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Those of you that believe that bodily fluids and especially bowel issues are something that should be neither seen or heard should probably move on from this post because it’s all about poo!

To begin I’ll draw attention to one of my top 10 list of ‘pieces of running advice’ I’ve collected over the years and at number 8 is ‘never trust a fart‘.

Damn fine advice if you ask me.

The expulsion of wind for a runner can lead to stopper being popped and the ‘trail runners supernova’ erupting all over our finest scenery.

Many of us, as trail runners, will have been caught short out on a deserted trail and will have squatted behind the nearest bush to evacuate our insides. As regular readers will know I’ve been caught short a few times, in fact quite a lot of times and therefore feel quite well informed about what causes these problems, the types of problem and the resolution.

However, I’m not all knowing and so in the last two years I’ve been doing a little research and quizzing runners about their terrible poo related tales, you guys are so willing to share! So in the interest of sharing aha furthering knowledge I bring the 10 most popular poo types on the trails.

In the interest of privacy no names (other than my own moniker) will be used.

Scoring*
As a sidebar to this post I’m curious which of the ten you may have encountered yourself, if you recognise up to and including 3 poo types you’re probably still an amateur, 4-6 would suggest you’ve been around a bit and are quite a competent trail pooper and anything beyond this suggests you’ve got rotten guts and may need to seek medical attention.

The Squirter
It was one of my first ultra marathons – Rat Races The Wall that I first encountered the notion that ultra runners shit in the woods. The gentleman I’d be running with for a little while (I say running, we were both hobbling by this point) advised he needed to stop and relieve himself. He told me to go on but we both knew that neither would make it as we were clearly using one another as a crutch to make it to the finish. So he nodded an agreement and headed off into the bushes alongside a quiet road for what I thought was a jimmy riddle.

The next thing I heard was what I believed to be the sound of a car back firing. Sadly no, it was my companion the back fire was followed by a noise that could only be described as ‘fountain like’ and something I wouldn’t encounter again until my 1 year old daughter projectile shat all over the GingaNinja.

Within a few minutes it was all over, I heard the groans of a man wiping himself on dried leaves and hoping his finger didn’t break the brittle natural loo roll. He returned and mumbled an apology to which I replied something along the lines of, ‘better out than in’. 

While I didn’t see the offending release, I did note that his lower back carried the hallmarks of poo splatter that had not been there previously and he was clearly in some distress as it shouldn’t be that yellow.

Just remember if you’re going to squirt – don’t get too close to anything – you do not want bounce back.

The Breach
I’ve recalled, in my race report, the moment on the Mouth to Mouth where I simply had to stop, spiking my arse on the only bush for miles in the process. I’d run several kilometres knowing that I couldn’t squeeze my arse cheeks tightly or there would be messy consequences and there is no feeling worse than having your guts be tumbling around as you’re in desperate need of a quiet spot and yet still trying to race. I ran Mouth to Mouth really quite well but this unfortunate stop cost me a decent time but when you’ve been torpedoed by your own lack of bowel control what can you do?

The Lightning Strike
In the distance I can hear the sound of Brian May playing some awesome guitar solo from Flash Gordon but the lightning attack is when you get an urgent need and an immediate stop is required followed by a single lightning quick unloading of your bowels. If the process from shorts down to concluding your business takes more than 30 seconds chances are this isn’t a Lightning Strike

The Double Ender
I lay baking in the midday sun, around a metre in front of me was a spray of chunky vomit and behind me – about the same distance away was a ‘Dr Octopus’ putrid green and stinking, liquid diahorrea. I genuinely thought I was going to die and was to die having experienced what has been called the double ender. During the experience I had bodily fluids pouring out of every orifice and all at the same time – my muscles didn’t know how to react to the need to lurch one way and then the next.

I should have DNF’d that day but I picked myself up, carefully avoiding the vile radioactive anal and oral offerings and make a decision that I wasn’t going to quit this one!

There are number of lessons you need to learn from my experience, the first is ‘be careful of the water you drink from in Scottish Highland streams’ and secondly ‘remove enough of your clothing that you don’t get them covered in either ends of your distress’. Had I got so much as one iota of nastiness on my race clothing I would have DNF’d there and then.

And the rock cried out, no hiding place
It was during my fail at Haria Extreme that I had a disturbing thought – I need a dump but I knew that the checkpoint was only five minutes away and this section of the course was heavily marshalled – just to guide you through the vineyard and into the loving arms of the volunteers. ‘Is there a toilet?’ I asked hopefully. The volunteers looked at me in a ‘we don’t speak English’ kind of a way – thankfully a young boy at the back piped up and said, ‘next place, 20km’. This made no sense as the next CP was at 25km and there was no checkpoint 20km from this point. I thanked them and set off

My toilet need wasn’t super urgent but it would become that way if I didn’t resolve it. By the time I reached the next checkpoint it had become the main issue and I once again asked if they had toilets but it was another negative response. Bugger.

In the distance I could see large swathes of open landscape and no cover. Bugger. However, with a ridge in the distance I could use that as cover and indeed I did find a small cave that I could perch over the opening. Phew. I positioned myself carefully and despite needing to keep myself upright using all my upper body strength I managed to begin my business. It was just as the first droppings landed that below me I could hear the scurrying of something alive. Bugger.

I felt my face go red in the middle of the movement and my natural survival instinct kicked in and I fired out a rather difficult ‘lightning strike’ and leapt up with my shorts around my ankles. Clear of the pit I peered back and could see the scurrying of some animal(s) I had disturbed.

To add insult to injury I was now half naked in the middle of Lanzarote, balls out and above me, on the ridge, several runners ran past. Regardless of my own predicament I’m sure the sight of my nudey form did nothing to enhance their experience.

Lesson? Check the hole you’re about to deposit in – especially when it might be an animals home.

The Meconium
Meconium is the tough first, very dark poo your child does and when racing I had cause to stop during my first ultra and learn a very valuable lesson. Thankfully this happened at a checkpoint, on a toilet, in a village hall on the White Cliffs 50.

I had clearly not been drinking enough, was hugely dehydrated and when I needed to visit the little boys room but everything was super difficult to deliver, small, tough, dark and poisonous smelling. It didn’t impact my racing that day but it did remind me of the value of food and drink as I race.

The Galloping Trots
The trots are very different from the ‘Lightning Strike’ and ‘The Gift That Keeps on Giving’ in that you’re completely immobile for quite a significant period of time and there is a small tonne of it. I suppose the lesson to learn from the trots is that you need to give your stomach what it needs rather than what it wants and in the run up to CCC I’d been more socially active than normal and had spent the week eating out and eating lovely, sometimes quite rich food.

I wasn’t running very well at the CCC as I’d fallen quite badly coming off the first descent and this was made all the worse but the revenge of my week long holiday food choices. It was somewhere between CP1 and CP2 that I pulled up to tend my wounds properly and also to deal with my groaning, moaning stomach. I journeyed a little way off the route and into deep bushes – taking my pack off and moving all my kit to higher ground. I could feel the grumbling inside myself and it was pure agony as a stream of solid, then less solid, then liquid materials streamed out of me.

Coming in waves as these things invariably do I would think I was finished only to move and hear my stomach turn again. I was lucky that I was elevated from the ground between two big tree branches and therefore protected from splatter but 20 miles of too hot running, a bit of dehydration and a week of holiday eating had not made my bowels a scent sensation you’d enjoy.

I crept away, as you do, having defiled this sacred trail running ground. Feeling so rough I managed another 30km before the inevitable DNF and believe me my stomach felt every metre.

The Gift that Keeps on Giving
The first time I ever needed to stop on a race was during the South Downs Way 50. I remember I’d been struggling for about 2 miles and had to slow down enough that I felt like I was really losing ground. I was running with a buddy in a very casual way, in that we would hurl abuse at each other as we went by one another but at about 10 miles I needed to find a quiet place.

Thankfully a location rocked up quickly and I disposed of the offending item discreetly and set off again but less than 3 miles later I was pain again. I dug a small hole and delivered again but it still wasn’t enough – in a little over 15 miles I needed 5 stops, each worse than the last and my concern about the amount of toilet tissue I was carrying was growing.

At my first stop I’d been quite generous with my loo roll but as the stops became more frequent I had to ration it and as the releases became less solid I felt I needed more paper – this was a no win situation.

My solution was that I stopped eating before the halfway point and I took very small amounts of water fearing that I might end up in a situation where I’d have to use my much loved buff to wipe. I didn’t, I finished and the Buff survived.

Sugar Loaf Mountain
This is a very specific moment in my running career and there will be people who read this and know the incident I’m talking about. It was 2014 and my first time at Country to Capital – in the gents there are two cubicles. It’s fair to say both were incredibly busy but it’s equally fair to say that only one of them was flushing. Upon reaching the front of the queue I was offered the right hand side cubicle – I headed in and looked down, though not far down as the peak of the poo mountain was creeping over the rim. I stepped back, choking slightly on my own vomit and offered the opportunity to the man behind me and risking the other cubicle.

I’m not sure what disgusted me more – the sight of so much poo or the fact that so many runners were happy to give this a go. Nasty.

The Heaver
I was running in a 45 mile race when I met a lovely lady who offered some insight into what I’ve dubbed ‘the heaver’. The lady in question who told me about this was in the middle of a mountain marathon and had gotten caught a little short, ‘I know what it’s like,’ as I was discussing my concerns about needing a toilet break as we raced.

She had decided to stop at a small clump of bushes and then fell into distress – she says she was pushing and pushing with only the smallest of results but knowing that there was a real need to deal with this . I’ll quote her directly as this has never left me, ‘I heaved and I heaved but the house just wouldn’t blow down’.

After some 20 minutes (according to her Garmin) she had managed to fire off a small pile of rabbit like pebbles – which to her seemed inconsistent with the trouble her bowels had been giving her. Still she did complete her mountain marathon but said I shouldn’t worry if I ever need a noisy poo as she was sure every runner who went past her probably heard her trying to push that one out.

Ah the honesty of ultra runners.

My Solution
There’s no magic wand for issues like this, if it happens you simply need to deal with it but my pre-race preparation now at least offers me a chance of getting it all out of the way before I set off.

The Flat White coffee seems to be the trigger for helping me pass the contents of my innards before a race start. It’s not a perfect solution, it doesn’t always work and if I get the timings wrong then it can cause more problems than it solves but since trying this method I’ve had a greater deal of control out on a route – because undoubtedly I suffer from a really shitty problem (sometimes)!

You’ll all have your own magic treatments and pre-race routines and I’d love to hear them because I’ve seen and been involved in some pretty horrendous states and anything we can all do together to reduce this can only be a good thing.

So please feel free to share…

Lessons

  1. Watch for back splash
  2. Always carry enough toilet paper/tissues
  3. Deal with it quickly, don’t wait until it is a serious issue
  4. Beware small furry animals
  5. Ensure you use the facilities before your run/race
  6. Ensure you are suitably secluded if you need to use the trail
  7. Don’t overburden your stomach pre-race
  8. Never trust a fart
  9. Make sure you are finished
  10. Try not to care what other people think

I hope this post hasn’t distressed or disturbed you all too much and I hope that what you take from this is, ‘be prepared’ and ‘it’s not just bears that shit in the woods’

*Thanks to GCJ for suggesting the scoring system

In my final Isle of Skye blog I’ll be reviewing Cafe Sia, a place that had been recommended to me as a sensible eating experience while in Broadford.

I’m not a great one for recommendations but the opportunity of a bit of Haggis pre-race filled me with a childish glee and you’re right I don’t normally bother with food reviews on my running blog because it’s a running blog but when somethings worthwhile, well it’s worthwhile and I think this is worth sharing.
My experience

All in all I ate four times at Cafe Sia across a four day period with the whole of Saturday being taken out by the Skye Trail Ultra and Sunday lunchtime taken out by being asleep.
The setting for Cafe Sia is a little way back from the main through road of Skye with around 60 covers. There’s some pleasant bench style seating on the exterior and the inside is an eclectic mix of dark wood and soft furnishing – it’s cosy and stylish but not at the cost of being friendly. Perhaps the word I’m looking for is cosmopolitan but that’s not right either, perhaps it’s best described as ‘uniquely itself’ and all the better for it.

When I first arrived I was offered the choice of the available tables and I took one near the rear of the building next to a door with a gentle breeze and a clear view of the kitchen. On the main bar there were staff hanging out, delivering orders and operating the large wonderful smelling coffee machine, to the far side was a collection of delicious looking cakes. I browsed the menu – supplied on a clip board – just gimmicky enough to be cute but retain its practicality. I chose the thing on the menu I had come here for – The Highland Melt and dipped up to counter to order.

I ordered my sandwich alongside a thick tasty chocolate milkshake and soon I was greeted by the sight of bread, cheese and haggis served on square slate plates with a small but perfectly formed dressed side salad. This was the Haggis elevated to a new level of delight. Being hungry I devoured the lot in mere seconds, thanked my excellent hosts and departed but I’d be back.

Post race briefing I decided I needed something for dinner before I grabbed some sleep in preparation for the Skye Trail Ultra. I did check out the fish and chip shop but didn’t fancy anything on offer – although it did smell delightful. Instead I meandered back to Cafe Sia and ordered the fabulous Raspberry Ripple milkshake and what was pleasantly misleading described as a fish finger sandwich. I sat alone outside on the decked seating area and again enjoyed the surroundings and my food. I’d only wanted something light and this was perfect just a few hours before the race.

It would be another 38hrs, a 74 mile race and a Flash Gordon adventure before I would return and it was a triumphant return. I ambled in with my hiking poles – which although I couldn’t use them in the race I could use to get me round Skye – and was offered one of the few seats remaining, it was a nice window seat with more than enough room for me to spread out and also quietly observe the busy restaurant around me. Even on a busy night like this and on my own I didn’t feel uncomfortable or unwelcome.

Service was as excellent as my previous visits and I ordered the hottest pizza on the menu with scotch bonnet chilli and spicy Scottish sausage with thick tasty tomato sauce and enough cheese to make it feel hearty. I added a large portion of potato wedges because I felt I’d earned them and an ice cold Irn-Bru (otherwise known as the drink of champions).

What surprised me was just how hot and spicy the pizza was yet retaining all the flavour I was hoping for, this was a considered flavour combination and I hoovered the pizza up with my post race runger – I knew I’d had something special, plus I’d eaten like a king for less than £20.

I went back to my accommodation that night, my hunger truly sated.

Having packed up that evening I realised that my bus stop for the journey back to Inverness started outside Cafe Sia, I therefore took the opportunity to dip inside and enjoy a leisurely breakfast. I was asked very politely if I’d mind leaving my gigantic rucksack outside in the porch area, which I happily did as you really don’t want to be tripping over bags.

I settled on the Eggs Benedict and a flat white – the smell of the freshly ground coffee had been luring me in all weekend. Of course I added in a final chocolate milkshake too and I sucked deeply on the milkshake straw and as I did the events of the weekend flooded back in my mild head freeze.

Skye had been amazing and Cafe Sia had played a significant part in that.

As you might expect giving my glowing experience of Cafe Sia the eggs benedict lived up to my expectations – they were a freshly cooked class act. I shan’t attempt to convey the taste but if I simply say ‘Yum’ you probably get the meaning. A second cup of the delicious coffee followed and my culinary journey in Skye was complete.

In conclusion I can say, without reservation, that food in Scotland, or at least at Cafe Sia is a delight. The Isle of Skye has a little gem that is as popular with the locals as it is with the visitors such as myself. If you’re in Broadford then the foody delights at this hotspot could power you up some hilly climb, help you recover from your exertions or simply serve you some outstandingly delicious nosh.

Now importantly, while the food was exceptional there was a thing that bettered it – the service. During my various visits the service was always warm and welcoming but also professional – let me assure you many a decent London restaurant could learn a thing or two from Cafe Sia regarding service.

So what are you waiting for? I’ve given you three great reasons to visit the Isle of Skye – ultra running, great food and Flash Gordon – enjoy!

N.B. During high season its recommended to book for the evening meals but believe me it’s worth the booking. Bon appetit!

Follow Cafe Sia on Twitter at @CafeSiaSkye or visit www.cafesia.co.uk for the full menu

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I’ve had over a year of near continuous injury in one form or other and it’s been hugely frustrating but the worst part was the slow but steady gaining of weight. It meant that when I couldn’t run at all I was putting on weight because I simply wasn’t burning off the calories.

I’d find I was starting to spin myself into frustration and feeling mentally fatigued by it and therefore put more weight on and so on and so on.

Just a day or two before I was due to volunteer at the NDW100 I made the mistake of weighing myself. It was then that I rocked in at a terrifying 81.1kg – this was the tipping point literally. I’ve never been 80kg, even when I returned from living in Asia and I was pretty unhealthy and podgy but I was never 80kg.

So on the eve of the NDW100 I dropped my daily calorie intake from too much to 1560, I reloaded MyFitnessPal on my iPhone and I disposed with all the delicious chocolate and bread in the house.

I decided that the best solution in eating terms was an increase of fruit and vegetables coupled with a reduction in high sugar foods like biscuits and the almost total eradication of bread from my diet. However, I also needed to be sensible and was very aware of the fact I don’t really like fruit and vegetables so would have to increase my nut and pulse intake to help stop me feeling hungry – lentils are my new favourite food. Finally I reintroduced tea and coffee which although not awesome in great quantities do serve to stave off hunger – well it does for me!

The other part of the puzzle would be easier – more exercise. Despite injury I increased the amount of exercise I was doing by going to the pool and ensuring that I rocked out at least 45 minutes of cycling each day, periodically I was even managing to run! The exercise bit was awesome, it felt really good to have a target again and I was back in training with my eyes firmly focused on the Winter 100.

I’ll be honest it’s been incredibly hard to get started but with the bit between my teeth I felt believed I could this and make it stick.

Week 1 was a nightmare and there were moments I could quite cheerfully have purchased a large Meat Feast Domnio’s Pizza with BBQ sauce and extra crispy onions and pepperoni but I didn’t. Each day I stuck within the calorie limit and I exercised.

At about week 4 UltraBaby began the process of showing up and in the days between my weigh ins I lost almost nothing – but I did still manage to lose. Had I gained during this period this might have destroyed my mental strength but the 0.3kg that dropped off gave me a lift you can’t imagine.

I’ve now managed to drop about 5kg in the first 6 weeks and I’m pleased with this but know I’ve got a long way to go yet. The best bit is that all my trousers are feeling that much better and a lot less tight. The aim now is to have dropped to about 70kg before the Winter100 as I figure that carrying less weight around that hundred miles will do me no harm whatsoever.

I suppose the conclusion to this is that you’ve got to mindful of your body all the time, show some restraint, don’t punish yourself when you don’t and do enthuse yourself as much as possible and you’ll keep healthy. I let myself put weight on because I blamed injury for my lack of exercise and need to comfort eat but it’s the very same injuries that have forced me back onto the road, the trail and the pool and it’s those same injuries that stopped me pigging out. Ultimately losing weight and staying healthy are a bit like ultra marathons – play the long game, keep positive and don’t stop.

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