2012
A tough day at the reservoir
01/10/12 15:47
I entered the Ladybower 50 to give me something to focus on post UTMB (and to maybe see how close I could get to sub-10). And when I went through 50 miles at Run 24 in 10.22, a sub-10 seemed doable. A tough couple of weeks pre-race and I’d backed off that goal. If asked I’d have said I was aiming at a finishing time starting with a 10. But secretly I was still aiming for a PB at least.
That went out the window fairly early on. I never managed to get into my stride. Even 11 minute miles were a struggle, and by 4 miles my legs and feet were hurting, an array of rotating random pains. This was the worst I’d ever felt in the early stages of an ultra. Yes there’ve been bad patches (a couple of ‘I’m going to finish this race and never run another ultra’ episodes in Rother Valley Country Park), but this was in another league. The next 20 miles were a mental battle, talking myself in and out of DNF-ing (pro: running is supposed to be fun, and this isn’t, con: if you can’t finish a 50 what hope have you got of finishing GUCR?). Walking the last 30 miles of my first 100 having lost the skin from the balls of both my feet was easier... There I had the carrot of a mileage PB and it was ‘just’ a case of keeping going to from checkpoint to checkpoint. It’s hard to motivate yourself to finish a.n.other 50 when it’s going to be a 45 mile plod, which repeatedly loops past your car.
I did it, but the highlights were few and far between. Being told I looked strong by 2 blokes I overtook, and (perversely) it beginning to bucket it down with rain on the final loop. In the end I finished the 51 miles in 10.46, going through 50 miles in 10.34. Not a disastrous time by any means (and before this year I’d have been happy with a 10.30ish 50), but it was a struggle from more or less start to finish. And 24 hours later I still feel battered. I can’t remember when I last felt this bad after a 50. I didn’t even feel this bad the day after the Games 100...
That went out the window fairly early on. I never managed to get into my stride. Even 11 minute miles were a struggle, and by 4 miles my legs and feet were hurting, an array of rotating random pains. This was the worst I’d ever felt in the early stages of an ultra. Yes there’ve been bad patches (a couple of ‘I’m going to finish this race and never run another ultra’ episodes in Rother Valley Country Park), but this was in another league. The next 20 miles were a mental battle, talking myself in and out of DNF-ing (pro: running is supposed to be fun, and this isn’t, con: if you can’t finish a 50 what hope have you got of finishing GUCR?). Walking the last 30 miles of my first 100 having lost the skin from the balls of both my feet was easier... There I had the carrot of a mileage PB and it was ‘just’ a case of keeping going to from checkpoint to checkpoint. It’s hard to motivate yourself to finish a.n.other 50 when it’s going to be a 45 mile plod, which repeatedly loops past your car.
I did it, but the highlights were few and far between. Being told I looked strong by 2 blokes I overtook, and (perversely) it beginning to bucket it down with rain on the final loop. In the end I finished the 51 miles in 10.46, going through 50 miles in 10.34. Not a disastrous time by any means (and before this year I’d have been happy with a 10.30ish 50), but it was a struggle from more or less start to finish. And 24 hours later I still feel battered. I can’t remember when I last felt this bad after a 50. I didn’t even feel this bad the day after the Games 100...
UTMB take 2: weather deja vu
29/09/12 15:47
My preparation for UTMB went far better than last year. There probably aren’t many people who can stand on the UTMB start line confident that they’re going to finish. But I felt satisfied that I was ready to give it my best shot. And then the weather intervened. Like last year the weather forecast for race weekend got steadily worse as the week went on: snow above ~1800m with wind-chill making it feel like -10. The outdoor shops of Chamonix were full or runners panic-buying kit. I phoned home and got the other half to bring out my thickest winter tights, a down pullover and a balaclava...
When the route was modified on race morning, to ~100km staying below 2000m, it wasn’t a surprise. And at that point I was less disappointed than a lot of other people. I’d like to think (with better kit post Fellsman...) that I could have coped with the weather, but I could see why the organisers couldn’t risk sending 2500 (often scantily clad) runners up into it.
Running through cheering crowds at the start was great (although having a woman stop me on the way to the start to tell me how much she admired what I was about to do was a bit surreal). I have a habit of starting wearing too much clothes. Given that a waterproof wasn’t necessary for standing around in Chamonix, trying to run along the valley in one would’ve been insane, so I tied mine around my waist. Not very photogenic, but practical (and my rucksack was full with all the extra layers of clothes). But lots of other runners had set off wearing theirs and the track out to Les Houches was lined with runners stripping off (in addition to the usual ‘blokes having a wee’...).
After a quick stop to put on an extra layer the first climb to Le Delevret flew past. I was only 12 minutes faster than last year (and very close to the back of the field again). But the difference was it felt easy and I managed to keep running all the way along the undulating paths at the top (and past all the runners stopped, shivering, putting on extra layers). On the steep muddy descent into Saint Gervais my first numpty mistake, or at least its consequences, became evident. My headlamp was much dimmer than most of the ones around me, and I was struggling to see, which was slowing me down. I’d experienced the annoying shadow you get when someone with a super-bright light is behind you before. But why, I wondered, has everyone else brought a super-duper-bright-burns-though-batteries-in-no-time headlamp this year?... None the less I made it into St. Gervais 15 minutes up on last year, passing 160 people along the way.
On the way to Les Contamines, where even seeing well enough to run through woods was a challenge, the penny dropped. When did I last put new batteries in my headtorch? Not long ago, before Fellsman. Since when I’ve run through the night 3 times... With cold wet fingers changing the batteries, was frustratingly slow, but now I too had a super-duper bright headtorch. And I was still 20 minutes up on last year.
I’d deliberately held off putting on my waterproof trousers and fleece until Notre Dame de la Gorge, the start of the first big climb and the end of the running for a while. I struggled a bit up to La Balme and didn’t gain any more time, but I did gain some more places (over 100). From La Balme we were off of the usual route and up into the snow. We ended up queuing along a never-ending rocky single track trail. No point even trying to overtake as the line of headtorches stretched into the distance. Especially after someone just in front tripped and fell several metres down the mountainside and it took 3 people and their trekking poles to get him back.
Eventually we reached La Joly and a long quad-trashing descent along tracks back down to Les Contamines. And then up the other side of the valley and onto some evil muddy forest tracks. Thanks to the Snowdon-repeats I’ve got to grips with long steady climbs, but I struggled with these short steep technical climbs (and along the way made numpty mistake number 2: stopping eating enough). I reached Bellevue just as a tram called Anne was trundling past. It was also leaving the St. Gervais depot as I started my training run earlier in the Summer. Some epic cosmic sign, or just a (not particularly improbable) coincidence?...
Leaving Bellevue another runner warned me about the dangerous descent down to Les Houches. Dangerous? Yes it was muddy, but dangerous? A quick butt slide is usually fairly painless. But when we hit the woods and technical single track, inches deep in gloopy mud, I could see what he meant. I inched my way down, constantly stopping to let people past, until I caught up with someone moving even more slowly than me. After the woods there was more quad-trashing road descent, but I did at least regain the places I’d lost (and a few more besides).
I managed to find some space at Les Houches to change into dry hat and gloves and remove some layers, but still didn’t eat enough. Even at the back of the field the aid stations were really crowded, and getting to the food required determined use of elbows.
I’d had a quick look at the revised route, and I had in my head ‘climb a little way up the valley side, along past Chamonix to Argentiere and then back along the valley’. So I thought the climbs were done and dusted. The big climbs were indeed done and dusted. But in the Alps even a small climb can be pretty hefty, and out of Les Houches there was a never ending road climb. Dozens of people streamed past me, and I kept stopping to remove even more layers. At the top, shattered, I sat down and forced down an energy bar, and suddenly I became turbo charged! I ran along the technical undulating forest track better than I’ve ever done, moving back up the field again.
On the outskirts of Chamonix (tantalisingly in ear-shot of the speakers at the finish) there was an unexpected aid station. I’m usually pretty good at arriving at aid stations with a ‘to do’ list to execute. But this one caught me out and I forgot to top up my water bottles. I realised just as I was leaving, but thought it wasn’t a problem; I had one almost full bottle and Argentiere was just down the valley. Except I didn’t and it wasn’t...
A few miles later, just after my water ran out, we reached a bridge with a small crowd on it, on the outskirts of some sort of civilisation. Excellent I thought, we must be close to Argentiere. But the route went off in the other direction. However there were signs saying Argentiere 30 min and even running slowly I could probably do it in close to half that. And then the route turned again, up another steep climb... Without water, and unable to eat with nothing to wash it down, I really struggled and again people streamed past me. Even at the top it wasn’t over-more undulating single track (and two runners laid under space blankets being looked after by medics). But at least I did eventually come across a stream to fill my bottles from.
I’d been vaguely aware that one of my feet had blistered, and now that I wasn’t thirsty any more my attention turned to that. I’d been holding off on sorting it out until Argentiere. But as the undulations continued, with no idea how much further it was, I randomly decided to sit on a rock and burst and tape it there and then. As I was sat there a familiar, but French, voice said hello-Louis from last year’s training camp. Typically, not long after this the route headed down, and finally, into Argentiere (where I re-passed Louis and his entourage).
I stuffed some cake down and then headed out as quickly as possible. A couple of people overtook me straight after the checkpoint, but by running slowly, but steadily, I passed another 50 people in the final 10k (although a handful of them went from walking to sprinting in the last k and re-passed me). I finished in 24.09. An hour faster than CCC 2 years ago. The modified route had a similar distance and ascent but was very different in nature (more mud, but also more road) so it’s hard to compare them. I could have been a bit quicker if I’d been more focussed and less of a numpty, but probably no more than an hour. Of 2482 starters, 2122 finished, and I worked my way up from 2328th at the first summit to 1851st at the finish.
Even though I was close to the back of the field (and the time cut-off...) people were coming across the line at a rate of 4 or 5 a minute, so there was a queue to collect finisher’s fleeces. When I got to the front the woman distributing the fleeces tried to shoo me away. And when I looked confused, started burbling in French and waving a bit of paper with info in 6 different languages on at me. Eventually the bloke behind me intervened and explained that they’d run out of finisher’s fleeces in my size, as (thanks to the shortened course) more people than expected had finished. This was really disappointing. Having my own UTMB finisher’s fleece had been a big carrot (the other half had been plotting how he was going to get it off me to wash...). I’d feel a fraud posing around in it not having run the full route, but post race in Chamonix would have been the one time when I could have worn it with pride (and if you see someone hobbling around Chamonix post race without a fleece, you assume they’ve DNF-ed). Surely more people finishing the shortened course wasn’t a surprise, so if there weren’t enough fleeces for everyone (and since it wasn’t the ‘real UTMB’) they shouldn’t have given any out. I will apparently be getting one in the post in the next month, but I definitely wont be wearing it ultra-running circles.
So what next? Having wanted to run, and finish, UTMB for so long (5 years...), I’m gutted not to have been able to, for reasons beyond my control. Even if I could get an entry for next year, I don’t think it’d be a good idea. What if it all went pear-shaped again? And while the TMB route is epic (and run-walking it on my own was the highlight of my Summer), there’s a lot of things I don’t like about UTMB: the queues, the pushing and shoving (which are exacerbated by the unnecessarily tight early cut-offs), the alpha-males, and their families, strutting around Chamonix like triathletes...
I will almost certainly be back at some point (I don’t give up on goals that easily...) but next year it’s time to try some different things. And not just my original ‘flat and (relatively) fast’ plan. I’ve entered the Spine Challenger. 108 miles along the Pennine Way, in January....
Back to the Alps
26/07/12 15:48
Getting dragged around the Alps on a bit of elastic was one of the low-lights of last year. With ‘the other half’ working in Grenoble for most of July, it was a good excuse to head over again and DIY it.
As a non-French speaking, slow-moving, vegetarian I decided to stay in hotels in the valleys (no rushing to make it to refuges for a dinner I couldn’t eat most of). This meant a couple of long days, but also more comfortable accommodation, with no snoring!
The 1st challenge was working out which of the 3 St. Gervais I wanted a train ticket to. And the 2nd was working out how to get to ‘St. Gervais’ from ‘St. Gervais Les Bains Le Fayet’ train station which is actually in Le Fayet (and 300m lower in altitude). Day 0 was a gentle stroll up the valley to Les Contamines. With my Run24 niggles still niggling, walking to loosen my legs up seemed like a good plan. Since this stretch is mostly not on the main TMB route, route-finding was a bit tricky in places. I’d done this section twice before, but hadn’t paid too much attention to where I was going (at UTMB itself the route was marked, and on the training camp last year I was desperately trying to keep up with the person in front). It was generally uneventful though, apart from some evil insects biting me through my shorts. As I settled down for the night the forecast storm arrived, but at least it was due to clear over night.
When my alarm went off at 6, it was surprisingly dark and there was a loud roaring noise. Sticking my head through the curtains it was still bucketing it down. Not the sort of weather you want for crossing multiple 2500m passes. I checked the weather forecast again. It was now forecast to clear by mid-morning, so I donned my waterproofs and headed off.
By La Balme (where the first hikers were beginning to stir) I was soaked. It was easing off though and by the top of the Bonhomme, after a bit of snow and hail, it had stopped. The climb itself had seemed a lot easier than before, but at least part of that was hitting it fresh rather than with 25+ miles already in my legs. The descent to Les Contamines was every bit as unpleasant as I remembered though... After a brief stop to buy a baguette for lunch, remove layers and add suncream it was off over Col de la Seigne. This descent was better, but on one of the snowfields still lingering on the route I decided a controlled butt-slide was better than risking falling.
The views from Arete Mont Favre were stunning and I saw loads of marmots, including a couple of babies. Down to Col Checruit it became clear that my rucksack was far too heavy for running. Largely due to the miscellaneous electronic crap I was carrying: a GPS (why? the route is largely marked), a spare phone (why? I was also carrying two chargers) and an international plug adapter (why? ‘because normal plug adaptors don’t fit the sockets at the theory division at CERN’, ‘but you’re not visiting CERN. you’re attempting to run around Mont Blanc!’). And my knees were objecting. Going down the steep decent to Courmayer was agony, and the blister on one of my toes burst as I hit the outskirts of town. And to add insult to injury the tail end of an ultra was passing through Courmayer and I kept having to explain (in sign language) to marshals and supporters that I wasn’t taking part.
Next morning I felt a lot fresher and the climbs to refuge
Bertone and Grand Col Ferret were no problem (apart from the frustration of getting stuck behind a pack of walkers moving excruciating slowly at one point). Initially I’d been worried about making it to Champex before the hotel check-in closed at 8. But it quickly became clear that the cut-offs after Courmayer are significantly more generous, and even with very little running I was going to make it in time. Having failed to find an open supermarket in Courmayeur I was surviving off of a packet of biscuits from Day 0. At the supermarket in La Fouly it was therefore time for a mega-picnic.
Along the flat-ish section to Issert I realised the tongue of my left shoe had moved and was irritating my ankle. So I stopped and adjusted it. 5 minutes later it was back in the same place. And this routine repeated itself for the next hour or so. I was tempted to throw my shoes in the river. But going barefoot didn’t seem like the greatest idea. Eventually I managed to ignore it and made it to Champex. After a brief rest I decided to go out for dinner. And discovered that my ankle had swollen up and walking was painful. Was this game over?
By the next morning the swelling had gone down a bit, and I’d worked out how to lace my shoe to keep the tongue away from my ankle. So I decided to head to the base of Bovine and see how it felt. After a couple of mile (and having watched the bus to Osieres station go past, and wondered whether I should be on it) it eased off. My memory of Bovine was a nightmare of clambering over rocks (and for the past 2 years I’ve had at the back of my mind ‘how am I going to get up that with 75 miles in my legs’). But it was far, far easier than I remembered. Literally as if someone had removed the rocks. The descent into Trient was almost pleasant, and the climb to Catogne was fine too. But the decent into Vallorcine was never ending, with the trail indicators seemingly lying about how far it was.
Another mega-picnic and it was off to Le Tetes aux Vents. Here the only problem was the constant stream of day hikers come the other way... The traverse to La Flegere seemed never-ending, with a series of hidden dips. And the fun really began with the descent into Chamonix which went on and on and on (and took me longer than the cut-off for this section).
After that I was seriously considering getting the train back to St. Gervais. But next morning (after a lie-in and getting my 14 euros worth at the hotel buffet breakfast) I felt perkier and decided to complete the circuit on foot, arriving back into St. Gervais a little under 96 hours after I left. Not bad for a route which takes the average hiker 7-10 days. But at the end of August I’ve got to do it less than half that time...
On the plus side, I’ve well and truly lost my fear of climbing. A couple of times I was even disappointed to reach the top sooner than I expected! The hill repeats, stair-climbing and weekends in North Wales have done their job. But the descents were a nightmare. Fingers crossed a lighter rucksack, and hopefully no lingering niggles, will help there...
Canal dreaming
09/07/12 15:49
With post Run24 niggles stopping me running, my attention has wandered to future goals. A sub-24 100 is the obvious one. And ‘oh look, entries for the 2013 Thames Path 100 have opened and are filling quickly’. So I entered. Being in decent shape in late March is going to be a challenge (the weather and work over winter usually tire me out). But since hill repeats have got me into decent flat shape this year, hopefully I can do it on not too OTT training hours.
And with the slowly growing realisation that while I love running in the mountains I’m better (or less bad at least) at plodding on the flat, a bigger plan is fermenting. The Grand Union Canal Race had never really appealed to me. 145 mile, in a more or less flat straight line, from Birmingham to London: why?? I always thought I’d do it one day, just to tick the box. But I’m now thinking `how about next year’...
And with the slowly growing realisation that while I love running in the mountains I’m better (or less bad at least) at plodding on the flat, a bigger plan is fermenting. The Grand Union Canal Race had never really appealed to me. 145 mile, in a more or less flat straight line, from Birmingham to London: why?? I always thought I’d do it one day, just to tick the box. But I’m now thinking `how about next year’...
Run 24: another 100 PB!
06/07/12 15:49
If wanting to take 13 minutes off my best Haworth Hobble time was delusional, then I’m not sure what aiming to take 10+ hours off my 100 mile PB was...
I held off entering Run24 until I’d recovered from the Games 100, and then the goal wasn’t so much a sub-24 100 as to see how close I could get to the 100 in 24 hours. Prizes were on offer for the first three women. On google-stalking the rest of the 10 female entrants I discovered that while I was the 2nd slowest over short (i.e. marathon...) distances, only a few of the rest had much ultra-running experience. Hmm. Maybe if I run well I might be able to sneak onto the podium??
As a reformed triathlete, this was also an opportunity to buy some new gear. A tent with a porch big enough for a table, chair and kit boxes. And a SLab 5 litre for carrying snacks and water so I could minimise stops.
After a busy week at work (including a trip to Grenoble for a PhD viva) I was tired and didn’t really feel up for it. And the first time around the 5 mile loop it turned out to be a little bit more rough and undulating than I expected. So the 100 mile dream goal went onto the back burner. I over-took a couple of women on the first lap but the front end of the womens field were running two minutes a mile faster than me (faster than I can go flat-out on pancake flat tarmac!). I was amazed on finishing my fifth loop to hear that I was in 3rd place. 3rd place after 90+ miles I could believe, but after 25!?
A couple of laps later I realised my left Achilles was sore. “Strange. It’s been years since I had a problem with it.” Then the penny dropped. Timing chip, attached too tight (because
I was paranoid it’d fall off). At the end of the next lap I stopped and swopped it to my right ankle and also topped up my snack supplies. Some of the other solo entrants had parked their cars, or put tables, backing onto the route. But I don’t think I lost much time nipping off course to my tent every 2-5 laps.
The uneven trails meant running in the dark was going to be slow, so I kept pushing while the light lasted. I stopped for 7 minutes at dusk to put on my head-torch and warmer clothes and also ate some potatoes, yoghurt and tinned grapefruit (some of my favourite check-point snacks on the Games 100). I went through 50 miles in 10.22, a 7 minute PB. Possibly not how you’re supposed to pace a 24 hour race.
I kept going ~10-15 minutes a lap slower through the night, with a couple more 5-7 minute stops for yoghurt and grapefruit. Eventually they started tasting a bit weird. Hmm. Maybe eating yoghurt (in particular one I’d opened 3 hours previously) which hadn’t been in a fridge for 36+ hours wasn’t such a good idea...
The first lap after dawn felt pretty good. But then at the 80 mile mark, with my right knee joining my left Achilles in protesting, running the flats was a struggle and I started walking most of them. The sub-24 hour dream goal was slipping from unlikely to impossible. But if I got to 95 in the 24 hours I could go out on a 20th loop and take another big lump out of my 100 PB. So that became my focus.
Overnight the PA had been turned off (to allow relay teams and supporters to sleep), so I had no idea where I was in the field. As I was approaching the start-finish line at the end of my 17th lap the PA started up with an announcement of the leading runners The first woman had finished her 17th lap about an hour before, but was there anyone between me and her? I held my breath. “And here comes 2nd placed woman, Anne Green...”.
And this is where things started to get very surreal, with overtaking relay runners and spectators telling me I was amazing. Umm, no. All I’m doing is walking and occasionally running very slowly. And after 90 miles, with my stomach complaining about the gone-off yogurt, I switched to just walking. A 4 hour PB was in the bag as long as I could keep going. And while it was far, far slower and harder than the last 10 miles of the Games 100, I was moving far better than the ‘death-plods’ at the end of my previous two 100s.
I finished my 20th lap in 24.33. By the time I got my 2nd place trophy (my first ever trophy!) an hour later my legs had seized up so badly I could hardly walk.
As UTMB training, running two 100s in a month is slightly unorthodox (bordering on insane), and I’ve got to hope the niggles heal quickly so I can get back to the hill-repeats ASAP. But it was fun. And at the beginning of the year I’d have settled for 2nd place in a 24 hour race, 3rd place in a 100 and knocking nearly 10 hours off my 100 PB.
Games 100: big PB
09/06/12 15:50
Both of my first two 100s ended with 30 mile ‘death-plods’. Wrecked feet in 2010. Wrecked stomach in 2011. So my goal here was to finish comfortably, and in the process hopefully take a couple of hours off my 34:16 100 PB.
I’d been late entering the race as 100 miles through/around London didn’t really appeal. But in the end decided it was likely to be a better confidence builder for UTMB than struggling, and possibly failing, at the harder Hardmoors 110.
I set off faster than usual through my old training ground of Victoria Park, in order to get ahead of the walkers before we hit the canal tow-paths. Over-taking Saturday morning joggers, while wearing a rucksack at the start of a 100 miler felt very strange. The first few miles though the Docklands, including running through the atrium of a posh building, were great fun. Through the Greenwich river tunnel and along the South bank of the Thames to the flood barrier was more of a drag though.
After 15 miles my feet were already feeling sore, and I realised this was already the longest run I’d done on tarmac this year... I was slowly working my way through the field, but then I made an epic navigational SNAFU. The route description said `run along road and turn right into lane by pylon‘. I spotted a pylon in the distance and headed along the road towards it. When I got there, there was a track on the right, but the `Warning police dogs training’ sign on the gate made me think it wasn’t the one I wanted. So I kept heading along the road, until I hit a major road junction... So maybe it was the right lane. Back I went, and it still didn’t seem right. And then, in the distance I spotted a stream of runners heading across a field. !?!? Back I went and there, 100m metres after the route originally joined the road, was a pylon and a right turn...
Having added well over a mile onto the route, I spent the next couple of hours repassing all the people I’d previously overtaken. As night came the weather deteriorated and with the route now following the North Downs Way the going got slower. But I kept up a decent pace carrying on running the flat bits through the night.
The field had thinned out by now, and I was seeing fewer runners. A woman (who went on to finish first, over an hour in front of me) sped past me at ~80 miles. But otherwise I was still slowly catching and passing people. On one muddy path I realised there weren’t that many footprints in the mud. So did that mean there weren’t many people in front of me?? Some rough mental calculations told me I could finish inside 30 hours if I kept up my pace.
The last major checkpoint was empty when I got there to a round of applause and the helpers raced to guide me to ‘their’ table. I went to the loo and got back to find my water-bottle had already been refilled for me. In my first 2 100s I didn’t manage to run at all in the last 30 miles. But today running slowly felt easier than walking fast. So I kept running, all the way along the Great Walk and through Windsor to the finish in 28:46. A 5.5 hour PB, 3rd woman and 19th overall. Woo-hoo!
I probably shouldn’t get too carried away about finishing towards the front of a field of mainly long distance walkers. But I did finish in front of various ultra-runners who are usually hours in front of me. And I feel like I can now say that I’ve run (rather than walked/plodded) a 100.
I'm OK, but I'm not so sure about the wall
05/05/12 15:52
Fellsman. The first half is a mixture of everything I’m crap at: steep ups, steep downs and peat bog. Followed by grouping to foil my usual late race plod through the back of the field. But I keep going back.
I went into it without any time goals. Even without the grouping lottery, the wet conditions under foot were going to slow things down. Soggy bogs weren’t the issue though. Even at the start at Ingleton the wind was howling. On the out and back to Gragareth I felt strong (and smug) as I ran up the slope, while the people coming back down the other way walked. And then I turned round. Boom. Wind in the face so strong it was an effort to even walk.
During the day the wind was a constant battle, but I made it to Redshaw, and grouping, in decent time. After a brief wait we formed a group of 5 and, without pausing even for introductions, set off.
In the past I’ve had pretty good luck with grouping. It couldn’t last for ever... One of this year’s group was a fast walker, and set an uncompromising pace. I could just about keep up, but one of the group was wrecked and wanting to drop by the time we made it to the next checkpoint just over a mile away. But we had to stick together until the next road side checkpoint at Fleet Moss, so the pace (temporarily) eased off a bit.
Out of Fleet Moss it was full steam ahead again, following a ‘straight line’ GPS route, even though one of the group had a good route from last year in his GPS. The weather was deteriorating, with a brief blizzard at one point, but on we charged straight through whatever was in our path. The low-light was climbing a dodgy collapsing wall, with a barbed wire fence on top for good measure, when there was a perfectly good stile 20 metres away. Watching the resulting bruise on my arm change colour over the next week was interesting though. We made it to Fleet Moss OK, and then had to wait (in the midst of a the bog in the storm) while ‘full steam ahead’ (FSA) man faffed with this kit for 5 minutes.
Across to Hell Gap it was more of the same. Straight through a bog when there was a trod along a fence metres away. But I couldn’t get close enough (or shout loud enough) to do anything about it. The tent at Cray was crammed with people dropping out, and we gained the remnants of another group. And waited, getting steadily colder, while FSA-man drank multiple cups of tea.
I always struggle with the steep climb up Buckden Pike, and with my calves having tightened up at Cray I was off the back of the group until the gradient eased near the top.
Along the top of the hill the stiles and walls were coated in thick ice which led to some inadvertent acrobatics.
FSA-man had faded by now and we even had to stop and wait for him at one point. For a while my left eye had been sore and fuzzy. I’d put this down to my hair being blown into it by the wind repeatedly earlier in the day. But then one of the other members of the group mentioned he couldn’t see out of one of his eyes at all.
Getting close to Park Rash I was worried that another long stop would leave me too cold to continue. But as we stepped into the tent we were told the race had been abandoned. It was initially a surprise, but within a fraction of a second it became clear that this was the right decision. ‘I can see why’ were the words which came out of my mouth (not, like some other people, ‘But what about my UTMB points, waaah’).
Getting transport together to evacuate dozens of runners from the middle of nowhere took a while. And as we waited I got colder and colder and, to my embarrassment, I ended up wrapped in a survival blanket sat next to a stove to keep warm. The kit which had seen me through some epic bad weather races (such as the infamous 2009 Round Rotherham) wasn’t enough for Fellsman 2012.
It could have been worse
21/04/12 15:52
With a new, slower, route to navigate, this year’s Calderdale Hike was always going to be a long, slow day out. Although quite how long and slow I didn’t anticipate.
Term ended a week or so before, so time to recharge my batteries and then ramp up the training. But it takes more than a few decent nights sleep to do that. On Easter Monday I’d planned to wave the other-half off on a work trip and then head off to the Peak District for a day’s running. I actually headed straight back to bed and slept for another four hours. And a shorter long run near home became even shorter when I couldn’t summon the energy to run fast enough to keep warm in the rain.
Two days later I decided to do my first stair climbing session of the year. Nothing OTT, just 7 repeats of 300 steps. It was hard, but I thought I came out of it unscathed. Until I woke up in the middle of the night with my calves screaming, and could barely walk down the stairs the next morning... Throw in a non-existent night’s sleep the night before and I nearly didn’t bother even getting out of bed. But spending a day feeling miserable out on the hills was a better prospect than feeling even more miserable sat on the sofa.
The new route offered various route choices in the first few miles which I’d agonised over. But in fact they were much of a muchness on the ground. At least the back end of the field kept splitting, taking different routes, and then coming back together again. After a few miles reversing the Wuthering Hike route it was onto the moors and ‘route choice’ number 2. Pathless, direct route across boggy ground. Or two of the side of the rectangle, paths all the way, or fence line followed by track. I went for the paths all the way option. Which was a mistake. The paths were no more runnable than going straight across bog, and often indistinguishable from sheep-trods. Leading to a minor navigation snafu of the ‘I know exactly where I am. I know exactly where I’m going. But how do I get there (given the ravine in front of me)’ variety. A group of 3 blokes with a GPS who left the last checkpoint just before me went for the diagonal route, and pulled 5 minutes out of me (I could still see them occasionally in the distance). But worse than that, on reaching the opposite corner of the rectangle I spotted someone I hadn’t seen for 10+ miles running (something I hadn’t managed much of for a while....) along the track.
The next check-point was being packed up, which didn’t exactly boost my mood. And to add insult to injury they suggested that if I pushed a bit I could catch the blokes in front and run with them. Yes I planned to catch them, but running with them wasn’t part of the plan...
It was several check-points later before I managed it. Some quick banter and I went past them, and ran up the road and straight past the footpath I should have turned off onto... I eventually caught them again and we ran together for a bit (with me taking advantage, I hate to admit, of them having the route in their GPS). They’d planned a marginally longer, but easier to run/navigate route off of the moors. Given my earlier screw-ups I did a mental U-turn and uttered the shameful words ‘I’lll stick with you’ (being a girly navigational leech is the last thing I aspire to...). In fact the sticking together lasted for all of about 3 minutes. With 30 miles in my legs I was finally warmed up and, without noticing, pulled ahead on the descent. I briefly considered waiting. But with ~6 miles of largely runnable track and road to go I could smell the finish.... and got there to find Dick Scroop half way through his post race jacket potato, having finished one place in front of me.
I was nearly an hour slower than my previous worst Calderdale time. Part (but not all) of that is down to the new route, and my dodgy navigation of it. For most of the day it felt like I was right at the back of the field (and if they hadn’t extended the cut-off towards the end of the race I’d have missed it by a couple of minutes). However when the results came out there were half a dozen people up to an hour behind me. I wasn’t last, and I didn’t injure myself. It could have been worse.
Term ended a week or so before, so time to recharge my batteries and then ramp up the training. But it takes more than a few decent nights sleep to do that. On Easter Monday I’d planned to wave the other-half off on a work trip and then head off to the Peak District for a day’s running. I actually headed straight back to bed and slept for another four hours. And a shorter long run near home became even shorter when I couldn’t summon the energy to run fast enough to keep warm in the rain.
Two days later I decided to do my first stair climbing session of the year. Nothing OTT, just 7 repeats of 300 steps. It was hard, but I thought I came out of it unscathed. Until I woke up in the middle of the night with my calves screaming, and could barely walk down the stairs the next morning... Throw in a non-existent night’s sleep the night before and I nearly didn’t bother even getting out of bed. But spending a day feeling miserable out on the hills was a better prospect than feeling even more miserable sat on the sofa.
The new route offered various route choices in the first few miles which I’d agonised over. But in fact they were much of a muchness on the ground. At least the back end of the field kept splitting, taking different routes, and then coming back together again. After a few miles reversing the Wuthering Hike route it was onto the moors and ‘route choice’ number 2. Pathless, direct route across boggy ground. Or two of the side of the rectangle, paths all the way, or fence line followed by track. I went for the paths all the way option. Which was a mistake. The paths were no more runnable than going straight across bog, and often indistinguishable from sheep-trods. Leading to a minor navigation snafu of the ‘I know exactly where I am. I know exactly where I’m going. But how do I get there (given the ravine in front of me)’ variety. A group of 3 blokes with a GPS who left the last checkpoint just before me went for the diagonal route, and pulled 5 minutes out of me (I could still see them occasionally in the distance). But worse than that, on reaching the opposite corner of the rectangle I spotted someone I hadn’t seen for 10+ miles running (something I hadn’t managed much of for a while....) along the track.
The next check-point was being packed up, which didn’t exactly boost my mood. And to add insult to injury they suggested that if I pushed a bit I could catch the blokes in front and run with them. Yes I planned to catch them, but running with them wasn’t part of the plan...
It was several check-points later before I managed it. Some quick banter and I went past them, and ran up the road and straight past the footpath I should have turned off onto... I eventually caught them again and we ran together for a bit (with me taking advantage, I hate to admit, of them having the route in their GPS). They’d planned a marginally longer, but easier to run/navigate route off of the moors. Given my earlier screw-ups I did a mental U-turn and uttered the shameful words ‘I’lll stick with you’ (being a girly navigational leech is the last thing I aspire to...). In fact the sticking together lasted for all of about 3 minutes. With 30 miles in my legs I was finally warmed up and, without noticing, pulled ahead on the descent. I briefly considered waiting. But with ~6 miles of largely runnable track and road to go I could smell the finish.... and got there to find Dick Scroop half way through his post race jacket potato, having finished one place in front of me.
I was nearly an hour slower than my previous worst Calderdale time. Part (but not all) of that is down to the new route, and my dodgy navigation of it. For most of the day it felt like I was right at the back of the field (and if they hadn’t extended the cut-off towards the end of the race I’d have missed it by a couple of minutes). However when the results came out there were half a dozen people up to an hour behind me. I wasn’t last, and I didn’t injure myself. It could have been worse.
Delusional goals and dubious complements
24/03/12 15:53
Wuthering hike: delusional goals
With a previous best (in 4 outings) of 7.13 I followed the time honoured technique for delusional goal setting:
What’s the nearest ‘round time’ beneath by PB?
7 hours.
Let’s aim for sub-7.
But that 7.13 came on an almost perfect day (calm, sunny and firm underfoot) after almost perfect preparation, including 3 weeks trekking in the Himalayas over Christmas. This year I was playing catch up on training after a fortnight in India where the only running I did was to the bathroom...
So on a slightly miserable, muddy day sub-7 was never going to happen. And reality kicked in when I went through half-way in 3.30 with the big hills still to come. The goal then switched to beat last year’s 7.31 and I just managed it (7.27), with the added bonus of squeeking past Dick Scroop in the last couple of hundred metres. (Dick is, ummm, somewhat older than me and, when he’s on form, significantly faster than me. But when he’s not having a good day I have a habit of catching him in the closing miles.)
Hardmoors 55: dubious compliments
After last weekend’s lesson in realistic goal-setting, my goal for this one was to finish in under 13.42 and beat my ‘Wuthering Hike-Hardmoors’ double-header time from last year.
In both of the past two years nobody who reached the 22 mile cut-off at Osmotherley after me, made it to the finish within the overall 15 hour cut-off. But I was never in last place, there were always people behind me. This year though I was dead-last from mile one to the first check-point at 10 miles. The sweeper was great though. Unlike at the Brecon 40, I never felt herded. He hung back only catching up for a quick chat just before the first check-point:
‘You’re running like a metronome. How are you managing it?’
‘Umm, this is the limit of how fast my legs will go...’
Followed by an ego boosting discussion of how many people I’d be able to catch in the 2nd half of the race if I kept my metronomic plodding up.
The first catch came at the check-point and I continued to steadily reel people in as the route headed across the moors. Dubious complement number two came when I snuck past someone on one of the tricky descents:
‘You’re a good descender.’
Nice. But my ego came down to Earth with a bang when he followed this up with ‘I come from the Netherlands’.
Last year the weather had been (relatively) hot and sunny. Perfect running weather for me. This year a brief but nasty storm hit in mid-afternoon, so getting close to last year’s time was going to be a challenge.
Like last year a ‘splash and dash, no sitting down’ stop at the 2nd and final indoor checkpoint at Kildale took me past a handful of people. And by keeping plodding on I managed to finish in 13.36, two minutes inside last year’s time. A miniscule PB, but given the weather I’ll settle for that.
With a previous best (in 4 outings) of 7.13 I followed the time honoured technique for delusional goal setting:
What’s the nearest ‘round time’ beneath by PB?
7 hours.
Let’s aim for sub-7.
But that 7.13 came on an almost perfect day (calm, sunny and firm underfoot) after almost perfect preparation, including 3 weeks trekking in the Himalayas over Christmas. This year I was playing catch up on training after a fortnight in India where the only running I did was to the bathroom...
So on a slightly miserable, muddy day sub-7 was never going to happen. And reality kicked in when I went through half-way in 3.30 with the big hills still to come. The goal then switched to beat last year’s 7.31 and I just managed it (7.27), with the added bonus of squeeking past Dick Scroop in the last couple of hundred metres. (Dick is, ummm, somewhat older than me and, when he’s on form, significantly faster than me. But when he’s not having a good day I have a habit of catching him in the closing miles.)
Hardmoors 55: dubious compliments
After last weekend’s lesson in realistic goal-setting, my goal for this one was to finish in under 13.42 and beat my ‘Wuthering Hike-Hardmoors’ double-header time from last year.
In both of the past two years nobody who reached the 22 mile cut-off at Osmotherley after me, made it to the finish within the overall 15 hour cut-off. But I was never in last place, there were always people behind me. This year though I was dead-last from mile one to the first check-point at 10 miles. The sweeper was great though. Unlike at the Brecon 40, I never felt herded. He hung back only catching up for a quick chat just before the first check-point:
‘You’re running like a metronome. How are you managing it?’
‘Umm, this is the limit of how fast my legs will go...’
Followed by an ego boosting discussion of how many people I’d be able to catch in the 2nd half of the race if I kept my metronomic plodding up.
The first catch came at the check-point and I continued to steadily reel people in as the route headed across the moors. Dubious complement number two came when I snuck past someone on one of the tricky descents:
‘You’re a good descender.’
Nice. But my ego came down to Earth with a bang when he followed this up with ‘I come from the Netherlands’.
Last year the weather had been (relatively) hot and sunny. Perfect running weather for me. This year a brief but nasty storm hit in mid-afternoon, so getting close to last year’s time was going to be a challenge.
Like last year a ‘splash and dash, no sitting down’ stop at the 2nd and final indoor checkpoint at Kildale took me past a handful of people. And by keeping plodding on I managed to finish in 13.36, two minutes inside last year’s time. A miniscule PB, but given the weather I’ll settle for that.
UTMB rematch is on!
22/01/12 15:55
I sat in front of my laptop at 8.55am on Friday constantly hitting refresh on the UTMB web-site. Eventually (at pretty much bang on the announced 9.00am) the ‘waiting’ next to my name changed to ‘to pay’. Which was the organisers slightly cryptic way of telling me I’d got a place for 2012.
By the time the confirmation e-mail arrived later in the day I’d paid the rest of the registration fee and sorted us out accommodation in Chamonix (an apartment which is cheaper, and hopefully more pleasant, than the hotels we’ve stayed in in the past). Still mulling over the flight dilemma: EasyJet from Gatwick or a non-direct flight from a more local airport with a ‘proper’ airline.
Today I did my first ‘long’ run of the year: Sheffield to Edale via Stanage Edge, Win Hill and Lose Hill. I’d originally been planning to carry on over Mam Tor and possibly round to Jacob’s ladder. However thanks to strong wind and deep mud that would’ve made me late for my rendezvous with the other half for tea in The Rambler Inn. Repeatedly getting blown off the path on the Mam Tor ridge was the final straw and I decided to drop down into Edale, do a quick out and back through the village to squeak the mileage up to 20, and call it a long, slow day.
By the time the confirmation e-mail arrived later in the day I’d paid the rest of the registration fee and sorted us out accommodation in Chamonix (an apartment which is cheaper, and hopefully more pleasant, than the hotels we’ve stayed in in the past). Still mulling over the flight dilemma: EasyJet from Gatwick or a non-direct flight from a more local airport with a ‘proper’ airline.
Today I did my first ‘long’ run of the year: Sheffield to Edale via Stanage Edge, Win Hill and Lose Hill. I’d originally been planning to carry on over Mam Tor and possibly round to Jacob’s ladder. However thanks to strong wind and deep mud that would’ve made me late for my rendezvous with the other half for tea in The Rambler Inn. Repeatedly getting blown off the path on the Mam Tor ridge was the final straw and I decided to drop down into Edale, do a quick out and back through the village to squeak the mileage up to 20, and call it a long, slow day.
... and forwards to 2012
02/01/12 15:55
Goals for 2012:
I) finish either the Lakeland 100 or UTMB
2) run a sub 24 hour 100
3) run a sub 10 hour 50
I'm not sure whether goals 1 and 2 are compatible (certainly not in the same race!). Part of me thinks it would better to concentrate solely on hill training. But one of the hardest things for me with UTMB will be meeting the time cuts before Courmayer. Running all of the flattish sections between St. Gervais and Les Contamines will be crucial. And training for a fast 100 might be a good way of doing this. Similarly with the Lakeland 100 I'll need to be able to make the most of the rare runnable sections. Also I need to loose my fear of 100s (both of my first two were a struggle, but then so were my first two 50s).
A sub 24 hour 100 is probably an even more ambitious goal than UTMB/ Lakeland 100, especially since my current PB is nearly 10 hours outside that... But both of the 100s I've done have been hilly, off-road, unmarked courses, and I've got my eye on a 24 hour race on a flat trail loop. 100 miles in 24 hours is probably still over ambitious, but it's something to aim for. I'll have to play it safe and DNF if any Lakeland 100/UTMB threatening injuries appear though.
My 50 mile PB of 10.29 is on the not completely flat, partly off road Round Rotherham course. So sub 10 on the right course is plausible. And the Ladybower 50 sounds like it might be the course (if I've got gas left in the tank come Autumn).
So the plan for the year is:
Jan and Feb: get into shape (including hill repeats and long flattish runs as well as big fun days out in the hills).
March and April: the usual early season races (Wuthering hike, Hardmoors 55, Calderdale and Fellsman)
May onwards: concentrate on hill training, with lots of long back to back runs (maybe Hardmoors 110, but I'm not sure).
And now to wait and see if I'm lucky in the UTMB lottery. At the moment I'm convinced that not getting in, and running the Lakeland 100 instead, is a fine alternative. Whether I'll still feel that way after the draw I'm not so sure...
I) finish either the Lakeland 100 or UTMB
2) run a sub 24 hour 100
3) run a sub 10 hour 50
I'm not sure whether goals 1 and 2 are compatible (certainly not in the same race!). Part of me thinks it would better to concentrate solely on hill training. But one of the hardest things for me with UTMB will be meeting the time cuts before Courmayer. Running all of the flattish sections between St. Gervais and Les Contamines will be crucial. And training for a fast 100 might be a good way of doing this. Similarly with the Lakeland 100 I'll need to be able to make the most of the rare runnable sections. Also I need to loose my fear of 100s (both of my first two were a struggle, but then so were my first two 50s).
A sub 24 hour 100 is probably an even more ambitious goal than UTMB/ Lakeland 100, especially since my current PB is nearly 10 hours outside that... But both of the 100s I've done have been hilly, off-road, unmarked courses, and I've got my eye on a 24 hour race on a flat trail loop. 100 miles in 24 hours is probably still over ambitious, but it's something to aim for. I'll have to play it safe and DNF if any Lakeland 100/UTMB threatening injuries appear though.
My 50 mile PB of 10.29 is on the not completely flat, partly off road Round Rotherham course. So sub 10 on the right course is plausible. And the Ladybower 50 sounds like it might be the course (if I've got gas left in the tank come Autumn).
So the plan for the year is:
Jan and Feb: get into shape (including hill repeats and long flattish runs as well as big fun days out in the hills).
March and April: the usual early season races (Wuthering hike, Hardmoors 55, Calderdale and Fellsman)
May onwards: concentrate on hill training, with lots of long back to back runs (maybe Hardmoors 110, but I'm not sure).
And now to wait and see if I'm lucky in the UTMB lottery. At the moment I'm convinced that not getting in, and running the Lakeland 100 instead, is a fine alternative. Whether I'll still feel that way after the draw I'm not so sure...