2011
Looking back at 2011...
30/12/11 15:56
2011 started and finished OK, but the big chunk in the middle was a bit crap. The highlight of the beginning of the year was taking nearly an hour off my 2010 Hardmoors 55 time (although much better weather should get most of the credit for that). Things went very pear shaped a few weeks later when I got injured, crossing the road on the way to the doctors to get my UTMB medical certificate signed... I managed to plod my way around Fellsman and the LDWA Housman 100. In the 100 not being able to eat in the last 40 miles slowed me down nearly as much as my trashed feet did in last years Heart of Scotland 100. Officially it was a 100 mile PB, but not really since the HoS was really nearly 105 miles.
I recovered from the 100 pretty quickly, but never really managed to get a solid block of training in. A stomach bug picked up in Burma on holiday followed by a tough training course on the UTMB route and I arrived at the big one seriously lacking in fitness and confidence. And bad weather and reduced cut-offs turned it into 'mission not a hope in hell'...
My running fitness started coming back in Autumn, just as term started leaving me exhausted and short of time. A couple more OK runs (squeezing inside 11 hours at Round Rotherham, nearly half an hour outside my PB, but a decent result in the circumstances) and that was that.
I'm not sure there are many lessons to be learned beyond: don't get injured and do more specific hill training.
I recovered from the 100 pretty quickly, but never really managed to get a solid block of training in. A stomach bug picked up in Burma on holiday followed by a tough training course on the UTMB route and I arrived at the big one seriously lacking in fitness and confidence. And bad weather and reduced cut-offs turned it into 'mission not a hope in hell'...
My running fitness started coming back in Autumn, just as term started leaving me exhausted and short of time. A couple more OK runs (squeezing inside 11 hours at Round Rotherham, nearly half an hour outside my PB, but a decent result in the circumstances) and that was that.
I'm not sure there are many lessons to be learned beyond: don't get injured and do more specific hill training.
Brecon 40
05/12/11 15:57
What I was expecting: a gentle cruise around the Breacon Beacons in the style of the High Peak 40.
What I got: the evil bastard son of a December Round Rotherham and a wet Fellsman.
Low-lights: getting actively ‘swept’ through the first few miles, falling over 4 times, attempting to run into a head-wind through boggy ground which stretched as far as the eye could see. In fact pretty much the entire first 30 miles.
High-lights: the last 10 miles, navigating and running well on my own in the dark, making serious inroads into the back end of the field (in terms of time if not placings...)
And it was the first proper outing for my Salamon S-Lab 12. I’m still getting to grips with how best to use the (numerous) pockets and fastenings. It’s the most expensive piece of running kit I’ve ever bought, but this might well become my new favourite running rucksack.
An aside: I never used to understand why people described running as a cheap sport. I used to spend a hundred plus pounds a year on running shoes! And then I took up triathlon... And acquired 3 bikes and a set of wheels, each of which were individually worth more than my car at that time (although that says as much about how old and crap my car was as it does about my fall into the ‘triathlon bling buying’ trap).
What I got: the evil bastard son of a December Round Rotherham and a wet Fellsman.
Low-lights: getting actively ‘swept’ through the first few miles, falling over 4 times, attempting to run into a head-wind through boggy ground which stretched as far as the eye could see. In fact pretty much the entire first 30 miles.
High-lights: the last 10 miles, navigating and running well on my own in the dark, making serious inroads into the back end of the field (in terms of time if not placings...)
And it was the first proper outing for my Salamon S-Lab 12. I’m still getting to grips with how best to use the (numerous) pockets and fastenings. It’s the most expensive piece of running kit I’ve ever bought, but this might well become my new favourite running rucksack.
An aside: I never used to understand why people described running as a cheap sport. I used to spend a hundred plus pounds a year on running shoes! And then I took up triathlon... And acquired 3 bikes and a set of wheels, each of which were individually worth more than my car at that time (although that says as much about how old and crap my car was as it does about my fall into the ‘triathlon bling buying’ trap).
Lakeland 100 recce 1
07/11/11 15:58
Another (hopefully more successful) shot at UTMB is my dream plan for 2012. But it seems to be getting more popular (the internet's full of people with the 'start running ultras, bag the qualifying points and run UTMB' plans/delusions I had 4 years ago), so I might not be lucky enough to get a place. Therefore, for now at least, I'm focusing on my B plan: the Lakeland 100. Which might be even harder (for me at least) given the less groomed terrain.
I spent hours with the route book and map breaking the route down into optimal stages for recces (with the time cuts close behind me I'll need to minimise the time spent on route finding on the day). My original plan for the weekend was Coniston to Buttermere on day 1 and back again the next day, staying in youth hostels at either end. With limited daylight and energy I discarded the masterplan and scaled this back to Coniston to Boot and back, followed by Elterwater to Coniston and back.
The first climb up to Scarth gap went OK, until I struggled to keep pace with some elderly walkers near the top (humiliating, but a useful reminder of how much I need to work on my climbing). Down the other side I made it to Seathwaite comfortably up on the slowest speed quoted in the road book. On paper the next stage looked significantly easier, with far less climbing, so I set off for Boot feeling fairly perky. Ha ha! The initial climb and subsequent track were fine, but then came (what felt like) miles of calf deep bog which ground me more or less to a halt. Followed by sodden grass, where every attempt at running led to a butt slide. Eventually (after having to dig my heels in to avoid accelerating into a stone wall) I turned round just before Boot and decided to call it a day, or half way at least. The return journey went OK, the bog was no less frustrating and going back over the pass in almost zero visibility was 'fun'.
I covered the 2nd half of the course during the first Lakeland 50 back in 2008. But back then my navigation skills were pants and I paired up with a bloke who knew the route, so my memory of the route (in particular from Kentmere on where it was dark) was very sketchy. In fact on the ground it mostly felt familiar, but the recce was still useful for getting to grips with a couple of sections where the path fades out. In the 50 the climb up Tilberthwaite Gill had seemed a bit hairy in places. In the meantime I'd convinced myself that my memory was exaggerating things. But no, there really are a couple of places where hands are needed. On the day, some caffeine tablets at the final checkpoint might be a good idea.
All in all a good weekend. However I need new shoes, with better grip on wet grass, and better climbing legs. Having trawled race reports on the internet the Salomon speed cross seems to be the shoe of choice, so I've ordered a cheap pair. The climbing legs will take a bit more work...
I spent hours with the route book and map breaking the route down into optimal stages for recces (with the time cuts close behind me I'll need to minimise the time spent on route finding on the day). My original plan for the weekend was Coniston to Buttermere on day 1 and back again the next day, staying in youth hostels at either end. With limited daylight and energy I discarded the masterplan and scaled this back to Coniston to Boot and back, followed by Elterwater to Coniston and back.
The first climb up to Scarth gap went OK, until I struggled to keep pace with some elderly walkers near the top (humiliating, but a useful reminder of how much I need to work on my climbing). Down the other side I made it to Seathwaite comfortably up on the slowest speed quoted in the road book. On paper the next stage looked significantly easier, with far less climbing, so I set off for Boot feeling fairly perky. Ha ha! The initial climb and subsequent track were fine, but then came (what felt like) miles of calf deep bog which ground me more or less to a halt. Followed by sodden grass, where every attempt at running led to a butt slide. Eventually (after having to dig my heels in to avoid accelerating into a stone wall) I turned round just before Boot and decided to call it a day, or half way at least. The return journey went OK, the bog was no less frustrating and going back over the pass in almost zero visibility was 'fun'.
I covered the 2nd half of the course during the first Lakeland 50 back in 2008. But back then my navigation skills were pants and I paired up with a bloke who knew the route, so my memory of the route (in particular from Kentmere on where it was dark) was very sketchy. In fact on the ground it mostly felt familiar, but the recce was still useful for getting to grips with a couple of sections where the path fades out. In the 50 the climb up Tilberthwaite Gill had seemed a bit hairy in places. In the meantime I'd convinced myself that my memory was exaggerating things. But no, there really are a couple of places where hands are needed. On the day, some caffeine tablets at the final checkpoint might be a good idea.
All in all a good weekend. However I need new shoes, with better grip on wet grass, and better climbing legs. Having trawled race reports on the internet the Salomon speed cross seems to be the shoe of choice, so I've ordered a cheap pair. The climbing legs will take a bit more work...
around Rotherham again
18/10/11 15:59
My legs recovered from the High Peak 40 pretty rapidly, and by mid week I was running faster than I’d done all year (a minute a mile faster than in August over a hilly off road 5 mile route). And just as I began wondering if I could get close to my 2010 Round Rotherham 10.29 ‘dream’ time, the first two weeks of the academic year hit me like a brick wall. By race week I was simply aiming for not falling asleep on my feet and a finishing time starting with an 11.
I still don’t feel at home at the 7am ‘runners’ start, surrounded by skinny, scantily clad racing snakes. Although this year I’m neither wearing the most clothes, nor carrying the biggest rucksack. Usually I manage to resist the mass stampede at the start and end up firmly in last place for the first 5 miles. This year I got carried away running and chatting, and went through the first mile in under 10 minutes (faster than my marathon pace, not the best way to start a 50 miler...). By Elsecar at 5ish miles my right thigh/hip was tight and I had to stop and stretch. To my surprise there was a group of people behind us, but they disappeared into the distance fairly rapidly over the next few miles. (Although looking at the photos taken a couple of miles further on there was still a handful of people behind and out of sight.)
Usually my Round Rotherham bad spot comes at 20ish miles in Rother Valley Country Park (on more than one occasion I’ve temporary vowed to finish the race and then never run another ultra...). This year the bad spot came much sooner. Struggling with 40+ miles to go, I thought about dropping. It was a gorgeous sunny day though, so I thought I might as well keep going rather than DNFing and spending the rest of the day sulking on the sofa. And running slowly was more comfortable than walking, so I kept plodding on. Eventually my leg loosened up and I started repassing the people I’d last seen at Elsecar. I ran the whole way through the dreaded country park and was even disappointed to come out the other side onto less runnable terrain.
I went through half way in 5.15, and at this point I began to wonder whether a finishing time starting with a 10 might be possible (the 1st half contains more flat, even trail/road than the 2nd, so some slowing down was inevitable). The 6am starters, along with the 7am starters who went off too fast, provided me with a steady stream of targets to catch, and I kept running pretty well. I struggled on the slightly uneven terrain across the fields and through the woods between Firbeck and Maltby, and downgraded my ambitions to finishing inside last year’s 11.44.
From somewhere I got a second wind though and the last 10 miles flew by, and the final hill before Old Denaby seemed far smaller than before. I left the final checkpoint with 3 and a bit miles to go with 10.15 on the clock. Sub-11 was doable, but I was going to have to work for it. The two blokes I’d been going back and forth with since 30 miles provided additional motivation (it was the usual story: they were running faster but lingering at check-points). Counting footsteps I kept myself mostly running, and covered this section 6 minutes faster than last year. Glancing over my shoulder with a couple of hundred metres to go I could see the two blokes, plus another I’d passed when he took a wrong turn, just behind. Running as fast as I could (which at the end of a 50 is about 10 minute milling) I just held them off and finished in 10.55.
26 minutes outside my PB, but far faster than I thought was possible given how tired I was and how early on my legs started aching. So very happy with that. And I managed to get the eating and drinking right. A couple of biscuits eaten on the go after each checkpoint, plus a gel and a salt tablet during each stage worked well. The OMM front pack is really comfy and keeps the snacks easily to hand, when I don’t want/need to carry a bigger rucksack with belt pockets. And a 650ml bottle of water (instead of the two 750ml bottles I used to haul around...) was plenty.
I’m now wondering about whether I could ever run a sub 10 hour 50. At Round Rotherham probably not (or at least I’d have to be in really good shape and have a perfect day to even get close). But on a pancake flat course? Maybe...
So Thames Trot next year? Or maybe go the whole hog and try a track race?...
photo © Copyright Christopher Thomas and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence
High Peak 40 - the road of doom
08/10/11 16:01
Beforehand my goals were to
- i) beat my 2009 time of 9.43
In retrospect i) was never going to happen, and in fact it took a concerted effort to squeak inside 2010’s 9.59. I didn’t strictly speaking manage ii) either, having a couple of short walk breaks on the steeper bits. But I did take 6 minutes off my 2010 time for that stretch, which I’ll take as a mini result.
The weather at the start was foul and (after a last minute change of clothes which left the back seats of the car covered in sudocream....) I set off in long tights and a fairly heavy duty jacket. I was also trying out a new bit of kit-an OMM front pack attached to my 10l OMM ‘last drop’ rucksack. I really like this pack for ‘shortish’ races without a huge kit list, but the lack of easy access pockets for food is a problem
The weather cleared up soon after the start and I had to stop, unfasten the front pack, remove my raincoat and then reattach it. Which took forever (or a couple of minutes at least). Rushup edge felt like a bit of a struggle, although not as much of a struggle as the splits revealed afterwards. I was, on average, 2 minutes a mile slower on that stretch than last year. Where have my (pretty crap in the first place) climbing legs gone?...
It started raining heavily coming down from Hollins Cross, so it was back off with the front pack and on with the raincoat. The climb out of Castelton was slow again. And then it stopped raining again and I was overheating and the jacket had to come off again. I was seriously rueing not having worn a lighter jacket which would have coped with the rain without boiling me. Hopefully getting the front pack on and off will get easier/quicker with practice...
By keeping running through Tideswell (and past a bloated dead sheep) I was gradually passing people who were walking. The one problem was food. I was planning on supplementing gels with biscuits and snacks from the checkpoints. But they mostly had sweet flapjacks which I was struggling to eat (note to self: carry a back up stash of savoury biscuits in future).
The climb out of Deep Dale 1 wasn’t too bad and then on to the road of doom. And with a combination of counting footsteps and inventing pace and heart rate goals, I ran all but a couple of hundred metres of it, making up the time I’d lost on the big off-road climbs.
The last couple of miles were a bit of plod (probably due to not taking on enough calories), but I managed to just make it round inside last year’s time.
Photo © Copyright Christopher Thomas and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence
Lessons learnt/master plan
03/09/11 16:03
There are a couple of small positives to take away from this year’s UTMB experience:
However chasing cut-offs for 46 hours would be tough (physically and mentally), so I need to aim to be a bit further inside them (i.e. 30 minutes at Contamines, building to at least an hour). The master plan for doing this is:
i.e. faster pretty much everything! For descending the first step is to strengthen my ankles, and then practice and gain confidence. Climbing wise, more weekends of ‘Snowdon repeats’ and mid-week stair climbing sessions should make a difference. Finally I took my eye off the ball with respect to flat-ish running and somehow managed to lose fitness/speed over the Summer. Keeping up regular undulating mid-length runs should help this.
In the short term, I’ve got the High Peak 40 and Round Rotherham 50 to round off the year. It’d be nice to take something (i.e. a new personal best) away from one of them. High Peak 40 is probably the best bet as I’ve struggled a bit both times I’ve run it (despite the 2nd senior woman medal in 2009...) whereas the 2009 Round Rotherham was one of the best runs I’ve ever had. Failing that, the goal is to run the ‘gently rising road of doom’. I did have a quick look for another 100 this year, but the only one I could find (Ceasar’s camp) was full, which is probably for the best.
After that a couple of weeks rest (or at least a break from running) would be a good idea. And then the plan is to get into shape for the usual early season ‘races’ (Haworth Hobble, Hardmoors 55, Calderdale, Fellsman), with the goal of being a bit less cautious with my pacing and seeing how much faster (if at all...) I can go.
After that Hardmoors 110 is a more challenging alternative to another LDWA 100, and better preparation for another, better prepared, shot at UTMB (or the Lakeland 100 if I don’t get in).
- 1) At least the bad weather coincided with a year when my preparation hadn’t been great.
- 2) My descending was (marginally) better than at CCC two years ago. I was actually managing to net over-take on the descents. Although this probably says more about the woeful descending skills of a lot of the rest of the back-end of the field.
However chasing cut-offs for 46 hours would be tough (physically and mentally), so I need to aim to be a bit further inside them (i.e. 30 minutes at Contamines, building to at least an hour). The master plan for doing this is:
- Faster descending.
- Faster climbing.
- Faster running on the undulating bits.
i.e. faster pretty much everything! For descending the first step is to strengthen my ankles, and then practice and gain confidence. Climbing wise, more weekends of ‘Snowdon repeats’ and mid-week stair climbing sessions should make a difference. Finally I took my eye off the ball with respect to flat-ish running and somehow managed to lose fitness/speed over the Summer. Keeping up regular undulating mid-length runs should help this.
In the short term, I’ve got the High Peak 40 and Round Rotherham 50 to round off the year. It’d be nice to take something (i.e. a new personal best) away from one of them. High Peak 40 is probably the best bet as I’ve struggled a bit both times I’ve run it (despite the 2nd senior woman medal in 2009...) whereas the 2009 Round Rotherham was one of the best runs I’ve ever had. Failing that, the goal is to run the ‘gently rising road of doom’. I did have a quick look for another 100 this year, but the only one I could find (Ceasar’s camp) was full, which is probably for the best.
After that a couple of weeks rest (or at least a break from running) would be a good idea. And then the plan is to get into shape for the usual early season ‘races’ (Haworth Hobble, Hardmoors 55, Calderdale, Fellsman), with the goal of being a bit less cautious with my pacing and seeing how much faster (if at all...) I can go.
After that Hardmoors 110 is a more challenging alternative to another LDWA 100, and better preparation for another, better prepared, shot at UTMB (or the Lakeland 100 if I don’t get in).
I'll be back
30/08/11 16:05
The thing which was worrying me most about UTMB was the early cut-offs. I’ve got a habit of just squeaking through mid-race cut-offs before going on to finish (relatively...) comfortably inside the final cut-offs. For instance at the Hardmoors 55 I was 2 minutes inside the mid-way cut-off in 2010 and 8 min this year, but went on to finish 30 min and 82 min inside the final cut-offs respectively. And at the Long Tour of Bradwell earlier this month I technically missed the mid-way cut-off by 2 min, but was 28 min inside the final limit. So given UTMB is notorious for having tight cut-offs early on, I was worried.
From the moment I got injured crossing the road on the way to get my UTMB medical certificate signed nothing had quite gone to plan. The delay in the start time (from 6.30pm to 11.30pm) wasn’t a surprise given that the bad weather (heavy rain, thunder and high winds and snow at high altitudes) had been forecast all week. However the reductions in the early cut-offs (by 15 min at Contamines and La Balme, 30 min at Chapieux, building to more than an hour by Vallorcine) was one final, nasty surprise. All I could do on reading the text message from the organisers was laugh.
Rewinding a bit, my final big training session, a weekend of ‘Snowdon repeats’ a la Jez Bragg and Mike Mason, went OK. I went up the pyg track and down the miner’s track 3 times on Saturday and another 3 times on Sunday. Saturday’s first repeat was grim. I set off too fast, the weather was cold, wet and windy and the path was cluttered with numerous miscellaneous numpties. But by Sunday afternoon I’d got my pacing sorted, the sun had come out and only hardened hill walkers were left (and the ‘haven’t we seen you coming up before today?’ ‘yes, this is my 3rd time’, ‘!?’ conversations were good for my ego).
Then I went for a short gentle run a few days later. Within a couple of 100 metres my shins felt sore, and sore rapidly became painful and affected my gait (it felt like the first few painful runs when I started running 15+ years ago). So I cut the run short and rested for a couple of days, before trying again. With exactly the same result. At this point even managing the first 5 flattish miles to Les Houches was looking doubtful. There was nothing to do but stop running completely and hope for the best.
I flew out to Geneva on the Wednesday night and bumped into one of my Fellsman companions on the transfer to Chamonix (he went on to get agonisingly close to finishing). The hotel I’d booked was a small family run hotel. Very quaint, but no air conditioning, and I got very little sleep that night, waking up drenched in sweat every time I dozed off. With a dull headache (which refused to go away for the next 2 days) I went to register and get my kit-checked. A walk in the park compared to the Fellsman kit check and the bloke doing it was very impressed that I showed him the items in the order they were on the official list. Apparently I was the first person to do that (pity there are no medals for kit organisation...)
Bad weather on Friday night had been forecast since before I left the UK, so the first thing I did on Friday morning was check the UTMB web-site. The 5 hour delay in the start time wasn’t ideal, but not a disaster, it just meant rejigging my eating plans for the day. However the text message which arrived a few hours later with the revised cut-off times reduced my already small chances of finishing to almost zero. As the afternoon went on clouds rolled in and the temperature plummeted. And by early evening it was raining torrentially. Having tried and failed to sleep, I tried to wile the hours away reading and surfing the web.
Come 10pm I got my gear on, downed a couple of gels (not a great idea in retrospect), slathered my shins in painkilling gel and headed down to the start line. It wasn’t clear exactly where the start was so we milled around at the edge of the crowds, trying to avoid being stabbed in the eyes by brollies (the rain was still coming down steadily). Just after 11pm there were a sequence of announcements, mainly in French, and some random waving of trekking poles in the air and then we were off.
It took a few minutes to cross the line, followed by another 5 minutes of walk-shuffling out of Chamonix. But I was surprised by how soon we got running. My shins initially felt odd, but thankfully that faded after a couple of miles. For most of the trail out to Les Houches (and in fact for most of the next 15 miles) I repeatedly got stuck behind an infuriating group of Japanese runners. Strewn across the trail I had to barge past them as they walked (strolled even) on the flats but then they’d run the uphills and overtake me. Through Les Houches, with a quick stop to fill my water bottles and put on my waterproof trousers, I was otherwise actually enjoying myself.
On the climb up to Delevret quite a few people overtook me.
I was a bit cold even with full waterproofs and 2 upper layers on, but decided to press on rather than stopping to put on another layer. There was a trail of headtorches behind me, but I didn’t realise how close I was to the back of the field until I checked the results after. (As at CCC there were only about 50 people behind me at this point.) Thanks to the hours of heavy rain and the 2000+ people in front of me, the steep grassy decent into St. Gervais was pretty much a mudslide. Using my poles I stayed upright and even overtook 20 people on the descent. Running into the aid station I was surprised, and worried, by how much my legs were already aching. I stopped briefly to sort out my insoles which had bunched up (presumably due to gripping with my toes while desperately trying to stay upright), grabbed a handful of biscuits and headed out eating them.
As the early time cut-offs were going to be tight I’d made a spread-sheet of times, speeds elevations etc. which I’d been planning to tie to the outside of my rucksack, but with the shortened cut-offs I’d decided to just see how far I could get without worrying too much and stuffed it inside my bag. A quick mental calculation revealed that it was going to be touch and go whether I made it through the first cut-off at Les Contamines. The 10km from St. Gervais has a deceptive 500m of climbing. It should be mostly runnable but, just like on the training camp, I struggled to do so consistently. On the final narrow bit of trail I got stuck in a queue behind some (even slower) runners and, aware of the ticking clock, squeezed my way past them. I didn’t realise quite how close the cut-off was until, whilst jogging up the road, I heard an announcement that the check-point would be closing in 5 minutes. I sped up to a run, grabbed the first bottle of water I could see (sparkling unfortunately) to top up my supplies, grabbed an even bigger handful of biscuits and ran straight out with a couple of minutes to spare.
The road out of the check point descends gently so I kept running, biscuits still in hand, overtaking large numbers of people who seemed to be wandering along without a care in the world. I did a better job of running the flatish bits out to Notre Dame de la Gorge before slowing on the climb up to La Balme. By now the rain had stopped and the sky was clear and starry. The sun rose and half an hour or so before the cut-off, the checkpoint came into sight in the distance. I was going to make this one with a little bit more time to spare, but (not having eaten apart from the biscuits) my energy levels were fading, so I slowed down a bit to get some more food on board.
After a slightly longer stop to put on warmer gloves, pack my headtorch away and eat some more biscuits, I headed off on the first big climb with 8 minutes to spare. Quite a few people overtook me in the early stages, but then I kept pace with the people around me (although the fact that there weren’t many people left behind to catch up probably had something to do with that...). The skies clouded over and light hail turned into snow, but I was working hard enough not to get cold. On the final section over to the Refuge Croix du Bonhomme I encountered a runner sat on a rock seemingly having a picnic.
The next cut-off at Les Chapieux down in the valley had been moved in by an additional 15 mins and I had an hour to get there. I couldn’t remember how long this slightly technical descent had taken on the training camp, but it was going to be touch and go whether I made it. The snow and mud made the descent even trickier. The picnicing runner flew past me, but otherwise I passed a handful of people descending even more tentatively then me. The runner sat on the floor with what looked like a broken ankle didn’t aid my confidence (an official with a radio was already in place, and shortly after a helicopter flew overhead). I reached the last, gentle grassy section of the descent with 10 minutes to go. At this point it was clearly game over. I pressed on, overtaking a couple more people, just in case. But my maths was right and I was 10 minutes too late. I was guided to the medical area, full of unhappy looking runners, where my chip was removed from my number.
My race ending this early wasn’t a surprise, and I’d been lucky to make it through the first cut-off at Les Contamines. But none the less being stopped when I still felt, more or less, fine was frustrating. Maybe I should have pressed harder, but risking overdoing it in sub-zero temperatures at 2500m didn’t seem too sensible. And if I had to go hard at this point I had no chance of finishing the full 100.
There was an entire bus load of drop-outs for the slow, but beautiful, journey back to Chamonix via Courmeyer. At this point the weather in the valleys looked frustratingly benign.
We decided to make the most of the semi-unexpected free Sunday and take the railway up to the Mer de Glace. My legs were slightly sore, but no worse than after a longish training run, and I had energy to burn... First I decided to race the cable car back up from the ice cave (I lost, but only just). And then I left the other half at the Grand Hotel du Montenvers and went for a run/walk up to Signal. The weather was warm and sunny and it was the highlight of the trip...
Three days and counting
23/08/11 16:06
My bags are packed (and no I’m not planning on wearing/carrying all that gear at once...) and I’m flying out to Chamonix tomorrow.
If my training had gone well I’d be bricking it. In particular about the 3 big climbs laying in wait in the last 25 miles (where I’ve really struggled in both the 100s I’ve done before). As it is I’m fairly laid-back. Well apart from the list making and obsessing about Schmerbers and RETs (measures of waterproofness and breathability in case you’re wondering)... The plan is to try and enjoy the mountains and see how far I can get before the time cut-offs catch up with me.
Long tour of Bradwell: deja vu or not
19/08/11 16:06
My 2011 Long tour of Bradwell executive summary is pretty much the same as 2009’s: ‘at back of field from the start, everyone I overtook dropped out, finished last (just)’.
The details were a bit different though. In 2009 I had company in the first half of the race, in the form of a bloke who went up hills even slower than me, but came flying past on every decent. I pushed hard in the 1st half, went through the midway cut-off in Bamford with 15-20 minutes to spare and caught another couple of runners (who then dropped out...). I’d overdone it however and really struggled with the 2nd half. If I’d realised I was closing on the 2nd to last runner (I never caught sight of him, but he was only 2 minutes ahead at the finish) I might have managed to move faster though...
In 2010 it clashed with the Outlaw triathlon, (and the last place finisher was a whole hour slower than my 2009 time).
My original plan for 2011 was (with the UTMB training I was going to have in my legs) to try and take half an hour off my 2009 time, and hopefully not finish last again. The time goal had long since gone out the window. And with the UTMB training camp and a mid-week 3 hour stair climbing session still in my legs I’d downgraded further to ‘take it steady, see if I can make it to the mid-way point before the cut-off time’.
With sore legs and no energy I was way off the back of the field even before the first checkpoint (after about a mile...).
Having apologised to the marshalls at the next few checkpoints for keeping them waiting, I finally caught the next to last runner (thanks to his repeated navigational snafus...). I was feeling perkier than early on, but it was clear that making the mid-way cut-off was going to be touch and go. The mile or so preceding the cut-off point was along a flatish trail and I pushed as hard as I could, but watched my watch tick past the 5 hour cut-off. I got there at 5.02, resigned to being directed back to the finish and was confused when the marshall held the ‘dibber’ box up for me to dib-in. ‘But aren’t I timed out? I’m 2 minutes late.’ ‘Oh no, we know you, you’ll just keep plodding on’ was the response.
So grateful for the reprieve I set off to try and catch the next 2 runners, who were apparently only 10 minutes ahead and not looking good. And I found them a couple of miles later, looking confused, having missed the next checkpoint. Unfortunately, like my earlier catch, they later dropped out...
After some short showers early on, the sun came out at this point and, apart from a sore calf, I was running better than 2 years ago and enjoying myself. I arrived at the final manned checkpoint just as 2 blokes were leaving, giving me hope that I could avoid winning the wooden spoon. I soon caught them and after a brief chat (which included the usual, ‘where do you come from (with that accent)?’ question) overtook. I’d been careful not to reveal I was in last place, but being overtaken by a ‘girl’ seemed to give them a second wind, and they passed and pulled away from me. I nearly caught them again at the bottom of the last climb, but despite running my fastest mile of the race through Bradwell to the finish, ended up a minute and a bit behind them. 7 minutes slower than 2009 and last again, but well inside the final 10 hour cut-off at least.
UTMB training camp
07/08/11 16:07
A dark matter workshop at CERN was a good excuse for a trip to the Alps to recce the UTMB route. I’d briefly thought about DIYing it, but was put off by the logistics of finding beds at refuges and having to carry all my gear for 4 days. So I booked a place on an ultrafondus training camp.
Rewinding to June, I thought my training was going OK with regular 3-5 hour hill repeat sets in the Peak district and 2 hour sessions on a mini-stepper. A lack of free weekends stopped me getting any full weekends in North Wales or the lakes in. And in retrospect the mini-stepper didn’t do anything for my hill climbing fitness.
In late June we headed off to Burma for a fantastic fortnight’s holiday (to celebrate the other half’s 40th birthday...). No running, but it was a fairly active holiday (including a couple of days leisurely trekking) and at least it allowed the lingering niggles in my legs to recover. On getting home I threw myself back into training. Unfortunately a mild case of Burma belly turned into full blown diarrhea (which took antibiotics to clear up) and after a couple of days I was completely wiped out. Even 5 flat miles around CERN was a lumbering struggle. Which wasn’t an ideal state to be in going into a 4 day 100 mile training camp...
It was clear from very early on that I was by far the slowest person there. The rest of the group included some very speedy and experienced ultra-runners. Even in reasonable shape I’d have been the slowest. But suffering from a complete lack of strength and energy I was waaaay slower than everyone else. And ended up suffering the humiliation of being towed up most of the climbs on an elastic tow-rope. Even then I was having to work far too hard to keep up, leaving me struggling on the subsequent descents and flats. Things got a bit better as the 4 days went on though, and the highlight was going up the final climb to La Tete Aux Vents and across to La Flegere under my own steam, at my own pace (albeit with a head start...)
Housman 100
06/06/11 16:08
A confidence builder for UTMB (and hopefully a big chunk off my 100 time from the HoS100 last year) was the original plan. With the calf injury my goals were downgraded to the more modest
- a) don’t do myself any damage
- b) finish
- c) finish faster than last year.
The first morning/afternoon went fairly well. I was slow on the ups, but not as bad as Fellsman, and I was keeping up with the people around me by running more/faster on the flats. I’d seriously underestimated the course though. While there might not be any really big hills in Shropshire, it was constant up and down (the total of ~6000m of ascent in the route description, should have been a clue...). So I knew once my running legs were gone I’d be slipping backwards through the field.
Having started from the first 10am start I was towards the front of the field, and getting pampered by the checkpoint staff (‘sit down dear, now what would you like? we’ve got....’). Which meant I was eating more proper food than my stomach is usually used to when running. By the time I reached the breakfast stop in the early hours of the morning it was decidedly unhappy and I barely made inroads into the huge pile of beans I’d been served on my toast.
After plodding through the night, dawn broke just before the Stiperstones, and I started running the flats again. I didn’t manage any running on day 2 last year, so I was feeling pretty happy at this point. I even managed to hang onto the coat-tails of some speedier runners from the midday start when they overtook me on the descent into the next checkpoint.
The wheels were about to fall off though. Spaghetti hoops and toast were a struggle, and the climb after the checkpoint was even worse, punctuated by the first of a regular series of mid-hill wee-stops. On I plodded, not losing too much time to the people around me at this point, but not eating at all. Coming down off the Long Mynd I was lured into a jog when some more midday starters went past. Bad mistake. The short, but steep, climb just before the next checkpoint at 83 miles was a nightmare and all the people I’d just overtaken streamed back past. At the top I leant on a style, drenched in sweat, wondering what had gone wrong (with thoughts of DNFing entered by head).
At the checkpoint I realised I had to get some food down to have any change of finishing. I managed precisely 2 bites of a piece of toast and was beginning to think a DNF was on the cards (could I even get to the next checkpoint, let along the finish?). At this point someone I’d last seen looking rotten, wrapped in a blanket, way back at 36 miles came in looking pretty perky. And the realisation dawned, that with a 48 hour time limit I had plenty of time in hand to find something I could eat, get my energy levels up and recover. And the bloke opposite me’s tinned peaches were looking slightly appealing, or at least not completely vomit inducing. So I asked for a bowlful of my own, and slowly nibbled my way through them. After about 30 minutes in the checkpoint I decided to head off and see how the first mile or so felt.
Thankfully the next few miles weren’t too hilly, and feeling better I kept plodding along, with only a couple of people overtaking me. A couple of miles out from the next checkpoint another big hill ground me to almost a halt. And a bloke who overtook me on it was amazed when I arrived at the checkpoint just after him (‘so you’re obviously going alright on the flats then’). Spurred on by this, I ate a couple of orange segments and then engaged in a power-walking game of ‘cat and mouse’ with him (and his children who were alternating pacing duties, as mum and the rest of the family leapfrogged them in the car) along one of the rare stretches of flat road.
Off of the road and into some wet fields I slowed down again, and a few people passed me. Including a cheery little old lady I’d chatted to 80 or so miles ago. ‘Don’t worry about me, I’m not going anywhere in a hurry’ she said brightly as I stepped off the single track to let her past. I just managed to respond ‘But you’re going a lot fast than I am!’ as she disappeared into the distance. At the final checkpoint I managed to eat a yoghurt, but at attempt at a banana failed after one bite.
Thanks to frequent sock changes (and better conditions under foot) I’d avoided last years foot problems, but my feet were now blistered. With 5 or so miles to go I decided it wasn’t worth doing anything about it, but they slowed me down even more. Swarms of people (well maybe 10) passed me as I plodded over the final ‘sting in the tail’ climb. I was slowly catching someone I’d been going ‘back and forth’ with earlier on who was now limping and moving even slower than me. I caught him just before the finish, but decided overtaking at this point would be pretty crass, and crossed the line just behind him in 34.16. Declining stomach turning offers of pies and real ale I sat and slowly drunk some water.
Having finished over an hour faster than year, I’d met all 3 of my revised goals. But I was a bit disappointed, secretly I’d been hoping for a time closer to 32 hours. (Checking the results later in the week most of the people who passed through the 83 mile checkpoint at the same time as me had managed to finish in 32-33 hours).
After 12 hours sleep (while the rain pounded down on my tent and I felt very glad I wasn’t still out there) I was feeling a bit happier. My stomach was also feeling better and I ate a pile of toast while watching and clapping the later walkers finishing (one of the nice features of LDWA 100s is the ringing of a bell as every finisher crosses the line). Waiting at the station I chatted to some other participants, and discovering I’d been the fastest finisher of the small group perked my up some more (although I was a bit embarrassed by an exchange between one of the group and a random person: ‘are you lot going for a walk?’, ‘No we’ve just done 100 miles’, ‘Oh.... how long did it take?’, ‘It took me XX hours, but she [points at me as if I was some sort of superstar] did it in 34’).
Last year, with badly battered feet and ankles the journey home was a nightmare and it was a fortnight before I could even walk more than a couple of hundred metres. This year I happily carried my large rucksack full of running and camping gear home from the station, had a quick run on Wednesday and was out in the Peak District doing hill repeats by the next Sunday.
So lessons learnt?
- i) I need to sort out eating and drinking. What has worked successfully up to 60ish miles, isn’t working up to 100. And if the wheels come off at UTMB I’ll get timed out. Food is fairly straight forward. Falling for the temptations of the LDWA checkpoints was a mistake and I should have stuck to my tried and tested sandwiches/biscuits/pizza and favourite energy bars/gels. At UTMB the checkpoints will be packed (and offer fairly slim pickings for a vegetarian) so I’ll need to aim to be self-sufficient. Hydration is trickier. I’ve been using Hammer Perpetuem for a while, but I’ve been finding it increasingly harder to stomach over long distances (and ended up throwing away almost full bottles after 40ish miles at both Fellsman and the 100). The frequently weeing on the 2nd day and nausea suggest that my electolyte levels were out of wack. So time to switch to a zero calorie electrolite drink. A bottle of elete water is in the post.
- ii) Hills. I’m crap at them. And in less than 3 months time I’m attempting a race with 10, 000m of ascent. A mini-stepper is also ordered, and lots of hill repeat sessions in the Peak District planned...
Fellsman 2011
31/05/11 16:09
This was my 3rd Fellsman. The route doesn’t really suit me. I plod up and down the big hills at the start, and by the time I get to the runnable stuff later on it’s dark and grouping keeps the speed down to a plod. My original plan was to go as hard as I could to Fleet Moss, hopefully get into a fast(er) moving group and see if I could round in closer to 20 hours (2009: 23.23, 2010: 21.47). My injured calf put pay to that, and I downgraded my goal to ‘get around in one piece’.
20 minutes in, as I struggled up Ingleborough with both calves screaming, I downgraded further to ‘get to Hill Inn in one piece and DNF’. My calves loosened off on the descent though and I decided to aim for Dent (and at least get a half-way decent training run in). Ascending Whernside was a bit easier and by Gragareth my calves were no more sore than any other bit of my legs.
The last 2 years I snuck through Redshaw with 5-10 minutes to spare before the grouping cut-off. I thought I was on course to do the same this year, but the cut-off was 30 minutes sooner than I thought and I missed it by 10 minutes.
I quickly found myself 3 fellow run/walkers and we set off (at a steady walk) for Dodd Fell. Two of the group were first timers (one a fast-ish runner who’d lost time due to dodgy navigation). The 3rd, a very fast walker, was also on his 3rd Fellsman and knew a more direct (but not I’m convinced faster) route to Dodd Fell than I’d taken before.
We reached Fleet moss just as it got dark. From this point the navigation was my responsibility. The last minute route change throwing a boggy spanner in the works... I took us on a fairly conservative route, using fences as hand-rails (and a couple of groups of head-torches gained on us with more direct routes..). We were lucky to latch onto a group of old-timers for the final stretch to the new Middle Tongue checkpoint and over to Hell Gap. With the navigation responsibility gone I was feeling a bit rough and struggling to keep up at the back. I even briefly considered dropping out when we got to Cray to avoid slowing the rest of the group down. But when we got there the tent was full of people in a far worse state than me, so I popped a couple of pro plus and we quickly headed out again. Normally when grouped I get frustrated at having to sit at checkpoints, getting cold, but these guys were even less fond of dallying than me.
We were moving a fair bit slower than the group I was in last year, but the short stops were going a long way to compensating for this. En route we’d be overtaken by several groups (one of which was being ‘driven’ by a woman who seemed hell-bent on burning her companions out one by one...) but we’d then catch and repass them at the checkpoints.
Come Yarnbury and de-grouping I briefly considered trying to run. Last year we’d had a crazy run-out and I was out-kicked by a 3.15 marathon runner. This year the rest of the group clearly weren’t up for it, and I didn’t want to risk trying to run, pulling something and looking like a prat. We finally finished in 22.31, which in the circumstances I was reasonably satisfied with. But I’ll be back, with some more hills in my legs, to try and get closer to 20 hours.
Injured. On the way to get my UTMB medical certificate signed
09/05/11 16:11
I was on the way to the doctors, carefully clutching my UTMB medical certificate. I had plenty of time, but couldn’t be bothered to wait for the lights to change at a pedestrian crossing. So I started to ‘sprint’ across the road. Half-way across something ‘went’ in my right calf. And the sprint became a hop. Followed by a frantic hobble to make it to the doctors on time. And convince the doctor, that despite being unable to walk properly I was fit to run 100 mountainous miles in 4 months time...
Rewinding a couple of weeks... I’d finished the ‘Haworth Hobble-Hardmoors 55’ back-to-back weekends feeling fine.
Next up was several weeks of work travel (Amsterdam, Swindon, Glasgow and Bologna) with the Calderdale Hike in the middle.
I arrived at Calderdale feeling tired, but otherwise OK, and aiming for a time somewhere in the middle of 2010’s good (for me...) run of 8.43 and 2009’s 9.30 casual plod. My right leg felt a bit tight for the first couple of flat miles, but I didn’t think much of it, assuming it’d ease as I warmed up.
Unfortunately not. On the first steep climb both of my calves were excruciatingly tight, and I ground almost to a halt and the rest of the back end of the field streamed past me...
I slowly worked my way back past a handful of people, but by 10 miles I’d developed an array of random aches. And to increase my entertainment levels, rather than sticking to the tried and tested route choices I used last year I got creative... The low-light was swopping a runnable gravel track followed by a short sharp climb for an interminable plod through slowly rising boggy ground (although I did manage to plod past a group of youngish blokes at this point...). I kept plodding away and ended up finishing in 9.23, just inside 2009’s casual stroll...
The next day I was waddling/hobbling worse than I’ve done in a long time, so I decided not to take the running shoes to Bologna and have a few days rest. When I got home the legs still weren’t right, but nothing specifically wrong, until the road crossing incident... I’m still not sure exactly what happened, but the underlying cause appears to be a tight ITB.
Common sense prevailed and I DNSed the Highland Fling (my first ultra DNS). I’d had one eye on trying to better my placing in the ‘most total points’ category in the Run Further UK ultra-running championships (last year I was just outside the top 3) but convinced myself it wasn’t worth jeopardising UTMB (or the rest of my May plans). I rewarded myself by spending the money I’d otherwise have spent on the train fare on a pair of blingy new trekking poles.
Two weeks of massage and stretching and I’m back running. The calf is fine, but the underlying tightest isn’t quite gone.
Next up: Fellsman (and hoping my old Montrail Highlanders pass the kit-check as their ‘not quite yet worn-in’ replacements took the skin off both my heels yesterday...). I had been planning to go hard(er) until Fleet Moss and (grouping permitting) try and get my time down to something closer to 20 hours (23:23 in 2009, 21:47 in 2010). But now the goal is to get around in one piece.
Rewinding a couple of weeks... I’d finished the ‘Haworth Hobble-Hardmoors 55’ back-to-back weekends feeling fine.
Next up was several weeks of work travel (Amsterdam, Swindon, Glasgow and Bologna) with the Calderdale Hike in the middle.
I arrived at Calderdale feeling tired, but otherwise OK, and aiming for a time somewhere in the middle of 2010’s good (for me...) run of 8.43 and 2009’s 9.30 casual plod. My right leg felt a bit tight for the first couple of flat miles, but I didn’t think much of it, assuming it’d ease as I warmed up.
Unfortunately not. On the first steep climb both of my calves were excruciatingly tight, and I ground almost to a halt and the rest of the back end of the field streamed past me...
I slowly worked my way back past a handful of people, but by 10 miles I’d developed an array of random aches. And to increase my entertainment levels, rather than sticking to the tried and tested route choices I used last year I got creative... The low-light was swopping a runnable gravel track followed by a short sharp climb for an interminable plod through slowly rising boggy ground (although I did manage to plod past a group of youngish blokes at this point...). I kept plodding away and ended up finishing in 9.23, just inside 2009’s casual stroll...
The next day I was waddling/hobbling worse than I’ve done in a long time, so I decided not to take the running shoes to Bologna and have a few days rest. When I got home the legs still weren’t right, but nothing specifically wrong, until the road crossing incident... I’m still not sure exactly what happened, but the underlying cause appears to be a tight ITB.
Common sense prevailed and I DNSed the Highland Fling (my first ultra DNS). I’d had one eye on trying to better my placing in the ‘most total points’ category in the Run Further UK ultra-running championships (last year I was just outside the top 3) but convinced myself it wasn’t worth jeopardising UTMB (or the rest of my May plans). I rewarded myself by spending the money I’d otherwise have spent on the train fare on a pair of blingy new trekking poles.
Two weeks of massage and stretching and I’m back running. The calf is fine, but the underlying tightest isn’t quite gone.
Next up: Fellsman (and hoping my old Montrail Highlanders pass the kit-check as their ‘not quite yet worn-in’ replacements took the skin off both my heels yesterday...). I had been planning to go hard(er) until Fleet Moss and (grouping permitting) try and get my time down to something closer to 20 hours (23:23 in 2009, 21:47 in 2010). But now the goal is to get around in one piece.
I can sleep through Machine Head live, but I can't sleep through that
02/04/11 16:12
I once slept through Machine Head playing live. Not in the midst of the mosh-pit, but on a grass slope a couple of hundred metres from the stage. It was Download 2007 and I’d followed a late night with an early start to go open water swimming (part of my, somewhat obsessive, training for my first ironman). By mid-afternoon I was flagging, so in between bands I decided to have a quick snooze, and (to my other-halfs amazement) didn’t wake up when Machine Head started playing...
The Friday night disco at the Fox Inn in Guisborough was another story though. I was back in Guisborough for a 2nd go at the Hardmoors 55. Rather than spending a small fortune on the nearby Premier Inn I’d decided to stay in the Fox Inn ‘hotel’, within walking distance of the finish. I was pretty tired, from a string of early starts and late finishes for work, and left work early planning on getting an early night. When booking the room I’d read something about ‘live music’ at the weekends. This conjured up a quickly forgotten image of a band or singer playing for a couple of hours. When I got there a disco was setting up. The music was loud, but the main problem was the base, which made the entire room vibrate... It eventually stopped at around midnight, so I ended up with less than 6 hours sleep before the coach ride to the start. To be fair the Fox Inn was otherwise good value for money (with friendly staff), but don’t stay there on a Friday or Saturday if you want a good night’s sleep.
In 2010 the weather was pretty crap for most of the day, and a big chunk of the field dropped out. I plodded my way around, very close to the back of the field, in 14.5 hours.
This year the weather was bright and sunny and I got to the 9 mile checkpoint in 1.50, about the same as last year and feeling fine. The next ~10 miles were a struggle though. I often feel lousy at this point in an ultra, but this was worse than usual. I was walking even gentle slopes and the runners in front were disappearing into the distance. At one point I even contemplated a quick snooze in the woods by the side of the track. It was looking like I was going to get timed out at Osmotherley (22 miles in with a cut-off of 5 hours). I gave myself a metaphorical kick up the arse: ‘if I’m too tired to run, I’m too tired to drive home, and do I want to spend another evening in the vibrating hotel room?’. I resolved to try a bit harder and at least give myself a chance of making the cut-off. The luminous figures in the distance started coming back to me and by the time I got to the turn-off off the moors 2 miles outside Osmotherley I knew I was going to make it, just... Unlike 2010 when I had to push the final few miles and squeaked in 2 minutes inside the cut-off.
From Osmotherley to Bloworth crossing I started gradually overtaking people. Last year I was on my own from Osmotherley until catching 3 blokes in Guisborough woods, a couple of miles before the finish. This year I had a lot more company at the back end of the field. The sun had gone in a bit, but it was still infinitely nicer than last year (even if the views did take in Roseberry topping lurking in the distance). Also, unlike last year, I managed to keep running across the moors (running up slopes I’d been walking 20 miles previously...) and made it in to Kildale 30 minutes faster than last year. After a quick sit down (on the floor!) to rearrange my gear, I grabbed a fistful of biscuits and set off again (gaining a few places in the process).
Onwards to Roseberry topping. Thanks to the full moon and knowing the route I was still gaining time on last year. For a little while I though I might be able to finish inside 13.5 hours (and take an hour off last years time). Through Guisborough woods I slowed a bit, partly tiredness and partly not wanting to take a wrong turn and lose big time. Pity there was no-one in front to chase down (or behind to run away from...). I plodded my way along the final mile on the old railway line, counting footsteps to keep me going, finishing in 13.38.
Last year the finish was deserted apart from the time keepers, and a worried wife. This year it was buzzing (thanks, presumably, to the bar and a delay in getting the drop bags back from the final checkpoint). After a quick chat to a couple of people I waddled the couple of hundred metres through the Guisborough nightlife and back to the vibrating hotel room...
The Friday night disco at the Fox Inn in Guisborough was another story though. I was back in Guisborough for a 2nd go at the Hardmoors 55. Rather than spending a small fortune on the nearby Premier Inn I’d decided to stay in the Fox Inn ‘hotel’, within walking distance of the finish. I was pretty tired, from a string of early starts and late finishes for work, and left work early planning on getting an early night. When booking the room I’d read something about ‘live music’ at the weekends. This conjured up a quickly forgotten image of a band or singer playing for a couple of hours. When I got there a disco was setting up. The music was loud, but the main problem was the base, which made the entire room vibrate... It eventually stopped at around midnight, so I ended up with less than 6 hours sleep before the coach ride to the start. To be fair the Fox Inn was otherwise good value for money (with friendly staff), but don’t stay there on a Friday or Saturday if you want a good night’s sleep.
In 2010 the weather was pretty crap for most of the day, and a big chunk of the field dropped out. I plodded my way around, very close to the back of the field, in 14.5 hours.
This year the weather was bright and sunny and I got to the 9 mile checkpoint in 1.50, about the same as last year and feeling fine. The next ~10 miles were a struggle though. I often feel lousy at this point in an ultra, but this was worse than usual. I was walking even gentle slopes and the runners in front were disappearing into the distance. At one point I even contemplated a quick snooze in the woods by the side of the track. It was looking like I was going to get timed out at Osmotherley (22 miles in with a cut-off of 5 hours). I gave myself a metaphorical kick up the arse: ‘if I’m too tired to run, I’m too tired to drive home, and do I want to spend another evening in the vibrating hotel room?’. I resolved to try a bit harder and at least give myself a chance of making the cut-off. The luminous figures in the distance started coming back to me and by the time I got to the turn-off off the moors 2 miles outside Osmotherley I knew I was going to make it, just... Unlike 2010 when I had to push the final few miles and squeaked in 2 minutes inside the cut-off.
From Osmotherley to Bloworth crossing I started gradually overtaking people. Last year I was on my own from Osmotherley until catching 3 blokes in Guisborough woods, a couple of miles before the finish. This year I had a lot more company at the back end of the field. The sun had gone in a bit, but it was still infinitely nicer than last year (even if the views did take in Roseberry topping lurking in the distance). Also, unlike last year, I managed to keep running across the moors (running up slopes I’d been walking 20 miles previously...) and made it in to Kildale 30 minutes faster than last year. After a quick sit down (on the floor!) to rearrange my gear, I grabbed a fistful of biscuits and set off again (gaining a few places in the process).
Onwards to Roseberry topping. Thanks to the full moon and knowing the route I was still gaining time on last year. For a little while I though I might be able to finish inside 13.5 hours (and take an hour off last years time). Through Guisborough woods I slowed a bit, partly tiredness and partly not wanting to take a wrong turn and lose big time. Pity there was no-one in front to chase down (or behind to run away from...). I plodded my way along the final mile on the old railway line, counting footsteps to keep me going, finishing in 13.38.
Last year the finish was deserted apart from the time keepers, and a worried wife. This year it was buzzing (thanks, presumably, to the bar and a delay in getting the drop bags back from the final checkpoint). After a quick chat to a couple of people I waddled the couple of hundred metres through the Guisborough nightlife and back to the vibrating hotel room...
To UTMB
05/02/11 16:13
19th Jan was the big day. The day the results of the UTMB draw were announced. A meeting in Swindon stopped me from checking my e-mail every 2 minutes. But when I got home there was still nothing. So I checked the web-site, and YES!, I was in. And off to the pub to celebrate we went (skipping my planned run, plenty of time for that in the next 6 months...).
I spent the next couple of evenings finding a ‘not-too-horrifically expensive hotel in Chamonix that isn’t above a bar or next to the race route’ and (re)reading every UTMB blog or report I could find. And starting the slow process of getting myself into some sort of running shape.
Now the excitement has worn off, the worrying is kicking in. This is a tough challenge (it makes ironman look like a gentle stroll in the park...). Many far better ultra-runners than me haven’t managed to finish... But all I can do is get myself into shape, arrive at the start fit and healthy and give it my best shot. And not bore the other half to death by talking about it incessantly in the meantime.
For now the short term plan is to get fit enough to do Wuthering Hike and the Hardmoors 55 on back-to-back weekends in mid March. Then build up to Fellsman and the LDWA Housman 100 in May, followed by some serious weekends and evenings in the hills. I’m hopefully visiting CERN for work in July, which is good excuse to spend a few days training on the route (in particular the first ~50 miles which I don’t know).
I spent the next couple of evenings finding a ‘not-too-horrifically expensive hotel in Chamonix that isn’t above a bar or next to the race route’ and (re)reading every UTMB blog or report I could find. And starting the slow process of getting myself into some sort of running shape.
Now the excitement has worn off, the worrying is kicking in. This is a tough challenge (it makes ironman look like a gentle stroll in the park...). Many far better ultra-runners than me haven’t managed to finish... But all I can do is get myself into shape, arrive at the start fit and healthy and give it my best shot. And not bore the other half to death by talking about it incessantly in the meantime.
For now the short term plan is to get fit enough to do Wuthering Hike and the Hardmoors 55 on back-to-back weekends in mid March. Then build up to Fellsman and the LDWA Housman 100 in May, followed by some serious weekends and evenings in the hills. I’m hopefully visiting CERN for work in July, which is good excuse to spend a few days training on the route (in particular the first ~50 miles which I don’t know).
Inspiration fodder
05/02/11 16:13
UTMB race reports/blogs:
Laurent Theze on ahotu marathons
Susan Donnelly on ultraRUNNING online
Vollebak
Loon Dod
Brian Mc
Mike Mason on The Path Less Travelled
Hannah Moore-Barton on runfurther
Team ’Run like a girl’ on runfurther
Mandy Calvert on runfurther
And for a laugh:
Ultra runner vs Ironman
Laurent Theze on ahotu marathons
Susan Donnelly on ultraRUNNING online
Vollebak
Loon Dod
Brian Mc
Mike Mason on The Path Less Travelled
Hannah Moore-Barton on runfurther
Team ’Run like a girl’ on runfurther
Mandy Calvert on runfurther
And for a laugh:
Ultra runner vs Ironman
2011: UTMB or not UTMB
01/01/11 16:14
2011: UTMB or not UTMB? That is the question that will be answered for me when the draw is made on January 18th...
I first heard about UTMB in Autumn 2007. The elation of finishing Ironman UK far faster than my wildest dreams (and over taking lots of fit looking blokes on the run) had faded. And I was looking for a bigger, properly hard, challenge.
I’d discovered ultra-running way back in the mid-90s (in the early days of the internet). I was fascinated, and devoured race reports for the US 100s, the Grand Slam and the infamous Barkley marathon. But as a penniless PhD student I was struggling (and to this day failing) to run a sub 4 hour marathon, and ultras never made it beyond ‘maybe one day’.
I can’t really remember how I heard about UTMB (maybe via the tritalk triathlon forums). But I decided that I was going to start running ultras and do UTMB. At this point I clearly had absolutely no clue how hard UTMB is...
I set about racking up the required qualifying points in 2008.
Wuthering Hike was my first ultra, followed by three 50s (Lakeland 50, Bullock Smith Hike and Round Rotherham).
I took 5 hours off my 50 mile PB (largely thanks to the Round Rotherham being far flatter and faster than the Lakeland 50). Won my first sporting prize since placing 3rd (and last...) in the 800 metres at school when I was 11: 2nd woman (out of 3...) in the Lakeland 50. And learnt some important lessons about navigation and kit.
Come 2009 I had enough points to enter UTMB, but with a better idea of what I was getting myself into, decided to run another, easier 100 first. I chose the Peninne Challenge. When this was cancelled due to the demise of Ambition Events I was lucky to grab one of the last few entries for CCC (the fun run version of UTMB).
CCC was the best, and hardest, thing I’d ever done.
Apart from a bad patch on the last climb I never really doubted I’d finish, but I was only ever about an hour inside the cut-offs. Nonetheless from nearly last at the first checkpoint, I worked my way up to 1060th out of ~1250 finishers (out of 1800+ starters). And ‘running’ through the cheering crowds in Chamonix was fantastic.
CCC taught me that I definitely needed an easier 100 under my belt before attempting UTMB. So I entered the 2010 Devon 100. Which was cancelled. (Am I a jinx on 100 milers?). But again I was lucky and got one of the last places in the LDWA Heart of Scotland 100. Which I finished (albeit much slower than I’d hoped/planed).
So on to 2011. After several years of reading blogs and race reports I think I now know what I’m getting myself into. And it’s right at the edges of what I’m physically capable of. But waiting any longer isn’t going to make it any easier. So I’ve placed my entry and am waiting for the draw.
B plan is the Lakeland 100. Another very tough race.