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Having failed to complete the Ochil Ultra I feel now is a time of reflection – I won’t be reviewing it this year as it would be unfair on the organisers to judge this on half a race. However, I can happily confirm that the (a little under) half a race I did was ball achingly epic and an example of a stunningly scenic Scottish ultra marathon that wasn’t in either the highlands or on the West Highland Way. Give it a go I don’t think you’ll be in any way disappointed – and with a couple of the loveliest RDs around.

What I’m looking for is some closure about the Ochil Ultra – sadly that will not be achieved here – only finishing the fucker will deliver that, however, I need to examine what happened and why I am so massively disappointed.

Perhaps the truth is that it’s not the failure that chaffs my arsehole but the way I failed.

I mean I knew things were not going well before the race started and my guts were doing cartwheels. I managed to alleviate this somewhat with the obligatory pre race dump but it still didn’t feel right. Thankfully negative things were somewhat put to the back of my mind by meeting the truly awesome and inspiring Fiona (see enclosed picture) but this was temporary relief and when I lined up at the start I was genuinely worried.

The race was quick to accelerate uphill and I found myself pushing as hard as I could up the first climb to the summit of Dumyat. I was fortunate to be on a route that I knew quite well and the views were truly spectacular. Having been here several times before I was expecting this to be an easy ascent and a relatively easy descent. However, when I reached the top I discovered that the descent was going to be far from easy and several slips and bumps as I went downwards would prove to be my undoing. I made it down to the bottom I tried to have something to eat – one of those baby fruit pouches that are pretty easy on the stomach – however, this was were I discovered that my participation in the Ochil Ultra was going to be short-lived, I started puking my guts up. Everything that I had laid on my stomach to try and stop race nausea came up and it was pretty vile. I crawled away in dismay and started to run again as best I could but on tarmac I could now feel the pain of my back and groin that had taken a pounding coming off that first climb.

I was fucked.

How sad that a race I had been so been looking forward to had come to a conclusion so quickly – but what now? Do I stop at the first checkpoint or do I get as far as possible and hope that everything eased off and I could make it to the last 15 miles or so and push through. Knowing that much tougher races are to come later in the year I felt that I had no choice but to try and push through and see how far I could get.

I pulled into checkpoint one and ate and drank as much as I could stomach, I also opened up the Active Root to see if there was anything it could do to help me ease my stomach issues. I would like to briefly mention the young man who was at the checkpoint and remembered me from Ben Vorlich – he was awesome and helped me get stuff out of my pack so that I didn’t need to take it off. What a great volunteer and he was more than willing to check half a bottle of water over my head!

I decided to head up the hill from checkpoint one and it really wasn’t very far before I was once more on my knees and bringing up the food and drink I had consumed at the checkpoint, chicken and chocolate (yuck). I sat down for a while, who knows how long, but long enough that I had the capacity to get up and continue but I was sort of wishing I hadn’t. It was a steep climb up from here and I made slow progress upwards where a volunteer was looking out for us – I stopped briefly to chat and then pushed onwards.

I looked back at the Ochils and saw a new side to the hills that were one of the great draws that brought me to Scotland. I felt truly grateful to be where I was but I was very much wishing that I did not feel like I did but with gritted teeth I continued through this beautiful and isolated landscape. I came down off the hill to a fisheries on the Glen Devon Estate that I recognised and when briefly I had phone signal I called the GingaNinja and asked her to come and rescue me from checkpoint two – I would be finishing there. The call though was cut short – not by a lack of signal but by having to get across the fast moving stream of water – something that was rather tricky give the state I was in.

Hours seemed to drift by until  I finally  arrived at the Glen Devon Reservoir and around the 30km mark I assumed that the checkpoint and the therefore my finish line would be just at the bottom of the hill I had climbed only a week or so previously.

But no.

I reached the path and saw the arrow pointing upwards to yet more climbing and here I found myself with tears in my eyes. My groin and my back were burning, I had managed to puke for a third and final time and my mental strength had simply evaporated into the ether. I did consider the option of simply walking down to the Glen Sherup car park but knew that there was no phone signal there and felt that the second checkpoint must be nearby. I mean how much elevation could there really be here? The answer to that was revealed as I entered a darkened forest section and noted that the climb looked steep and impossible. However, much as before I simply gritted my teeth and forced my way through the increasingly shitty conditions underfoot. Once I reached the top of the section I saw a sign saying ‘Innerdownie summit 1km’ and noted that we must come back here and make the ascent – something we had considered when, as a family, we were hiking up Ben Shee.

In the distance I could see signs of habitation and assumed that the checkpoint was there and so I gingerly made my way down to the bottom to the welcome of the volunteers and the GingaNinja but all I could say was that those cheers and congratulations were unnecessary – I had failed, totally and utterly and was very sad about that. Perhaps the most annoying thing was that I

The guys at Wee Run Events were tremendous and offered anything I needed and I would like to very much thank them from that. I’ve said it before but the guys really do love what they do and if they don’t then they make it look like they do.

Afterwards & Onwards 
Failing here would normally have sent my spiralling into a pit of my own self inflicted misery and ensuring that I just piled on the pounds eating chocolate and bread products but I’ve been rather than pragmatic than that this time. I’ve decided not to run the Rebellion Ultra as I feel as though it is simply too far for me at this time and have instead entered the Yorkshire Three Peaks Ultra – which at 70km should be a great event and I’ve very rarely run in Yorkshire so its a lovely opportunity.

The injury thankfully has eased off and I’ve immediately gone back to running and so I’m aiming to be ready for the Three Peaks but also more importantly I’m now laser focused on The Cheviot Goat which has been my ‘A’ race all year – so as sad as I feel about the Ochils Ultra it has provided me with renewed focus for my remaining targets this years.

I will still reach ultra number 52 just not at the Ochil Ultra and 2020 will, I am determined, not be the washout that 2019 has been.

Failing to finish, refusing to continue, timed out, did not finish. Doesn’t matter, I did fail but I will return and it is holding on to a positive attitude that will get me through. Some may comment that I was just having a stinker of a day but the truth is that I’ve had too many stinking days at races. I could blame my work stress levels, the sickness on the day or the injuries but ultimately I should only blame myself for my failures – and I do.

So thank you Ochil Ultra, you were awesome and I was shit but I’m coming to get you and next time I will not fail.

After the South Wales 50 I wrote about how, mostly, my first half of 2017 had been pretty good with positives driving me forward towards my endgame and even the failures provided really useful information for future planning.

Sadly the second half of 2017 was a disaster.

I suppose the year unravelled when my partners mother passed away in early August and it all went a bit downhill from there.

I just didn’t turn up to the start line of the London to Brighton because of injury and exhaustion but had recovered enough in time to make hard work of the RunWimbledon Marathon. That proved to be my only September running at all and so my preparation for the Isle of Arran Ultra was woeful.

Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise when the race was cancelled less than 90 minutes in? But I had been making quite good progress and felt strong even if not amazingly so, despite my lack of match fitness. I had hoped that Arran and the running and hiking in Scotland would give me the lift I needed to commit to improving the second half of the year and even with Arran’s cancellation I enjoyed my Scottish running adventures going across numerous bloody enormous hills.

However, upon our return to Kent my running was sidelined by the worst chest infection I’ve had in years and while I battled through the first week of it the rest of October was a write off and I had to defer my entry to the Rebellion Ultra Marathon – once again through a lack of readiness. However, by the middle of November I had finally cleared the chest and I could resume some training and with less than 2 weeks before the SainteLyon I started to run again.

With a couple of biggish weeks in the bag I went to France and despite some truly hideous and in places dangerous conditions I ran the SainteLyon with all the gusto I could muster. It was a great feeling to be back in Lyon but even the joy of this outstanding race couldn’t hide my disappointment of a mere 2,000 miles run and a lot less racing than normal over the year.

However, though my 2017 ultra running ended in France there was to be a final run out as a family at the Mince Pi: A run of two decimal places. The GingaNinja had asked if we could find a race to do say 5km – the trouble is that to run together requires us to run with the toddler. Thankfully in Wacky Events we found an RD willing to allow us to race with our daughter being pushed on the Unirider!

This wonderful event proved to be the right year end to running, it involved my two favourite people, it involved trail running in winter and it has provided a bit of inspiration to the GingaNinja to kick on with her own personal fitness goals.

Can’t say fairer than that can you?

Highlights

  1. Returning to the SainteLyon
  2. Returning to Scotland for both racing and training
  3. Meeting Pete and Ryan at the South Wales 50
  4. Racing alongside ASK and the GingaNinja at the Westminster Mile
  5. Attempting MIUT and not letting failure break me

Lowlights

  1. The death of my partners mother
  2. The broken Petzl headtorch debacle at UTBCN
  3. The cancellation of the Arran Ultra
  4. Missing London to Brighton and The Rebellion
  5. Being ill or injured most of September through to November

So that was 2017 but what about 2018?

2018 looks like a very complex year in that we are going to try and move to Scotland for a better work life balance, the bonus for me will be proximity to the hills and mountains I love so much. However, the downside is that I need to not be racing so much – which is a disappointment.

The year has started well enough though with a New Years Day shakedown at the Lamberhurst 5km and the first weekend will bring the East Hanningfield trail marathon and there is a January 100 mile virtual challenge which should ease me back into bigger and bigger monthly miles.

February will be a return to the Vigo 10, which with a move so far north on the cards, may be my final return to my favourite race and then we have space in the calendar.

Thankfully I’ve put my bank account to damn fine use and entered the West Highland Way Challenge Race in May and The Rebellion will follow in November (as will a second crack at the Arran Ultra subject to it running again).

There are things I won’t return to though such as my reduction in racing/running over the summer, although it aided me in avoiding the sun I used it as an excuse to stop training and that wasn’t the idea.

The first half of 2017 had been so positive and I wonder if I hadn’t halted the momentum I had gained would my second half have been better – even given family circumstances at the time?

Still new year, no point moping about what has been and it’s now the 3rd January and I’m already 18.6 miles of running into my January 100 mile Virtual Challenge, woohoo!Having been reading lots of blogs and the like recently about the variety of adventures you’re all going in it looks like there’s some good stuff about to happen. Mostly I read them because I’m always keen to hear about your own adventures so I can try them myself and I’ve found some of my best experiences because I tried something you suggested to me or suggested to me I your own writing – so keep it up please!

Anyway, enough of this jibber jabber, it’s raining outside and blowing a gale so, ‘Let’s crack on and enjoy adventuring’.

Mince Pi Photographs: Hayley Salmon

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No matter how prepared you are you can never tell what will happen on the day and I’ve had some epic failures in running. Off the back of my most recent failure I wanted to revisit some of them to try and better understand how I’ve achieved responsibility and hopefully get myself back in the right headspace for MIUT.

Perhaps also in light of the awesomeness of John Kelly and Gary Robbins last weekend I think it’s ever more important to understand that ‘I’m responsible for me, nobody else’.

With that in mind this is what I’ve learnt…

What: No training, still injured
Race: Winter 100
End: DNF
Distance: 45/100 miles

It’s one of the few races I’ve never reviewed in full because this one still rankles nearly 3 years later. I’d been running injured for months and months prior to the start line – making the hip injuries I had ever worse and my physiotherapist made me promise that if she could get me to the start line that I’d have a few months off after this.

It didn’t help that UltraBaby arrived 6 weeks before the race and so I turned up to the start line having not done any training for around 8 months, having completed, badly, a handful of ultra events in that period and having had a very busy time as a first time parent in the run up to the start line. I managed to run the first 25 miles reasonably well but the second leg was nothing but agony and at around 45 miles the pain in my hips was so severe that I had to quit.

I recall sitting quietly in the village hall as the volunteers discussed their upcoming races and I found myself filled with rage that I wouldn’t be able to join them on any of these exciting adventures. I remember seeing Susie Chan coming through the door at the main central aid station and greeting me, sympathy being poured upon me, but I just wanted to leave and get away. It wasn’t that I was ungrateful I just knew that I was responsible for the mess I was in, I alone had caused this and I alone could fix it – but not here and not while I was so filled with rage at myself.

The Winter 100 caused me to understand that running while seriously injured has long term implications and it took a long time to return to being able to to run even halfway well again (and I’ll never recover properly it seems). Intensive physiotherapy and lots of rest allowed me to return to running only six months later and I’ve been much better at seeing the signs ever since but these and this race are mistakes I do regret.

What: Titting about
Race: National Ultra
End: Completed
Distance: 50km

Six months prior to the W100, having flown in from Budapest less than a dozen hours earlier I rolled up to the National 100km, in the early days of my hip injury and on a third of four ultras in 42 days.

I was tired when I heard the bell sound at the start and I decided as it was a cycle track I’d take it relatively easy. By about 20km I was bored and started messing about, joking with the spectators and basically being a bellend. In hindsight it comes as no surprise then that at about 27km I slipped off the track and twisted my knee in a bizarre and ridiculous accident.

Expletives rang out around the track but this was own stupid fault and so rather unwilling I dropped down a distance and cried off at 50km having hobbled slowly the 23km to the finish. The GingaNinja had no sympathy for me when I relayed my sorry tale of woe to her and quite rightly she let me stew on my own juices.

2014 was a year of massive mistakes and huge learning but it wouldn’t be until 2016 that I’d learned to mostly cut out the self inflicted mistakes.

What: 12 inches? No just a foot
Race: White Cliffs 50
End: Completed
Distance: 54 miles (and about 6 extra miles)

This remains my favourite ultra marathon story – probably one that has been embellished over the years but is very much based in truth.

  • I did roll my foot at mile 14
  • I was titting about for the cameraman
  • I did break my toes
  • I did hobble 2 miles to the checkpoint
  • I did change into Vibram FiveFingers
  • I did then manage to finish the race

The incident here would set an unfortunate precedent that no Ultra would occur without incident, injury or plain old poor fortune. I probably should just have retired here – become a ‘one and done’ but I didn’t and when I reflect like this it drives me mad at the level of stupidity and lack of respect I’ve shown to the races I’ve attempted. It’s only in more recent times that I’ve found myself turning up to events and showing the required level of dedication and mostly this is being rewarded with better running and better results, although still with a huge chunk of improvement to be made.

What: Shoes too small 
Race: The Wall
End: Completed
Distance: 69 miles

The Wall was a bit like ‘I know best’. I didn’t need fitting for shoes, I didn’t need help sourcing kit, reading routes, I didn’t need any help at all. Well the truth of the matter is that having done one ultra marathon when The Wall came up I was in no way prepared to take on a jump of nearly 20 miles in distance.

And when I rode in at mile 47 to be greeted by the GingaNinja I knew that my feet were in a bad way – we removed my shoes Adidas XT4 (or something) and inside, screaming out in agony, were two feet with more than 25 blisters adorning them in every possible place. It turns out I was wearing shoes that were 2 sizes too small and about 6 inches too narrow. My arrogance and self belief ensured that the final 22 miles of The Wall were simply the most painful I’ve ever faced. It’s fair to say I probably deserved those 22 miles.

The lesson was learnt – being assured is one thing but over confidence will chew you out!

What: Slip sliding away
Race: CCC
End: DNF
Distance: 55/110km

12 miles in and I was confident that after I had conquered the first major ascents that the race down to CP1 would be fast and carefree. Sadly the race to CP1 was fast but it wasn’t so much carefree as ‘loose’. I lost my footing once, then twice and then with control out of the window my legs buckled under me and I flew down the descent on my back, arse, head. I rolled and slid far enough for the runners around me to stop and check I was okay and while the immediate agony was my ego I knew I’d hurt myself. I stumbled along for another 25 miles before calling it a day but once more my over confidence had been my downfall.

What: Blisters, Blood, Vomit, Poo
Skye Trail Ultra
End: Completed
Distance: 75 miles (and a few extra)

I don’t want to paint a picture of a tortured ultra runner in this post, I’ll ultimately take responsibility for my own failures and hopefully find strength from the times I overcame adversity.

Skye is my ultimate triumph of overcoming that adversity. Even if you take out the hideous travel sickness I had on my 18hr journey up to the island and my efforts to recover from that with just 12hrs before the race started and only focus on what happened in the race – then my finish at Skye is still one of my greatest achievements.

However, it all looked likely to unravel when at 25 miles in I stopped running, I simply couldn’t continue – bent double in pain. My stomach had become what Obi-Wan might describe as a ‘wretched hive of villainy’. I made the assault of the final climb (or so I thought) of the ridge and I lay dying in the sunshine. I puked up the contents of my stomach and a few feet in the other direction my arse exploded a putrid green and neon yellow Jackson Pollock. I used the last of my water to clear my mouth out and simply lay back waiting for the DNF to take me.

Thankfully that fateful moment never came and I proceeded to spend nearly two hours lost looking for checkpoint one, but having survived the nightmare of my own body rebelling against me – I ploughed on with a determination to finish.

And I did… finish that is, I was finally starting to understand what it would take to be an ultrarunner.

What: Burning Balls
Race: Ridgeway 86
End: DNF
Distance: 54/86 miles

My infamous bollocks of fire where an issue at the Ridgeway and is second only to the even more infamous burning bullet hole of ultras when we are taking about running pains. Stood on the trail in the dark with my shorts round my ankles attempting to Vaseline them up and place a buff around my red raw testicles is something I’ll never forget.

I plan on returning to the Ridgeway to complete this event as I enjoyed it a lot, was well organised and genuinely scenic event – I simply made some poor kit choices and that’s easily remedied.

What: Turd Emergency
Race: Mouth to Mouth
End: Completed
Distance: 28 miles

The need for a poo on the trail is something that has dogged me for a while, so much so that a decent amount of toilet tissue always joins me for a race.

When possible I use the ‘Pre-race Flat White Coffee’ solution, as for some reason this delicious hot beverage has the ability to offer the clean as a whistle requirement my bowels like pre-race.

I digress…

The lack of cover at the M2M meant I needed to run several kilometres before nature overtook me and I had an urgent rush to the worlds smallest spikiest bush and created a mountain on the South Downs!

In subsequent races when I’ve felt the urge I have resolved that little problem more quickly and found that doing that has incurred better running – lesson learnt.

What: Head torch failure
Race: UTBCN
End: DNF
Distance: 73/100km

I was running really well at the UTBCN, strong, relaxed and, while unlikely to win anything, I would go home with a medal I could be proud of and a feeling that I was on the right road to my ultimate running aims.

The debacle with my head torch failing at the start line is an annoyance and, while I was angry with Petzl, ultimately it’s my fault for not carrying sufficient spares (I did have a spare head torch – it just wasn’t powerful enough). I let myself down by and while the kit fail shouldn’t ever have happened – it did.

The solution has been to buy new head torches and they will be fully tested before they go into battle and more importantly there’s two of them, both over 200 lumens, both adequate to see me through most ultra marathons.

The future?
By accepting responsibility for my actions I’m hoping that I can go to MIUT and beyond, giving my all as I run. I’m trying to drive myself to accept that I can do The harder races, the real challenges and that if I fail then I simply need to pick myself up, find the useful parts of whatever happens and continue my running journey.

I’ve found this post quite therapeutic, reminding myself about failure and the lessons I’ve taken from them (and indeed the successes). I’m hoping that information I’m gathering is influencing my performance and enhancing the recent progress I’ve been making in distance, endurance, speed and attitude.

So, with the disappointment of the UTBCN all I can say is, ‘come on MIUT – let’s see what you’re made of’.

‘Can I help you?’ said the surly train guard. I responded with a polite ‘thank you, no, I’m waiting for the train and to use the toilet’. ‘Keep away from the yellow line’ she replied, spun on her heel and stormed off. She clearly believed me to be suicidal and ready to hurl myself under a South Eastern Railway train. Perhaps she knew how badly my race had gone or how little I liked South Eastern Railway.

I was tempted to nip indoors and assure her that despite a bad run I wasn’t ready to kill myself but my urgent need to unburden my bowels of their content won out and I stood quietly in the queue.

Anyway let me roll back a few hours – I had travelled to Greenwich Park to participate in the RunThrough 10km. I arrived nice and early, had a flat white in Blackheath, did some warming up and collected my number when registration opened.

All very easy.

As I’m sure many of you will know Greenwich Park is not a 10km park, using the twists and turns you can get a decent 5km out of it and then do that twice – the bad news was that the good people of RunThrough decided instead on three shorter loops which were okay but a lot less interesting than say the Movember or the Tough runs that also take part in Greenwich.

I did a slow loop of the course as part of my warm up and felt reasonable despite another poor nights sleep and a back that was in agony from a poor sleeping position. Post loop I drifted as I always do to the back of the start line and awaited the starting gun.

Boom.

With the Ridgeway Challenge less than a week away this was only ever intended to be a leg stretcher but I was enjoying the knowledge that this would be amongst the shorter races I would complete this year. At 3km I was feeling pretty good, I admired the giant ship in a bottle and prepared for the ascent into lap 2 and then cramping happened.

Bloody hell my left calf muscle had simply stopped being muscle and become like depleted uranium – very fecking dense. I kept the pace going as I was set for about a 42 minute 10km at this point but within a few hundred metres I had ground to a halt.

In my head I could hear the two arguments

  1. The first was provided to me in the voice of @ultrarunnerdan ‘so stop, don’t risk the ridgeway, show some common sense!’
  2. The second was in the voice of UltraBaby ‘go dad run, no chop choo’

Well as much as I think Dan is awesome he’s always going to play second fiddle to my daughter and so I pressed on, mercifully I was still able to run through the pain but it felt like much harder work than it should have.

Now while I should probably have stopped at the shorter 5km distance given that I was now crawling to a reasonably pathetic pace I instead continued to amble round and up and down Greenwich Park until I reached the final sprint. It was with all the effort I could muster I pressed home to catch the 10 or 12 runners ahead of me and ensure this didn’t feel like a complete waste of time.

At this point I’d normally hang around to cheer runners in but with medal around my neck I stomped off, I was in bad mood and just wanted to catch a train and make my appointment with the rail guard and commit to a giant dump in her station toilet – that’ll teach her for being a bellend.

It sounds like UltraBoyRuns didn’t enjoy himself, that can’t be right – can it?

I had been considering the Run Through events for a little while and although I’m glad I did it I don’t think I’ll be going back – well not unless they start allowing buggy runners.
There were a lots of positives though – it was very well organised, well attended, included in the price race photography, they paid to have the toilets in Greenwich Park opened up for runners use (free of charge instead of rummaging round for a 20 pence ), flapjacks and bananas by the bucketload, good social media and communications, relatively inexpensive with a small but bespoke medal as a memento – sounds pretty good so why would I hesitate to go back?

The thing was I felt out of place, there was a lot of posturing from individuals about how fast they were or how hungover they were. People seemed to stick to their little groupings and perhaps I’ve been spoilt by the ultra community but this had a very different feel, not bad – just different. It may also be the fact I don’t enjoy tarmac anymore or maybe it’s because it wasn’t a longer distance – I’m not sure but ultimately it wasn’t for me.

The most disappointing thing though was the route and I believe if this took in more of the park then the race itself would really benefit – 2 laps, more in and out, up and down. Other race organisers have used a wider spread of the park which I feel gives the runners a a better event as well as a grander atmosphere.

That said the volunteers/staff were all incredibly enthusiastic and committed to getting you round in the most positive fashion and they were a real credit to the organisers. I’d like to finish on a positive for RunThrough events by saying if you’re looking for a no fuss 10km in London then these are worth checking out at www.runthrough.co.uk


I’m not a great fan of negative reviews, either reading or writing them because it tends to be about personal experience and that’s so personal it detracts from the specifics of a thing therefore once you’ve read about my experience at Endure1250 you’ll probably think it’s the worst race in the universe and that’s not true. So if you want to read a quick guide to Endure 1250 then try the statement below

Basically Endure1250 is a decent, well organised, good value, low key timed (or distance) trail run. That statement is true but if  you want to know what happened to UltraBoy at Endure 1250 then read on but be warned – my testicles get a lot of ‘airtime’.

As I’m sure you all know summer has magically arrived in the UK which basically means it’s stupidly hot therefore I was glad that Endure1250 wasn’t kicking off until 7pm, it meant that the heat of the day could be avoided and give me a decent chance of putting some quality miles in.

Saturday though started with a trip to the Great London swim and also a browse of all the CosPlayers from the Star Wars Celebration at the Excel Centre in London and by the time I left I was running late making it only as far as Paddington by well gone 2pm. I then added to my woe by jumping on the wrong train and I found myself increasingly uncomfortably hot and sweaty.

Thankfully, despite my detour, I hit Reading a little after 3pm and then Pangbourne (the nearest town to the event) about 4pm. Even with all my camping and run gear on my back I still hiked the couple of miles to the start line in less than 20 minutes and after a swift registration threw up the tent and began unpacking my stuff.

The race village was small but perfectly formed with pretty much everything you would need for a cheery event. I drifted around, grabbed a reasonably priced and very tasty hot dog and browsed the couple of running kit stands. Bales of hay were provided as cheap seating and were located around what would become a campfire later in the day and this was a good opportunity to meet other runners. Therefore with my kit laid out in the tent and a bit of time to kill I decided to get social with a couple of the runners. Sadly there was a general desire, at least at this early stage, to stay within your grouping or with your friends – which was understandable, this wasn’t the socialising hour – I’d clearly missed that!

Post relax I headed back to the tent, armed with a bottle of water and assorted toiletries, in an attempt to resolve a bit of a problem – sweat rash and chaffing.

The heat of the day, lots of running about and lugging my camping gear round had meant I’d picked up this racers worst nightmare – rubby balls! Yes it looked like someone had dropped a tin of red paint down the inside of my shorts and swirled it about.

I carefully, as one can in a small, hot tent, cleaned up the offending area, drying it thoroughly and waiting patiently before applying liberal lashings of bodyglide. It was tender – of that there was no doubt but I hoped that my patch up job would hold for long enough into the race that it wouldn’t be an issue. I believed if I could hit say 35 of the 50 miles of promised myself before it reared its ugly head again I’d be alright.

Kitted up I proceeded to the start line to grab some photographs for this blog post and to revel in the pre-race atmosphere which was now more traditionally ultra – nervous excitement. I listened to the announcer, over the tannoy, inform us that the start would be delayed by a few minutes for safety checks. However, at 7.14pm the horn sounded and several hundred runners set off along the grass path and alongside the camping area passing the many supporters and awaiting relay runners to a multitude of cheers and whoops!

I remembered to tell myself the key thing was to keep it steady and don’t get drawn in to racing the relay runners, the 50 km runners or even the 50 milers – I was due to be here for the next 12 hours.

I pushed through the first kilometre marker in decent time as the loop moved in and around the outside of the camp and the second kilometre was met after some largely uninspiring Tarmac and I hoped the route would improve but the next couple of kilometre were alongside the river with only a few narrow boats to offer support or interest.

However, at 5 km things improved when we re-entered Beale Park and despite being on the road again we could admire the large animal sculptures and pleasant gardens and there was a general upward trend in the run route for kilometres 6-8 as we passed through tree lined areas, a couple of hills and a faster section or two.

I pulled in briefly at the base camp after the first five miles to grab some chocolate milkshake and also to visit the little boys room and there I discovered that the problem I had patched up was going to return more quickly than anticipated.

Even in the dim lighting of portaloo I could see the glowing chaffing hiding in my shorts. How quickly his face had turned to anger, all twisted and contorted with rage. The bodyglide as good as it was could do nothing for this, clearly I applied it too late in the day and should have used it before I even set out for event some 12hrs earlier.

With time ticking away I rejoined the race and cantered around the first few kilometres again trying to get comfortable enough to run sensibly but it wasn’t to be and I completed my second lap in agony and looking like I had some sort of genital itch as I constantly readjusted my shorts.

I came in to the camp at the end of lap 2 and opened up my tent – closing the fly shield just enough to give me cover while open enough to let a breeze in. I kicked off my shorts to inspect the damage – it was pretty severe. I lay back legs open wide and feet pointing skyward letting a cool wind blow over the affected area. I lay motionless like this for some 20 minutes before a plan came to mind.

The return of the buff!
It was generally too warm to be wearing a buff but not around my nether regions! I took the UTMB buff I purchased last year (the one I’m embarrassed to wear given my DNF at the CCC) and I wrapped my nuts in it, carefully placing the excess fabric either side of the inner shorts of my Salomon compression leggings. I’d kept the compression leggings on in an effort to keep things from moving round. Now we would see how a third lap might go.

For me the race had turned to farce but I had travelled a long way and wasted enough money that I didn’t want to leave without achieving the minimum of a marathon distance to at least tick another one off for a step closer to the hundred marathon club vest.
I ran what I could, walked what I had to. I came in at each lap to cool off my buff, change my shorts and generally let things catch the benefit of a breeze.

I was in agony.

At 7.30hrs in, and with the stops to let the chaffing cool getting longer, I forced myself out one final time to get to the 30 miles that would confirm the marathon distance.
I crossed the line about an hour later, my run/walking never really that slow (the stops making my lap times look particularly terrible) and I went and gingerly sat down on the bales of hay. I purchased a cup of tea, watched runners going round and round in circles and then took myself off to bed. Bollocks to this I thought – literally bollocks.

Key points

  • Distance: 8km loop
  • Profile: Flat
  • Date: July 2016
  • Location: Pangbourne
  • Cost: £35
  • Terrain: Very light trail, road
  • Tough Rating: 1/5

Route
The route was probably designed to take advantage of open spaces and Beale Park to provide a fast, very runnable route. However, for me, I found it dull and uninspiring. I know loops are going to get repetitive but races such as Ranscombe Challenge, the Challenge Hub events and the Brutal Enduro all manage to keep the routes varied and exciting – this didn’t have that. However, lots of people enjoyed the route so maybe it was just me.

What I will say on a positive note is that the little lighting effects they dotted around the darker parts of the route were delightful and I enjoyed seeing these very much
Organisation: the organisation was excellent with lots of volunteers on the course and it was well marked. The check-in was quick and equally well organised with very little left to chance. The slightly late start that the race suffered from was due to ensuring the route was genuinely ready – they really wanted runners to have a safe environment.

Checkpoints
The base camp was well positioned on the route and volunteers lined the course about every 1.5km, all cheery and at the 5km mark a water stop. It left had you chosen to you probably could have run this carrying nothing (as many did – despite the heat). The volunteers were also really awesome and not a single one complained about me sharing my terrible chaffing tale!

Goodies
Good quality t-shirt was a purchase rather than included (£7.50) but the bespoke medal was nice even if it doesn’t make clear which race you ran.

Again
Would I do Endure1250 again? No. Unlike Ranscombe and the Enduro I just didn’t enjoy the route. I’m told Endure24 has a much more exciting route with hills and challenges but this wasn’t for me. Perhaps it’s that I’m not nearly as fast as I used to be and I felt this course was built for those looking to collect a fast time over a chosen distance or to claim a big distance over a specific time. I’m not saying don’t do it, not at all – it’s got a decent atmosphere and great organisation but if you’re after something with varied terrain and stunning scenery then this might leave you wanting more.

Conclusions
Cost effective it certainly is at just £35 whatever your distance and it’s a genuinely friendly event. Importantly for decision making – if you’re looking for a fast run at an ultra distance then this could be for you. I suspect the team running is much more fun here and actually watching people still banging out 40 minute laps at the end of the event was exciting to watch. So while Endure 1250 won’t be to everyones tastes this is a decent event and worth testing if you fancy some of the above.


Ultra running at its best gives me a genuine feeling of worth and achievement. I’ve done something that takes courage, spirit and fight, it is something I can be proud of.

I’ve been very careful this year to choose races that I believed would challenge me, force me to work that bit harder and give me that sense of achievement. To this end I was brought to the Brutal Enduro, an 18hr, 10km trail loop with an undulating course, wet conditions underfoot and lots of foolhardy entrants. But was it just up my street?

I arrived at the Minley base camp, near Basingstoke, late on Saturday morning and pitched my tent in one of the heavy showers that had followed me almost all the way from Kent. Ducking inside I avoided the nastiness of a drowning before we had even started and I set about unpacking my kit. I laid out clothing changes, food, drink and in the dark kit – all easily accessible so I could pound the ground for as long as I liked.


As I started to get changed I could hear the sound of the free 1km children’s race and then a few short minutes later the first of the children screaming their way under the finish line. I was too busy rubbing my undercarriage in body glide at the time to go and watch but it helped start off the very positive family atmosphere that would be the hallmark of the event.

At 2pm we all lined up at the start and prepared for the off. There were about 50 or 60 runners on the start line, many part of teams who would be swapping over after a set number of laps to keep legs fresh but I, despite no training, would be going solo.

Ever since Rachel’s Ranscombe Ramble, in early April, where I destroyed my leg I haven’t run much in training or racing – the exception being the mauling I took at the Skye Trail Ultra and the Amba City of London Mile. I’ve been claiming rest but actually I’ve just not had the motivation to run and as the pictures show I’ve eaten a lot of chocolate over the last 12 weeks.

The Brutal Enduro therefore came along at just the wrong time but as I crossed under the start I pushed on to see how interesting the course might be and just what I could manage given the circumstances.

I let most of the speedy runners and team runners bound on ahead – I wasn’t going to get caught in the trap of going too quickly round the route. The first 3km had very limited interest, gentle trail, one notable jaunt through the wicked forest and then out through another field but once you reached the 3km mark suddenly the Brutal Enduro all made sense.


Climb, roots, rocks, mud, descent, repeat, jump, lift, spin, bound, sprint – the final 7km of the course had it all in abundance. I turned into the 3km marker and remarked to myself ‘coolio’ I bounded up the hill, then through the mud and onward – the descent from 4km to 5km was deeply vicious and I saw many runners treading carefully but I prefer to a launch myself into this – it’s why I enjoy trails. I bounded down the rutted and rooted trail, bouncing across ditches and sprinting to the exit and the sight of the camp and the toilets for the 5km mark. My first half lap was worthy of mention because I also needed to stop for my pre-race bowel motion (or rather in-race bowel motion) and the positioning on the course of the loo made this very achievable – thankfully.


Anyway the 5km mark was at the edge of the camp and offered the opportunity to fill up water bottles or visit your tent but I was happy to knock out the first 10km and get some distance under my belt.
This wasn’t going to be a fast course due to the nature of the up and down as well as the overall conditions but I pushed a little harder through the next 5km which continued the trend of being quite exciting and I was very glad to be running this in the light so I would stand a chance of knowing what might get me in the dark. I started to make mental notes like ‘hmm that hole looks Altra shoe sized’ or bloody hell I’ll be wearing my arsehole as a necklace if I jump into that’.

As at 3km there was a lovely, fast and spongy uphill climb at 6km and I bounced up the hill going past a couple of my fellow runners and from here on in it was just a series of opportunities to have fun picking exciting routes through the woodland. I hadn’t had this much fun since Skye.


However, I was acutely aware that my own body was rebelling against me – mostly because I simply hadn’t done any miles to get me ready for this. I took stock of my situation over some chocolate milkshake before I headed out for lap 2 and ambled along the first 3km again before giving it a bit more welly for the last 7km.

During the run I was fortunate to meet lots of lovely runners too – as happens I suppose on a looped course, the most notable where Ellen and Kerry who I ran with a different points during the event.

Kerry who lives and works in Jordan was in the UK for a few weeks and had taken the opportunity to complete the Race to the King and the Brutal Enduro because that’s what you do on holiday! Ellen meanwhile was looking to run her first marathon distance. Both provided delightful company, excellent respite from my own thoughts and helped me complete the laps I ran with them. The better news for me was that both would achieve, with relative ease, the targets they had set themselves.


For me though I knew the only way I was going to get to or around ten laps was by taking it easy but then my regular ultra curse struck – stupidity!

It was on lap 5 with dusk approaching that I twisted my knee, something I’d done on the Thursday before the race but had ignored in favour of hoping it would be okay. In truth it had held up pretty well but as I landed awkwardly, in one of those mentally noted trail traps, I knew I’d troubled it in a way that I didn’t want to run on it.

I came into the checkpoint and wandered off to my tent – my intent had always been a kit change and hot food at this point but I used it as a longer opportunity to rest and see if I could get back out on the course.
I found my way gingerly into clean and dry kit, charged my phone and ate some dirty noodles as the burger van had closed down for the night.

I felt in better spirits post food abs clean clothes but nearly 2 hours had passed since I had last been out and it was late. However, my knee didn’t seem too bad so I left the relative comfort of my tent and went back to the route. What was immediately apparent was that I wasn’t going to be running – I could feel the knee moving uncomfortably and my self imposed tent rest had also indicated that my feet (still not recovered from Skye) had taken another nasty beating. I began running the scenarios in my head – I could do another three laps and get to 80km or try and hobble five laps and make the hundred. What I realised was that there was no point, I wasn’t going to set a new distance record for myself, I wasn’t going to set a new fastest time, I’d done the marathon distance for the purposes of the 100MC and all I was ultimately doing was making Endure 12 in ten days time that much more difficult.

And so I trundled around the course in the dark, enjoying the company of Kerry, whom I’d found on the route again and decided this would be my final lap. Kerry was again in sparkling form and we chatted once again, regaling one another with anecdote after anecdote. An hour or so passed in this delightful state and we caught sight of the final ascent. I gave a gentle sigh – resignation at my overall failure and then trundled over the finish line.


I bade goodnight to Kerry and another runner who was waiting for her partner to complete his lap and I trudged to my tent, my knee glad I had shown some common sense, my heart thinking I had enough time for the other laps. Oh well maybe next year.

Key points

  • Distance: 10km loop
  • Profile: Undulating
  • Date: July 2016
  • Location: Fleet, Hampshire
  • Cost: £50
  • Terrain: Mixed, boggy, rocky
  • Tough Rating: 2/5

Route
The route was overall pretty good fun, even the slightly dull first couple of kilometres had some moments but there was a great joy in the other 7km. The mix of terrain, the bogginess and the route in the dark really gave this route a bit of an edge over similar looped trail events I’ve completed.

Organisation
The organisation was good, everyone seemed to know what they were required to do and they did it, registration was swift and the event set off on time and with the minimum of fuss. I liked the roving marshals in the night – they were a nice and useful addition to ensuring our safety and ultimately Brutal ran what appeared to be a tight and tidy ship. As is always the case with these events the volunteers were tremendous and there was always a cheery smile from someone in a neon gilet.

Checkpoints
There was really only one real checkpoint which was the main one and there was water, squash, tea, coffee bananas and oat bars – the rest was up to you. For £50 I think this was fair and I preferred catering for myself as it meant I only ate things I really wanted to.

Goodies
Good quality t-shirt and a bespoke medal – more OCR style than ultra but in keeping with their branding and it hangs proudly next to my other medals! Let’s be honest do you really need anything else?

Again
Would I do Brutal Enduro again? I probably would, but mainly because it’s a good fun course, not too many people around you, room to run and because it’s well organised (even with the tent peg mis-adventure, but that’s a story of the MoD – check the Facebook group for details). I probably wouldn’t pick this over something with big, big hills or a good quality point to point racing but even when stopping due to injury I still could see I’d had a good time and it as enough for me to consider a return in the future.

Conclusions
Cost effective, fun, friendly and in a great location with good organisation. If you’re looking for a run to complete that is challenging but achievable then this might just be for you or if you’re looking for a bit of test for slightly harder core trail races then this is an excellent warm-up (he says with one eye being cast to the Ridgeway Challenge…)

Further information
More information can be found on their various events at www.brutalrun.co.uk

I’m signed up to the Leeds – Liverpool Canal 130 but several problems have arisen and I’m facing a choice about whether to run or not.

Ready? Training hasn’t been going as well as I would have liked and despite some excellent sections of training this year there hasn’t been enough of it.

I can blag 50 miles, I can even blag 100 miles – I’ve done it before – but I’m not sure I can blag 130 miles and I’m not sure I should. The LLCR130 was my opportunity to prove I can respect the distance and run well but life has simply gotten in the way. 

Life: It’s been a busy year and a bit of an emotional rollercoaster if truth be told with one thing and another and this has had an tremendous impact on the overall amount of quality of running I’ve been able to commit to. Now while my body is in a constant state of reasonable shape I’m simply not fit enough for the 130 currently.

Could I get fit enough in the couple of months remaining? Probably.

Skye: However, the Isle of Skye gave my feet a real battering and unusually they aren’t healing very quickly. Running is currently painful and anything over about 7km brings memories of stones cutting into my feet. I’m not able to return to more sensible training yet despite it being 2 weeks after the event.

Blues: This is all compounded by the fact I’ve got a serious dose of the post race blues, I can’t seem to quite get my mind back in shape – preferring instead to focus on the Tesco offer of 4 Topics or Snickers for just a single pound coin! I can hear my inner runner completely fucked off at me but he’s being kept at bay in favour of chocolatey goodness. 

Disagreement: Perhaps the killer things though are to do with the LLCR130 itself, after a serious disagreement with someone who would have probably provided aid and/or race support/places to stay/transport/etc the LLCR130 has become a logistical nightmare. Originally it was going to be quite a simple affair but now just a few weeks away it really feels like the challenges of the pre race and post race arrangements would be more testing than the run itself. I suppose I’m unconvinced that this is the best preparation for a race of this magnitude. Would I be better leaving this until 2017 when I can arrange the logistics to suit my needs rather than being reliant on other people? In an incredible gesture of support the always awesome Joe offered pacing and I’m incredibly grateful for that but think it might not be quite enough with all the other issues that have built up around this.

Priorities: Some of the running I’ve done this year has involved hills, climbing, mud, adventure. The LLCR feels like it would be a test of my capacity to endure but would miss out on all the things I love about running like scrambling up and down hills and getting filthy from knave to chops! With Haria Extreme as my year end ultra I feel like I should be competing in races that at the very least offer me the opportunity to prepare for this and also excite me. LLCR130 is a race I really want to do but I’m heavily conflicted because it simply doesn’t sit well inside the rest of the choices for this year.

So what do I do? If I go I’d give it my all and if I don’t I have a replacement race that I think would be more supportive of my year aims and less likely to DNF. The LLCR130 isn’t likely to disappear anytime soon and I wonder if I’d be better tailoring my running to focus on this race rather than as I have done this year which was focus on the Skye Trail Ultra and Haria Extreme. However, if I fail to race this then I won’t have run a hundred mile race this year and my thoughts of the 200 mile ultra across the Pennines would then surely be put back by another year. It’s a complex decision…

… so I’d appreciate your thoughts but as you can probably tell I feel like pulling out of the LLCR might be the right course of action.

It’s hard to believe that it’s now more than 2 years since I last ran pain free and let me assure you it’s not an anniversary I want to celebrate. 

I remember it all started in March 2014, I had some nasty glute pain at the St Peters Way Ultra – one of my absolute favourite races – but it had taken second place that day to the chest infection I had. I could feel my glutes tightening as I ran and I remember saying to Mike Sokolow and Ian Shelley ‘you guys go on ahead, I’ll see you at the end’. I figured it was a something and nothing and after a few days it would calm down and never worry me again. Sadly it would worry me again and give me many sleepless nights.

I’d sadly not taken much rest post St Peters Way and had kicked on to complete four ultra distances inside 40 days (a 30, 45, 50 and 100 mile events). I was in a bit of a mess after this and missed both the Race to the Stones and the NDW100 – I found myself at the lowest ebb. 

Changing my physiotherapist helped and despite her repeated warnings, she enabled me to get roadworthy to face my final challenges of 2014 – Fowlmead and the Winter 100 – which I spectacularly DNF’d just a few weeks after the birth of UltraBaby. A disaster all of my own making.

Under pretty strict advice from my physio I finally stopped running, I deferred my Country to Capital place and I sat about doing not much for four months other than a bit of cycle commuting, eating cake and being miserable.

With a lot of hard work though I managed to return to running but it’s never been right and all the confidence I used to have as I approached races has now gone – I never know if I’ll get out of the blocks never mind get to the finish or I sit on start lines wondering whether I’ll blow up in spectacular fashion usually at the farthest, most inaccessible point from home.

I now start at the back of races, whereas before I used to start nearer the front and push forward – I used to run good times, in a reverse of the Tobias Mews phrase I’ve gone from ‘competer to completer’. I can’t express in words how shitty a feeling that is.

Despite the (sometimes excruciating) pain I run with I’ve managed a few decent efforts including the Green Man, the Saintelyon and the Thames Path 100 – nothing very quick because prolonged speedier racing narrows my window of running time available – but respectable enough – I just want more.

What I do know is it’s coming to a head and I’m going to need to get seen to, regardless of the implications. The pain I’ve been suffering with has increased in recent months and is putting me increasingly off training and ultimately racing (though I will be entering the Haria Extreme 100km later today).

Last night, is the perfect example, as I was running a moderately quick 5km all I could feel was the pain of my glutes and the hamstring burning – it was a depressingly familiar feeling. It was especially galling as I should have been enjoying my first proper shakedown of the Altra Instinct – a fine shoe by the way if initial running is anything to go by.

I look at runners in London, enviously imagining that they don’t get injured and that the pain they feel is simply from the burn of effort rather than the burn of injury. I don’t want to come across as self pitying as I realise it’s all my own fault and remains so as I’m lethargic and worried about seeing the doctor. 

I just wish I could have my time over and not push so hard during those early months of ultra running or have stopped when I knew something wasn’t right. Perhaps this is the reason I continue to push myself now because I’m concerned I won’t be able/allowed to ultra run any more and so I’m fitting in races now so when the time comes I just accept my fate.

If you take anything from this then please try and remember to curb your enthusiasm – just a touch – for the sake of a long, successful and colourful running career. It remains my biggest running regret and I would hate for you to share it with me.

 
I woke up this morning and my right arm and right leg hurt like hell. I stood in the shower hoping that warm water would awaken my ageing muscles – they didn’t and then I looked down and realised why – oh yeah I’d been hit by a car yesterday. 

I was at full pelt yesterday, bombing down Bond Street, when a woman stepped out in front of me and as I clipped her she pushed me (I presume accidentally) out into the path of oncoming, moving traffic. The result was inevitable I was hit by (thankfully) a relatively slow moving car but it was enough to spank me down the right side of my body and hurl me forwards and back on to the pavement.

On my knees I looked around to see that the woman was unharmed and had infact simply continued, without blinking, her overpriced Mayfair shopping experience. The car had either not noticed me or didn’t care and therefore hadn’t stopped, so I picked myself up, checked myself over for blood and gingerly jogged down to Charing Cross – a little the worse for wear and visibly shaken.

The thing I’m glad about is that I didn’t need an ambulance as I’m not sure anyone would have stopped to aid me – which I find a little sad, as there were clearly witnesses. So all you RunCommuters make sure you’re constantly vigilant, I was very lucky last night but it might not always be that way.

As an aside, there’s now the Green Man to consider, 2 days to go before a 45 mile ultra! I can only hope that the pain abates a little or I’m not sure I’ll make the starting line

Anyway, happy AND safe running chaps.

My year of running: I remember January arriving and I’d been allowed a single solitary run in the previous 3 months. My physiotherapist seemed to believe that I needed a complete rest from running but by January as I was climbing the walls she told I should start running again – remembering that I had to take it easy.

I neglected to mention my race list for 2015 but that didn’t stop her asking. I explained that 2015 was less manic than my previous race years but still pretty hectic. I explained to her I’d build up sensibly and I would actually do some training – and I did.

During 2015 I put in more than 2,000 training and racing miles but 2015 was about more than covering a decent amount of distance – it was about completing new challenges and recovering from injury all while being new to parenthood.

My first few races were build ups to the SDW50 and ultimately the CCC but I returned to racing with the Vigo 10 which is perhaps my favourite non ultra race and it’s relatively local so when I was looking to return to racing this seemed a no-brainer. I was painfully slow as I trudged round the course and climbed the final ‘knee wobbler’ hill but I did complete it and I really enjoyed it – it was great to be back. I came away from the race thinking that I was cured of my injury woes and I could have kissed my physiotherapist I was so grateful.

Obviously it didn’t all go to plan – not by a long stretch, I followed Vigo up with the Brands Hatch half and this was a full on nightmare. My leg started to break down within about 7km and although I held on until 14km I knew I was going to have to hobble back to the finish line and this was very much what I did. It was a grim day and I was staring down the barrel of the gun again but my physiotherapist took a slightly more realistic approach and explained that setbacks do happen. Additional work revealed lots of physical problems that could do with correcting and we were able to identify that tarmac and hills are the main things that bring on ‘The Attack of the  Glutes’. And with a prevention strategy and further work I progressed nicely through the year. Yes, its true that I was in agony for the SDW50 but in the run up to that both days of the Ranscombe Challenge had gone exceptionally well.

I also managed to go to my final Centurion Running event for a while and complete the Thames Path 100 therefore getting the monkey off my back regarding my failure at the Winter 100 when all my injuries did finally gang up on me and leave me in a bad way. The winning of a Centurion buckle has been something I’ve been looking for a while now and I’m glad its done because it will let me focus on other things in 2016.

Post TP100 I took a bit of time out and did the Medway 10km with my dad, Bewl 15, the Great London Swim with no training whatsoever and the Westminster Mile with UltraBaby (running an 8 minute mile with a baby strapped to my chest). I banged out a slow Marathon at the Kent Roadrunner again as its my local marathon and I always enjoy the medal if not the course and its always a nice affair as there are usually lots of runners I know there – my sprint finish against Traviss Wilcox was a delight. I also had the pleasure of meeting Jools and Kat – along with a proper introduction to Ed Catmur at the inaugral Twilight Ultra in Ilford, this was supposed to be the final warm up for what would be my first proper foreign race…

I suppose 2015 had always been about France and my double trip to race on the French trails, in December it would be the SainteLyon but first up was my dismal showing at the CCC. I wasn’t quite up to it, it was much too hot for me, it just went badly and I fell during the race and came away from it feeling like I did after the Brands Hatch Half Marathon. However, despite my complete deflation I decided to get straight back on the horse and upon returning to the United Kingdom entered the Saltmarsh 75. With a month to recover from my exploits in France I rested perhaps a bit too much but I rolled up to the Essex saltmarshes and gave it some welly. I’d been incredibly lucky to discover that ultra runner extraordinaire Ian Brazier would be competing in the same race and that provided a real boost as Ian is the the kind of hardcore runner who inspires with his effortless charm. So thank you Mister B!

The end of the year was working out much better than the start of it!

Into the home stretch of the year and I added the Ranscombe Challenge for the third time in a year  with Jools, Kat and (I finally met) the awesome Emma (mk1) finally. A very happy marathon distance was covered and I’m looking forward to next years ultra in her company. There was also time to have to pull out of both the Tolkien and Hugin Challenges but replace those with the Thames Meander over in Kingston-upon-Thames where I felt very fortunate to meet Emma (mk2) and run into several old friends from my London Social Runners Meetup Group.

As November wore on I grew in confidence for the Virtual Runner UK Poppy Challenge which encouraged me to add more and more distance to my November total and there was the best finish in the universe to November when UltraBaby joined me for her fourth race of 2015 at the Greenwich Movember 10km and we bullied our way round the course to being the fastest buggy runners – even if I did nearly flip the buggy as we raced over the finish line.

However, it was December that brought the highlight of the year and the SainteLyon which was an awe inspiring race through the French hills from St Etienne and Lyon.

In review: If that’s (SainteLyon) the last race of the year then this was a properly awesome 9 months of running. I’m hoping that I might be able to go the entire year in 2016 without any injury breaks. It’s fair to say that my injuries have not cleared up completely but I am at least managing them and I’m now actively avoiding races that I know will set them off.

2015 was a great year of racing, true I didn’t race nearly as much as I did in the previous years but I think that was very much in response to my body telling me to pick the races I do more carefully and know my own limits.

My original aims for 2015?

  1. Get a Centurion buckle
  2. Run at one of the UTMB races
  3. Race with my daughter
  4. Cross the line of a hundred mile race with the GingaNinja and UltraBaby
  5. Race with my dad
  6. Successfully recover from injury
  7. Complete 5 ultra marathons
  8. Complete 1 marathon
  9. Enjoy running
  10. Engage with more of the running community 

How did it finish up? 

  • Well I did earn my Centurion buckle (just the one, I’m no Bryan, Dan or Louise).
  • I did race at the CCC but this ended up being my DNF of 2015.
  • I raced four times with UltraBaby and had a great time at each event.
  • I crossed the TP100 line with my family and it was an awesome feeling.
  • I raced with my dad at the Medway 10km which was one of my favourite races of the year. 
  • Injury was a little more complex, I’m still in recovery and that may never change, however, I now have a management strategy and I take a more considered view of the races I’m doing.
  • I completed 7 ultra marathons in 2015.
  • I completed 3 marathons in 2015.
  • For almost every second I was out on the road or the trail I had a great time and never once felt like I didn’t want to be running (well maybe during Brands Hatch, that was depressing).
  • I had the honour to reconnect with lots of great runners I’ve previously met but also had the opportunity to meet and run with lots of new and exciting runners. 

Below is my full race list for 2015

  • Vigo 10
  • Brands Hatch Half
  • Ranscombe Challenge Day 1
  • Ranscombe Challenge Day 2
  • Virtual Runner March 10km
  • SDW50
  • Darent Valley 10k
  • Thames Path 100
  • Medway 10k
  • Bewl 15
  • Great London Swim
  • Westminster Mile
  • Kent Roadrunner Marathon
  • Twilight Ultra
  • Virtual Runner June 10k
  • CCC*
  • Ranscombe Challenge Day 1
  • Saltmarsh Day 1
  • Saltmarsh Day 2
  • Poppy Challenge
  • Thames Meander Marathon
  • Greenwich Movember 10k
  • Saintelyon

*Timed Out

The future: Now the focus is on my plans for 2016 – I’m already booked in for Country to Capital (with EmLa) then I’m going to try and defer my place for TransGC to 2017 in favour of The Green Man Ultra over in Bristol before I step things up a gear with the second running of the Skye Ultra Trail in May.

I suppose though that next year is all about my entry to the Leeds – Liverpool Canal 130 (if I get a place), this will be my toughest challenge to date and will be the furthest I have ever run. If I don’t get a place though I will finally go and run The Ridgeway with the TRA. Sadly I won’t have room for my regular marathon next year either (Kent Roadrunner) and I’m a little sad about this but you can’t keep doing the same race over and over again.

For the end of the year I’ll be looking at the ultra distance for the Haria Extreme in Lanzarote and if time allows I’d love to go back to Lyon and rerun the SainteLyon but that might have to wait until 2017!

What about you? So how about everyone else’s 2015? Did it go well? Did you avoid injury? Did you achieve thousands of PBs or did you focus all your energies into Parkruns? What plans do you have for 2016? What races should I consider adding to my calendar?


If you find talk of poo, blisters, injury or ripped off toenails a problem then this blog post isn’t for you and might I suggest you try a different Saltmarsh tale. 

‘Twas the night before Saltmarsh
My journey to Essex was a little fraught the night before the Saltmarsh 75, my 90 litre duffel bag weighed the same as a small hippopotamus and I was carrying half a dozen Krispy Kreme doughnuts in the other hand, on my back was an untested two man pop up tent and worse I’d eaten a hearty curry lunch and strangely pre-race a curried dinner. All of this should have been a warning sign but I was in a jovial if tired mood when I rocked up to see the awesome Ian awaiting me at the train station. Ian is the kind of runner you aspire to be – committed but fun and fast as lightning in a pair of sandals!

We said goodnight early enough to get a good nights sleep but I struggled as my calves and ITB had been playing up since my fall at the CCC. I struggled to sleep and it wasn’t until nearly 2am that I finally drifted off. However, it felt like good quality sleep and when I woke up about 5.30am I felt fresh, had a delicious coffee made by my delightful host and chatted with both Ian and his young daughter – herself a runner and I suspect soon to overtake her fathers place as the family ‘speedgoat’.

A Fiesta for the eyes
Ian said we were being picked up by the brilliant and funny Simon, Claire and the beautiful hound (who I think was called Annie – apologies Ian’s delightful hound is Annie, Simon and Claire’s is Luna). So four people, three race vests, two tents, one dog and multiple bags fitted cosily inside the Ford Fiesta. A work of genius on the part of Simon and Claire who were not 100% aware that they were transporting me, the interloper.

The journey wasn’t long but it was significant enough for me to realise I was in the company of brilliant people and I couldn’t have been happier as we rocked up to the Marsh Farm and joined the queue to collect our numbers.


Bring forth the Saltmarsh
We ambled around for a bit and found a place for our kit before we labelled it up. The queue we joined to collect our numbers wasn’t long and it was moving swiftly we chatted to lots of other runners – some previous Saltmarshers, others like me more inexperienced. However, it was clear that the Saltmarsh attracted the friendlier end of the running and walking community. Chat was easy, experiences shared and mirth ensued – time slipped by far too easily but we soon had our numbers from the well oiled administrative side of the event. I followed this up with a coffee and delicious bacon baguette from the outrageously delicious cafe and still with time to spare I meandered up to the toilets for the start of my race problems.

A final warning – if you can’t handle bodily fluids (not literally) please leave now.

Plop followed by flood, holy fuck my insides had died and I had no idea what had caused it. Double Wasabi perhaps? Hmmm. I concluded my gallop of the trots and got the rear end ready for racing but I could feel that hot stinging in the old rusty bullet hole and that was going to hurt on the way round. Regardless I rejoined the gaggle of runners and we continued to make merry – heading to the start line for race briefing and with a few short words we were off and in the hunt for the walkers.

The race
As usual I’m not going to give you a mile by mile account of the race as I doubt you want to hear it but it’s important (if you want to run this race) to understand what you’re signing up for. As I ambled out of the farm and onto the path that would eventually lead to the Essex coastline I suddenly felt a little like a Heathcliffe or Mr Rochester, I was surrounded by marshland, eerie silence, mud and mist. You could barely see a few hundred metres as the mist rolled around you and other runners on the course resembled ghosts or perhaps a ‘Potteresque’ Patronus. The dry weather made for a clarity of these conditions and it felt properly beautiful. Stood here you could really fall in love with Essex. I was running reasonably and overtaking most of the mid pack runners, taking a leap out of the ‘Traviss’ book of running – hit it hard first half and ease off at the end and grind it out. I knew that the mist would clear and temperatures would rise as the day wore on so it was better I commit to a faster start and try and get through as much as I could before trouble started.

Checkpoint 1 came and went in a bit of a blur and just a miles in and I was feeling rather jolly. I collected my next instructions, had some water and trundled on, the next section was longer – 8 miles and yet the weather was holding its nice ‘dry gloominess’ and conditions were ideal for running (and photography).

At this point I was chasing down the walkers and wishing them well it was a bright jovial atmosphere that greeted me. At around 14 miles in and about 2hrs 15 on the clock I was feeling pretty confident. Checkpoint 2 was a much more fulsome affair and here I had lots of juice, the first of the malt loaves I’d eat and grabbed lots of fruit pastilles. I really liked the nice touch of five or six fruit pastilles bagged for you to take – this was quality attention to detail. I thanked the volunteers, waved towards the well wishing crowd and drifted slowly out of the checkpoint – stopping only to take a photograph for a couple of my fellow competitors.

The third section would be the hardest – a 13 mile slog against what feels like an unending path – seeing competitors miles in the distance but never able to catch them and a camber that would effectively end Saltmarsh as a competitive event for me and turn it into a lovely long chat! It was here that I met Louise, Jo (from TP100), Rob, Gill and Sam (from Twilight Ultra and Dengies 100) and with each one I had a series of significant moments as we passed by each other on multiple occasions – willing each other on.

It was here that Rob started to suffer and on his first ultra he was having a bad time, it was around here that I ran with him for a bit, listened to him and offered some advice about how to get through this. The good news was he was actually a really good runner and with a renewed sense of belief and his family supporting him he pushed on and he pushed on hard.

I caught up to Louise at this point and we headed with all forward motion to St. Peter’s Church. This would be the last point that I knew roughly were I was and I sneaked through the wood and race up to the checkpoint where Claire was waiting with a camera pointed in my direction

‘Ian?’ I asked
‘Well ahead’ she replied unsurprisingly
‘Simon?’
‘Between 2 and 3, hopefully here soon’

Claire was an awesome surprise and it was lovely to see a fresh face you recognised. It provided the bit of a lift I needed. I stayed a little too long in the checkpoint but I was keen to be powered by cake and replace all the energy I was shitting out during my regular stops on route.

I once again caught up to Rob and his brother – who was walking this section with him. We had introductions and a bit of a laugh and then I waved them goodbye – but the Saltmarsh never allows you to get that far ahead! My problem was that my hamstring, glutes and ITB were all firing and I had some decisions to make. I could walk the last 10 or so of day 1 and save myself or I could run until the burning became too intense…

Slowly, slowly, catchy runners
‘Raise your knees UltraBoy’
‘Sod off mind’ I replied

One, two, three, increase my stride, go faster – I was running – slowly – but I was running. I was catching people. BOOM. This was a big mental lift and with each runner I caught I felt better and better and the euphoria from this was off-setting the destruction of my legs under the weight of their long standing injuries. I started passing through checkpoints too and with renewed energy I finally reached checkpoint 5 and there was Louise and Rob with his young (we’ll say 7 year old) pacer. Genius idea. CP5 and my problem bottom brought itself to bear on the toilet block available to us and I was incredibly grateful for a comfy shitter I’ll be honest and after my (what I believed was a) complete evacuation the three of us departed with OUR pacer.

The final push of day one
Despite everyone feeling pretty broken we continued to run most of the final section and we’re delighted to see the little entrance tunnel with its fairy lights – the whole thing was lovely. A few hundred metres from the finish I bade Louise farewell answer into my customary ‘sprint’ finish and crossing the line with a large dirty growl and a welcome from some of my fellow competitors and their crews. Louise followed swiftly behind me just as Rob had finished swiftly in front of me and it was lovely to enter the warmth of the hall to find both of them in good spirits, as everyone was. I utilised the hall for grabbing some delicious tea and toast and soon headed over to the pub to collect my tent and other kit – I wanted a hot shower, clean clothes and to go to the pub.

I’d purchased a pop-up tent rather sensibly for the event and with the all energy I could muster I unfurled her in the field. As promised by Decathlon it was spacious, quick to erect and properly waterproof. A shower followed shortly after and more chitty chat with runners I hadn’t yet come across and everything bounced along just brilliantly. I was warm, clean and hungry – off to the pub? Not quite.

More shit?
I felt another urgency and this time it was more serious, I doubled over in pain and ran at full pelt to the loo – both cubicles were locked – shit. I ran to the pub, into the gents – cubicle in use – I dipped into the ladies, cubicles all in use. I waved hello to Ian, Simon and Colin – got some drinks in, made a food order and all the time clenching my arse together tighter than an ill fitting pair of Skins compression tights! I handed over the drinks and apologised as I darted away to await a free space in the toilet block. Thankfully upon arrival I was able to take a seat, though not before checking the supply of loo roll, and I relieved myself of almost all my excess body weight. I felt ill in so many ways but I also felt so much better and soon returned to the delightful pub and delicious meat lasagne dinner I had ordered.

I left my companions to the rugby and went to get some rest but sleep was tough to come by, not for any lack of comfort, but the day had played on my mind. The heat had gotten to me in the afternoon, blisters on the end of my toes had caused me trouble after mile 20, my hamstring and ITB were in absolute agony despite my stretching and there was tomorrow to come. I did think about pulling out of the second day.

What saved me? As these dark thoughts swirled around my noggin I heard the voices of Ian, Damian, Simon and Colin – I heard the banter and it made me feel like I’d be letting real people down if I didn’t at least have a crack at it and with that I fell asleep.

1.38am, 3.45am then 5.06am
I woke up regularly – partly because of injury pain and partly because I was thinking about the next day of racing. At 5.06am I gave up and decided to wake up – I visited the little boys room again and tried to eat a few bits to keep me going until breakfast in the pub. I decided I’d get kit ready and dismantle the camping equipment amd chuck it in the back of the van and then joined my companions for a hearty meal of jam on toast and coco pops. I wasn’t nearly as jolly today but I’d stretched and massaged my way to being race ready and I promised myself I’d stop if I thought I was going to injure myself.

And so we all registered for day 2 – 60 people had decided not to return for day 2 apparently, which was understandable given that it had been much tougher than I think anyone had imagined. I once again ran into some of the excellent runners and walkers I had spent so much of the previous day chatting with. Paul and Rob I saw first followed by Gill and Sam – we all ambled to the start and when the runners started I darted forward and gave section 1 some serious welly but that was pretty much the only time in the whole second day I had any energy in me.

By 5 miles in runners were overtaking me and I slowly meandered my way towards the back of the running pack, then I stopped – I needed to examine my shin which had been burning for a little while and was more sore than it should have been. I looked down and the size of my shin was about twice what it should have been but the pain was running through my ankle and I couldn’t tell which was the cause of the issue. I could see a runner I recognised ahead of me and headed out hoping that I could catch them as they weren’t moving very quickly. After about an hour I managed to catch Gill and we chatted for a while and walked together discussing our various ills and we agreed that at least for a while we would walk/run our way through a few miles.

Gill was awesome and we spent several miles just laughing and joking about day one, learning a bit about each others lives and what we might do if we ever finished the bloody course. Given that we would be lucky to finish we both decided that we would simply enjoy the experience and we made merry with the various volunteers and people out on the course. It wasn’t that we weren’t taking it seriously but you have to know your limitations, Gill had a foot that was bleeding through her shoe and both my legs had what felt like quite serious issues. Despite this we made reasonable time through the various checkpoints and stayed together for the entire time – we even managed to pick up another member for the team – Karen, formerly of Northern Ireland and now of Essex.

As we crossed the final couple of hundred metres I turned to my two companions and asked, ‘ would you like to cross the line hand in hand’ – the answer was a resounding ‘yes’ and as the final couple of hundred metres approached we gathered some pace and starting running, each of of us in absolute agony, injured, tired, destroyed but finished. The Saltmarsh was over.

Course
The course was flat but slow, the camber in the 13 mile third section on day one destroyed my hamstring and my ITB, but the views in the mist were spectacular and the views in general while not traditionally beautiful I found to be fabulous. Essex is so much more than places like Chelmsford and Basildon, Essex is a really beautiful part of our country and we should all go and explore it a little bit more. The course was also not 75 miles but closer to 77 miles and if like me you went wrong a few times then you would add extra anyway. The course markings were zero but the course directions that were handed to us at each checkpoint were very good, everything was well thought out for the course. I would highly recommend the course as a runner or walker despite it taking a big chunk out of me.

Checkpoints
The checkpoints were pretty simple but with a good selection of sweets, very little in the way of savoury which was a disappointment as one thing ultra runners want is some variety in flavour. I loaded up on things like malt loaf but also used my own supplies as suggested by the Saltmarsh organisers. The other thing missing were hot drinks – you could buy them at later checkpoints if you wanted them but this should in my opinion be replaced by hot drinks on general offer at the checkpoints. Special mention should go to the unofficial checkpoint run by the Dengies 100 running club for whom many of us were very, very grateful. The other outstanding checkpoint was the pub at Steeple, not only was it welcoming and warm but it had excellent food options and really great staff both in the evening when we arrived and for breakfast as we left.

Support and Volunteers
The support was brilliant, checkpoint 2 on Day 1 was pretty special, as was the arrival into Maldon on Day 2 and throughout the event there was a general air of pleasantness towards the runners. It was lovely to see the people of Essex getting behind the runners and the volunteers were all brilliant, especially the young red haired lady at about the third checkpoint on Day 2 – who should have had a hat on instead of that very inviting smile! I have nothing negative to say about either the volunteers or the supporters, both were magnificent

Organisation
On the whole the organisation was excellent, pre-race information, social media mentions – all good, collecting your number was swift and efficient, the locations of checkpoints was sensible and the route was well watched by volunteers in vehicles ensuring our safety. My only gripe was that the communication between the teams wasn’t perhaps as coherent as it could have been and questions couldn’t always be answered with absolute certainty, however, on the whole the checkpoint staff were informative and helpful and this was reflected I think in the efficiency getting us in and out of check. I’m sure the Saltmarsh organisers are constantly on the lookout for improvements and will continue to tweak the organisation as the event grows ever more popular.

Fellow Runners
I’ve already said I met lots of amazingly friendly runners and walkers but its fair to say that in all the ultra distance events I have taken part in this had the friendliest group of participants. I was taken aback by the huge amount of internal support that the runners gave each other and more over how much the loved ones and crew of runners helped out other runners. I will forever be grateful to Robs sister (possibly in-law) Hannah who gave me updates as to how Rob was faring also checking on me. I was very grateful to everyone I came across but without a shadow of doubt it was Gill that pulled me through the last few miles of the second day and I will always be grateful to her for that

Goody Bag
No goody bag as such but there was a beanie hat and also a nice pin bag and a reasonable medal. The added bonus was the hot toast and tea at the end of day one and the baked potato at the end of day 2. So although no T-shirt or other crap actually the team at Saltmarsh invested in things that people might actually want or get use out of.

Conclusion
A great race, incredibly challenging and much underrated if you think flat is easy. There were issues but they were few and far between and relatively minor and I would say that this is a event that everyone can train for and everyone can do. In poor weather conditions I think that this might actually be a pretty horrible experience – think about trying to put tents up when the wind and rain is coming down on you or its blowing a gale coming in from the coast and believe me I did the St Peters Way when this was a reality and its harsh. I enjoyed my experience but think I would have enjoyed it a lot more had it not been a thirty mile march to the end. But if you are looking for something really challenging in the early autumn and without any hills then this is the bad boy for you.

What have I taken from the Saltmarsh 75
Sadly the thing I have taken from doing this event is not to do multi-day events anymore, it was my first one and my instinct was correct – I prefer the single day ultras – they’re easier. Was there a positive to take away from my Saltmarsh experience? Oh yes and it was the people of this event, runners, organisers, supporters and volunteers they were amazing and deserve every plaudit they get.

   
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
   

  
‘You little fucker’ is what I said to him and then smothered him with all the love I have in my body. I thought the big monster in my life was on his way out and all I knew was that it wasn’t his time. 

When I went home last night (Tuesday) the GingaNinja and I looked at each other and simply burst into tears, our much maligned but always loved spaniel wasn’t there – he was in hospital, awaiting his MRI, this was scarier than the time he put the shits up us by pretending he had cancer. But this time he’s been a bit of a pale imitation of himself for a while, however, we put it down to the arrival of UltraBaby, the attempt to integrate another dog into the house and all the general changes our lifestyle has gone through.

  
  But more recently he’s taken himself off to his bed, avoiding playtime, avoiding company and that’s not our ThunderPad. More worryingly was his inability to leap into the boot of the car and a lethargy that meant that just an hour or two of walking was more than he could handle and that’s not our ThunderPad.

When he arrived back from his latest little holiday to Wiltshire I was asked to carry him out of the car and into the house. What then happened was a level of whimpering and whining that I’d never known him to commit to – my heart absolutely sank. 

 The GingaNinja being a vet knew that something was wrong but being sensible and too emotionally attached called in one of her colleagues and then another to make sure she was making the right choice – referral and an MRI. 

The fears that she had were numerous, from slipped disc in his back to a tumour pressing down on his spine. It turns out that (unsurprisingly) he’s not built very well and has some back leg issues and a lack of strength in that region which is causing nerve problems, which in turn have been causing him significant distress.

The doctor told us that it could hopefully be managed with pain relief and a cocktail of drugs and that if we were lucky we could avoid surgery for the time being.

However, my over active Spaniel, now powered by Tramadol amongst other things, is keen not to spend the next six weeks in bed. ThunderPad is keen to be out and about chasing foxes, birds, flies, air … The list goes on but he’s restricted to his bed (or supervised in one room at a time). This is not going to suit him – but he’s alive and he’s okay.

The sad news for me is that he will probably not run long distance with me anymore. Even if his recovery was 100% I’m not sure I’d ever want to risk him over a 20 mile hilly trail run. I suspect he’s going to become a 5km plodder and maybe in the future a ParkRunner and I’ll be happy enough with that. 

 

        

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Whilst this post seems like it’s going to be a never ending bag of ‘isn’t my running life shit’ I hope the ending for those of you who get there is worth it. This post was written in three sections over the last 3 weeks. And apologies for the moaning tone.

Day 1 of writing this post
My physiotherapist has been very generous and kind, she did all she could to keep me on the road until the end of my 2014 race calendar but with each medal won she gave me a gentle reminder that these races and in fact each run was making things worse. She advised me that while I was continuing to do long distance running I wasn’t giving my body the required amount of rest and therefore wouldn’t be injury free. Now though I’ve reached the end of my 2014 race calendar and she’s not being quite so nice.

Sat on her table at 1.30pm on a Sunday afternoon is quite a scary prospect. She listened as I explained about the explosion of pain at my last ultra, she listened as I highlighted the various points that have been troubling me and she grimaced as I went through the length of time I have been struggling with these things.

She told me the following; I’m not allowed to run for several months and that if I don’t want to be in pain for the rest of my days I need to sort myself out. She spoke to me in just the way I needed and deserved – like I’ve been being a child. She did say if I work hard I’ll get back to running – IF I work hard at it.

She’s known, as well I have, that this day was always coming and for me it wasn’t until she got really stern that I finally just went ‘ok’ and aort of just broke down. That was a week or so back and it’s been just over 10 days or so since I was halted in agony at my last ultra and I’ve been working like there’s no tomorrow to try and fix this but I’m not even sure why.

I feel more like giving up than making a comeback.

Stretching, core, strengthening, core, more core, more fecking core, did I mention fecking core? I’m told I’m not allowed to pass the point of pain because I’m pretty ruined and pain is bad in this instance. The only pain I’m allowed is when I jam either a tennis ball or the GingaNinjas elbow in my glutes (then I cry). I’m doing what I’m told but more because I’m being told and not because I want to. Have I lost my mojo or is this just how you feel post DNF?

Day 2 of writing this post
My motivation is zero to do other exercise and that’s now perhaps the worst thing, I can’t be bothered. I look at my epic amount of running kit I own and see nothing but failure, perhaps what I see is a great big eBay sale but ultimately I’m scared I’ll never run again, scared I’ll never run a Centurion hundred mile race, mostly I’m scared that I’m a failure. A chap I know (reportedly, I didn’t hear it directly) took great pleasure in announcing my failure at my last race, that hurt a lot because my aim has never been to say ‘I’m better than you’ it’s always been to say ‘look at what you can do too, let’s go’. So while my physiotherapist helps me put my body back together how do I put my head into the right space?

My partner has refused to let me cancel any of next years races, she says they are my targets and she’s insisting I enter the CCC when the ballot opens because she believes the lure of a big race will create in me the fight needed to break my lethargy. Maybe she’s right, maybe she isn’t. But right now I’m going through the motions to try and find some mojo, some anything if truth be told.

Day 3 of writing this post
18 months of stupidity have potentially ruined my favourite activity but last night as I lay down with UltraBaby in one arm and my iPad in the other watching Charley Boorman and Ewan McGregor heading through France in the excellent ‘Long Way Down’ I saw the mountain that originally inspired my love of ultra distances – the Mont Blanc – and although my desire to run that race has waned a little I felt all the desire to race to the top of it, through it, along it, around it. Even this morning as I feel the aching pain and sharpness running through my pelvis and right down into my foot I can hold on to that positive image of running once again up bitchingly steep elevations. As you can see I needed something and my glimmer of hope came from a most unexpected source at a most unexpected time and even if the end result is that I’ll never run properly again at least I’ll have tried which is a far cry from how I felt just a couple of weeks ago. Young Amy a wannabee ultra runner (SDW50 2015 entrant) told me only yesterday that time is a great healer – it seems she’s got a point.

On a final note I’ve been the recipient of some brilliant support. I’m not sure I appreciated it at the time as I was looking far too inward but I’m grateful and thankful for being a runner because we do support each other when things go wrong – so thank you.

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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.

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Back in training after a decent lay off was ace, I was burning the soles off many new pairs of running shoes, running the UltraMobile with UltraBaby, cycling extensively, swimming – even dropping weight (5kg in just over 5 weeks) and then I pulled my sodding hamstring and despite even more rest it’s still sore.

My awesome physiotherapist, Rosie, has been doing great work on it and she’s been forcing me to stretch and exercise gently to try and get myself up to speed without losing the momentum I’ve been gaining. However, it’s frustrating and with the Winter 100 now just a few weeks away it’s even more so – Rosie is fully aware I’m not pulling out and she appears even more determined than I am to get me to the start line.

So it’s now a race against a time.

On the positive news front I’ve now increased my cycling again and managed a 25.58 ParkRun yesterday and I’ve got my fingers crossed because Winter100 I’m going to try crush the life out of you 🙂 though in all honesty it might be the other way round.

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It’s Monday morning and I’m still a little bit tired, yesterday I spent my day painting an awesome new dinosaur mural for UltraBaby in the UltraCave or as my partner likes to describe it – the baby room. I woke up around 8.45 and threw myself almost straight into the haze of paint fumes and the cleaning of paint rollers, but that isn’t what I’m here to talk about – because a mere 18hrs earlier I was at one of the most wonderfully epic events I’ve ever done – the North Downs Way 100.

Most people who will read this are now probably imagining a tale of woe filled with grim images of my feet, complaints about the weather, underfoot conditions and all manner of technical hiccups I encountered but fear not, it’s not about that at all. Infact this is a tale about a guy who wanted to give something back to those who had supported him over the last 18 months of ultra running, this is a story about volunteering.

Now let me roll back about 8 weeks to my anguish at pulling out of the NDW100, that was one of the best and also most horrible decisions I’ve had to make as a runner – this hundred was my ticket into the UTMB, it was also the biggest test of both my physical and mental prowess but injury and having run too much on that injury have proved my undoing and I simply wasn’t going to be ready.

So when Nici at Centurion put out a call for people to help volunteer at CP10 Bluebell Hill I knew that this was the thing for me. I arrived therefore on the Saturday about 3.30pm and awaited the arrival of the chaps from Centurion so that we could unload the wagon and begin the process of setting up. gazebo, tables, hundreds of litres of water, tonnes of food and a team of excited and experienced runners all wanting to help provide support, solace or a kick up the arse to these hundred mile legends.

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Set up was reasonably quick and within an hour we were well on our way to being ready but Bluebell Hill is a notoriously windy spot and the gazebo didn’t look like it would take any kind of battering, this combined with the addition of walls to the gazebo meant that it simply wouldn’t stay down. But these are ultra runners and this is a highly regarded Centurion event. With the wave of a magic wand a new tent arrived with James Elson – lower to the ground, sturdier and bigger, this would be ideal and even with the attached walls this felt more secure and so in the wind we did the switch over – secured her down and knew we were ready ahead of time.

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Then came two lovely surprises, the first was some of the most amazing ‘Chocolate Crack’ from the equally amazing @abradypus and the second was a visit from the lady herself. My most kind thanks to you as ever my sweet! Your confectionary delights kept the crew going through the night!

We had heard rumours that some of the checkpoints had themed themselves as pirates and Christmas and while this wasn’t the case for us we were no less enthusiastic about the task at hand. We had a wonderfully energetic team of six – Sharon, Ellyn, Ronnie, Paul, Chris and myself. Ronnie as station manager was the one we looked to, but his calm was perhaps his best quality, which meant that we could simply set about making the food, getting up the seating and awaiting the first runners while also offering our conversational services to the crews and supporters of the runners.

Sharon took up her allocated position as time keeper atop the mound just outside the checkpoint, while the rest just waited for that very first runner. I’ll admit that I was a little bit nervous – I’d never really met the super fast ultra runners and had no idea how quick they’d want water replenishing or service etc. but as Duncan strode in to CP10 to a very warm and rousing round of applause life became much simpler – he like every other ultra runner stopped, had a chat, ate some food – filled their water supplies. The thing I learnt very quickly was that the super fast ultra runners want the same thing I do (generally) help, support and a bit of respite.

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It was a bit of a battle of the titans at the front and we saw the first three runners in reasonably quick succession but then there were the inevitable lulls – but this allowed me the opportunity to get to know some of the crews and supporters and even the marshals I was sharing the evening with. This was one of the things I was very happy to do because I know from my own crews experience that a friendly face and a friendly conversation can make all the difference to those waiting for loved ones.

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As more runners rolled in it became a busier job but actually it was never so hectic that we struggled. We welcomed each runner with a big smile and as best we could a humour filled heart. We knew that the more traumatic tales would start rolling in just in after midnight and this was very much the case – runners tired, sitting down, desperate for respite. It was now our job (as Ronnie reminded us regularly) to get the runners up and out. It was a combination of ‘you’re alright, keep going’ and ‘get off your arse and move’. It also started to become vital that we reminded runners to eat and drink, something I’m guilty of avoiding at the latter stages of an ultra. The saddest part though was the DNFs – boys and girls who had no choice but to retire and for them I felt every sympathy. But for every shattered dream there were a dozen other runners smiling and bouncing onwards – it was a glorious sight to behold.

It was about 1am (ish) when the heavy rain came down and therefore got even worse for the runners – lots were soaked to the skin but equally many remained jolly and the spirit of the ultra runner was in evidence the whole way round.

 

IMG_2319.JPGIMG_2326.JPGInside and outside the tent we continued to give the best support we could – I dried and compeeded several runners feet but I thankfully managed avoiding having to lance any blisters. There was one lovely French chap I helped dress in bin bags for the next leg, when I asked him if he wanted food he told me he was quite picky – ‘being French’ he said. However, I think hunger may have gotten to him and the wonderful array of fruit convinced him to eat.

CP10 started to wind down it’s operation at about 4.00am for a 4.45 cutoff – we had about 10 runners left to welcome, some very tired support crews and lots of fingers crossed they would make it. Volunteering had felt like the hardest type of fun you could have and I think (well from my perspective) that we had a well bonded unit that worked really well together and I hope all the runners felt that they received the support they needed. It was an amazing experience, a great honour and a challenge but most of all it was something I will most certainly go back to given the opportunity.

Next year I intend to run the NDW100 not because of volunteering and not because of having to pull out this year – I’m going to run it because it’s awesome.

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‘It’s like two old men trying to recapture their youth’ I may have said this to @hitmanharris as we both hobbled round the Summer Breeze Half Marathon in agony.

I’ve lived very close to Wimbledon Common several times but never really took advantage of the fun it offered and so when it was suggested we should run a half marathon the Summer Breeze looked like good old fashioned fun.

We lined up with the other runners with just a couple of minutes to go – rather meekly making our way to the back of the group. I don’t think either of us where under any illusion that this was going to a fast race. We had made the mistake of picking a wet, hilly, tough trail half marathon and I was still recovering from the beating that my physiotherapist had given me and my companion has a, to quote him, ‘fat arse’.

We had a loop or two of the field we began in at the off which was both a bit dull and worse congested. I tried to make headway through the crowds to keep us at pace but I could see HH getting caught up in traffic and so eased back to rejoin him. I put a bit of a spurt on though as we hit the trail and dropped our average time to just over 5 minutes per kilometre but we soon pulled this back a little to account for the heavy going.

Once through the initial loops of a field the trail really opened up to us and we were able to find a pleasant rhythm. Hills greeted us at regular intervals and there were thick pools of fantastic mud that most runners tried to sidestep – much like HH, I however, gave it full welly through the mud and both myself and my Hoka enjoyed it just fine.

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‘I’ll see you at the top of the hill’ I called back to HH and thundered away up the hill having seen an excellent photo opportunity. I grabbed my phone and waited for my running companion to make his finest strides across a giant log and ‘snap, snap, snap’.

Phone away, off we go.

It was just after here that my dicking about proved my undoing. I saw HH clambering up a series of short steep hills and so to prove my worth I strode manfully beyond him and exploded my groin in the most painful of fashions. Hmmmm was my immediate thought – 4km in, 17km to go, this doesn’t look good.

The ground was making for slower than I’d have liked progress and we were behind time. The heat and minor injuries were playing their part in HHs slower progress and my groin was sending shooting pains both up and down my body.

Regardless I didn’t want to let this be the end and so pushed HH as hard as possible and we completed the first 10.5km in a semi respectable 1hr 2 minutes. I could continue to feel the stinging and burning in my groin and knee that tomorrow my physiotherapist was going to have a field day with me but there and then I remained focused. We pounded past the field for lap 2 and back into the mud.

By now I have vocalised the problems I was suffering with but still managing mainly running and we only stopped at the bigger inclines or to negotiate the heavily cut up course. Being at the back of the course meant that we could just amble along and not be too distressed by our placing but at 17km I thought I might have to DNF – the pain was searing and only having a companion with me stopped me from weeping but otherwise I’d have curled up in a corner and stayed there.

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Credit where it’s due, UltraBoy and Hitman pushed each other through the final few kilometres, up and down hills that in truth neither of our old broken bodies enjoyed and even as we came back into the field there was no sense of elation it was more a case of needing to finish.

In the distance I could see HHs family and so to ensure that we finished well, despite our beleaguered performance, I pulled out a fast finish and called out that HH should follow – he sort of did. We both crossed the finish line (I with my camera out to capture the end of this epic race).

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We both slumped to the ground upon crossing the finish and despite a dreadful time it was a job well done. We collected our medals, T-Shirt and banana and headed gingerly towards the exit to watch the final few stragglers come home.

So despite my own performance what a bloody fun run it was. I loved the hills, I loved the oodles of mud and I really loved the course. There was a certain amount of excitement throughout the day and it was all extremely well organised with just enough facilities around to make it pleasant for both runners and spectators. The day was helped by the fact there were three races taking place over the course but it was all nicely spread out and nobody felt crowded or pressured, even my minor gripe about a slightly stop start beginning shouldn’t detract from the fun that this was.

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The medal and the TShirt were especially brilliant and for the money I think this was an excellent value race and will be looking forward to it again next year.

Well done chaps and well done @hitmanharris for persevering.

 

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I like the idea of Juneathon very much but sadly won’t be taking part for several reasons, prime amongst them was that I was banned from it some time ago. However, I remain a big advocate for it and so this June will be a different challenge.

With just six weeks to go I need to get ready for the Race to the Stones – my 7th ultra of 2014. The problem is that my hips are causing me more and more problems, my groin which gave in about 10 days ago is troubling me and my feet have never recovered from the four ultras in 42 days – I’m a mess.

At the marathon on Saturday I paced the first half just I had planned but by mile 11 I already knew that my hips were destroyed and that I was going to be crawling the second half. I basically ran my marathon at ultra pace, if not a bit slower – this worried me. What made it all worse was that the GingaNinja who hasn’t seen UltraBoy run since January (and then only briefly) said she had never seen me running so badly or so painfully. Finally someone said something shitty and I couldn’t hide from it.

Sunday morning came around and June 1st – I arranged to see the GNs physio on Thursday this week and I’m planning on seeing a doctor this week too – the fear of being told I can’t run is outweighed now by the problem I’m suffering from in the entire lower half of my body. Additionally I’m reducing my general intake of calories to get my lard arse back down to a slightly more respectable weight and I’m doing the 30 day Abs challenge as well as being forced into stretching by the GN. All of this combined with a Juneathon style 30 day RunStreak will hopefully give me back the inspiration I need to run the Race to the Stones and more importantly the NDW100.

If this fails though the chances are I’m pulling out of the NDW100 because I won’t be ready and my body – as tenacious as it is – simply won’t cope with the effort.

Running ultra marathons is as much about your preparation as it is about the race itself, if you fail to turn up for the training then there is little chance of there being glory on race day. I’ve been in a bit of a constant lull over the last six months because of the increasing pain I have been suffering in my hips. At 2014s other completed ultras (Country to Capital and St. Peter’s Way) I’ve had other issues which have thankfully been more serious than the pain coming from around my middle, namely a split open leg at C2C and a chest infection at SPW. However, with increasing regularity the pain has become unbearable – especially when I look to push myself to beyond the 20 mile mark. This has meant that overall my training hasn’t been as thorough as it should have been and no amount of resting has offered any respite. Ultimately I’m now worried about running and thinking about my hips, and the more I think about them the more I’m likely to make an injury happen.

However, now with the SDW50 just a few days away I’ve finally booked in with a physio to see if they can grind my bones and muscles into enough shape to allow me to get through the race – I don’t need fixing at the moment I just need to remain strong enough to be on the trail. Funnily I’ve also finally started stretching and foam rollering on a consistent basis and while this is making a bit of a difference it’s probably not enough.

I’m fully aware that my entire body is a bit of a mess and I am falling apart but I’m committed to the challenges I’ve set myself, therefore April and May looks like a make or break time with three ultra distances in a month (albeit one of them a hiking challenge 96 in 36).

I’ve promised myself that if I get through the SDW50 (and WNWA96 and National100) I’ll get properly looked at and stop procrastinating, I might even accept whatever medicine that is thrown at me but for now, for this next race, I’m in a race against myself.

So can I finish the SDW50? The answer is ‘probably’ as I managed to finish the other two when I didn’t think it was possible. But do I want to make a fool of myself at this race? No of course I don’t – I want to finish well, probably in around 9hrs something would be nice but there’s the niggling feeling inside that says I should be grateful to come in under at just under 13 and a half hours.

If you’re running the SDW50 this weekend then best of luck and if you see me scrabbling in the dirt then please think kindly of me, perhaps even pat me on the back and tell me it’ll be over soon. Happy running.

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It’s been a little over 30 days since I started my 400km in 30day challenge and it was a horribly hectic period filled with running, cycling, swimming, illness, injury and an unfortunate visit up north. Needless to say I failed in the task but I did manage to turn my disappointment into a number of positives… and here’s the numbers

I walked over 95km. I cycled nearly 130km. I ran over 225km (including the Valentines Challenge 10mile and 10km Virtual run). 7km of breast stroking (I mean swimming!)

However, I was 175km short of my running target but I’ll go again in June and aim for the full 400km.

Next up is the St Peters Way Ultra and I’ve stupidly been running this evening in my Merrell Barefoots without socks and skinned the tops of my feet! Silly bloody me – still it’s Monday they should hopefully be healed by Sunday. As Eric Idle said ‘always look on the bright side of life’, after all it is only running

400km in 30 days isn’t actually that much and I had started it not so much as a running challenge but more a Hip scoring exercise, just how much could my hip handle? Well the answer to that was ‘not much’. And I’m going to need to figure out just what my body can handle as this is a year that I can’t afford the time off for surgery or things of that nature plus my physio has been instructed to just help keep me on the road – he thinks I’m mad by the way.

With that in mind I haven’t run since Friday in an effort to rest my hip and burning shin. I’m going to ease off the big distance and go gentle for a week or so and build back up, although there will be a slow 10km done tonight to complete my Virtual Run.

With the St. Peter’s Way Ultra just a couple of weeks away it’s important that I get my hip as strong as possible or at least as pain free as possible, I know I’m capable of completing it even in the event of being injured but with 2 UTMB points on offer I’m keen to put in a real shift and run a decent time. But this all remains to be seen.

In other news I was leaving the train station on Friday night and a chap tapped me on the shoulder and asked about my trainers. I told him where I’d gotten them, gave him as much advice as possible and then discovered we would both be running the SDW50 and live about 5 minutes from each other – weird and cool.

I did also manage to pull a 15.30 4km – which makes me pretty happy but the continued accuse of my body makes me much less happy. Still it’s the price we pay for racing glory.

Finally before I go I shall update briefly my race status and announce that. ‘Yes’ I managed to book my place for the Winter 100 with Centurion Running, this has been on my mind for months – the need to book my place! Therefore on a bright shiny Saturday morning I sat waiting for entries to open and at about 10.51(ish) they did. With a urgency not seen since the last someone said there is only one Kit Kat left in the cupboard I made my application. Approved. I was in the Winter 100 – phew. It was at this point that not only was I was raving on about how wonderful it will be to run in an epic 100 ultra in beautiful English countryside but I also updated my blackboard of races and here I saw a problem.

No Marathon.

I quickly returned to the computer, connected to my friend Google and slammed in some variables. Within seconds Google was suggesting races all over but it kept coming back to one particular one the ‘Kent Roadrunner Marathon’. Now as some of you will know I ran this race last year and so I was a little hesitant but Google came to my aid.

‘I’ve searched this bad boy out for you, you enjoyed this race, you know the course, you know people doing it, you like the medal, its big and it jingles, plus you weren’t happy with your time last year, maybe you could go back and do a bit better.’

I could hear Googles words in my ears and suddenly I found myself signing up for a race that I’ve already done – not something I am in the habit of doing and there was a nagging in my mind even as I paid my £33 entry fee about running 17 laps or so round a track (again) and then I heard it.

In the background Google was cackling at me, ‘remember UltraBoy, you’ll have run 42laps round that very same track just three weeks earlier as you do the National 100’.

Shit burgers, Google had screwed me like a $5 hooker – damn it. Too late now, but still the Kent Roadrunner is a favourite of mine and did really enjoy the day last year, so lets hope for more of the same and a slightly quicker time.

So there we go Ultra number 7 and marathon number 1 of 2014 booked. Still looking for the perfectly timed beginners Triathlon though. Hmmm. Have a good running week chaps.

Pain, pain, pain, pain and more pain. The problem with pain when you run is that the bugger hurts.

Yesterday my back had been really sore which I assumed was a flare up of my back and hip trouble caused by my cycling on Sunday. Regardless of this I thought that a few kilometres wouldn’t hurt – how wrong can you be! Less than a dozen strides in I could feel my left foot smacking the ground rather than brushing it as it normally does and by the time is reached Marylebone High Street I felt like stopping. However, it was also freezing cold and had I stopped it would have been a chilly trundle down to the station and so I pushed on through the city, even making a sprint for the train but the throbbing in my hips, back and annoyingly my shin was hideous. I’ve run ultra marathons and been in less pain afterwards! However, despite the pain I did manage to run but I do need to reflect on the possibility that I’m over training and perhaps some more time on the yoga mat and in the pool might benefit me.

Toes: looks at us

UltraBoy: I can’t, you disgust me

Toes: we do so much for you

UB: but you also ruin my life

Toes: how can you say that? We drag you round races, help you stand, wiggle provocatively in the direction of good looking ladies and even curl up when you’re feeling sick

UB: All true but it’s the other things like…

Toes: like what???

UB: well I was just going to say…

Toes: oh the blisters?

UB: well for a start

Toes: your fault, inadequate preparation

UB: yes but second biggest toe grew too long which is why it rubs, some responsibility must be yours for that? A failure to stop growing is…

Toes: you’re now blaming me for growing in proportion?

UB: well…

Toes: no, no – let’s explore this

UB: I’m just saying your disgusting
Toes: so what you’re saying is that your inadequate foot preparation, your toe waxing, your near constant toenail biting, wearing inappropriate footwear and your over running are in some way my responsibility? The fact your toes bleed each night is something you think is a problem with me and not you and that you have bits of skin so hard that you have to dig them out of my like some cack handed surgeon? You UltraBoy are unreal! Long before you became a long distance runner you had the worlds worst toes – running just gives you an excuse to blame me!

UB: but…

Toes: don’t interrupt, your toes are in full rant mode – which is spectacular because we have no mouth through which we can speak but still we demand a bit more respect, perhaps even a visit to the doctor so that those ingrowing toenails can be removed, so that all that epic hard skin can be treated and so that when you look at me, when you gaze down at your two little buddies found constantly at the bottom of your legs you think, ‘they aren’t bad’.

My toes had a point but I’m a childish and vengeful and so sat in my bathroom I yanked at my big toe and pulled out the enormous heap of dead skin and nail that had been digging deep into my toe for the last three months – blood spurting across the floor I raised the sharp, tough mess of skin and nail aloft and cried a bit.

I need to go to a doctor and insist that all my nails are removed as I think this may solve a lot of my toe running problems – but it might leave them unprotected. If anyone has managed to reach the end of this blog post then I’d be keen to hear from runners who have elected to have their toenails removed on a permanent basis and about their post removal running experiences. My toes are furious I’m contemplating this but I believe it’s in their best interests.

Finally below is the sharpness that’s been digging into the side of my big toe for three months. This is fair warning – dead skin alert!!! Dead nail alert!!!!

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Doesn’t look like much does it? Let me guarantee it has hurt like a bugger every time I’ve run. My toes should be glad I pulled it out!

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I’m lying in the cold and the wet, I can feel blood on my leg, my beloved Asics running tights are ruined and all I can think about is not, have I broken my leg but, shit have I just pulled out of the C2C. 8 days before the race and I’m lying motionless wondering if I have just ruined my chances of grabbing my first UTMB point of the season. Roll on 8 days and 43miles later and the answer is that, no I didn’t.

I rolled out of bed at about 4.30am partly because Project ThunderClunge needed some preparation before it could make its move this early in the day. I showered and put the final bits of kit together in my bag and we headed from the Garden of England up to Buckinghamshire where we met up with the other runners at the Shoulder of Mutton pub in Wendover. It was a bit like organised chaos but it kinda worked, one queue, lots of levels and a shedload of bacon baps. The worst part about the start was the man at Wendover train station – I asked for a car parking ticket and he issued me with a stern gaze and told me that the station was intended for rail passengers only. My view was that he was getting a full days parking ticket for not much more than an hours usage, this meant I had to go scrabbling round for change which I managed to get through the purchase or coffee and bacon for the OH. Parking sorted I lined up for my number, changed my emergency telephone and promptly left my coffee somewhere I couldn’t remember putting it. At this point I spotted the running top of @totkat and briefly said hello, neither of us knowing each other’s names she greeted me with the ‘hello Ultraboy’. I had stuff to do though and promised to catch up later which is what we did but prior to that I had a toilet visit. Two toilets exist in the pub and in the first of these options we were warned that it was a bit like the bog of eternal stench and this was correct – despite my need I couldn’t use it and waited for the other still functional and not full to the brim loo. Racing out of the loo I picked up @totkat again and had a brief chat about things, shoes and the like and then headed out to find the OH who had just left the front of the pub with my two hounds. Strangely though she had been stood within spitting distance of @cat_simpson_ who it was finally a delight to meet. Again a bit of a chat and then away – we both had stuff to do. But my tweet ups weren’t quite over and I was recognised for the stupidity of my Dirty Girl gaiters by the lovely @J0ERUNS – what a great runner, the man is a legend and I was grateful of the opportunity to meet him.

The start was pushed back to about 8.40 and I found myself at the front which was not where I wanted to be and so I pushed my way back and took up my customary position at the slow end of the race.

My aim was to complete between 8hrs 30 and 9hrs 15 but in my head I was hoping for 8hrs 30 and this was my final thought before the race started, I clicked the go button on my Suunto Ambit 2 and kicked off in my Hoka Stinson Evo. Now I’ll mention briefly my Suunto, I had loaded full mapping of the race on board and I intended to follow the little arrow the whole way – full review will follow shortly – but the huge crowd of runners all huddled together and we made me pleasant, accurate progress through some stunning countryside. Wendover soon disappeared behind us and we made our way through the first of the muddy fields. The weather was fine, beautiful January day and as we came across the first of the hills you felt as though was going to be both a very friendly and pleasant affair.

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I was trundling along to CP1, at this point still over taking people, going too quickly, dancing through the mud when I met a lovely runner, I’m going to call her Sophie as I think that was her name, but you meet a lot of people running ultras and names get lost in their stories. She was a genuinely fascinating runner who had completed the MdS, had been evacuated from Cambodia to Thailand when she fell into a coma! she made my life look dull and I’ve had a reasonably interesting life! Anyway with her at my side I was able to push on and floated into CP1 in 1hr 20minutes – 90 second stop and then off. Sophie was getting into her stride and I wished her well as I needed to bring my pacing down a little bit (she was going to be a fast finisher). Checkpoint 2 would also be the last point at which I would see my OH and my two hounds but that didn’t really matter, she needed to focus on Project ThunderClunge and actually that made me address some issues, the primary was, ‘what do I really need for the rest of the race’. What I didn’t address was what do I not need for the rest of the race, therefore after enjoying the best of the views in Buckinghamshire I thundered along the final road and up into CP2. Despite being a trail run there is a lot of running on pathways with C2C and this was generally fine but it meant that your footwear choice was very important and the route between CP1 and CP2 and equally CP2 and CP3 was varied and changeable – I was glad of my Hoka.

What CP2 brought with it was also the realisation that my knee had not healed properly at all, the fluid that I had recognised a few days earlier had not gotten any better and combined with the calf compression I was in a lot of knee pain which was translating to my time. I hit CP2 just after 3hrs but at nearly 18 miles in I was still confident I’d come in on time. My OH though was concerned about the knee and wondered if it wasn’t more sensible to stop – as a medical person she was worried and as my OH she was worried as she was about to head back to Kent.

I kissed her goodbye, drank Lucozade and headed off into the wilds. The next few miles were good fun and the Lucozade had given me a lift that I really needed as a lack of breakfast was really showing. I added to this a number of delicious Sainsbury’s sugar strings which helped me spike my sugar levels.

CP2 to CP3 also gave me access to a couple of lovely American guys ( Michael and Richard @broferd ). Michael was in his first ultra and his first run over 16 miles but in his corner he had a family history of Ultra Marathons as his dad had finished the Western States no less than three times and he was wearing one of his dads 1980s running tops, he was a great guy. Richard too was a great runner, inspiring, fun and provided excellent motivation to keep me going through some of the stretches along the canal and we spent much of the next 10 miles or so jockeying for position. Also between CP2 and CP3 I met Martin. He was running with two other guys and was in his third ultra but had DNFed in his first two, I found him an interesting and engaging runner who clearly had the motivation and was keen to run to the finish but the two people he was running with seemed more to be bringing him down and hearing their ‘motivational’ style was both depressing me and angering me. I really wanted to tell them to ‘fuck off’ but that wasn’t in the spirit of ultra running. Thankfully having looked at the results there is no Martin in the DNF list and there is a Martin who within 9hrs 30 which was his aim the last time I spoke to him and so I hope he is very proud of the achievement.

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I digress, CP2 to CP3 also brought my favourite race surprise because at mile 24 was @abradypus who is a bit of a running legend in her own right. Demanding sweaty manhugs and photographs was the least I could offer her for simply being there to cheer us along, I should point out that she wasn’t there just for me, she was there for the plethora of other Twitter runners that were running C2C.

The canal brought with it something I hadn’t expected which was a hint of boredom, the problem was that a) it was flat and b) there was no real scenery. This wouldn’t have been a problem had it occurred at the beginning with the bigger, slippery and dirty trails in the second half but that would have been something to get excited about, to look forward too. The canal felt like a truly metal challenge – the distance wasn’t the issue but seeing a never ending, ceaseless path of water in front of you meant you felt every single step. So although the path was simple to navigate it was not easy to negotiate.

Passing through the final checkpoints there is little to report really besides a worsening situation with my knee, jovial crew and a pleasant evening in terms of temperature and rain. As I approached Little Venice realising I had missed out on the 9hour mark by about 6 minutes was soul destroying but I managed to limp across the finish line and waiting for me was the ever wonderful @abradypus and because she had not long finished herself @totkat – thank you to both for providing support, both at the finish line and at the pub after.

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I’m glad I did this one, it was good fun and gave me an early start to the season – something I really missed out on last year when I didn’t run my first race until March. I’ve found there has to be a reason to run a race and the one here is that I enjoyed it (for the most part). You can forgive the running along the towpath because the first 27 miles are really good fun. You will enjoy the party atmosphere that was everywhere you looked, it wasn’t a nervous race – first timers through to highly experienced ultra runners were on show and all felt welcome. The pub at the beginning was a great start line and I’m advised the bacon sandwich was delicious. The map book was pretty decent, which surprised me as I had heard criticism of earlier years versions but compared to some of the directions I’ve had this was amazing. There were enough hills to make you think that this was a challenge but not enough for you to think you’ve just run up a mountain and despite the weather the land was torn up enough for the energy to be thoroughly drained from your legs by the time you got to the towpath. I would highly recommend this race whatever your ultra experience. All of these good things are supplemented by a nice T-shirt and a wonderfully thick but not too big medal. Sign up now (well when it opens for 2015!)

I’d like to finish though with a thank you to all the support crew, all the people on Twitter and on Facebook who provided me with encouragement throughout the day and especially my OH and the hounds, this medal and this race are very much dedicated to you.

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Pyllon - ultra runner

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Motherhood, marathons and more

Franky tells it like it is

(Though sometimes it might be wiser to keep my mouth shut- not)

Val's running blog

The trials and tribulations of a Jolly Jogger

be back in a bit, have biscuits ready

I like running, and feel the need to write about it

marathoncomeback

After a short break of 23 years I have registered to run the Melbourne Marathon.

knittysewandsew

Amateur wrangling with sewing machines, wool, fabric and thread. Some baking too!

Medal Magpie

A blog about running and middle distance wind chimes