall afford myself a rye smile and hum along to the tune or help him with the punchline.
On the day
My dad or in this event perhaps ‘leader’ would be a better title, remains concerned that nobody can complete the whole distance in the time and that a relay is the best and safest way forward. I agree very much that in the main he is probably 100% correct but I have no such concerns for myself. Having just come off the back of the 4800ft of elevation of the South Downs Way 50, completed in under 11hrs, with two twisted ankles I am more confident than ever that I have the capacity to do the distance in the time.
My goal
I would love to complete the 96miles, not just because it is a truly remarkable achievement but because it will serve as a lifetime reminder to me of the effort and strength of those who have sought the truth for nearly a quarter of century – more than two thirds of my lifetime. I consider that a couple of weeks of slightly sore feet is a small price to pay to honour all those people affected.
I look forward to being able to put my arms around my dad at the end and saying ‘well done’, I look forward to telling UltraBaby of the brilliance of the men and women who undertook this challenge defiantly and I look forward to explaining the symbolic nature of it in the brightness of the truth that the families so very much deserve.
I’ve been really lucky to have been on the start line with some great runners in my time, I think my favourite was probably Tobias Mews who I met briefly in the bacon sandwich queue for the Snowdonia Marathon but even that pales into insignificance when I was able to train with my dad for the WNWA96. He was down in my neck of the woods to have a little check on UltraBaby and also do a bit of preparation for the walk. We had decided that we would spend the Monday looking over new shoes (many pairs tested and even more examined). Interestingly my dad said that the Hoka were possibly the most comfortable shoes he had worn in years, I only felt moderately smug as people tend to laugh at the stupid look of the Hoka.
Anyway, enough of the Hoka and retail love.
On the Tuesday morning we set ourselves up for a 21.2km walk, both of us kitted up to the hilt and using this as an opportunity to test the Black Diamond Ultra hiking poles, which I had suggested that my dad might want to use across the 96 miles. We set out from my house about 9.30am with the aim for the walk to take around 3hrs 30minutes (including photography and traffic stops) this included a halfway stop for a bacon sandwich – sounded like a genius plan and would also mimic the conditions on the walk which has been broken up into (roughly) 6 mile sections.
As we left the house a lady called over to us and said hello, my dad and I, being rather polite, said hello in return and then suddenly we found ourselves deep into conversation with ‘Pat’ a lady, originally from Burma but now… Hmmm I could go into her life story (believe me I received it all in the 45 minutes we chatted) but I feel that is for another time.
Anyway, armed with the kit, Thunderpad the Spaniel and Justice Jimmy the Westie we started out but also damp and cold from our untimely meeting with Pat… The weather was cool and mildly windy but great conditions for walking, so despite being chilled we soon warmed up.
The first mile was very much downhill and primarily on the tarmac but as we came to the first of the trail sections we could see that there might be problems as the uneven nature of the course meant a slowdown in pace. However, a return to the tarmac and better roads meant that we were able to pick up the pace and maintain somewhere in the region of 3.5miles per hour. This was excellent and even the undulating and even hilly nature of the course I had selected bothered neither of us and with the dogs now off the lead we headed at pace towards the first of the major inclines we had to attack.
My dad pushed well through the incline and as we hit 5km only 45minutes had passed and I was keen that we went as hard as we could because I feel it is important that in the sections were you have the most energy you use that enthusiasm to cover the ground, especially in the training. A brief respite in the incline brought us to kilometre 6 and with it probably the hardest section of the walk with over 400ft of positive ascent. This according to my dad would mimic some of the section of the WNWA96 between Sheffield and. Huddersfield. Despite the challenge of the incline we again exceeded expectation but the cold had started to set in and so with some common sense kicking in we both wrapped our buffs around our heads and despite looking like knobheads felt all toasty. The buffs had the added benefit of cutting out the noise of the traffic which was at points quite loud.
The final 3km to the country park were relatively quiet, save for the traffic, and crossing into our ‘checkpoint’ meant that there was hot coffee and a delicious baguette. Again in line with the walk we kept the stop short(ish), 20 minutes for the food and a few minutes for a couple of photographs (enclosed). Both the hounds were excited to be hitting the road again as there had been no sign of bacon sandwich for them and I explained to my Dad that the return leg was much more of a downhill effort than an uphill slog. Our pace quickened to account for downhill and we made swift progress to the major decline, here my dad tested the hiking poles I had brought along and found that, once he had gotten the hang of them, they might be invaluable in terms of walking the actual route during the event.
We dropped on to the 5km point bang on time for a roughly 3hr 30min finish and with a bit of a flourish we could probably trundle the last leg without any problems. Annoyingly the finish has some gently inclines to account for the decent from my house onto the main track and so the last section required a bit of a push – which we both gave and then straight into the town. Thunderpad and I fancied a bit of a big finish and the a chance to get to the kettle on, so at the top of my road me and hound said goodbye to daddy and sprinted the last couple of hundred metres – lovely.
Upon arriving home, cup of tea in hand and armed with some soda bread toast we agreed that this was a good test walk, it had a bit of everything. The route was heavily undulating, challenging but manageable, multi terrain, noisy and windy. This was the kind of training walks that really help set you up for big events and in all fairness we managed it with great aplomb. The only very minor downside is that the route wasn’t 30miles but with time against us this was excellent.
I’m very proud of my dad, and of course the rest of the people who are giving this a go, they really are amazing and I’m looking forward to not only to the event but also to blogging about it as we walk as I’m confident that we will all need your support on the day.
6
We hear a lot about broken society, we hear a lot about obesity, a fattening culture, a lazy culture, we hear about a disenchanted youth and a disinterested electorate and then I saw a tweet from @jedirider asking how many ultra runners have been called mental for the kind of distances we run. And this got me thinking – who is the more mental, the one who pushes themselves or the one who asks why you would push yourself?
So I’m asking myself ‘am I mental’ or is there something else that is going on? I wonder why this seemed to grate on my nerves and and the answer was to do with my opinion that as a society not enough of us push the boundaries of our limits.
Let me start by telling you about my grandmother. My granny is 85 years of age, she’s from a generation that survived, from a generation that ‘got on with things’. She comes from a time and place where traditional stereotypes are still okay and whenever I speak to her and tell her I’ve just completed a race she tells me ‘you run too much’. This is a woman that has never done a days exercise in her life, she would say she’s been active – she isn’t. She’s from a time that thinks that cleaning the crockery counts as calorie burning. She finds exercise for pleasure abhorrent and rather than congratulate me, her grandson, on successes she berates me. She’s the kind of person that thinks because I didn’t become a doctor I wasted my life – she doesn’t consider that my work as a designer has in some projects helped save lives, communicated important messages or simply played pivotal roles in ensuring success. I pushed myself to become a designer, I forced my way through university at a time when it was not the norm in my family. I struggled to get to the place I needed to be in order to achieve – but I did do it. And despite my grandmothers assertions that I draw pictures for living I’ve actually been a reasonably successful, occasionally well profiled designer but she doesn’t see the value – I’m not a doctor or a lawyer.
She thinks I’m mental, bordering on a failure.
My answer to her suggestion is that what is ‘mental’ is on a Friday or Saturday night I could go out and drink myself so stupid that I’d think Hollyoaks was worth watching and then spend the rest of the weekend recovering from my own inability to handle my beer. Not only is it an incredibly time consuming and expensive past time but it also runs counter to my desires to be a better runner. So does the not drinking in favour of running make me mental? I don’t think so, in fact I think it makes me more sensible. The point though is lost on her and I can understand why, it just wasn’t her thing, but aspiring to better things shouldn’t be a concept beyond anyone – regardless of age or whatever the excuse. And to my career choices my answer has been that I’ve worked and profited for my entire career – even during some of the slumps I’ve always managed to work my way through it. She was wrong about and I find that culturally there is too much of this negative attitude. I should point out I do actually love my granny!
And so to our broken society and why runners aren’t mental.
I grew up reading Batman and Superman comics, I grew up dreaming that I could be a hero, make a difference, challenge perception, lead by example. I grew up knowing that I should reach as high as it was possible to imagine and then imagine further. So when I finished my first marathon I knew I could go further, longer and harder. I knew that I could imagine further and that instinct to achieve, to push myself, to see barriers and say ‘fuck you’ was very much intact.
So when someone says you’re mental that shouldn’t hurt because you can be smug in the knowledge that you are simply fulfilling your promise, striving to go beyond and never give up. You’ll fail sometimes but I’d rather fail than never try.
Maybe our society is broken because we don’t chase dreams as vigorously as we perhaps once did, or perhaps more accurately, not enough of us do. Perhaps it’s also that our dreams have been softened to account for a celebrity and technology based culture where we need instant gratification.
Rather ironically on the subject of instant gratification I look through my twitter feed and there I see so many ‘insane’ people. I see people who have started virtual running challenges because they couldn’t find a race in January, I see people who’ve started micro bakeries to make beautiful crumbles, I see people who challenge the MdS and come back conquerors, I see asthmatics challenging marathons, I see people running 10 marathons in 10 days or 26 marathons in a year, I see people battle back from injuries to startle themselves. These are the types of people who should be making up the future and in these people and those like them I am confident that the world will always dream, we will always dream of going further and I don’t just mean running, I mean in all aspects of society. I don’t just push myself in running but in all aspects of life and maybe I am an extremist but I’m an extremist with a streak of common sense, ain’t that a contradiction.
I once heard Stephen Fry say that he treasures curiosity, the need to be curious. What are we without that drive to find, discover, uncover, eek out. How very true Stephen and it’s something I’ve always promoted – curiosity. So, in ultra running I am curious about how far I can go, how far my body will take me and what would I do to earn that medal. With UltraBaby arriving later this year I am keen that this sense of curiosity, wonder and imagination are at the cornerstone of their childhood, I would hate for them to settle for a life less ordinary and if I achieve nothing else as a parent, runner and dreamer if I can ensure they are curious then I’ll be happy.
As a side note to all my ranting… I’m very conscious that we all have pressures that surround us, for some people it’s financial, for others family, work, health or whatever – but within each of our own individual bubbles shouldn’t we be looking to make the best of what we have and then make the push to do it better or more complete? Pushing yourself doesn’t mean you have to be doing big things, just trying is enough.
I wonder if a society en masse could learn a thing or three from people with a mental attitude, because bonkers or not – they’re awesome. Just a thought.
As part of my support of the WNWA96 I will be offering up regular blog posts in the weeks leading up to the event about my training and how I’m coping with the demands of walking a big distance in a relatively short time.
The ultra running community would probably offer up big belly laughs when I say that I’m more nervous about the WNWA96 than I have been about any of the endurance challenges I have attempted so far. I mean let’s look at the facts, I can stop if I want to, get swept up to the next marker and start again once I’m rested a bit further along the course. There will be food, significant stops, beautiful scenery and a team of people who’ll be super supportive doing it – in addition to the support crew who will be keeping the walkers on the road. Why would I be more worried about this than say the Thames Gateway 100 in the torrential rain having done no training?
Well, there is the thought that there is an art to running and there is slightly different art to walking and I’m more geared towards the running…
Training
My walk training will have consisted of about 5 miles a day crossing London as I go from Charing Cross to Regent’s Park and back again. I will have done very little long distance hiking and this isn’t a lack of interest it is simply that I don’t have the time. Now this suggests that I haven’t been training and that is also not true – I’ve been running somewhere in the region of about 250-300km per month since about November and on average about 100km a month over and above my normal daily walking and I’ve got to hope that this fitness will see me through?
Mental Approach
Saying this though I’m treating it very much like an ultra marathon, mentally if I look on this like I’m racing to the finish then I can compartmentalise the 6 mile stages and simply aim for one after the other and my own personal tenacity will ensure that I make it to the finish line at Anfield. This has been my mental approach to almost every race and it has served me well whether I’m doing 5km or 50km. I suppose the challenge will be thinking that each 6 mile stage is likely to take somewhere between 1hr 20 and 2hrs rather than a 6 mile stage taking an hour and the slowing down of things is where ultra running and ultra walking are different.
Getting into the zone with kit
I normally start planning my kit for an ultra about three weeks before a race (because I’m a bit anal like that) and this will be similar, I’m already thinking about footwear and clothing, the difference in the way that my body will warm up and cool down in comparison to an ultra run. I know for almost certain that I’ll walk in shorts because I have a tendency to overheat, I know that I’ll be wearing my Inov8 Trailroc for the most part of the walk but that on standby for when my feet inflate will be my truly knackered but perfect Newton Distance. My Rab merino wool top will be in the bag as will my Montane Minimus because they are always first on my kit list for any winter endurance event. I’ll have my Ultimate Directions pack on my back for the entire event because I’ll want to regulate my own water intake without needing to stop and ask for any (reloading at the checkpoints only) and this has the benefit that I can then be reasonably self sufficient and keep pace with the rest of the crew – but then this is different and it’s very much a team effort and I assume that the team will draw strength from each other and from the reason we are all doing this. There will be no looking on enviously as you’re being overtaken this is about the power and spirit of people, together, to take on a very long journey, physically, mentally and metaphorically.
I suppose the thing to note is that I can only prepare with what I know and what I’m used to, and that readers is ultra marathons. I’m hoping to learn things about myself during this test of endurance and hope to experience new levels of tenacity and to provide support to those that will undoubtedly be needed during the cold of the night or the breaking of a dawn.
The other thing I’d like to get from this, which would be a shared experience with the running is making new friends, people who share endurance goals with you, I’ve found, can often become friends. You learn huge amounts about people as you cover big distances with them – sometimes only very superficial stuff such as their favourite food or next holiday destination – but it starts a bond between people. It’s true that it’s perhaps not as strong as the lifelong friendships we all have, but they are friendships built on endurance and I’ve found these bonds do endure. So that is something very much to look forward to.
Dad
There’s the other fear too – that my dad will actually finish with more miles on the clock than me. If he did, I would never hear the end of it. Yes, my previous post may have described him as inspirational but if he gets the better of me he’ll be intolerable and will spend the formative years of UltraBaby’s life telling it how Grandad beat Ultraboy.
So that’s my update to training and preparation for the WNWA96, basically it’s going okay and this weekend as I prepare for my next event (the Virtual Runner Sport Relief Challenge) I’ll have one eye on my endurance preparation for this event and of course the SDW50.
So I’ve been a bit quieter than normal on the blogging and tweeting front as I’ve been busy doing, as my partner puts it, real life. But now it’s back to more fun things and by fun I mean sport.
As regular readers will know there are a number of things I want to achieve this year but this has had a huge bomb thrown into the middle of it called UltraBaby. Advice seems to be suggesting that having a baby will have a negative impact on training, running and racing and I can see how that might be but I’m going to do my best to race as much as is humanly possible this year and then see what the future holds.
And so to my 2014 aims – the triathlon.
I haven’t yet been able to find a suitably timed, local triathlon that I can get involved in, that is suitable for beginners and available at the sprint distance as my swimming isn’t very strong and my biking is nervous. However, to the rescue has come my new favourite event – the Virtual Run, from VirtualRunnerUK (I’ve blogged about these guys before).
To coincide with the Sport Relief weekend they are offering the opportunity to go cycle, swim or run a sport relief distance, get a medal and also donate to a charity that I feel very positively about.
So how does this link up to my aims for 2014? Well, I’ve signed up for all three elements and I’m thinking that if I were really clever I could turn this into a type of personal triathlon. Sounds ridiculous I know but I’ve found that the virtual events have made me feel competitive during training and I’ll be transitioning as quickly as I can. Obviously for the sake of logistics it won’t have the same kind of feeling as a real triathlon but it will make for a bit of mid March fun before I head into the Tough 15, SDW50 and the hugely important (to me anyway) We Never Walked Alone 96mile Challenge. I’ll also be doing it in a slightly different order than a triathlon (as far as I’m aware), for the logistics side I’ll need to do my cycle first (only 3 miles) followed by a 5 mile run and then a 1500metre swim.
I’m fully aware that this won’t count as completing of one of my 2014 aims but it will take me one step closer and that’s very much what running and training is all about – making progress. So time to crack out the old iron horse, hope the Hoka dry and pray my swimming shorts don’t become any more translucent…
I know that a lot of the people I follow or are friends with via Facebook, Twitter and Instagram read my general witterings and then very sensibly ignore them but I would urge you all to support this outstanding event, if you aren’t doing anything this weekend, hell even if you are doing something this weekend then get involved. If you don’t want to sign up to the VirtualRunner version of things or even a Sport Relief event near you then can I urge you to open the door, smell the fresh air of the day and just doing something active. Take the kids, take your significant other, take an opportunity to challenge yourself.
My pregnant partner, the lady carrying UltraBaby, is looking at doing at least one of these events – possibly all of them, only at the shorter distances and she will speed walk the run section but if she can do it then so can you.
What’s holding you back?
Look forward to reading about your adventures on what could be a very active weekend.
This morning was a simple three stage affair – 5km bike ride, 5km run, 5km bike ride, half of effort was very uphill and the other half was nicely downhill. The weather added in an unpleasant challenge and as the rain lashed my face I did wish I was still tucked up in bed but hey ho, all fun. Hope everyone else has had glorious Sunday running.
Additionally I’d like to say I wasn’t advertising either the colour blue or OMM today, I just chose a very OMM and blue kit!
I’m also adding a dog picture to this post because dogs make me happy, especially my dogs who were waiting for me when I got home. Cute 🙂
On a final note for this posting I’d really like to say thank you for all the support and responses to my posting about my ‘running argument’. There has been a huge amount of messages and conversation about the value of tweeting and blogging about running and the need for community. Needless to say I won’t be leaving the blogging and twitter community, not because I think I’m something special, but because you guys are amazing and being part of this wonderful community is helping drive me on to a successful. 2014.
rambling about my running journey
Random write-ups of races and adventures
What to do if you see a naked man, and other mildly helpful tips for runners.
Seeking asylum in the hills & transcendence on the trails
Empty
Running. Cake. Random.
Journeys of a varying kind
An introduction to ultra running
Rule 11: When the job's done, walk away
A runner, a hiker and a bearded man
Observations from the Grumpy side of UltraRunning
My attempt to crack some serious challenges in an unserious manner
“Life Is An Endurance Event”
Swim, bike, run, fun!
Blogs on education and running: My two passions
Motherhood, marathons and more
The trials and tribulations of a Jolly Jogger
I like running, and feel the need to write about it
UltraBoyRuns 